Mr. CEO, I'm Reborn-Now Spoil Me 100 Percent!
Revenge brought her back. His unwavering love made her stay.
Paisley Hughes opens her eyes three years in the past, at the start of her gilded cage marriage to tycoon Clive Harrington. Haunted by the memory of her tragic end, she is a storm of vengeance, ready to expose the betrayal that awaits. Yet she swiftly uncovers a stunning truth: her powerful, enigmatic husband has loved her silently but fiercely all along.
Thrust into the heart of his family's ruthless succession war, Paisley discovers that Clive's devotion is her greatest weapon. Together, they battle hidden enemies and poisonous alliances. This time, she fights not just to settle scores, but to claim the powerful love and the true family that were always her destiny.
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Chapter 10
Paisley didn't feel like putting up with Olivia' nonsense anymore.
In her past life, she had let things slide for her mom's sake - look where that got her.
"You hit me? Aren't you scared - " Olivia didn't get to finish before Paisley cut her off coldly.
"Scared of what? You gonna run crying to Dad?" Paisley scoffed, voice dripping with sarcasm. "Don't forget, Olivia, all the wedding gifts from the Harringtons? Dad used that money to save his sinking company. And now? I'm Clive's wife. Think he's gonna risk ticking me off over your tantrum?"
She bent down, picked up the necklace her grandfather had left her, then stared them both down with a frosty expression she never used to show.
Olivia was momentarily stunned. She hadn't expected to actually get slapped. Back then, she'd done way worse to Paisley, and the girl had always taken it.
"Sure, you married rich. But your mom's still living with us," Olivia sneered, clearly trying to guilt-trip her.
But Paisley just laughed lightly, turning her head as if completely unbothered. "Yeah? She chose to stay there, didn't she? If she wants to stick around and let you treat her like dirt, that's on her. I won't interfere. Just don't go too far and break the law - you're free to do whatever."
As Paisley walked out, Sophia's eyes welled up with tears. She genuinely felt like raising this daughter was all for nothing. How could she have brought up someone so heartless?
Not that Paisley cared. She wasn't trying to figure out what anyone thought anymore. Not her mom, not anyone. All she wanted was a moment of peace.
But the second she stepped out the villa gate, she spotted Clive's driver waiting for her at the curb.
"Madam, Mr. Harrington sent me to escort you to the office," the driver, Wade, said politely.
"Seriously? What the hell," she muttered under her breath.
So that man really expected her to show up at his company? And right under the nose of his beloved Tiffany Evans?
Did he think she wouldn't set the place on fire in sheer frustration?
Alright then, Clive. You sure know how to push buttons, huh?
Climbing into the car, Paisley noticed Sophia suddenly rushing out as if trying to say something to her. She didn't bother looking back.
Wade simply started the car and drove off.
Once they got to the building, Wade didn't go in with her.
Instead, Paisley got stopped at the front desk.
"I'm sorry, miss. Without an appointment, you can't see Mr. Harrington," the receptionist said politely, eyes cool and professional.
Whether the girl genuinely didn't recognize Paisley or was just playing dumb, she couldn't be bothered to figure it out. Truth be told, she didn't want to be here anyway.
She had just turned to leave when she spotted someone she'd recognize anywhere - Tiffany, Clive's one and only dream girl.
Yeah, she remembered Tiffany. That woman was the definition of soft-spoken beauty, a real heartbreaker with a reputation for being capable and charming.
Word was that Tiffany and Clive had known each other for years, and their relationship had always been a bit more than just friendship.
Clearly, Clive liked her. Otherwise, there's no way Tiffany would've tried crashing his wedding in such a dramatic, cinematic fashion.
Paisley still remembered that day - Tiffany crying, clutching Clive's arm like it was life or death. And Clive had actually left with her in front of everyone.
To this day, she didn't know how he'd soothed Tiffany enough to get her to leave. But when Clive had come back, he hadn't looked happy.
Looking back, Paisley figured they must've been playing some kind of act.
After that, she'd finally decided to leave with Ethan and walk out of that entire mess.
"Miss Hughes, right? Mr. Harrington's in a meeting. I'll take you up," Tiffany said smoothly, deliberately using "Miss Hughes" instead of "Mrs. Harrington."
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8.6
I was eight months pregnant with the heir to the city's most powerful crime family. My husband, Austen, told me he was hosting a private celebration to honor me and the baby.
But when I walked into the warehouse, the steel doors slammed shut behind me.
I wasn't in a ballroom. I was locked inside an industrial glass freezer.
Through the thick glass, I saw Austen standing with his assistant, Deb. They were laughing. He told me he didn't care about his son; he only cared about the trust fund that would unlock upon my father's death.
"Cool her off," he ordered.
His men dumped buckets of ice water onto me. The shock was instant. I begged him to stop, screaming for the life of our child, but he just watched with cold eyes.
As I collapsed into a slush of ice and my own blood, I felt the baby fade away.
Austen thought he had won. He thought my father, the Don, was dead and buried. He thought I was just a helpless, spoiled princess he could dispose of to seize the throne.
He was wrong.
With my last ounce of strength, I looked through the glass and mouthed three words: "He is coming."
Before Austen could react, the warehouse doors didn't just open—they exploded inward.
And through the smoke walked the man Austen thought was worm food.
My father wasn't dead. But my husband was about to wish he was.
7.4
I was a broke clinic doctor drowning in debt, so I took a confidential job to evaluate a billionaire heir's fertility.
I marched into the VIP ICU, pinned the struggling patient down, and injected a sedative. I finished the extraction and loudly declared to the family lawyer that the Holt heir was completely sterile.
But then, a chilling laugh echoed from the doorway.
The real heir, Jarrod Holt, the tyrant of Wall Street, stepped in. I had just sterilized his younger brother right in front of him.
Facing a decade in federal prison, I was completely at his mercy. To make things worse, my arrogant ex-boyfriend tried to publicly humiliate me, and my greedy uncle threatened to burn my dead mother's belongings for ransom. I was pushed to the absolute brink of ruin.
But instead of destroying me, Jarrod offered a terrifying lifeline. He bought out a Manhattan high-rise in five minutes just to ruin my ex, then handed me a marriage contract.
I was terrified and deeply confused. Why would this ruthless billionaire force a nobody into a fake marriage? He knew details about my past that no one should know. Did he discover my hidden identity as 'E', the underground surgeon the entire medical world was hunting for?
With my back against the wall, I signed the prenuptial agreement.
"I do," I whispered at City Hall.
He shoved his heavy, antique family ring onto my finger. It was supposed to be strictly business with absolutely no physical contact, but when his lips crashed violently onto mine, I knew I had just sold my soul to the devil.
9.3
Elliana sat on the cold marble floor, staring at the two pink lines on the pregnancy test. Overjoyed, she went to her husband Garrett’s study to surprise him.
But the room was empty. On his iPad, she accidentally opened a muted security video from the night before. As a graphic novelist trained in facial anatomy, she easily read Garrett’s lips as he spoke to their housekeeper.
"Increase the hallucinogens and the birth control. Let her become a complete lunatic."
The truth shattered her reality. Her three years of inexplicable exhaustion and mental collapses were orchestrated to keep her away from her ex-fiancé, who was now married to Garrett’s sister, Cristina. The nightmare worsened during a horrific highway crash. As their SUV flipped and caught fire, Garrett ruthlessly abandoned a pregnant Elliana in the crushed backseat. He dragged Cristina to safety, leaving Elliana to burn. She survived, but her right hand—her drawing hand—was permanently destroyed.
Lying in the hospital with her career ruined and her intellectual property stolen by the husband who forged her signature while she was drugged, a freezing void of hatred consumed her. She was nothing but a sedated decoy to hide Garrett's twisted, incestuous obsession with his own sister.
When Garrett knelt by her hospital bed with fake tears, Elliana didn't scream or expose him. Instead, she forced a pathetic, dependent smile, playing the perfect broken wife. She was going back to his penthouse to steal his encrypted files, ready to feed him to Manhattan's most cutthroat divorce lawyer and watch his empire burn.
7.4
What's worse than being trapped in an elevator with your gorgeous, Rich boss?
Being trapped with all three of them.
Jack, Gavin, and Harrison aren't just my bosses; they're my brother's filthy rich best friends.
After a steamy, unplanned hookup when the lights went out, I'm about to become much more than just the girl next door.
There's Jack, whose touch drives me wild.
Gavin, the cocky CEO whose dirty orders I can't wait to obey.
And Harrison, the sweet, passionate one who pours his heart into everything... including me.
I've waited years for these men to finally see me. Now, I belong to them. My body is theirs to devour, my bed is theirs to break. But giving them my heart is a terrifying risk, and I just pray they don't shatter it.
9.6
Annabelle lay dying on a rotting mattress in a freezing apartment, her lungs failing from severe malnutrition.
Her phone rang. It was her fiancé, Axel, calling from his lavish wedding—with her best friend, Fay.
"You were just a naive ATM," Axel chuckled over the phone.
He admitted he had drained her trust fund and framed her for the drug scandal that ruined her life.
Fay took the phone, wearing the haute couture wedding dress Annabelle had designed for herself.
"Your parents' private jet crash wasn't an accident," Fay whispered viciously.
The brutal truth shattered Annabelle. She died in pure agony, vomiting blood, her eyes wide open in absolute hatred.
But as her soul floated above her corpse, the door was kicked open by Dangelo Valencia—the arrogant heir she had despised her entire life.
He held her ruined body, sobbing, and ordered his private army to destroy Axel and Fay, sending them to prison.
Then, Dangelo collapsed, dying from a military shrapnel wound he got just to prove his worth after she had cruelly rejected him years ago.
Watching him bleed out for her, Annabelle's soul screamed in excruciating guilt.
Why had she blindly trusted a parasite who murdered her family, while destroying the only man who would burn the world down to avenge her?
When she opened her eyes again, she was back in her pristine high school uniform.
She had returned to the exact day she was supposed to fund Axel's startup.
This time, she ripped his business plan to shreds and walked straight out to find Dangelo.
8.7
They killed her once. Now, she's back to collect the debt.
Thrown back in time to the single night that shattered her life, Jane King is no longer the powerless charity case of the billionaire Norman family. She's a ghost with a ten-year grudge and a perfect memory of every sin they committed. The timid girl is gone, replaced by a woman with nothing left to lose and a ledger that can only be balanced in ruin.
Her audit begins tonight. With the cold precision of a master strategist, she dismantles the heirs, staging their downfall as tragic accidents. But her bloody work doesn't go unnoticed. From a balcony above, the enigmatic and dangerous Hudson Ellison watches the victim become a predator. He's the only one who sees the monster she's become, and he doesn't want to cage it-he wants to crown it.
He offers a dangerous alliance and the keys to an empire. But in a game of secrets and lies, when you partner with a wolf, you risk becoming the prey.