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 3
"Performance?"
Clive's expression shifted instantly - whatever brief calm he'd found just moments ago vanished without a trace.
A performance?
She thought this marriage - to him - was nothing but an act?
Like he was some desperate man begging for someone to play pretend?
Paisley, meanwhile, kept speaking, entirely unaware of the temperature drop in the room. For a summer afternoon, the air had turned to ice.
"Yeah," she said, composed. "In front of the press, around your family at the Harrington estate - I'll be the perfect wife. No drama, no trouble. And when the day comes that you want someone else to wear the title of Mrs. Harrington, I'll walk away. Quiet and clean."
She meant every word.
In her mind, she was doing him a favor.
He had someone else in his heart, didn't he? That woman who showed up crying at their wedding, the one he disappeared with right before the vows?
Paisley thought she understood: he'd only married her because the family demanded it. So now she was offering him a way out - a logical, mature arrangement.
So why did Clive suddenly lose it?
Before she could react, he stepped forward and slammed her against the wall.
The shift was instant.
One second he was silent. The next, the room shrank under the weight of his fury.
His hand pressed beside her head. His body caged hers. His breath was ragged, furious.
"Paisley," he growled, voice low and dangerous. "You're mine. For life. Even in death, you'll be buried with the Harringtons. I'm not divorcing you. Don't even think about running."
His eyes were dark, wild - like a lion cornering prey. Terrifying. Unrelenting.
Paisley's heart raced.
Where had she misstepped? Why had her calm proposal triggered such rage?
But one thing was clear: if he thought he could lock her up again like before, he was dead wrong.
Still, she knew from experience - pushing him when he was like this would only make things worse.
So she changed tactics.
Her voice softened. "Clive... it hurts. Please don't hold me like this. Let me go, okay?"
The tears in her eyes weren't fake - but they were strategic.
Some things never changed. Playing soft still worked better than fighting fire with fire.
Sure enough, his grip loosened. His eyes flicked across her face, lingering on the shimmer in her lashes.
A beat passed.
Then without a word, he turned and walked out.
As the door shut behind him, the warmth in her eyes vanished, replaced by ice.
He didn't want a divorce?
Fine.
Let's see how long he could handle her playing by her own rules.
*****
Next day, in a café.
Paisley flipped through the documents Clive's secretary, Patrick Carter, had put together - his likes, dislikes, ideal woman, even the tiniest quirks were all there.
Just then, she received an anonymous email. Attached were pictures of a man and a woman dining at a super exclusive, couples-only restaurant - you had to book it a week in advance.
No prize for guessing who the man was: her husband, the same guy who'd just said he'd never divorce her.
The woman? Paisley remembered her well. That same tear-streaked face who'd caused a scene at her wedding - unforgettable.
Figures. Men say one thing and do another. Staring at the screen, all she could think was: what a joke.
So what did she do? Called up her closest guy friend, Lucas Morgan. Guy was a genius hacker - she needed someone skilled to dig into Ethan's company finances.
And let's be honest, she wasn't just looking for dirt. This was payback.
If Clive could flaunt his dinner dates, so could she.
Time to remind him that she wasn't someone to be taken for granted.
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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.