Phoenix Of Ruin: My Second Life Comes With A Better Man
Ashley gave Nicolas ten years of love and five years of loyalty as his perfect housewife, only to be repaid with betrayal, humiliation, and death at the hands of him and his mistress.
After being reborn, she vowed to make them pay.
She tore apart the mistress, kicked her useless husband aside, and returned as the heiress of a top-tier family.
Surrounded by billions, luxury, and a parade of elite bachelors, Ashley became the woman everyone wanted-including a cold, powerful tycoon.
When Nicolas came begging for forgiveness, she smiled coldly. "Fuck off! My man is worth a hundred of you."
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Chapter 2
In the very next second, Nicolas clamped a hand around her wrist and said in a voice cold enough to cut, "You're coming to the operating room. Right now."
The force of his grip was vicious, crushing down so hard it felt like the bones in her wrist might splinter.
Pain shot through Ashley, and she jerked her hand free on instinct.
"Why the hell would I go with you?"
For a brief instant, shock flashed across Nicolas's face.
Over three years of marriage, he had grown far too used to her quiet patience, her obedient softness, and the way she always gave in to him.
Never once had she challenged him this openly.
At once, his expression darkened, and his voice came out even harsher with anger. "You've still got the nerve to ask? If you hadn't poisoned Caroline, she wouldn't be lying in kidney failure right now, barely hanging on. This was your fault, so you were going to pay for it."
A frigid laugh slipped from Ashley's lips. "Oh, really? And how was I supposed to pay? By marching into the operating room and letting you carve one of my kidneys out for her?"
Nicolas hadn't expected her to see straight through his plan so quickly, but he didn't feel the slightest bit ashamed of it.
"What if that's exactly what I meant? It's only one kidney. You owed her at least that much. You were coming with me."
She owed Caroline?
The sheer insanity of that thought made Ashley feel like the whole world had turned into a joke.
In her previous life, Nicolas had taken Caroline's side every single time that woman set her up.
Back then, Ashley had foolishly believed she wasn't good enough, that she had somehow made Nicolas misunderstand her, so she kept giving more, swallowing more pain, and clinging to the desperate hope that one day she could change his mind about her.
Not until the day they drove her to her death did she finally see how horribly wrong she had been.
This time, she would never hand them another chance to destroy her.
"No," she said, her voice sharp and icy. "Absolutely not."
A cruel sneer tugged at Nicolas's lips. "You don't get to decide that. Take her to the operating room and run the compatibility tests now."
The instant the order left his mouth, several broad-shouldered bodyguards closed in on her.
Seeing those painfully familiar faces, Ashley was dragged straight back to the last life—to the moment they had hauled her into the operating room like she was less than human.
Before their hands could close on her, Ashley whirled around and bolted.
Relying on the grim memories of her previous life, she raced straight to Caroline's room and drove the door open with a hard kick.
Inside, Caroline was reclining against the pillows, holding up a compact mirror while she carefully painted on her lipstick.
The door burst inward with a savage crash, and Caroline shrieked as the lipstick dragged a vivid red streak across her cheek.
At once, she lashed out, "Didn't I make myself clear? I'm busy. No one comes in here. Which brainless little..."
Mid-sentence, her eyes landed on Ashley, and her face stiffened with sudden shock.
"Ashley?" Her voice caught for a beat before turning sharp with alarm. "What... what are you doing here?"
By now, Ashley was supposed to have already been hauled into the operating room, prepped and cut open for her kidney.
Before Caroline could steady herself, Nicolas burst in with several bodyguards close behind, chasing after Ashley.
At the sight of Caroline sitting upright, perfectly fine, Nicolas halted mid-step, shock flashing across his face. "Caroline? You're awake?"
A jolt ran through Caroline's body, her posture going rigid. Only then did it hit her—she was supposed to still be unconscious.
In a flurry of panic, she shoved the compact mirror beneath the blanket, fingers trembling as she forced her expression into something pale and pitiful. Clutching at her chest, she bent forward and broke into a fit of harsh, exaggerated coughing. "Nicolas… it hurts…"
But the act came a second too late.
A mocking smile curved across Ashley's lips. "Miss Wheeler, I heard you were practically dying. They were this close to dragging me into operation to carve out a kidney for you. And now you're sitting here looking just fine. So what was this, huh? Another one of your little traps? Were you faking the whole thing just to pin it on me?"
For the briefest instant, Caroline's expression locked up. Then her eyes turned red on command, and tears spilled down her cheeks as neatly as if she had rehearsed it.
"Ashley, what are you even saying? I don't understand any of this. I just woke up. I only wanted to fix myself up a little because I didn't want Nicolas to see me looking awful. Why are you making it sound like I'm trying to harm you?"
Just as Ashley had expected, the second Nicolas saw Caroline's fragile, tearful face, he moved to shield her.
"That's enough, Ashley," he snapped, his expression hard with anger. "Do you really think everyone is as scheming as you are? Caroline is naturally kind. Why would she ever do something to harm you?"
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7.3
I found out my husband of three years had cheated on me and his mistress is the one who told me-because he didn't have the balls to do it himself.
I move out and get a new apartment, a job as a bartender, and try to move on with a broken heart. I wonder where it all went wrong, if I hadn't been enough for him, if I'd been stupid for marrying him in the first place.
I'm at work one night when he walks inside-the most beautiful man I've ever seen. He sits at the bar and a forest fire burns between us. I was depressed the moment before he entered, but the second I look at his blue eyes, I forget the dumpster fire that my life has become. I invite him back to my place and it's the most passionate night of my life. I expect to never see him again.
I just want him as an anti-depressant-but he wants me all to himself. I just got my heart ripped out of my chest so I want something easy and no-strings-attached, but he wants all the strings because he's hooked.
I don't get much of a say in the matter, and that's not surprising when I learn why-because he's the Butcher. The crime lord of all crime lords, the boss that overshadows all of Paris, that makes everyone abide by his rules-or pay.
And now I'm his.
7.5
I spent three weeks scrubbing carbonized grease off woks at the Jade Garden, hiding my elite tactical training behind raw knuckles and a practiced, submissive stutter. My mission was the only thing keeping me sane: finding my sister, Elena, who vanished into thin air after her phone last pinged near the city’s Restricted Sector.
The breakthrough came when my boss, a bully named Uncle Wong, forced me to take a delivery to 101 Blackwood Drive—a high-security fortress where the drivers whispered that people went in and never came back right. It was a geographic match for Elena's last known location, but as I rode my battered scooter toward the massive steel gates, I realized I wasn't just investigating a lead; I was walking into a spider's web.
The mansion was a monolith of cold concrete and military-grade surveillance, owned by Hugh Bradford, a billionaire who controlled the city’s elite like puppets. During my delivery, the magnetic locks hissed shut, the lights died, and I was plunged into absolute darkness with a predator who didn't want my money. Bradford pinned me against a stainless steel counter and did something unthinkable: he sank his teeth into my shoulder, using the rhythm of my frantic pulse to anchor his own fractured mind.
I escaped with a bruised neck and a thousand-dollar "tip," feeling the crushing weight of his violation and the terrifying realization that my "clumsy immigrant" act hadn't fooled him for a second. I didn't understand why a man of his power would treat a delivery girl like a biological drug, or what he had done to the other girls who had vanished behind those black glass walls.
My heart hammered against my ribs as I realized I was being hunted by a man who could buy and sell my life a thousand times over.
"You're terrified," he had whispered in the dark, and for the first time in years, I wasn't faking it.
Back in my apartment, I found a note tucked inside the cash that confirmed my worst fears:
"For the inconvenience. See you Tuesday."
He thinks he’s found a new toy to play with, but he just gave me the one thing I needed to find my sister—an invitation to go back inside and finish what I started.
8.7
Lina Carter was just a waitress trying to make ends meet. On the other hand, Alexander Knight was a billionaire who would do anything to safeguard his empire. When he proposes a deal for her to be his fake girlfriend, it seems straightforward, he act like she loves him, stick to the rules, and walk away with a nice payday. No feelings involved. No strings attached. No room for error.
But as they share fake kisses, those moments turn into lingering glances. What starts as cold, business-like orders shifts into a quiet sense of protection. Suddenly, the line between pretense and reality begins to blur.
Then, out of nowhere, his ex-fiancée reappears-gorgeous, ruthless, and hell-bent on ruining Lina's life. When the truth about their arrangement comes to light, Lina finds herself publicly humiliated, tossed aside as if she never mattered at all. She walks away with her pride shattered, but her heart still whole.
Now, the man who once paid her to pretend is realizing he wants her for real. But some betrayals cut too deep... and some love stories start with a lie that's just too painful to forgive. She was brought in to act. He ended up falling for her for real.
8.3
For three years, I was the perfect, invisible wife to Bart Brown. On our third anniversary, I stood in the kitchen for four hours, preparing his favorite meal with imported truffles, only to receive a cold text command.
"Crysta fainted again. Get to the hospital. Now."
My rare Rh-negative blood was the only thing the Brown family valued. Bart didn't want a wife; he wanted a walking blood bank for his "sick" best friend, Crysta. While I was fainting from chronic anemia, Crysta was smirking in her hospital bed, clutching Bart's hand and mocking my "peasant" lifestyle.
Even his mother treated me like a servant, demanding I vacuum the floors after I'd already offered my veins for the hundredth time. When I finally reached my breaking point and signed the divorce papers, they didn't let me go quietly. They filed a false police report, accusing me of stealing a multi-million dollar diamond necklace just to watch me crawl.
I didn't understand how a family could be so heartless. I had cooked their meals, cleaned their house, and literally bled for them, yet they were determined to ruin my life the moment I stopped being useful. Did they really think I was a nobody with nowhere to go?
Standing outside the hospital with a bruised wrist and nothing to my name, I didn't cry. I simply took off my cheap wedding ring and dialed a secure line I hadn't touched since the day I married him.
"It's me, Dad," I whispered as a fleet of black Maybachs rounded the corner. "The extraction is a go. I'm coming home."
9.5
I was the heiress to a real estate empire, celebrating my engagement to Douglas at our Manhattan penthouse.
But when I stepped into the master bedroom, I caught him sleeping with my best friend, Krystle.
Before I could even react, Douglas forced me to sign away my family's entire trust fund.
He held up a tablet and forced me to watch a live feed of my parents being burned alive in our Hamptons estate.
"The fire hasn't reached the main house yet, sign it and I'll call them off," he lied.
As soon as the ink dried, he beat me to the ground and locked me in the soundproof study.
He poured twenty-three-year-old whiskey on the carpet and dropped a lit cigar.
"You could have walked away with nothing, but alive," he sneered.
He left me to burn to death while he and Krystle went back to our engagement party to drink champagne.
As the flames melted my skin and my bones shattered against the bulletproof glass, I couldn't understand it.
How could the man who promised me forever brutally exterminate my entire family just for money?
But I didn't die in that fire.
Three years later, with a reconstructed face and a new identity as the mysterious global designer Alice Moreau, I returned to New York.
Watching Douglas and Krystle flaunt the wealth they stole from my family's ashes, I smiled behind my black veil.
It was time to make them pay with everything they had.
7.1
I lay paralyzed on stiff white sheets, a prisoner in my own skin, listening to the rain lash against the window like nails on a coffin. My father, Elmore Franco, didn't even look at my face as he checked his clipboard. He just listened to the steady, monotonous beep of the heart monitor-the only thing proving I was still alive.
Without a hint of remorse, he pulled a pen from his pocket and signed the Do Not Resuscitate order. My stepmother, Ophelia, stepped out from behind him, wearing my favorite pearl necklace and smelling of cloying perfume. She leaned close to my ear to whisper the truth that turned my blood to ice.
"It was the tea, darling. Just like your mother. A slow, tasteless poison."
She chuckled as she revealed that my fiancé, Bryce, had a two-year-old son with my sister, Daniela. My inheritance had been funding their secret life for years, and now that the money was secure, I was an inconvenience they were finally scrubbing away. As my father yanked the power cord from the wall, the beeping died, and the darkness swallowed me whole.
I was being murdered by my own flesh and blood, used as a bank account until I was no longer needed. I died in that sterile room, drowning in the realization that every person I ever loved was a monster who had been waiting for me to take my last breath.
Then, I gasped. I woke up in a luxury hotel suite surrounded by silk sheets, five years in the past-the very morning of my wedding. Next to me lay Basile Delgado, the "Wolf of Wall Street" and my family's most dangerous enemy. In my first life, I ran from this room in a panic and lost everything. This time, I looked at the man who would eventually destroy my father's empire and decided to join him.
"I'm not leaving, Basile. Marry me. Right now. Today."