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 8
Vincent's sudden appearance smothered the bar's rowdy noise, dropping the whole room into stunned silence.
Ashley's hold on the bottle slackened a fraction, surprise flashing across her eyes.
Her gaze lifted to the man standing there—composed, distant, and impossibly untouchable—and question after question crowded her mind.
In her previous life, she had barely crossed paths with Vincent. All she had known was that he was the one rival Nicolas had always feared most.
And yet now, this elusive man had shown up here in person and had even stepped in to pull her out of trouble?
"Mr. Greene… do you know her?" Still half-collapsed on the floor, Jordy's body trembled so hard his voice nearly broke apart around the words.
From every corner, people leaned in, ears pricked as their gazes flicked between Ashley and Vincent.
"Who exactly is she? What kind of woman could make Vincent Greene step in for her?"
"I thought he didn't care about women. Don't tell me he actually likes her. Is that why he got involved?"
"So Mr. Greene's really breaking his own rules tonight."
A short distance away, Nicolas's expression darkened so completely it was almost frightening. He fixed a hard stare on Vincent's back, his fingers curling tighter and tighter at his side before he even realized it.
If Vincent had truly taken an interest in Ashley, it would have been the cruelest possible slap in Nicolas's face.
Dayna looked just as shocked. Still reeling from Vincent's breathtaking face and unable to hold back, she leaned close to Ashley and murmured in a hushed rush, "Ash, don't tell me he's really here because of you. So what, he's been secretly crushing on you all this time? He put his name down for your matchmaking banquet, and now he's already showing up to save you?"
Without even taking a proper breath, Dayna pressed on. "Seriously, this entrance, this kind of pressure, this whole vibe? He's basically the ultimate billionaire fantasy. He's a thousand times better than that bastard Nicolas. As your best friend, I officially give this one my blessing."
Then, in the very next second, Vincent's chilly, unreadable voice cut straight through every last bit of her romantic imagination.
"This place belongs to me."
A faint tilt of Vincent's chin sent his gaze gliding over Jordy before it came to rest on Ashley. Whatever flickered in his eyes, it held no trace of warmth.
In a cool, merciless voice, he said, "You make a scene in my bar, you break my rules. Jordy, have you gotten tired of being alive?"
Everyone in Sleridge knew exactly how Vincent handled things—fast, brutal, and final. Under his watch, no one dared cross a line.
As soon as those words were spoken, the tight knot in Nicolas's chest finally loosened.
So that was the truth of it. Vincent had stepped in for one reason only: to defend the order of his bar.
Nicolas had known it all along. A woman like Ashley might have a beautiful face, but that was all she had. There was no way someone like Vincent would ever look at her twice.
The instant Jordy heard that, he looked like a man who had just been dragged back from the edge of death. He bobbed his head wildly and stammered, "Mr. Greene, please forgive me. I lost my head. I was drunk, and I crossed the line. I'll leave right now. Right now..."
He lurched upright, desperate to get off the floor.
"Don't move." Vincent's fingertip skimmed over his cuff link, and his voice stayed so even it sounded like he was commenting on the weather. "Did I give you permission to leave?"
Jordy went rigid. A chill swept through him as cold sweat soaked his back. "M-Mr. Greene… what more do you want from me? I'll pay. No matter how much it is, I'll pay."
"In a Greene establishment, anyone who breaks the rules leaves behind a hand." With a slight turn of his head, Vincent signaled the men behind him. "Since you don't seem able to do it yourself, I'll have someone assist you."
At that, Jordy panicked and blurted, "Mr. Greene, my father is Dale Howard. Howard Realty works with Greene Group. Please, Mr. Greene..."
Not even a flicker crossed Vincent's face. His voice remained cold enough to cut. "In Sleridge, my rules aren't up for discussion. Do it."
Then a nauseating crack split the air.
Jordy's scream ripped across the bar from end to end.
All around them, the onlookers turned deathly pale. Several people recoiled so violently they squeezed their eyes shut on the spot.
Pain knocked Jordy unconscious almost at once. The bodyguards hauled him out like dead weight and tossed him onto the street as if he were nothing but trash.
Then Vincent let his eyes travel across the room, and the brutal pressure in that single glance made everyone bow their heads before they even realized it.
"That's what happens to anyone who breaks my rules."
After delivering that cold warning, he turned on his heel and strode off.
From start to finish, his gaze never once returned to Ashley, as if she were nothing more than a blur in the background, too insignificant to notice.
Only when the last black-suited bodyguard vanished from sight did the air in the bar begin to flow again.
Clutching her chest, Dayna tipped back her drink in one long swallow, her face still drained of color. "Ash... I take it back. Vincent Greene isn't some billionaire fantasy. He's a devil. A monster. That was horrifying."
Lingering fear trembled through her as she caught Ashley's hand in a tight grip. "Maybe we should cross him off the list. A man like that… if you ever ended up on the wrong side of him, you wouldn't stand a chance. Let's find you someone kinder—someone safe."
Instead of answering, Ashley kept her gaze fixed on the doorway Vincent had disappeared through, her expression distant and unreadable.
Rules?
No matter how she turned it over, it didn't make sense. A man who controlled Greene Group would never bother personally intervening over some petty drunk causing a scene.
So what exactly was Vincent playing at?
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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."