Playing The Toxic Wife To Attract Billionaires
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June woke up transmigrated into the body of a ruthless billionaire's toxic, disposable wife.
Before she could even process the massive Beverly Hills mansion, a cold system voice announced she had exactly five minutes of lifespan remaining.
To survive, she was forced to bind with the system and strictly maintain the original owner's "brainless, abusive drama queen" persona to earn hours to live.
She was forced to violently slap hot coffee out of a terrified maid's hands and physically spank her manipulative five-year-old stepson.
When she tried to escape this nightmare by throwing divorce papers at her terrifying husband, Isaac Walton, he simply ripped them to shreds.
Every time she tried to be reasonable or show a hint of kindness, the system tortured her with agonizing cardiac pain, cementing her status as the most hated monster in the family.
The most absurd part happened when she threw a hysterical, system-mandated tantrum over a gossip magazine, and Isaac's icy demeanor suddenly melted.
He gently touched her hair, offering the one thing she desperately needed.
"Stop crying. I'll handle it."
Just as a spark of hope ignited in her chest, the system's critical death warning exploded in her skull: accepting his sympathy would instantly deduct thirty days of her life.
To stay alive, June had no choice but to violently slap away the only hand reaching out to save her, forcing herself to play the greedy villain while her husband's gaze turned dangerously dark.
Playing The Toxic Wife To Attract Billionaires Chapter 1
June bolted upright on the king-size bed.
The silk sheets pooled at her waist as she clawed at her chest. Her lungs refused to expand. A sharp, tearing agony ripped through her sternum, as if someone had shoved a fist into her ribcage and squeezed her heart. She gasped, sucking in useless air.
She blinked through the tears blurring her vision. The room around her was massive. Vaulted ceilings, excessive gold-leaf molding, and floor-to-ceiling windows framing the swaying palm trees of Beverly Hills. The sheer opulence hit her brain like a physical blow, sending her into a brief, violent spiral of sensory overload.
Her bare feet hit the cold hardwood floor. She stumbled, her knees buckling, and practically threw herself into the adjoining master bathroom.
She gripped the edges of the marble vanity. Her knuckles turned white. She stared into the massive mirror and staggered back a half-step. The face staring back at her was breathtakingly beautiful, but the sharp arch of the eyebrows and the harsh set of the jaw screamed of a toxic, bitter woman. It wasn't her face.
A cold, synthesized voice sliced through the silence in her head.
"System Moe-7 activated."
June's heart stuttered. She pressed the heels of her hands against her temples. She thought she was hallucinating from the pain.
"You have exactly five minutes of lifespan remaining." the voice stated.
A digital, blood-red countdown timer burned itself into her retinas.
04:59.
June slammed her fist against the marble counter. "Is this a sick joke?" she rasped, her throat burning.
The system didn't answer with words. It answered with pain.
A very real, very violent spike of agony shot straight through her left ventricle. June's legs gave out. She collapsed, her knees slamming hard against the freezing marble floor.
"Plot synchronization complete," the cold voice echoed.
Memories that didn't belong to her slammed into her skull. June bit down on her lower lip so hard she tasted copper. She was June Myers. The disposable, toxic wife of the ruthless billionaire Isaac Walton.
She saw the ending. She saw Isaac and his son coldly signing the papers to lock her in a psychiatric ward for the rest of her life. June grabbed the lapels of her silk robe, her fingers trembling violently as terror coated her throat.
"Bind with the system to earn lifespan," Moe-7 demanded.
June forced her breathing to slow. She was a modern woman. She knew how to negotiate. "Show me the underlying logic," she choked out. "What are the terms? I need to see the contract."
The system ignored her. The red numbers in her vision blurred and suddenly dropped.
00:10.
00:09.
The air left the room. An invisible hand wrapped around June's throat, crushing her windpipe. She clawed at her own neck.
00:03.
Survival instinct overrode everything. "I agree!" she screamed into the empty bathroom. "I bind!"
The crushing pressure vanished instantly.
June slumped sideways onto the floor. She dragged in massive, ragged breaths. Cold sweat soaked through the back of her silk nightgown, sticking the fabric to her spine. She had never felt a fear so absolute, so physically crushing.
"Starter pack deployed," the system chimed.
A massive headache split her skull as the original June's memories-a chaotic mess of Hollywood drama, screaming matches, and vanity-were forcefully shoved into her brain.
June grabbed the edge of the vanity and hauled herself up. She stared at her pathetic reflection, mentally cursing the goddamn system a thousand times over.
A heavy knock echoed from the bedroom door.
"Mrs. Walton?" a timid voice called out. It was Maria, the maid. Her voice was trembling.
June opened her mouth, the gentle words 'It's alright' already on her tongue. Before she could speak, a blaring yellow warning flashed across her vision. "Warning. Deviation from 'toxic drama queen' persona detected."
June ground her back teeth together. She forced the muscles in her face to twist. She stared at the mirror and practiced a harsh, condescending eye roll.
She yanked the bathroom door open. She grabbed an obscenely expensive silk dressing gown, threw it over her shoulders, and tied the sash tight enough to bruise her ribs, needing the physical pressure to ground her panic.
She marched across the thick carpet, took a deep breath, and yanked the heavy mahogany door open. A rush of cold air swept into the hallway.
Maria stood there, holding a silver tray. The maid flinched so hard the porcelain coffee cup rattled against the saucer.
June crossed her arms over her chest. She looked down her nose at the woman. "Why are you making so much noise?" she demanded, her voice dripping with arrogance.
"I-I brought your morning black coffee, ma'am," Maria stuttered, her eyes glued to the floorboards.
June looked at the perfect, steaming cup of coffee. Her throat was parched. She wanted nothing more than to take it and say thank you.
A sharp, electric shock bit into her temple. The system's threat was clear.
June uncrossed her arms. She reached out and slapped the side of the cup.
The hot coffee flew across the hallway, splashing dark stains onto the pristine carpet. Maria dropped to her knees instantly, tears spilling over her eyelashes as she frantically apologized.
June stared down at the terrified woman. Her chest physically ached. She hid her hands inside the wide sleeves of her gown, digging her fingernails so deeply into her palms that the skin nearly broke, desperately fighting the urge to drop down and help her clean it up.
She forced a cold scoff from her throat. "Clean up this garbage immediately," she snapped.
She stepped back and slammed the door shut in Maria's face.
June leaned her back against the heavy wood. She squeezed her eyes shut. Nausea rolled through her stomach at the cruelty she had just inflicted.
"Persona synchronization successful," the system announced. "Reward: 24 hours of lifespan."
The red numbers in her eyes shifted to 23:59:59. June slid down the door until she hit the floor.
"Main Quest 1," the system continued. "Serve your husband, Isaac Walton, with divorce papers immediately."
June's eyes snapped open, wide with absolute shock.
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Playing The Toxic Wife To Attract Billionaires of Contents
Chapter 1 Ch. 1Chapter 2 Ch. 2Chapter 3 Ch. 3Chapter 4 Ch. 4Chapter 5 Ch. 5Chapter 6 Ch. 6Chapter 7 Ch. 7
Chapter 8 Ch. 8
Chapter 9 Ch. 9
Chapter 10 Ch. 10
Chapter 11 Ch. 11
All Chapters all
New Release Novels
7.8
Alayna was working a grueling catering shift in worn-out heels to support her broke college boyfriend, Caiden, who claimed to be studying at the library.
But through the crack of a VIP suite door, she saw him wearing a bespoke suit and a Patek Philippe watch, sipping expensive liquor.
"It's a little poverty role-play. Keeps things interesting."
He was laughing with his rich friends, mocking her as his clueless "charity case."
To make matters worse, she was forced into a humiliating mascot costume just in time to watch him passionately kiss his wealthy ex-girlfriend.
That same night, Alayna's mother collapsed with gastric cancer, requiring a half-million-dollar surgery.
When a desperate Alayna begged Caiden for help, he refused.
"Why don't you just apply for Medicaid? That's the path for people like you."
For two years, she had starved herself to buy his textbooks, his tickets, and his shoes.
He had stolen her sweat and her sacrifices, all for a cruel game.
The sheer audacity of his betrayal made her blood run cold.
When a billionaire stranger stepped in to pay her mother's medical bills in exchange for a one-year fake marriage, Alayna didn't hesitate to sign the contract.
She slipped the flawless diamond ring onto her finger, opened a spreadsheet, and sent Caiden an invoice for every single cent.
This time, she was going to dismantle his entire life.
7.9
Allyson was the most hated actress in Hollywood, forced to wear a cheap, tearing gown after America's sweetheart, Joanne, stole her S-tier role.
During a red carpet disaster, Allyson tripped and fell—straight into the arms of the untouchable megastar, Byron Estes.
The internet exploded, accusing Allyson of faking the fall to seduce him. Drowning in bad press and desperate to pay her agency's termination fee, she signed a reality TV contract. She was forced to play the desperate, clingy villain, acting as a pathetic stepping stone for Joanne and Byron's highly anticipated on-screen romance.
"You could throw yourself at Byron a hundred times, and you'd still never make it into his bed," Joanne mocked.
What Joanne and the furious public didn't know was that three years ago, when Byron was in a horrific crash, Joanne had abandoned him. It was Allyson who stayed.
Even more absurd? Allyson and Byron were actually secretly married, bound by a multi-million dollar NDA.
Determined to play her villainous role and get paid, Allyson memorized a book of cringe-inducing pickup lines, ready to disgust her secret husband on live television.
"The stars are in the sky. But you... are in my heart."
She expected the ice-cold superstar to push her away in disgust. Instead, when another male guest got too close to her, Byron completely shattered his untouchable facade, his eyes burning with a lethal, undeniable possessiveness that sent the internet into absolute chaos.
7.6
When the Pollard family kicked Alyssa out into the freezing rain, Walter threw a ten-thousand-dollar check into a dirty puddle.
"Take it and get out. Don't ever come back," he sneered.
Her adoptive mother and stepsister stood on the mansion's porch, mocking her as a worthless country girl who tarnished their wealthy name. They laughed, claiming she wouldn't even be able to afford community college and would be begging on the streets in a week.
They looked at her cheap clothes and worn backpack with absolute disgust.
They were completely unaware that for the past five years, Alyssa was the secret mastermind who had built their failing gallery into a multi-million-dollar investment empire.
Every key investment, every fortune they made, came from the anonymous notes she had slipped into their unread books. They genuinely believed they were business geniuses, while treating the true architect of their wealth like a stray dog.
Looking at their smug, arrogant faces, Alyssa didn't feel a shred of sadness, only a cold, sharp irony.
They actually believed they had raised her.
She stepped close, whispered the master code to Walter's most secret offshore account, and watched the blood completely drain from his face.
"I raised you," she said, turning her back on the mansion without hesitation.
Walking into the storm, she pulled out a heavily encrypted phone and gave a single, cold order.
"Initiate a full hostile takeover of the Pollard Group."
It was time to end this little game and step into her true life—as the world's most elusive medical genius, and the long-lost billionaire heiress of the Summers dynasty.
8.7
For seven years, I was Alpha Zane’s Chosen Mate, suppressing my warrior instincts to be the docile, supportive partner he demanded.
On our seventh anniversary, while I waited by a candlelit table, I accidentally overheard his mind-link with another woman.
"Seven years is a habit, my dear, not love. She's docile, she'll understand."
He told Seraphina, his new political ally, laughing as he dismissed my entire existence.
I didn't scream or cry. I scraped the anniversary cake into the trash, drafted a formal rejection letter, and walked out of the packhouse.
But Zane didn't even notice my departure. He was so consumed by his new lover that my rejection letter was treated as garbage and tossed into the incinerator.
He paraded Seraphina around the pack, even handing my hard-earned strategic command over to her—a woman who knew absolutely nothing about war.
When my loyal subordinates protested, he violently suppressed them, declaring my absence a "childish tantrum" and framing me as the bitter obstacle to his destined romance.
He honestly thought I was just hiding in my room, waiting to beg for his charity and accept a humiliating demotion.
He had no idea that I had already crossed the border into enemy territory.
Tonight, I am attending his grand celebration.
Not as the heartbroken mate he discarded, but as the newly appointed Gamma of his deadliest rival, the Sterling Pack.
8.2
When our family empire crumbled, my sister and I were sold off as collateral to the Chicago Outfit.
My fierce sister Frankie was forced to marry Damien Moretti, the terrifying Don. I was shackled to his brother Leo, a notorious, degenerate playboy.
I thought my life was over, but the real nightmare began on our wedding night. A terrified maid handed me the wrong room key. Exhausted and numb, I crawled into a dark honeymoon suite, praying my new husband would be too drunk to find me.
Instead, the heavy door opened, and a man fueled by a drug-laced drink stepped in. He was ruthless, punishing, and entirely stripped away my dignity in the pitch black.
When the morning light finally broke, I turned my head, expecting to see Leo's boyish face. Instead, I saw a profile carved from ice.
Damien Moretti. The Don. My sister's husband.
The very man who had previously called me a "liability" and ruined my life. When he realized who I was, his eyes filled with absolute, chilling disgust. He dragged me out of the ruined sheets, threw me onto the floor of a freezing shower, and demanded to know why I had sneaked into his suite.
"You ruined me. How am I supposed to look at Frankie? You should have just killed me. Kill me now, Damien. It would be a mercy compared to this."
I sobbed, the freezing water mingling with my tears. He just stared down at me with cold, unreadable intent. I was now trapped in a house of monsters, carrying the Don's darkest secret, and I had to figure out how to survive without destroying my sister.
7.5
I gave up my twenty-billion-dollar inheritance and cut ties with my family, all for my boyfriend of five years, Ignatz.
But just as I was about to tell him I was pregnant with our child, he dropped a bombshell.
He needed me to take the fall for his childhood sweetheart, Everleigh. She'd been in a hit-and-run, and her career couldn't handle the scandal.
When I refused and told him about our baby, his face went cold. He told me to terminate the pregnancy immediately.
"Everleigh is the woman I love," he said. "Finding out you're pregnant with my child would destroy her."
He had his assistant schedule the appointment and sent me to the clinic alone. There, the nurse told me the procedure carried a high risk of permanent infertility.
He knew. And he still sent me.
I walked out of that clinic, choosing to keep my child. At that exact moment, a news alert lit up my phone. It was a glowing article announcing that Ignatz and Everleigh were expecting their first child, complete with a photo of his hand resting protectively on her stomach.
My world shattered. Wiping away a tear, I found the number I hadn't called in five years.
"Dad," I whispered, my voice breaking. "I'm ready to come home."
![[Dubbed Version]Reborn: A Vengeful Marriage](https://v.melolo.com/b1265344voduse1318177724/1f41c93a5145403706115181269/kC0ANlMp9K4A.webp!15491.webp!15491.webp)
