Reborn As The Billionaire's Wife：The Despised Wife Shines On Live TV
Cecile jolted awake from months of prescription haze, only to realize she was trapped in a live reality show designed to destroy her.
Her billionaire husband had orchestrated the broadcast to publicly humiliate her and elevate his own PR image. He ordered her to follow a degrading script. What was worse, her five-year-old son, Damien, was genuinely terrified of her. When an empty wine bottle rolled across the floor, the tiny boy instantly threw his arms over his head, bracing for a hit.
The production crew shoved microphones into the trembling child's face, trying to trigger his trauma for ratings. The live chat cursed Cecile as a toxic abuser. The show's golden girl maliciously tried to poach Damien on camera to prove Cecile was an unfit mother. The crew even rigged the game, forcing Cecile and her son into a freezing, rotting mud shack with a collapsed roof. They were all just waiting for her to break down and beg.
"A toxic woman like you doesn't deserve to be a mother."
The crew read the hateful comments aloud, expecting a hysterical meltdown. The realization that she had been manipulated into destroying her own child hit Cecile like a physical blow. How could a father subject his own son to this public cruelty?
The weak, easily manipulated Cecile was dead. She threw the PR script away, rolled up her sleeves, and picked up a rusted hammer. This time, she would protect her son and tear down anyone who stood in her way.
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Chapter 4
A sharp, grating laugh echoed across the dirt square.
Hayleigh clutched her stomach, pointing a manicured finger at Cecile. "House 5! The mud shack! Oh my god, the universe really does punish bad people."
On the live stream, the chat moved so fast it was a blur.
Karma!
She's going to freeze to death tonight.
I give her two hours before she quits.
Abbey's eyes gleamed with triumph, but she quickly smoothed her features into a mask of deep, agonizing pity. She took a step toward Cecile, clasping her hands together in front of her chest.
"Octavia," Abbey called out, making sure she was facing the main camera. "This isn't right. That shack is exposed to the elements. It's not safe for a child."
She turned her tragic gaze to Cecile. "Cecile, please. Put your pride aside. Let Damien come stay in House 3 with me and Brayan. He can have the heated guest room."
The other celebrities murmured in agreement. It was the perfect trap. If Cecile said no, she was a monster denying her child warmth. If she said yes, she admitted she was an unfit mother and handed Abbey the ultimate victory.
Hayleigh crossed her arms. "Yeah, Cecile. If you have a shred of decency left in your cold heart, give the kid up. Don't make him suffer for your failures."
Damien stood beside Cecile. His stomach churned. He knew exactly what House 3 was. It was a house rigged with cameras in every corner, ruled by a woman who pinched Brayan's arms where the lenses couldn't see. He opened his mouth to refuse.
Suddenly, the world went silent.
Cecile had dropped to her knees. She brought both of her hands up and clamped them firmly over Damien's ears.
Her palms were warm. The pressure was solid, completely blocking out Hayleigh's screeching and Abbey's fake sympathy.
Damien looked through the gap between her fingers. He felt the tension in her hands, a fierce, protective pressure that blocked out the ugly noise of the world. Through the small gap between her fingers, he caught a brief glimpse of the tight, furious line of her jaw before she gently pulled him closer. She wasn't looking at him; he could feel the rigid posture of her body as she glared down the women trying to tear them apart.
Cecile stood up slowly, keeping her hands over Damien's ears for a second longer before letting them drop. She stepped forward, closing the distance between herself and the group.
She stopped in front of Hayleigh. Her eyes were like shards of broken glass.
"You care so much about children?" Cecile asked, her voice dangerously quiet. "Why don't you care about the fact that your son spat his chewed gum onto the carpet of a private jet three times, and you pretended not to see it?"
Hayleigh's jaw dropped. Her face flushed a violent, mottled red. She looked frantically at the cameras, opening her mouth to deny it, but the footage already existed.
Cecile didn't wait for a response. She turned her head, locking her sights on Abbey.
Abbey's fake smile faltered.
"And you, Mrs. White," Cecile said, taking a slow step forward. "My son is not a prop for your maternal performance. Keep your repulsive acting to yourself."
The words hit like a physical slap. Abbey gasped, taking a step back. Tears instantly welled in her eyes. "I... I was only trying to help," she whimpered, playing the victim perfectly.
Cecile ignored the tears. She turned her terrifying gaze to Director Octavia.
"Section four, paragraph two of our contracts," Cecile recited, her voice echoing across the silent square. "No production member or cast member may forcefully separate a parent-child unit during the survival phase. Attempting to do so is a breach of contract, resulting in immediate termination of the broadcast."
Octavia's face went pale. She hadn't expected Cecile to actually read the legal documents, let alone weaponize them. The director quickly grabbed her walkie-talkie. "Move it along," she hissed to the host.
The host cleared his throat loudly. "Alright! Guides, please take the families to their respective homes!"
Cecile turned around. She reached down and took Damien's hand. Without looking back at the stunned crowd, she followed Cody, the guide, toward the dirt path leading into the woods.
Abbey stood frozen in the square. She watched Cecile's retreating back. The tears vanished from her eyes, replaced by a look of pure, unadulterated venom. Beside her, Brayan saw the shift in his stepmother's face and shrank back, terrified.
The walk to House 5 took thirty minutes. The path was steep, choked with rocks and thick mud. Cecile was wearing thin, flat designer shoes. Every step was a battle. Mud splattered up her calves, ruining her leggings.
Damien looked down at her ruined shoes. Without a word, he quickened his pace, his small hand gripping hers tighter, trying to pull his own weight so she wouldn't have to drag him.
They crested a small hill.
House 5 stood in a clearing. It wasn't a house. It was a rotting wooden shed. The door hung off one hinge. Half the roof was missing, exposing the interior to the darkening sky.
Cody stopped. He looked at the shack, then at Cecile, a flash of genuine pity in his eyes.
"Listen," Cody muttered, stepping away from the cameraman. "If you look into the lens and say you can't do it, production is legally required to give you a weatherproof tent. Just say the word."
Cecile looked at the camera lens. She knew exactly what Octavia wanted. A clip of her begging.
"No," Cecile said flatly. "I can handle it."
She pushed past Cody, pushed open the screeching, rotting door, and stepped into the freezing, damp darkness of the mud shack.
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8.3
I was the long-lost Donovan heiress, finally brought home after a childhood in foster care. My parents adored me, my husband cherished me, and the woman who tried to ruin my life, Kiera Reese, was locked away in a mental facility. I was safe. I was loved.
On my birthday, I decided to surprise my husband, Ivan, at his office. But he wasn't there.
I found him at a private art gallery across town. He was with Kiera.
She wasn't in a facility. She was radiant, laughing as she stood beside my husband and their five-year-old son. I watched through the glass as Ivan kissed her, a familiar, loving gesture he’d used with me just that morning.
I crept closer and overheard them. My birthday wish to go to the amusement park had been denied because he’d already promised the entire park to their son—whose birthday was the same day as mine.
"She’s so grateful to have a family, she’d believe anything we tell her," Ivan said, his voice laced with a cruelty that stole my breath. "It's almost sad."
My entire reality—my loving parents who funded this secret life, my devoted husband—was a five-year lie. I was just the fool they kept on stage.
My phone buzzed. It was a text from Ivan, sent while he stood with his real family.
"Just got out of the meeting. So exhausting. I miss you."
The casual lie was the final blow. They thought I was a pathetic, grateful orphan they could control.
They were about to find out just how wrong they were.
8.9
Betrayed by the people she trusted most, Ava Lin's perfect life shatters overnight. From losing her mother under mysterious circumstances to being tormented by her stepmother and stepsister, Ava learns early that love in her world comes at a price. But nothing prepares her for the ultimate betrayal,catching her fiancé in bed with her own sister just weeks before their wedding.
Humiliated and heartbroken, Ava makes a reckless decision that changes everything: a contract marriage to a stranger. What she doesn't know is that her new husband is Elias Ward,a powerful, cold-hearted billionaire with secrets of his own.
Thrown into a world of wealth, power, and hidden enemies, Ava finds herself entangled in a dangerous game of revenge, lies, and unexpected passion. As she rises from the ashes of betrayal, those who once destroyed her will stop at nothing to bring her down even if it means exposing deadly secrets buried in her past.
But when love begins to bloom in the most unexpected place, Ava must decide,will she continue fighting for revenge, or risk everything for a second chance at love?
In a story filled with scandal, heartbreak, and justice, one woman's pain becomes her greatest strength... and her ultimate weapon.
7.2
I am a resident surgeon, secretly married to Dr. Barrett Walters, the Chief of Cardiothoracic Surgery. It was a transactional marriage; he paid my mother's mounting medical bills, and I was his secret, obedient wife in the dark.
But at the hospital, he was a cold-blooded tyrant who deliberately made my life a living hell. During a major medical conference, he viciously tore apart my successful surgical repair, looking me dead in the eye as he called me incompetent in front of all my colleagues.
The humiliation didn't stop there. With his tacit approval, the senior residents bullied me, assigning me every brutal night shift. When his beautiful, wealthy heiress "girlfriend" visited the ward, he publicly mocked my background to make her smile.
"Some people get in through the back door. They're not fit for the front lines."
Even when I was forced to work as a secret banquet waitress to cover the medical copays he ignored, he found me, ruined the job out of pure possessive jealousy, and then fined my meager resident salary the very next morning just to show his absolute control.
I endured his punishing kisses and cruel rebukes, sacrificing my dignity just to keep my mother alive. But I couldn't understand why he had to destroy every shred of my peace. If he wanted the perfect heiress, why did he refuse to let me go?
Staring at his cold, controlling eyes in the stairwell, my exhaustion finally overpowered my fear. I was done being his victim, and it was time to tear up this contract.
8.1
Arnetta had been married to a wealthy man for three years, but she had never even seen his face.
After a wild night of drinking, she woke up in a hotel room next to a handsome, ruthless stranger.
He coldly kicked her out, mocking her as just another desperate woman trying to sleep her way to the top.
To her shock, she soon discovered the stranger was Brennan Kirkland—her firm's top-tier client and a legendary Wall Street billionaire.
Hiding her true identity as a corporate spy, she manipulated her way into becoming his executive assistant to steal his data.
During a business dinner, Arnetta received a humiliating text from her absent husband, demanding a divorce and calling her a greedy parasite.
"He is a deadbeat coward who thinks money solves everything," Arnetta spat in anger.
"A man who hides behind lawyers is weak," Brennan agreed coldly.
He had absolutely no idea he was insulting his own actions, nor did he realize the wild, gold-digging wife he despised was sitting right across from him.
The next day, her husband's legal team sent a brutal twenty-million-dollar settlement offer, threatening to ruin her if she didn't take the payoff and disappear.
Staring at the degrading ultimatum, Arnetta's hands shook with blinding rage.
She looked at Brennan, who was busy plotting to destroy his own wife, and a terrifyingly calm smile touched her lips.
She wasn't just going to take the money; she was going to completely destroy him.
8.7
Five years ago, I was the invisible scholarship charity case at an elite Manhattan prep school, trying to survive in a sea of trust-fund babies.
Arlo Hammond, the untouchable billionaire heir, made sure to completely dismantle my soul.
When his wealthy friends asked if he noticed me, his mocking laughter echoed down the hallway.
"Are you out of your mind? You seriously think I'd be interested in a boring little nerd like her?"
But the moment we were alone, he would corner me in dark alleys, pinning my wrists against brick walls with terrifying, possessive jealousy if my phone even buzzed. He played his twisted games until I was left standing in the rain with my shattered dignity.
Now, I am an Assistant District Attorney. I spent years burying those memories under mountains of legal files.
But tonight, he returned.
When we crossed paths at an exclusive club, he looked at me with the cool detachment he'd give a piece of furniture. In front of a crowd of elites, he coldly declared:
"We have absolutely nothing to do with each other anymore."
Then he walked away to pick up a supermodel, leaving me trembling from the sheer humiliation.
I didn't understand. If I was so worthless to him, why did he still have my birthday tattooed in dark ink on his wrist? Why did he look at me with such raw, painful vulnerability in the shadows?
I stared at my pale reflection in the mirror and made a silent vow.
I am not that pathetic seventeen-year-old anymore, and I will prove to him that I am completely, entirely over him.
8.6
Aubree pushed Ezra down the grand staircase, crippling the only man who silently protected her.
She thought she was finally escaping his control to be with her true love, Foster Newton.
But she had no idea it was a vicious trap meticulously set by Newton and her sweet, innocent cousin, Brandi.
Once Ezra was driven out of New York in despair, Aubree's life became a living hell. Her father completely disowned her. Brandi smoothly took over her home and her millions in inheritance.
"You were just a stepping stone for us, Aubree."
That was the last thing Newton sneered before leaving her to die.
Lying on the freezing floor, her warm blood pooling in her palms, Aubree finally saw the horrifying truth. She had destroyed her own family and ruined the one man who genuinely cared for her, all for a pair of greedy parasites.
Endless regret and suffocating hatred consumed her fading consciousness. Why was she so blind? Why did she let them manipulate her into destroying her own life?
Then, her eyes snapped open.
A violent wave of dizziness hit her. She looked down at her pale, flawless hands. There were no deep cuts. There was no sticky blood.
She was back. She had miraculously returned to the exact night she pushed Ezra, just two hours before his private jet was scheduled to leave forever.
Hearing her father's furious roar outside her bedroom door, Aubree didn't cower.
She wiped the smeared makeup from her face, her eyes turning dead cold. This time, she was going to make Ezra stay, and she was going to send those leeches straight to hell.