Reborn From Ashes: The Interpol Queen
After divorcing my cheating husband, I thought I had found my savior in his powerful business partner, Cole.
For three years, he pampered me like a queen, building a perfect, golden cage of devotion.
But on the day I happily discovered I was pregnant, I overheard him talking to my ex-husband's mistress.
"Elinor is just a convenient tool. If she gets pregnant, I'll fake a paternity test and annul the marriage so she leaves with nothing."
My entire marriage was a meticulously crafted lie to secure his position and protect the woman he truly cared about.
Before I could quietly escape, Cole orchestrated a brutal attack.
I was dragged into a dark alley, beaten until my ribs fractured, and my unborn child was violently ripped away from me.
As I lay bleeding out in the freezing rain, my heart shattered into dust.
I didn't understand how the man who kissed me every morning could coldly order his thugs to beat me to death just to appease his real lover.
They left me there to rot, thinking they had finally erased the naive fool who got in their way.
Three years later, the world still believes Elinor Marsh died in a tragic car accident.
But when Cole and his elite circle attend a high-profile Interpol reception, they don't expect the new Chief Liaison Officer to step onto the stage.
I am Helena Fu now, and I have returned to burn their empire to the ground.
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Chapter 4
Elinor Marsh POV:
I pushed the hospital exit door open. The bright sunlight hit my eyes, making me squint. I was still weak, my body shaky. My head felt light. I held onto the wall for support. I just needed to get to my car. As I turned a corner in the bustling corridor, I bumped into someone. Hard.
I stumbled. My feet tangled. My body, already fragile from the strain and the pregnancy, gave out. I fell to the polished floor. A sharp pain shot through my abdomen. My breath caught in my throat. I felt a wave of dizziness. My vision blurred around the edges.
My head hit the sharp edge of a marble step with a sickening thud. A searing pain exploded behind my eyes. Black spots danced in my vision. I tasted blood. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to regain my bearings. A groan escaped my lips.
I struggled to lift my head, my vision still swimming. The face above me slowly came into focus. Davida Brandt. Her eyes were wide, her mouth a perfect O of exaggerated shock. A fresh wave of cold anger washed over me. This could not be a coincidence.
Davida clutched her swollen belly, her face paling dramatically. She let out a small, theatrical gasp and slowly sank to the floor, her movements graceful. It was a performance. I saw it clearly. She was faking it. Her eyes darted to the end of the hallway, a flicker of triumph in them.
Almost simultaneously, Cole and Bernard appeared, rushing towards us. Their faces were etched with panic. They did not even glance at me, sprawled on the floor. Their attention was solely on Davida, her feigned distress.
Bernard reached Davida first. He scooped her up in his arms, his face a mask of frantic concern. "Davida! Are you alright? What happened?" He rushed her towards the emergency room doors, shouting for a doctor. He did not spare me a backward glance.
Cole arrived a second too late. He held a bag of fruit and a pregnancy test kit in his hand, a foolish smile plastered on his face. My pregnancy test. The one that had slipped from my pocket onto the bathroom floor last night. He had found it. He watched Bernard carry Davida away, his hand, still holding my test, frozen in mid-air. His face slowly registered the scene, confusion giving way to a dawning comprehension.
A sharp, searing pain ripped through my lower abdomen. It was a deep, agonizing cramp. Cold sweat beaded on my forehead. My lips felt dry, bloodless. The physical pain was a cruel echo of the emotional agony. I felt a desperate urge to curl up into a ball.
I pushed myself up, my muscles screaming in protest. I needed to leave. I needed to get away from them. I needed to escape. Just as I started to rise, a thick, black cloth bag was suddenly pulled over my head. Darkness enveloped me. I gasped, my heart hammering against my ribs. Fear, raw and primal, seized me. I struggled, disoriented.
A brutal, heavy kick landed squarely in my stomach. The impact drove the air from my lungs. A white-hot agony flared. I doubled over, my body convulsing. The pain was so intense, it choked off any scream. I crumpled to the floor, gasping for breath, thrashing blindly in the suffocating darkness.
I curled into a fetal position, my hands clutching my abused abdomen. Through the thick fabric of the bag, muffled voices reached me. Cole' s voice. Cold. Detached. "Take her away. Make sure she understands. Teach her a lesson she won' t forget." The words were a chill that seeped into my bones. He was ordering my punishment.
Strong hands seized me. I was dragged out of the hospital, across hard concrete, then thrown into what felt like a narrow alley. The black bag remained over my head. Blows rained down on me. Fists, feet. Each hit was a fresh wave of pain. I curled tighter, trying to protect myself. The stench of garbage and urine filled the air.
The attackers spoke in low, menacing tones. Their words were punctuated by the sickening thud of their blows. "Boss says Davida is his woman now. He's mad as hell. You shouldn't have crossed her." Their voices were rough, indifferent. They spoke of Cole' s devotion to Davida, his cruel indifference to me.
"He said," one of them grunted, his fist connecting with my ribs, "to make sure you got the full treatment. He specifically ordered us to make it worse this time." The words echoed in my mind. Harsher lesson. This time. The past flash of white-hot pain. The near-fatal beating I had received months ago, dismissed as a random mugging. It was Cole. He ordered it.
The realization was a final, crushing blow. He had orchestrated it all. The beatings. The threats. The pain. All of it. He was not just a manipulator. He was a monster. My heart, already shattered, crumbled into dust. All hope, all trust, was extinguished.
My vision, still dark under the bag, felt like it had dimmed even further. The last flicker of light in my eyes died. There was nothing left but a cold, empty void. My spirit broke. I was done.
My trust in Cole, in Bernard, in anyone, was completely shattered. There was no going back. No forgiveness. No understanding. Only a vast, desolate emptiness where love and hope once were.
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7.4
Cadence, a modern botanist, woke up to a glaring sun and massive, alien purple leaves blocking the sky. She was stranded in a terrifying, primal world.
Before she could process the metallic smell of blood in the air, a white tiger the size of an SUV crushed a giant boar's neck right in front of her. The beast locked its piercing blue eyes on her hiding spot. But instead of tearing her throat out, a blinding flash of silver light erupted, and the monster transformed into a towering, heavily scarred naked man.
He was Harlan, a shifter who immediately claimed her as his mate under tribal law. Dragged back to his primitive village, Cadence faced a brutal reality. Unbonded females were targets, and she was expected to take multiple mates just to survive. The tribal women mocked her fragile frame, calling her useless. To make matters worse, her foreign scent attracted a rogue serpent-shifter who violently ambushed her in the river.
The icy shock of the serpent's attack plunged Cadence into a deadly, burning fever. The tribe's Shaman tried his healing magic, only to shake his head and abandon her.
"She lacks primal fortitude. She will rely entirely on her own weak vitality. I can do nothing."
As Harlan held her shivering body in despair, Cadence felt a deep sense of desperate injustice. Was she really going to die in a filthy stone hut in an unknown universe, killed by a simple cold?
No. She remembered her grandfather's strict survival lessons. Forcing her heavy eyes open, she grabbed her terrified tiger mate's hand. She didn't need their failing magic; she had science.
"I need specific plants to live. I need white willow bark. And a spicy, ginger-like root."
She rasped, preparing to show this savage world the true power of a modern survivor.
7.6
I woke up to the suffocating smell of copper and sulfur, my fingers wrapped around a blood-soaked leather whip.
Hanging from an obsidian cross in front of me was a boy with silver hair and dead, golden eyes.
His pale chest was torn open to the bone.
I recognized those eyes immediately. I had spent three years describing them on my laptop.
He was Kamari Monroe, the tragic, overpowered protagonist of my own web novel.
And I wasn't just a bystander. I was Benedict Guerrero, the sadistic academy headmaster. The ultimate villain.
A reel of images flashed in my mind: my original ending. Kamari, fully awakened, skinning me alive and burning my soul in a furnace for forty-nine days.
My loyal attack dog, Gideon, stepped forward with a basin of glowing green liquid.
"Headmaster, let me wake him up with this bone-rot acid so you can resume."
If that acid hit Kamari, his hatred would become permanent. My gruesome death would be sealed.
But if I broke character and apologized, the magical world would sense the shift, and Kamari would just think it was a sicker, more twisted trap.
How was I supposed to survive a death sentence I wrote myself?
I couldn't show weakness. I had to play the monster to survive.
Suppressing my terror, I smashed the acid basin, healed his ruined flesh with agonizing dark magic, and lied straight to his face.
"Someone had to be the monster to push you into the fire."
This time, I will rewrite my own fate.
7.4
Bridget, a ruthless twenty-first-century Wall Street analyst, woke up violently coughing up murky lake water in a decaying 1978 slum.
She quickly realized she was trapped in the body of a naive, marginalized teenager who had just committed suicide over a boy's cruel rejection.
The original girl had been mercilessly bullied by a fake rich kid named Kurtis and his cruel followers. They had publicly read her desperate love letters out loud, mocking her as a toad trying to eat swan meat, and simply watched as she threw herself into the freezing water. Now, her impoverished mother was left weeping by the bed, facing catastrophic debt and total social ruin in their small town. Everyone expected the surviving girl to wake up begging and crying for the boy who humiliated her.
Instead, a cold, calculating fury took over Bridget's analytical mind.
"I already died in that lake. That stupid girl is never coming back."
How could anyone throw their life away for a pathetic, vain clown wearing a mass-produced fifty-dollar watch? To Bridget, those uncollected love letters weren't symbols of teenage heartbreak. They were toxic assets. They were reputation landmines left out in the open that threatened her new family's survival.
Locking away the dead girl's weak emotions, Bridget forced her freezing, exhausted body out of the clinic bed. She set a hard three-month deadline to drag this family out of tier-one poverty. But first, she was marching straight to the volunteer camp to liquidate those liabilities and completely destroy the people who drove this body to death.
9.8
When I woke up on the muddy bank of the freezing river, I unlocked a brutal, unfiltered preview of my actual future.
For the past six months, I had been the town's ultimate joke, chasing after a city boy who looked at me like a diseased insect. Everyone thought I jumped into the river because he rejected me.
But the nightmare didn't stop there. In the future I foresaw, my entire family was destroyed. My eldest brother was handcuffed and dragged into a squad car. My second brother died in a pool of blood on the asphalt. My parents passed away from sheer grief and humiliation, and our farm was foreclosed.
Meanwhile, Bart Hawkins—my family's sworn enemy, the boy everyone accused of pushing me, but who actually jumped in to save my life—became a billionaire tech mogul. I ended up starving to death in a damp, moldy basement, completely alone.
I finally understood that I was just a pathetic, tragic side character meant to drag my family into hell. My own sister-in-law, Felicie, had been stealing our food and money, laughing at my misery behind my back.
But right now, my mother was still alive, my brothers were safe, and the farm was ours.
When Felicie walked into my bedroom, playing the devoted sister-in-law with a bowl of clear, meatless broth while a stolen roasted chicken thigh leaked grease through her apron pocket, I didn't play along.
"What's in your pocket, Felicie?"
This time, I was going to tear that horrific future apart with my bare hands.
8.1
Red Moon
8.1
Blood Moon – Story Description
Blood Moon is a dark, thrilling tale of forbidden attraction, supernatural rivalry, and the fine line between predator and prey. Set in the seemingly ordinary Silver Hollow College, the story unfolds in a world where vampires and werewolves secretly coexist alongside humans, each hiding their true powers while battling their own instincts, rival clans, and the pressures of legacy. In this shadowed world, every glance can hide a threat, every conversation can carry hidden meaning, and every full moon can unleash the beast within.
At the heart of the story are Catrine Nella, a powerful young vampire, and Edwardo Zee, a disciplined yet conflicted werewolf. Catrine is sharp, cunning, and deadly, raised under the constant pressure of her ambitious step-sister who insists she feed on human blood to grow stronger. Catrine's natural talents in both magic and combat make her a force to be reckoned with, yet she struggles with morality, identity, and her own desire for control. Edwardo, on the other hand, is torn between his instincts as a wolf and the manipulations of his ruthless step-brother, who demands that he become a killer to claim alpha status. Edwardo wants to be a true alpha, not through bloodshed, but by protecting others and leading with honor-an ambition that sets him apart from his family and makes him both a target and a misfit among his kind.
The story begins with a violent, electrifying encounter between Catrine and Edwardo in the forest during the full moon. Both are drawn by their own impulses-Catrine performing a vampire ritual, Edwardo struggling to control the wolf within-and the resulting clash is fierce, brutal, and unforgettable. This first meeting ignites a dangerous rivalry, with each recognizing the other's extraordinary abilities while also sensing something forbidden and magnetic between them. Though enemies by instinct and heritage, the connection they forge amidst conflict sets the stage for a tension-filled enemies-to-lovers narrative that drives the series forward.
As the story unfolds, Silver Hollow College becomes a battlefield not just of physical strength but of intellect, cunning, and emotional power. Catrine and Edwardo test one another constantly-through subtle glances in class, tense encounters in crowded hallways, and increasingly dangerous confrontations in the forest. Each battle pushes them further, revealing vulnerabilities and strengths, and slowly transforms their relationship from animosity into fascination, grudging respect, and eventually, desire. Amidst this, both characters are confronted with the pressures of their families. Catrine's step-sister threatens her with weakness if she does not feed on human blood, while Edwardo's step-brother pressures him toward ruthless dominance, creating a constant tension that challenges their morality and tests the limits of their powers.
At its core, Blood Moon is a story about choice and identity. It explores the struggle between instinct and conscience, power and restraint, hatred and attraction. It examines what it means to be strong-not just physically, but emotionally and morally-in a world where strength often comes at the cost of humanity. Through fast-paced action, supernatural intrigue, and the slow-burning, dangerous pull between Catrine and Edwardo, the story blends romance, suspense, and fantasy into a gripping narrative. It is a saga of blood and moonlight, of predators and secrets, of rivalry and passion, and of two young supernatural beings whose lives are forever intertwined by fate, desire, and the power of the Blood Moon.
7.2
Aria Nightshade spent her entire life waiting for one thing: the moment her fated mate would claim her, making her Luna. But on the night of her bonding ceremony, Liam Draven rejects her in front of the entire pack-publicly, brutally, without hesitation. He chooses another woman. Leaves her shattered.
Humiliated beyond repair, Aria prepares to disappear into whatever's left of her dignity.
Then the Alpha King intervenes.
Kael Draven-feared, untouchable, a man who answers to no one-steps between them and claims her himself. Not out of mercy. Not out of love. For reasons he refuses to explain, he binds her to him with magic older than the packs themselves, then hauls her to his fortress and locks her in a tower.
Aria should be terrified.
Instead, she's angry. Defiant. And increasingly aware that the man holding her captive isn't quite what he seems.
Kael is cold, calculated, and obsessed with understanding what she is-a wolf who shouldn't have survived a bond rupture, who shouldn't be standing, who shouldn't exist. As he slowly reveals the truth about her past and her bloodline, Aria discovers that her rejection was never about her worth. It was about her power. The kind of power that could reshape the entire werewolf hierarchy.
But Liam can't accept his loss. Kael's protection becomes possession. And Aria's slow transformation from broken girl to something far more dangerous forces her to choose: remain the victim they all rejected, or rise as the Luna that will make them all bow.
Even if it means destroying everything-and everyone-she once cared about.