Reborn Heiress: Claimed By The Ruthless Boss
Giana woke up drugged and burning with fever in a luxurious hotel suite. Standing before her was Cornel Stark, the most ruthless billionaire in New York.
Memories of her past life stabbed into her brain. In that life, her adoptive family and her fiancé Gary had stolen her inheritance and left her to die a brutal, agonizing death.
She also remembered how fighting Cornel only made him more violent. So this time, she didn't scream.
She endured his brutal punishment, escaped the moment he let his guard down, and swallowed a Plan B pill on the freezing streets.
Returning to her adoptive family's mansion, she faced the people who had destroyed her. Her fiancé and her stepsister put on masks of fake concern, secretly mocking her.
Instead of throwing a useless tantrum like before, Giana deliberately threw herself down the steep wooden stairs.
She smashed her head against the marble floor, using her own blood to shatter their plans and win back her mother's trust.
She thought she had finally taken control. She was ready to crush the people who had betrayed her and live for herself.
But she didn't understand why the billionaire she had just escaped was suddenly turning her life upside down.
When she woke up in the hospital, her room wasn't filled with her family's fake tears, but an ocean of blood-red roses.
The heavy door swung open, and Cornel Stark walked in, his gray eyes locking onto her with a dark, predatory hunger.
"Remember this feeling, Giana. Every breath you take belongs to me now."
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Chapter 8
"Yeah, it seems our 'luck' ran out tonight," Gary whispered. The sound of fabric rustling echoed in the quiet hospital room. "I spent the whole night pretending to look for her. How are you going to make it up to me?"
"Stop it, we're in a hospital..." Delilah giggled again.
The wet sound of mouths connecting hit Giana's ears.
Under the thin hospital blanket, Giana's hands curled into tight fists. Her fingernails dug so hard into her palms that the skin nearly broke. A wave of pure disgust rolled through her stomach.
Before she could rip the blanket off and scream at them, the sharp click of high heels sounded in the hallway outside.
The brass door handle turned.
Gary and Delilah jumped apart like they had been shocked with electricity. Gary quickly smoothed his hair. Delilah wiped her mouth.
Angele pushed the heavy door open. She held a stack of medical bills. Her eyes were red and swollen from crying.
Gary instantly dropped into the chair next to Giana's bed. He grabbed Giana's limp hand and squeezed it.
"Aunt Angele, why isn't she waking up? I'm so scared of losing her," Gary said, his voice cracking with fake emotion.
Giana couldn't take it anymore. The feeling of his sweaty skin on hers made her want to vomit.
She let out a soft groan, squeezed her eyes shut tightly, and then slowly fluttered them open.
"Giana! My baby, you're awake!" Angele dropped the papers and rushed to the side of the bed. Tears spilled down her cheeks.
"Thank God!" Gary let out a loud, dramatic sigh. He leaned down, aiming his lips at the back of Giana's hand.
Giana's eyes went ice cold. Before his mouth could touch her skin, she ripped her hand out of his grip. The sudden movement yanked the IV tube, sending a sharp sting up her arm.
Gary kissed empty air. He froze, his face hovering awkwardly over the bed. A flash of genuine anger crossed his eyes.
"Don't touch me, Gary. I'm nauseous," Giana said. Her voice was weak, but the disgust in her tone was razor-sharp.
Angele thought it was a symptom of the concussion. She quickly pushed Gary by the shoulder. "Step back, Gary. Give her some air."
Gary gritted his teeth and stepped back.
Delilah moved closer to the bed, putting on her sweet, concerned face. "Giana, you terrified us! How could you be so clumsy..."
"Delilah, my head hurts. I don't want to hear your voice right now," Giana cut her off completely. She didn't even look at Delilah.
Delilah's mouth snapped shut. She exchanged a panicked look with Gary. Giana was acting like a completely different person.
Giana turned her head to look at Angele. The coldness vanished from her eyes, replaced by soft, genuine tears.
"Mom, I'm so sorry I made you worry again," Giana reached out and grabbed Angele's hand.
"Oh, sweetie, it's okay. You're safe," Angele cried, stroking Giana's hair.
"When I was falling down those stairs, I thought I was never going to see you again," Giana said, her voice trembling. "It made me realize how stupid I've been."
The room went dead silent. Gary and Delilah stopped breathing.
"I've wasted so much time on useless things and useless people," Giana said, shooting a cold glare straight at Gary.
Gary swallowed hard. He took a step back.
"I'm done partying," Giana looked back at Angele, her voice hard and determined. "When I get out of here, I'm focusing entirely on my grades. I'm going to get into an Ivy League school. I won't disappoint you and Dad anymore."
Angele gasped. She covered her mouth with both hands, sobbing with absolute joy. "Giana... I am so proud of you!"
In the corner of the room, Gary and Delilah looked like they had been punched in the stomach. If Giana became a perfect, successful daughter, their plan to steal the Caldwell inheritance was completely dead.
Suddenly, the heavy hospital door was violently pushed open.
Dave Ortiz walked into the room. He wore a black suit and a blank, terrifying expression.
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7.6
Jocelyn Yang lived in the grand Turner Mansion, not as a guest, but as a prisoner. Ever since her father's death, the ruthless billionaire Elam Turner forced her to atone for sins her father never committed.
On her nineteenth birthday, a male classmate secretly sent her a diamond necklace. Elam, who had flown back from London overnight, flew into a psychotic, jealous rage at the sight of another man's gift.
He mercilessly crushed the delicate necklace into the marble floor with his custom leather shoe.
"Did you forget what you are?" Elam hissed, dragging her into a pitch-black storage room. "You take gifts from other men behind my back?"
He pinned her to the dusty floorboards and violently assaulted her. The next morning, a wire transfer of $500,000 hit her bank account. He had humiliated her, broken her spirit, and was now casually trying to buy her silence. Later, when a broken bike left her walking miles through a freezing rainstorm, he just shoved scalding tea into her bleeding hands.
"Look at you," he sneered. "You look like a stray dog ruining my floors."
Jocelyn curled up in the cold, her lips bleeding and her heart shattered. She couldn't understand his terrifying obsession. If he hated her so much, why did he refuse to let her go? Why did he look at her with such manic hunger while systematically destroying her life?
Staring at the massive sum of hush money on her phone, a desperate spark of vengeance flared in her chest. Jocelyn wired every single cent back to Elam's account. She picked up her charcoal pencil, vowing to win the upcoming art competition and buy her escape from this monster forever.
9.0
The biopsy report slid across the cold metal desk, stamped with a brutal death sentence: advanced gastric cancer. Aretha had exactly ninety days left to live.
It was her twenty-sixth birthday, but her phone only rang with a furious call from her husband, Anders.
"Do you have any idea how much of a joke you made this family look like today? Post a public apology to Kelli right now."
He had completely forgotten her birthday, only caring that she skipped her adopted sister's yacht party.
When Aretha dragged her failing body back to the family estate, her biological mother slapped her across the face just for looking pale and embarrassing them in front of guests.
Seeing Aretha wasn't submitting to the usual abuse, Kelli deliberately threw herself down the stairs, playing the innocent, depressed victim.
Anders rushed in and shoved Aretha brutally against the wall to protect Kelli, while her biological father delivered his ultimate threat.
"I am freezing your trust fund. Get on your knees and apologize to Kelli right now, or you won't see another dime."
A massive, suffocating sense of absurdity washed over Aretha. She had spent six years lowering her head and begging for their approval, only to be treated like a disposable placeholder. Why should she spend her final days enduring this agonizing torture for people who didn't even care if she breathed?
Aretha wiped the blood from her chin and laughed. She publicly severed all ties with her family, whipped the signed divorce papers directly at Anders's face, and walked out into the freezing storm—ready to fight for her own life.
9.5
One night, I was a girl seeking vengeance in a velvet mask. He was the stranger who took me against a cold stone wall, his touch a silent, lethal promise.
Now, he is Caspian Blackwood-the most feared architecture professor at Aethelgard. When my "perfect" boyfriend, Dominic Calloway, cheats on me and sabotages my degree, Caspian offers a lifeline with a razor-thin edge: Be his silent, nude model for thirty days.
The rules are absolute. I must wear a silk mask and a weighted collar. I must never speak. I must hold the poses he demands until my muscles scream for mercy. In the lecture hall, he ignores me with arctic indifference. In the studio, his gaze is a physical weight, stripping me faster than his hands ever could. But as the charcoal scratches against the paper, I realize the "deal" isn't just for art. It's for the soul I accidentally gave him in the dark. Will the deal destroy his career, or consume me first?
9.8
Three women, three brothers, a single, crumpled dollar bill.
Alina's world shatters the moment she's auctioned off-and claimed by the powerful Hawthorne brothers.
Thrown into Adrian Hawthorne's cold, dangerous world, she becomes his to control... his to protect... and, terrifyingly, his to desire. He's ruthless, possessive, and hiding secrets that could destroy them both. But the deeper she falls into his world, the harder it becomes to tell if she's his prisoner-or something far more dangerous.
Because the Hawthorne brothers don't just take.
They keep.
Viviane has spent her life surviving, so when Julian Hawthorne "buys" her freedom, she knows better than to trust it. Men like him don't save people-they collect them. But Julian isn't as simple as he pretends to be, and the deeper she's pulled into his world, the more dangerous it becomes to walk away.
Especially when she realizes she might be the only thing he's ever been willing to fight for.
Lena doesn't belong to anyone-and she intends to keep it that way. Brilliant, guarded, and hiding more than anyone suspects, she enters Lucien Hawthorne's world on her own terms. But Lucien doesn't play fair, and he doesn't let go.
When her past comes crashing back, Lena is forced to face the one thing she's been running from: trusting someone who could destroy her... or save her.
Three women. Three choices.Stay. Fight.
Or burn it all down.
Because being sold was only the beginning.
9.2
Chelsi was down to her last fourteen dollars. After a humiliating job rejection for being "too low-class," the threat of eviction forced her to try live-streaming. Terrified of her exhausted, tear-stained face, she cranked the AR beauty filter to the max, morphing into a bizarre plastic alien.
She was immediately dragged into a forced streaming battle with Kamron, the platform's most arrogant top streamer. Seeing her distorted filter, Kamron sneered, unleashing fifty thousand fans to flood her chat with toxic insults.
Kamron set a ruthless penalty for her inevitable loss.
"You're going to take a bar of soap, scrub your face completely clean, and shove your bare face right into the camera."
Desperate to keep the fifty dollars she had just earned for rent, Chelsi begged for a different punishment, but Kamron coldly refused. With her heart pounding, she walked to the freezing bathroom, her hands shaking as she scrubbed her skin raw, bracing for the cyberbullying.
She squeezed her eyes shut, feeling utterly humiliated by the cruelty of the internet. Why did she have to be stripped of her dignity just to survive? She clicked off the filter, waiting for the tidal wave of disgust to destroy her.
But the insults never came. The high-definition camera revealed a breathtakingly delicate, flawless face that no algorithm could ever replicate. The chat went dead silent, Kamron was so stunned he dropped a ten-thousand-dollar virtual yacht, and a silent war between two mysterious billionaires was about to begin.
8.2
For five years, I poured my soul into ruling the Black Moon Pack alongside my fated mate, Alpha Ryker.
But at our most sacred gathering, he publicly pulled his rogue ex-girlfriend, Faye, into his arms.
"Faye is under my protection," he declared to the entire pack, using his crushing Alpha Command to force me, his Luna, to my knees.
He didn't care that I had taken a silver blade for him, or that Faye was a traitor whose past defection had permanently crippled three of our warriors.
He stripped me of my dignity, ordered me to accept his new partner, and left me alone in our marital suite.
That night, my Mating Mark erupted into a searing, white-hot agony that made me vomit blood and pass out.
I thought I was simply dying of a broken heart, until I remembered the forbidden lore of the "Fidelity Curse."
The curse ensured that if one mate was unfaithful, every moment of their physical pleasure would be transmitted through the bond as pure, agonizing torture to the betrayed mate.
I wasn't just heartbroken. My body was being forced to physiologically experience my husband's affair.
The final, near-fatal wave of pain at dawn wasn't random—it was the exact moment they conceived a child.
When Ryker walked in the next morning, smelling of her perfume, and proudly announced Faye was pregnant, he expected me to finally break and submit.
Instead, I looked at the father of another woman's child and gave him a chilling smile.
"I, Selene Thorne of the Winter Pack, have heard your declaration. Now get out of my sight. The war has begun."