Reborn Heiress: Marrying The Ruthless Billionaire
I was supposed to be celebrating my twenty-first birthday and my engagement to the man I loved.
Instead, I was bleeding out in a crushed car, listening to my fiancé Greggory and my stepsister Alta laughing over the car's Bluetooth.
They had cut my brakes.
As the steering wheel crushed my shattered ribs, they cheerfully clinked their champagne glasses, celebrating their hostile takeover of my family's media empire.
I tried to scream for help, but my lungs wouldn't work.
Then, Alta's sweet voice delivered the final, fatal blow over the speaker.
"Your mother? I took care of her too."
I died in the freezing rain, my heart frozen with absolute hatred as I realized every touch and whispered promise was just a calculated step toward my murder.
I gave them everything, treating them like my closest family.
Why did they have to kill my innocent mother? Why did I blindly trust two vipers who only wanted to drain my blood?
Opening my eyes again, the smell of gasoline was gone.
I was back in my bedroom, safe and unharmed, on the exact day of my twenty-first birthday party.
The day the tragedy began.
Downstairs, my murderers were waiting to spring their trap, expecting me to blindly accept Greggory's proposal.
But this time, I put on a blood-red dress, grabbed the photo of their secret affair, and walked down the stairs to choose a new fiancé—the most ruthless billionaire in the room.
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Chapter 4
The ballroom was a sea of glittering chandeliers and clinking crystal. The air was thick with the scent of expensive perfume and ambition. Men in tailored tuxedos leaned in to whisper to women dripping in diamonds, the usual dance of money and power playing out on the marble floor.
Greggory stood near the center of the room, a champagne flute in his hand. His eyes kept darting to the top of the grand staircase, a small, expectant smile playing on his lips.
Alta hovered a few feet away, wearing a virginal white gown that made her look like a debutante. She kept her eyes downcast, playing the part of the demure younger sister, but her fingers were twisting the clasp of her purse so hard the metal was warm.
Greggory leaned toward a gray-haired man beside him, lowering his voice. "Just watch. She's going to make a scene tonight."
He was absolutely certain. Annalise was a creature of emotion. She would see him, lose her mind, and publicly refuse the arranged marriage. It would be the perfect scandal to justify their elopement.
The quartet shifted their tempo, the music swelling into a grand, sweeping melody.
The lights in the room dimmed, leaving only a single spotlight focused on the top of the stairs.
The crowd went silent. Hundreds of heads turned, their conversations dying mid-sentence.
Annalise stepped into the light.
A collective murmur rippled through the ballroom. The red dress was a shock of color against the white marble, clinging to her figure like a second skin. She looked powerful, untouchable, and furious.
Greggory's breath caught in his throat. His eyes darkened with a greedy hunger. She was magnificent. And she was his.
Annalise began her descent. The sharp click of her heels on the stone echoed through the quiet room, a steady, rhythmic heartbeat. She kept her chin high, her gaze sweeping over the crowd like a queen surveying her subjects.
Her eyes found Greggory. He puffed out his chest, offering her a slow, confident smile. The kind of smile that said, "I'm here. Come to me."
The corner of Annalise's mouth twitched. It was a smile that held no warmth, only a chilling mockery. Then, she looked right past him.
Her gaze slid over to Alta. The younger girl flinched, taking a half-step back. The look in Annalise's eyes wasn't sisterly affection. It was the flat, assessing stare of a butcher looking at a side of beef.
Alta's skin prickled with goosebumps. Something was wrong.
Annalise reached the bottom of the stairs. Instead of turning toward the expectant Greggory, she pivoted sharply to the left.
She walked straight toward the head table, where her father sat talking to the governor.
Greggory's smile froze. His hand, holding the champagne, hovered in the air. He took a confused step forward, but the crowd was too thick.
Annalise reached the table and leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to her father's cheek. She murmured something in his ear, and Harrison Knowles beamed, his chest swelling with pride. He took her hand, helping her into the seat beside him.
She was claiming her place. The heiress. The one in control.
Greggory was left standing in the middle of the floor, looking like a man who had just missed his cue. People were starting to glance at him, then back at Annalise, the whispers starting anew.
He tried to push his way toward the head table, his charming mask slipping. "Annalise," he called out, trying to catch her eye.
She didn't even turn her head. She was engaged in a lively conversation with the senator's wife, her laughter ringing out clear and false.
Alta tried to follow, to slip into the inner circle, but two broad-shouldered security men stepped smoothly into her path. They didn't say a word, just stood there like a wall of black suits.
Annalise took a slow sip of her water, watching the two of them struggle from her peripheral vision. It was a mild irritation, nothing more. The main event was yet to come.
She set her glass down and turned her gaze to the center of the room. The champagne tower glittered under the lights, a fragile mountain of glass and bubbles.
She caught Eddy's eye across the room. He was standing near the balcony doors, his hands clasped in front of him.
She gave him a slight, almost imperceptible nod.
Eddy returned the gesture, his face unreadable. The trap was set.
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8.1
Terminally ill.
Betrayed by her husband.
Abandoned by the only family she had.
Ariel died with nothing... and no one.
But fate gives her a second chance.
Reborn three years before her death, she walks away from the man who ruined her life-and takes back everything they stole.
Her love.
Her identity.
Her power.
Now, the cold billionaire who once ignored her can't take his eyes off her.
The brother who abandoned her starts to regret.
Too late.
Because this time, Ariel isn't the woman who begs.
She's the one who makes them kneel.
9.5
My husband, Colton, the Wall Street mogul, slid annulment papers across the table, coldly discarding me and our unborn child. He thought he was getting rid of a useless wife, but he was actually throwing away the secret architect of his entire empire. Now, I'm ready to make him pay for every insult, every lie, and every single secret I've kept.
For three years, eight months pregnant, I secretly saved Colton's ten-billion-dollar company from collapse, enduring a cold, transactional marriage.
One night, he shattered that illusion, serving annulment papers and callously discarding me and our unborn child.
I signed, leaving luxury behind. Exposing his butler's fraud, I escaped. Colton later found his wedding ring gone and, on his desk, my SEC compliance fixes—proof I was his hidden genius.
Blindsided, he realized he’d destroyed his own empire. His mother then called, gloating. The injustice ignited a fierce resolve within me.
The next morning, I launched Kidd Legal Consulting. I'd use forty-seven folders of Farmer Capital's un-patched loopholes to force a fair settlement, securing my daughter's future.
9.8
Adeline's stepmother had secretly drugged her for years, turning a child genius into a drooling, mentally disabled laughingstock just so her stepsister could steal her life.
But when her greedy father sold her off to Griffin Herring—a violent, untouchable billionaire psychopath—to save his company, things took a deadly turn.
Before the wedding, Griffin attacked her in a dark alley, nearly snapping her neck before stealing her grandfather's silver necklace.
That necklace held a micro-drive with her family's deepest secrets, and without it, she had nothing.
Back at the estate, her situation only worsened. Her stepsister Damaris paraded around in the Herring family's diamond engagement gifts, trying to force-feed Adeline wet dog food on an Instagram live stream.
When Adeline's calculated "clumsiness" ruined the video, her furious father locked her in a damp, rusted basement.
"Give her to the psycho," her stepmother hissed through the door. "Let him lock her away forever."
Listening from the shadows, Adeline's fists clenched until her palms bled.
Her supposed mental fog wasn't a tragedy—it was a calculated assassination of her mind. They had destroyed her childhood and were now throwing her to a monster just to keep the billions.
The dull, empty look in Adeline's eyes vanished instantly, replaced by a razor-sharp, chilling clarity.
She pulled a thin surgical needle from her messy bun and picked the heavy iron padlock in ten seconds. It was time to break into the billionaire's penthouse, take back her necklace, and tear them all apart.
8.4
Elia was an orphan from the rust belt, taken in by the wealthy Chapman family in New York.
To them, she was just a shameful charity case.
The parents shoved her into a dusty storage closet, treating their other daughter Geri like a delicate princess, and mocked Elia as uneducated trash.
When Elia secured her own admission to Manhattan Elite Prep, Geri's jealousy turned vicious.
Geri orchestrated a massive smear campaign, posting anonymously on the school forum that Elia was a violent dropout who sold her body to a sugar daddy to pay tuition.
In the cafeteria, the school's elite dumped dirty milk on Elia's food.
They called her a whore and told her to go back to the streets, while Geri watched from afar with a victorious, innocent smile.
They thought she was just a helpless stray dog who would easily break under their high-society cruelty.
They had no idea she was actually "L", the dark web's most feared hacker, and "The Surgeon", a genius medical anomaly.
They also didn't know she was currently tracking a dying Wall Street billionaire who had stolen her only necklace in a dark alley.
What made these arrogant rich kids think they could destroy a girl who played with international firewalls for fun?
Instead of crying, Elia calmly pulled out her phone.
Within seconds, she breached the school's server, locking every screen in the building onto a blood-red skull.
As Geri's own recorded voice plotting the fake rumors blasted through the PA system, Elia grabbed her bag, stepping back into the shadows to reclaim what was hers.
7.2
Elmore Thomas rushed into the emergency room, clutching his feverish seven-year-old son, Buddy, tightly to his chest.
When the privacy curtain was pulled back, the air in Elmore's lungs vanished. The attending physician standing under the harsh lights was his wife, Kendal—the woman everyone believed had burned to death eight years ago.
But there was no tearful reunion. Kendal looked at him, and her eyes froze into impenetrable ice. She treated him like a biohazard, strictly referring to him as the family member.
Worse, she didn't recognize Buddy. She comforted their crying son with the same gentle warmth she used to reserve for Elmore, completely unaware she was soothing the baby she thought had died.
Days later, Elmore watched from the shadows as she picked up another boy outside a prep school, her left hand flashing a massive diamond engagement ring.
When his butler accidentally recognized her, Kendal shielded her new stepson with pure disgust in her eyes.
"Tell that psychopath to sign the divorce papers immediately. I have a new family now."
The words 'new family' echoed in Elmore's skull, tearing him apart. For eight years, he had lived in a hell of guilt and madness, raising their son in the shadow of her ghost. How could she just erase their past? How could she give her tender smiles to a stranger and look at him with absolute revulsion?
Standing in a luxury ballroom, Elmore squeezed his hand until his crystal champagne flute shattered, thick blood dripping onto the rug. The murderous obsession in his dark eyes returned as he called his lawyer.
"Freeze her divorce application. Use every dirty trick in the book. She isn't leaving."
9.5
I woke up gasping from a nightmare of flames devouring Chandler Finch's estate, my body wrapped in burning curtains as I died alone.
But my eyes opened to silk sheets in his penthouse master bedroom. He was alive beside me, his cedarwood scent real. This was my second chance—I'd been reborn.
His phone buzzed: Eugenia Stewart's "emergency." Her security detail reported her refusing meals, unstable. Chandler bolted without a glance, rushing to her side.
I signed the brutal cohabitation contract binding me to him, but Temperance had planted birth control pills in the trash—a trap to frame me. Chandler found them, exploded in jealous rage, crushing the pills to dust. "No child unless it's mine," he growled, possessive fire in his eyes.
Brett, Eugenia's lapdog, stormed in later, accusing me of manipulation. I fired back: Chandler demanded my womb for his heir. Brett paled, fled to tattle.
Then the storm hit—power outage, locked on the terrace in pouring rain, freezing as Eugenia faked an asthma attack on Chandler's line, stealing his focus again. I hung up, huddled with a stray puppy, nearly dying from hypothermia.
He'd never believed me before—Eugenia's lies always won, dooming me to isolation and fire. Why did her every whimper trump my screams? How could he be so blind?
This time, reborn weeks before the inferno, I wouldn't beg. I'd play his game, shatter Eugenia's web, and make Chandler mine—before the flames returned.