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 5
Harrison Knowles placed a warm hand on his daughter's shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. He was practically glowing, proud to show off his only heir.
"Annalise, there's someone I want you to meet," he said, his voice booming with good cheer. "A young man who has been making quite a name for himself."
Annalise turned, her polite smile fixed in place. "Of course, Daddy."
She followed her father's gaze to the man sitting across the table. He stood up as they approached, unfolding to his full height.
He was tall, with broad shoulders that filled out his custom tuxedo perfectly. His hair was dark, pushed back from a face that was all sharp angles and hard lines. But it was his eyes that stopped her in her tracks. They were a deep, unsettling blue, like the ocean during a storm.
"Annalise, this is Angelo Molina," Harrison announced, his tone carrying a heavy weight of expectation.
The name struck her like a heavy blow. Angelo Molina. In her past life, he was the cold and distant fiancé her father had forced upon her. A man who treated marriage as a business transaction, devoid of warmth, interest, and emotion.
But as she looked at him now, something flickered in those dark blue eyes. It was there and gone in a flash, so fast she almost missed it. A tightening around his pupils, a brief tremor in his jaw.
He extended his hand. "Happy birthday, Annalise."
His voice was low, a rough rumble that vibrated in the air between them.
Annalise hesitated for a fraction of a second. In the past, she had recoiled from this man, seeing him as a jailer. But now, she saw something else. A weapon.
She reached out and slid her palm against his. His skin was warm, his grip firm.
The moment their hands touched, his fingers tightened around hers. It wasn't painful, but it was insistent. Like he was trying to make sure she was solid, that she wouldn't disappear.
Annalise looked up, her eyes narrowing slightly. "Thank you, Mr. Molina."
The corner of his mouth twitched. "Angelo. Call me Angelo."
Harrison chuckled, slapping Angelo on the back. "I'll leave you two to get acquainted."
Annalise pulled her hand back, her mind racing. She needed a shield, someone powerful enough to keep Greggory at bay. Angelo Molina was a fortress. If she played her cards right, she could use his reputation to protect herself while she dismantled her enemies.
Angelo stood perfectly still, his gaze tracking her every micro-expression. Then, his focus dropped. It lingered on her feet, visible beneath the hem of her dress.
The skin around her ankle was red, rubbed raw by the stiff leather of her new heels. A small, angry blister was forming on the side of her heel.
Angelo's brow furrowed. The lines on his face deepened, and for a second, the cold businessman looked almost... pained.
He didn't say a word. He just shifted his weight, taking a half-step forward and moving his body slightly to the left. It was a subtle move, but his tall frame effectively blocked the line of sight from the densest part of the crowd in the center of the room, creating a small visual blind spot for her feet, and more importantly, it blocked the path of anyone trying to walk too close to her.
Annalise blinked, surprised by the instinctive, protective gesture. It was a small thing, but it was a shield she hadn't asked for.
Across the room, Greggory's face was a thundercloud. He watched the tall, dark figure of Angelo Molina stand so close to his fiancée, and his hands curled into fists at his sides.
Alta stood beside him, her face pale. Her fingers dug into her palms, her knuckles white. "Who does she think she is?" she hissed through a fake smile.
Annalise caught their reactions out of the corner of her eye. A cold satisfaction settled in her chest.
She picked up her champagne flute and turned to Angelo, raising it slightly in his direction. The gesture was intimate, a clear signal to the watching crowd.
"To new beginnings," she said, her voice clear enough to carry.
Angelo lifted his own glass, his eyes never leaving hers. "To new beginnings."
He took a sip, but his gaze was heavy, probing. It felt like he was looking right through the carefully constructed armor she had put on, straight into the rage that fueled her.
The intensity made her uncomfortable. She wasn't used to being seen. She quickly looked away, breaking the eye contact.
"My feet are killing me," she lied smoothly, using it as an excuse. "I need to sit for a moment."
Angelo didn't miss a beat. He reached out, his hand hovering at the small of her back without actually touching her, guiding her toward a quieter alcove away from the main floor.
Harrison gave her an approving nod as they walked away.
The alcove was dimly lit, the noise of the party fading to a dull roar. Angelo's hand finally settled on her waist, his thumb pressing gently through the silk of her dress.
Annalise's pulse skipped. The scent of him filled the small space-clean cedar and something darker, something that smelled like a warning.
She looked up at him, her breath catching in her throat. This man wasn't just a cold businessman. There was something else there, something sharp and dangerous lurking beneath the surface.
She had allied herself with a predator. And she wasn't entirely sure he wasn't the most dangerous one in the room.
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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.