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 9
The antique bottle tipped. It rolled off the cradle, gathering speed as it fell.
It grazed Alta's shoulder, the heavy glass shattering against the ladder rung beside her. A shard of crystal sliced deeply into her collarbone, and she screamed, a raw, animal sound of pain and terror.
Then the rest of the tower collapsed.
It was a cascade of destruction. Hundreds of crystal flutes shattered in a chain reaction, the sound like a thousand wind chimes breaking at once. It was deafening, drowning out the string quartet, drowning out the gasps of the crowd.
A tidal wave of golden champagne poured over the edge of the table, a rushing river of alcohol and glass shards.
Alta hit the floor hard, her body lost in the avalanche. The liquid washed over her, soaking her white dress until it was transparent and stained yellow. Shards of glass glittered in her hair, embedded in the fabric.
She curled into a ball, her hands covering her head as the last of the glasses rained down around her. Blood seeped from a gash on her forehead, mixing with the champagne to create a pale pink puddle on the marble.
The ballroom went dead silent. The only sound was the drip, drip, drip of the remaining liquid falling from the ruined table.
Then, the room exploded. People were shouting, pointing, and the flash of cameras was blinding. It was a media circus.
Greggory stood a few feet away, splatters of champagne on his tailored trousers. He stared at the crumpled, bleeding figure of his lover on the floor.
His first instinct wasn't to help her. He grabbed a napkin from a nearby table and furiously wiped at the wet spots on his suit, his face twisted in disgust.
Annalise watched from the second floor. She didn't flinch. She didn't look away. She simply observed the destruction she had orchestrated with the cold detachment of a surgeon.
Eddy slipped the phone back into his pocket, his face impassive. "Got it, Miss Knowles," he said quietly, stepping back into the shadows.
A faint, satisfied smile touched Annalise's lips. It was gone in an instant.
Harrison Knowles pushed his way through the crowd, his face pale with shock. He stopped at the edge of the mess, staring at his stepdaughter lying in the wreckage.
"What happened?" he bellowed, his voice echoing over the noise.
Arthur, the butler, immediately stepped forward, his arms wide to block the view of the more aggressive photographers. "Back, please. Give her room."
Annalise walked down the stairs, her pace unhurried. She stepped over a puddle of champagne, her red dress trailing through the mess.
She reached her father's side, placing a gentle hand on his arm. She looked up at him, her eyes wide and innocent.
"Alta insisted on climbing, Father. I couldn't stop her," she said, her voice trembling just enough to sound sincere. "She wanted to prove herself. It was an accident."
It was a perfect lie. Delivered with the right amount of regret and helplessness.
Harrison looked at his daughter, then at the sobbing mess on the floor. He frowned, his brow furrowed, but he didn't question her. Annalise was his blood. Alta was just his late wife's mistake.
In the middle of the floor, Alta pushed herself up onto her hands and knees. Glass crunched beneath her palms. She looked up, her wet hair hanging in her face.
Her eyes locked onto Annalise. They burned with a hatred so intense it was almost tangible. It was a promise of pain.
Annalise met her gaze. She didn't look away. She didn't flinch. She just stared back, her eyes saying the words she couldn't speak out loud: This is just the beginning.
The paramedics arrived, pushing through the crowd with a stretcher. They quickly loaded Alta onto it, strapping her down.
Greggory finally stepped forward, his composure recovered. He grabbed Alta's hand, his face a mask of concern. "You're going to be okay," he murmured, playing the part of the hero.
But his eyes weren't on Alta. They were on Annalise. He still thought this was a game. He thought she had thrown a tantrum because she was jealous. He thought this proved she loved him.
Annalise watched the stretcher being carried away, the red and white lights of the ambulance flashing through the windows.
The fire in her chest burned hotter. It wasn't enough. It was a down payment.
She turned away from the mess, her spine straightening. She had a party to finish.
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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.