Reborn Heiress: My Ruthless Tycoon’s Revenge
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I lay on the wet asphalt, the cold rain mixing with the metallic taste of blood pooling in my mouth. My lungs were heavy, filling with fluid as my life ebbed away. Through swollen eyelids, I saw my lover, Clovis, and my stepsister, Alanna, standing over me with looks of pure triumph.
"Thanks for the trust fund, sister," Alanna whispered, shoving a phone screen in front of my dying eyes. The headline was a jagged blade to my soul: Caesar Williamson, the "tyrant" husband I had fled from, was dead in a multi-car collision. He had died trying to rescue me, thinking I was in danger.
The realization shattered what was left of my heart. The man I had spent years painting as a monster had driven into hell to save me, while the man I thought was my safety was the one who had just crushed my ribs with an iron bar. I had played right into their hands, ruining my reputation and my marriage for a lie. I watched them walk away, leaving me to choke on my own blood in the dark, discarded like a bag of trash.
I wanted to scream, to beg the universe for a rewind button, to tell Caesar I was sorry. The darkness pressed down on me, heavier than the betrayal, as my world finally went black.
Then, I was screaming.
I shot up in bed, gasping for air like a drowning woman breaking the surface. I scrambled at my abdomen—smooth skin, no blood, no tear. I grabbed my phone and saw the date: it was three years ago, the morning of my wedding to the Williamson estate.
I didn't waste a second. I scrubbed the "unstable" makeup from my face, threw on a white silk dress, and blocked the man who would eventually kill me. This time, I wasn't running away from the manor. I was going back to the husband I had once feared, ready to save the only man who had ever truly loved me.
Reborn Heiress: My Ruthless Tycoon’s Revenge Chapter 1
The pain didn't start as an ache. It started as a tear, a violent separation of tissue in her abdomen where the iron bar had made contact.
Athena Madden lay on the wet asphalt, the cold rain mixing with the warm, metallic taste pooling in her mouth. It bubbled up her throat, choking her. She tried to cough, but her lungs were heavy, filled with fluid that shouldn't be there.
Through swollen eyelids, she saw them. Two pairs of pristine leather shoes standing inches from her face.
"Finally," a man's voice said. It was a voice she used to associate with warmth, with safety. Now, it sounded like a jagged edge. "She stopped moving."
Clovis.
He wasn't looking at her like a lover. He was looking at her like a bag of trash left out on the curb. His arm was wrapped tight around a slender waist.
Alanna.
Athena's stepsister crouched down, her expensive coat dragging in the dirty puddle. A manicured fingernail traced the line of Athena's cheek, pressing hard enough to leave a mark.
"Thanks for the trust fund, sister," Alanna whispered. Her breath smelled of mint and triumph. "You really made this easy."
Alanna pulled a phone from her pocket and shoved the screen in front of Athena's dying eyes. The brightness seared her retinas, but the bold headline burned deeper.
WALL STREET TYCOON CAESAR WILLIAMSON DEAD IN MULTI-CAR COLLISION. SOURCES SAY HE WAS ATTEMPTING TO INTERCEPT EX-WIFE.
Athena's heart, already struggling to beat, seemed to shatter.
He came.
The monster. The tyrant she had feared, the man she had run from to be with the coward standing above her. Caesar had driven into hell to save her, and he had died for it.
A guttural sound ripped from her throat-a sob drowning in blood. She wanted to scream, to claw at the asphalt, to beg the universe for a rewind button.
But the darkness was heavy. It pressed down on her chest, heavier than the rain, heavier than the betrayal.
The world went black.
Then, she was screaming.
Athena shot up in bed, her lungs heaving, sucking in air like a drowning woman breaking the surface. Sweat soaked her silk pajamas, plastering them to her skin.
She scrambled at her abdomen, her fingers frantic. Smooth skin. No blood. No tear.
She grabbed the phone on the nightstand. The date glared back at her.
It was three years ago. The day she was supposed to marry into the Williamson estate.
She stumbled into the bathroom, gripping the porcelain sink until her knuckles turned white. The face in the mirror was a stranger's. Heavy, dark eyeliner smeared around her eyes. Pale, ghostly foundation. It was the mask she wore to convince the world she was unstable, a drug-addled mess unworthy of love.
"Stupid," she hissed at her reflection.
She turned the faucet on full blast. She scrubbed. She scrubbed until the water ran gray with charcoal and lies, until the skin beneath was raw and pink.
The face that emerged was hers. Sharp cheekbones, clear eyes, a mouth that was no longer set in a permanent pout of victimhood.
Her phone buzzed against the marble counter.
Clovis: Baby, I'm at the pier. Don't go to that cripple. We can leave tonight.
Athena stared at the name. The bile rose in her throat again, phantom blood mixing with real nausea. Her thumb hovered over the delete button.
She didn't just delete it. She blocked the number.
She walked back into the bedroom and kicked the ripped fishnet stockings across the floor. She went to the back of the closet, pushing past the black rags she had worn for months, and pulled out a white silk dress. It was simple, elegant, and entirely unlike the Athena everyone expected.
She zipped it up. It fit like armor.
She walked out the door. Downstairs, a wail echoed through the hallway.
"Oh, my poor Athena," Gilda's voice was thick with theatrical grief. "She's in such a state. Her mind is so fragile... how can we send her to that man?"
Athena stood at the top of the stairs, looking down at her stepmother. Gilda was dabbing at dry eyes with a lace handkerchief, performing for the house staff.
Athena's heels clicked on the hardwood. Sharp. Rhythmic.
Gilda looked up. Her mouth opened, but the sob died in her throat. She stared at the clean face, the white dress, the terrifying calmness in Athena's eyes.
Athena didn't stop. She walked past Gilda, snatching the handle of her suitcase from a stunned maid.
"Save the tears, Gilda," Athena said, her voice devoid of inflection. "I'm going to be late."
She pushed open the heavy front doors of the Madden residence. The sun hit her face, blinding and hot. It felt real.
A black stretch Lincoln sat in the driveway. The driver leaned against the hood, checking his watch with a sneer. He expected a fight. He expected a screaming, reluctant bride.
Athena tossed her suitcase into the trunk herself before he could move. She opened the back door and slid onto the leather seat.
She rolled down the window and looked the driver in the eye.
"Drive," she said. "Take me to Williamson Manor."
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Reborn Heiress: My Ruthless Tycoon’s Revenge of Contents
New Release Novels
8.4
Grace, after three years of silence from a crash that stole her voice and family, finally uttered a hoarse syllable. It was her first sound, a breakthrough she desperately wanted to share with Josiah, her childhood protector. Instead, through a slightly ajar door, she heard his careless chuckle, followed by a sharp, entitled voice.
Alexandria's voice sliced through the air: "Josiah, are you really planning to bring that little mute to the banquet? She's a walking trailer park tragedy. It's embarrassing." Grace froze, waiting for Josiah to defend her. He didn't. Instead, he sighed, calling her "a responsibility" and "a lifeless ghost," then pulled Alexandria closer.
The words were serrated blades. Her silent devotion, her self-erasure for his peace, had made her a punchline. He was relieved she was broken. The bitter realization of his betrayal ignited a cold, white-hot fury.
Wiping away tears, Grace met Josiah, feigning her usual submissive smile, and quietly refused his "hush money." As he walked away without a glance, her inner voice was clear, sharp, and resolute: "I'm done playing your game."
7.2
Betrayed by her sister. Killed by her husband.
Reborn, Sarah returns with one goal-revenge.
This time, she won't be the fool.
And with the Knox, the most dangerous man by her side...
she'll ruin them all, and take back everything that belongs to her.
Promotional line: They killed me once. This time, I'll destroy them first.
7.9
One night of deception.
A lifetime of consequences.
A bond that cannot be broken.
Nadia Williams is an Omega living in the shadows of the pack she once called home.
Since her father's death, she and her mother, Estelle, have been treated as outcasts by her ruthless uncle, Alpha Edwards. When her mother is framed for theft, Nadia is forced into a deal with the devil.
To save her mother's life, she must become a virgin substitute for her cousin, Danielle.
Her aunt, Katerina, offers a devil's bargain to set her mother free: Nadia must spend one night in the bed of the most powerful man in the country, the billionaire; Alpha Conrad Bradley.
The catch?
She must swap places with her spiteful cousin.
Conrad demands a virgin bride to secure his royal bloodline, and Danielle, Nadia's cruel cousin, has already forfeited her purity.
What begins as a desperate night of passion in the dark spirals into a web of hidden identities and betrayal.
Nadia survives the night and disappears, hoping to bury the shame of the encounter forever.
But fate has a different plan.
Desperate for a fresh start away from her uncle's shadow, Nadia secures a high-level position at Bradley Group of Industries.
As Alpha Conrad unknowingly hires Nadia at his company, an undeniable connection sparks between them.
Conrad is haunted by the scent of the woman from that night-a scent that doesn't match his fiancée, Danielle, but seems to cling to his new, brilliant employee.
As they work side-by-side, Nadia finds an unexpected and beautiful second chance at a life she thought was lost.
Yet, buried secrets threaten to destroy everything.
When the Alpha discovers the woman he truly bonded with, the fallout will be legendary.
7.9
I woke up in a sterile hospital room, my head split open from a horrific car crash.
But the pain in my skull was nothing compared to the memory burned into my retinas just before the impact: my billionaire husband, Dawson, walking into a luxury hotel with a woman who looked exactly like his dead first love.
When Dawson finally arrived at the ward, there was no panic or relief in his eyes. He just coldly looked at my bloody bandages.
"Your reckless driving just forced me to postpone the quarterly board meeting."
Even our seven-year-old son, who I almost died giving birth to, didn't spare me a single glance. He kicked my hospital bed in annoyance.
"The Wi-Fi here is garbage. You're a bad mom! Dad said Aunt Angelita should be the one living with us!"
My blood turned to ice. For five years, I had bent over backward, wearing the hideous pale dresses he picked, starving myself to maintain a fragile figure, all to be a perfect, obedient substitute for a ghost.
And this was what I got. An unfaithful husband who would rather bury me in debt than grant me a divorce, and a son who wished I was dead.
The weak, subservient Charlene died on that wet asphalt.
When the doctor pointed to Dawson and asked for his name, I looked at my husband with a hollow, defensive stare.
"Who are you?" I whispered.
Using retrograde amnesia as my shield, I was going to tear their perfect world apart.
7.6
After an exhausting fourteen-hour flight, Katia returned to her Upper East Side penthouse, expecting the quiet comfort of the life she had built.
Instead, she found a pair of familiar red stilettos in the foyer and her fiancé, Caleb, tangled in their bedsheets with his twenty-two-year-old assistant.
She didn't scream or cry. She simply took off her three-carat engagement ring, threw it at his bare chest, and demanded he buy out her half of the penthouse by Friday.
Seeking to numb the sickening disgust, she got blackout drunk and crashed at a luxury hotel, accidentally stumbling into the wrong suite.
Thinking the imposing man inside was a high-end escort hired by her friend, she threw him over her shoulder and spent a wild night with him.
The next morning, she left five thousand dollars on his nightstand with a lipstick-stained note.
"Good Job."
For six years, she had funded Caleb's dreams and built his startup from the ground up, only to be treated like a lifeless ATM.
With ruthless precision, she spent the next two months systematically bankrupting his company, cutting off his venture capital, and erasing his life's work.
She felt no heartbreak, only a cold, calculating need to cleanse herself of his betrayal.
But when Katia finally returned to corporate headquarters to co-lead a massive merger, she literally crashed into the new Vice President.
Strong arms caught her waist, and the sharp scent of cedarwood and whiskey hit her like a freight train.
"You came back," Jackson whispered, his eyes burning as he stared at the woman who had treated him like a cheap gigolo.
9.0
I died alone in the medical wing giving birth to our son.
"Tell her to calm down and stop the theatrics."
Those were the last words my mate, the Alpha, said about me while I bled out.
Instead of passing on, my soul was tethered to the packhouse. I was forced to watch my best friend Seraphina seamlessly step into my life, taking my baby and my husband before my body was even cold.
To secure her place, she planted my blood-soaked birthing blanket in the woods to frame me for faking my own kidnapping.
Ryker swallowed her lies completely. He refused to send a search party, telling the entire pack my disappearance was just a pathetic plea for attention and money.
As a helpless ghost, I watched Seraphina brainwash my one-year-old son into calling her his mother and teach him to joyfully trample my beloved garden.
"Bad mommy ran away. Don't love Kaelen."
Hearing my own child parrot those venomous words was a dagger to my soul.
Whenever anyone questioned my absence, Ryker fiercely defended her, dismissing the desperate warnings of my loyal friends and his own elders.
The man I loved and died for treated my memory like a malicious joke, grateful for an excuse to replace me while living with my murderer.
But when Seraphina's mask finally slipped, and the horrifying truth of my death crashed down on him, it was far too late.
Seeing him crumble in agonizing regret brought me no comfort.
I no longer wanted his love or his desperate apologies.
Now, I only wanted his absolute ruin.
![[Dubbed Version]The Café's Secret](https://v.melolo.com/b1265344voduse1318177724/356c91475145403706112000056/9RInXMMu4CAA.webp!15491.webp!15491.webp)
