Reborn Heiress: Pampered By The Ruthless Guardian
Antoinette stood on the manicured church lawn, the blinding summer sun stabbing her eyes. The funeral service for her parents had just ended.
A hand wrapped around her trembling shoulder, carrying the sharp, cloying scent of Fabian Cash's cologne. It was the exact same cologne her fiancé wore the night he locked her in a burning house to die in her previous life.
Now, wearing a mask of sorrowful devotion, Fabian tried to drag her to his car to control her parents' massive life insurance payout.
When she shoved him away in pure nausea, his mother Eleanor immediately shrieked to the crowd, deploying her usual guilt trip.
"She's lost her mind! The girl has completely snapped!"
The townspeople whispered and pointed fingers, watching Fabian play the victim as he tightened his bruising grip on her wrist, claiming she was hysterical and needed to be locked away.
Antoinette stared at the mother and son who had conspired to steal her family's estate and end her life. The rage inside her felt like battery acid pumping through her veins.
They didn't care if she lived or died; they only cared about the money. How could she let them strip her of everything again?
She didn't hesitate. She swung with every bit of strength she possessed, slapping Fabian across the face in front of the entire town.
"The engagement is over," she announced coldly.
Then, she turned her back on her greedy ex-fiancé and walked straight toward the terrifyingly powerful billionaire Hiram Graves, ready to let the world burn.
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Chapter 2
Antoinette stopped right beside Hiram. She stood close enough to feel the heat radiating from his large frame. The sheer size of his shoulders created a physical wall between her and the rest of the town. Her racing heartbeat began to slow.
Fabian's face turned an ugly shade of purple. He took a reckless step forward, his hand reaching out to grab Antoinette's arm again. "You're coming with me-"
Hiram's eyes dropped to the extended hand. The temperature in the air seemed to plummet.
He didn't move. He just stared at Fabian's hand with a look so violently cold that Fabian froze. The younger man's hand hovered in mid-air, trembling slightly under the crushing weight of Hiram's glare, before slowly dropping back to his side.
Antoinette took a deep breath. She turned to face the crowd of neighbors and a seething Eleanor.
"The verbal engagement between Fabian and me is over," Antoinette announced, her voice projecting clearly. "It never existed."
A collective gasp rippled through the onlookers.
Fabian's jaw tightened. Humiliation burned in his eyes. He quickly plastered on a look of deep sorrow. "Everyone, please. She's not in her right mind. She needs to be evaluated by a doctor immediately."
"Enough."
Hiram's voice cut through Fabian's performance. It wasn't loud, but it carried a terrifying authority.
"I am the emergency contact designated by her late father," Hiram stated flatly. "I am taking her."
Antoinette tilted her head up. She looked at the sharp, unforgiving line of Hiram's jaw. "Please," she whispered. "Take me to New York."
Hiram looked down. His dark eyes scanned her tear-stained face, lingering on the fierce, desperate determination in her gaze.
Silence stretched for three agonizing seconds.
Hiram gave a single, curt nod. "Done."
Eleanor lost her mind. She pushed past a neighbor, her face red. "You can't just take her! She's a minor! Her trust fund and the estate need to be managed by locals who know the family!"
The front passenger door of the Range Rover opened. Alex Porter, Hiram's security assistant, stepped out and smoothly blocked Eleanor's path.
Alex wore a crisp suit and a polite, dead-eyed smile. He pulled a heavy, cream-colored card with stark, engraved lettering from his inner pocket and handed it to Eleanor.
"The legal team of the Graves family will be handling the liquidation of the Rasmussen estate," Alex said, his tone leaving zero room for argument. "Any further inquiries can be directed to our top-tier law firm in Manhattan."
Eleanor stared at the prestigious name on the card. The color drained from her face. Her mouth opened and closed, but no sound came out.
Fabian stood paralyzed. His fists were clenched so tight his knuckles were white. He watched his carefully laid plans for wealth evaporate into thin air.
Hiram ignored them. He turned his back on the town and pulled open the heavy, armored door of the Range Rover.
Antoinette gathered the skirt of her black dress and climbed into the back seat without a single backward glance.
Hiram got in beside her. The heavy door slammed shut with a solid thud, instantly cutting off the murmurs and the greedy stares of the crowd.
The interior of the SUV was a sanctuary. It smelled of expensive leather and a faint trace of cedarwood. It was so quiet she could only hear the soft hum of the air conditioning.
Hiram reached into the center console. He pulled out a crisp white tissue and held it out to her.
He didn't ask why she hit Fabian. He didn't ask why she broke off the engagement.
Antoinette reached out with both hands to take the tissue. As she pulled it from his grasp, her cold fingertips brushed against his warm knuckles.
A tiny jolt of electricity shot up her arm. Her breath hitched.
The Range Rover accelerated smoothly, pulling away from the curb and leaving the town behind.
Antoinette turned her head to look out the tinted window. In the side mirror, Fabian's distorted, furious face grew smaller and smaller until it disappeared completely.
She gripped the tissue tightly in her lap. Her fingernails dug into her palms. She swore to herself, right then and there, that she would never be a victim again.
Beside her, Hiram leaned back against the leather seat. From the corner of his eye, he watched the stubborn set of the girl's profile. A complex flicker of curiosity sparked in his dark eyes.
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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.
9.3
Alyssa Gregory slept with Benton Steele, a recently disgraced and bankrupt heir, just to humiliate him.
She threw a massive check at his bare chest, treating the former prince of Wall Street like a cheap escort.
But Benton didn't take the charity.
Instead, he manipulated her anger, tricking her into signing an ironclad contract that surrendered absolute control of her entire trust fund to him.
When her abusive mother found out she had funded a penniless outcast, she slapped Alyssa across the face.
Her mother froze all her bank accounts, locked her inside her bedroom, and arranged to sell her off to a degenerate politician.
Desperate to escape, Alyssa climbed down her balcony, falling fifteen feet and shattering her ankle on the stones below.
Stripped of her money and freedom, she dragged her broken body to a VIP club just to publicly declare that Benton belonged to her.
She thought she was the boss, playing a rebellious game with a broken man.
But when Benton effortlessly carried her away from the club and locked her inside his rundown apartment, the terrifying calculation in his dark eyes shattered her illusion.
How could a man stripped of his entire empire still radiate such suffocating, violent power?
"You bought me," Benton whispered, his massive frame trapping her against the sofa. "That means I have to take care of you."
Physically trapped and completely broke, Alyssa stared into his consuming eyes, her mind racing to find a way to turn the tables.
9.3
They say you can't have it all. I'm about to prove them wrong-or destroy myself trying.
When my struggling mother married billionaire Richard Stone, I thought I was gaining a family. Instead, I found three stepbrothers who became my obsession, my downfall, and my salvation.
Dominic, the eldest, cold and commanding, who kisses me like he's claiming his kingdom and looks at me like I'm the only thing he can't control.
Julian, the charming playboy who hides a vulnerable soul beneath his perfect smile, making me feel like I'm the only woman he's ever truly seen.
Asher, the brooding artist who paints me like I'm his muse and touches me like I'm his masterpiece, seeing parts of my soul I didn't know existed.
They're forbidden. They're dangerous. They're everything I shouldn't want.
But when I discover my father didn't die by suicide that he was murdered by the very man who now calls himself my stepfather, these three powerful men becomes my unlikely allies.
First it was a forbidden attraction, now it's an arrangement that defies every rule.
The rules are simple:
I'll give each of them a chance.
I'll take everything they offer.
And in the end, I'll have to make the hardest decision of my life:
Choose one of them. Choose all of them. Or choose myself.
9.0
Colette stepped out of the federal prison, finally breathing the air of freedom after two agonizing years.
But instead of a bus home, a black armored SUV blocked her path. Ferris Vance's men kidnapped her right at the gates. He forced her to sign a marriage certificate, threatening to completely destroy her father's legacy if she refused.
The nightmare had only just begun. She soon learned her father had been driven to suicide anyway. Dragged into the Vance estate, Colette was beaten bloody by the family of Ellie, the girl she supposedly wronged. Ferris paraded her in a pure white gown for the cameras, playing the fiercely devoted husband. But the second the lenses turned away, he forced her into a coarse maid's uniform, making her scrub the freezing marble floors on her hands and knees.
"Your life isn't even worth the dirt on my shoes."
Ferris whispered those words as he threw his muddy boots at her bruised face. She was nothing but a piece of bleeding bait, a prop meant to lure his missing lover out of hiding. She was tortured and humiliated for a crime she had absolutely nothing to do with. The sheer injustice of paying the price for another woman's disappearance tore her soul apart.
When he cornered her in the bathroom, the last thread of Colette's sanity snapped. She hurled a bucket of filthy water right into his face, broke out of his grip, and threw herself out a window into a freezing storm. This time, she chose to escape, even if it meant death.
8.9
Five years ago, Arabella Sterling vanished without a trace, disgraced, heartbroken, and branded her billionaire benefactor's dirty secret.
What the world never knew was that she'd also been his wife.
Or that the man she loved-and the son she gave everything for-chose another woman over her.
Now, she's back as The Reformer, a world-renowned business strategist celebrated for resurrecting dying empires.
Her newest client? The Sterling Group.
Her ex-husband's empire.
Adrian Sterling has spent years trying to atone for the lies that destroyed them both.
But when Arabella walks into his boardroom, colder, sharper, untouchable...he realizes redemption may come at a cost he can't pay.
Because this time, she's not here to save him.
She's here to ruin him.
8.7
I was trapped in a greasy diner by my own mother.
She was forcing me to marry my abusive cousin because he had paid her twenty thousand dollars.
To escape, I used a contract marriage app and begged a complete stranger to marry me at City Hall that very day.
Ethan drove a cheap Ford and wore a plain suit. I thought he was just an ordinary guy needing a fake wife.
When my mother found out, she brought thugs to destroy my flower shop—my only home and livelihood.
To protect Ethan from her endless extortion, I shielded him and screamed that he was bankrupt and drowning in credit card debt.
My mother fled in disgust, and Ethan took me into his apartment for the night.
But out of trauma and habit, I locked my bedroom door, muttering that he must be old and desperate.
He stormed out into the freezing night, leaving me terrified that I had ruined my only lifeline.
I didn't understand why he was so furiously offended, completely unaware that my "broke" husband was actually the most ruthless billionaire in New York, and I had just trampled his massive ego.
The next morning, his face was a mask of ice as he dragged me back to City Hall to annul the marriage and get rid of me.
"Annulment. Now," he demanded.
But the clerk just popped her gum and slid a pink paper across the counter.
"State law changed. Mandatory thirty-day cooling-off period."