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 7
A few days later, the legal dust settled. Hiram booked a private train cabin, and they left Upstate New York, heading straight for the heart of the city.
The train glided to a smooth halt at the platform of Grand Central Terminal. The doors hissed open, and the chaotic, deafening roar of Manhattan rushed in.
Antoinette stepped off the train, walking closely behind Hiram. She looked around the massive, vaulted ceilings of the station, taking in the city she had never managed to reach in her previous life.
Alex pushed the luggage cart ahead of them, clearing a path through the sea of commuters toward the VIP pickup zone.
Standing near the exit was a girl. She wore a pristine, pastel Chanel tweed suit and a pair of delicate designer heels. Her hair was styled in perfect, bouncy waves.
It was Jaylyn Graves.
The moment Antoinette saw that face, her boots stopped dead on the concrete floor. Her lungs forgot how to pull in air.
The phantom pain of falling down a flight of stairs hit her spine. The suffocating despair of having her reputation shredded by Jaylyn's vicious rumors clawed at her throat.
Antoinette's fingernails dug brutally into the palms of her hands, the sharp pain grounding her. She forced the toxic hatred down, burying it deep in her gut.
In a fraction of a second, her expression shifted. The cold fury vanished, replaced by the wide-eyed, slightly timid look of an overwhelmed small-town girl.
Jaylyn's eyes lit up when she saw Hiram. She broke into a sickeningly sweet smile and trotted over, her arms reaching out to loop through his.
Hiram shifted his weight, subtly turning his shoulder to avoid her grasp.
He reached back, grabbed Antoinette's wrist, and pulled her forward to stand beside him. "Jaylyn, this is Antoinette."
Jaylyn's hands dropped. Her perfect smile twitched, cracking for a microsecond before she forced it back into place.
She turned her bright eyes to Antoinette. "Oh my gosh, welcome! We are so happy to have you!" She grabbed Antoinette's hand, squeezing it with fake enthusiasm.
While she smiled, Jaylyn's eyes did a rapid, sweeping scan of Antoinette's plain jeans and simple sweater. The look was dripping with elitist disgust.
Antoinette fought the physical urge to vomit. She kept her head slightly bowed. "Thank you," she mumbled, acting shy.
Using the motion of looking down, Antoinette smoothly and firmly pulled her hand out of Jaylyn's grip.
Hiram's sharp eyes caught the subtle withdrawal.
His mind instantly flashed back to the dark alley. He assumed the traumatized girl was terrified of being touched by strangers.
Hiram's jaw tightened. He stepped forward, his large body physically cutting off Jaylyn's line of sight to Antoinette.
"She's exhausted from the trip," Hiram said, his voice clipped and cold. "We are going straight to the estate."
Without waiting for a response, Hiram did something he had never done before. As Alex reached for the small canvas duffel bag, Hiram's hand shot out first, securing the strap. "I've got this one," he said, his voice leaving no room for argument, carrying it himself.
He placed a large hand hovering just an inch behind Antoinette's back, guiding her toward the armored convoy waiting at the curb.
Jaylyn was left standing alone on the platform. She stared at Hiram's back, watching the cold, untouchable heir of the Graves family carry a cheap bag for a nobody.
The sweet mask melted off Jaylyn's face. Pure, venomous jealousy burned in her eyes. She ground her teeth together so hard her jaw ached.
She stomped her heel against the concrete and followed them out, her mind already spinning a web to destroy this interloper.
At the curb, Hiram personally pulled open the heavy door of the SUV for Antoinette. He placed his hand over the doorframe to protect her head as she climbed in.
Antoinette slid onto the leather seat. She looked through the dark tinted window at Jaylyn's furious, pale face outside.
A slow, ice-cold smirk curved onto Antoinette's lips. Let the games begin.
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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."