Reborn Heiress: Taming My Ruthless CEO
Hovering as a translucent soul in the freezing cemetery, I watched Corbin Mendez—the ruthless billionaire I had spent my entire life despising—violently smash open my tomb.
I thought he had come to desecrate my corpse. Instead, he collapsed to his knees, reverently kissed my dead lips, and swallowed a lethal bottle of pills without a drop of water.
In my past life, I was betrayed by my ex-fiancé, framed by my vicious step-family, and trapped in a suffocating marriage with Corbin. I thought he was a paranoid, abusive monster who only wanted to control me. I fought his madness every single day until I died sick, exhausted, and utterly defeated.
But watching him climb into my casket, wrapping his massive arms around my cold body to die beside me, my non-existent heart shattered.
Why hadn't I seen the truth? He wasn't a monster; he was a deeply traumatized man suffering from severe PTSD, and his obsessive love for me was his only tether to sanity.
The regret and agony tore my soul to pieces.
"My love, I'm too late."
Those were his last words before his heart stopped.
When I opened my eyes again, I wasn't floating in a dark tomb. I was lying in Corbin's bed, exactly two years in the past.
This time, I wouldn't run away. I would heal the broken beast who died for me, and I would personally put a bullet in everyone who ruined us.
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Chapter 1
Freezing rain lashed against the marble headstones of the Sterling City cemetery.
Three black, bulletproof SUVs rammed through the rusted iron gates. The metal shrieked, giving way to the heavy vehicles that tore up the muddy main path.
Corbin Mendez stepped out of the lead vehicle. He wore a tailored black trench coat. His expensive leather shoes sank into a puddle, splashing freezing mud over his cuffs. He didn't blink.
Alex Stone hurried to his side, opening a large black umbrella to shield him from the downpour.
Corbin shoved him away. The motion was violent, sending Alex stumbling back.
Corbin walked straight toward the mausoleum of Alana Lamb. His eyes were entirely bloodshot, the vessels broken and stark against his pale skin.
The groundskeeper ran forward, waving his flashlight and shouting. Two of Corbin's bodyguards slammed the man face-first into the mud. The wet thud of the impact was swallowed by the thunder.
Corbin stood before the heavy stone doors of the tomb. He pointed a shaking finger at the stone cross carved into the center.
"Break it down," Corbin ordered. His voice was a guttural rasp, stripped of any humanity.
Three men stepped forward with sledgehammers. They swung. The heavy iron heads crashed into the stone. A dull, sickening crack echoed through the graveyard.
Hovering near the ceiling of the tomb, the translucent soul of Alana Lamb watched. Her non-existent heart seized. She stared down at the man she had spent her entire life despising.
The stone doors crumbled, collapsing inward with a deafening roar.
Corbin didn't wait for the dust to settle. He walked into the damp, dark chamber.
He stopped in front of the cold, ebony casket. His broad shoulders hitched. He reached out, his large hands trembling violently as his fingertips traced the polished wood of the lid.
Alex stood at the ruined entrance. "Sir, please. The entire city will be after us for this. We have to leave."
Corbin pulled the heavy pistol from his waistband. He flicked off the safety, turned, and fired a single shot into the stone floor, an inch from Alex's foot.
The gunshot deafened the small space.
Alana's soul flinched, a phantom shudder ripping through her. His madness terrified her. It always had.
Corbin dropped the gun. He dug his bare fingers into the seam of the heavy casket lid. He pushed. The veins in his neck bulged. His fingernails cracked under the pressure, splitting down the middle. Blood welled up, smearing against the dark wood.
The lid slid off and crashed to the floor.
Corbin looked down. He saw her. Alana's lifeless, pale body resting on the white satin.
His massive frame collapsed. His knees hit the hard stone floor with a bone-jarring thud.
He reached in with his bleeding, ruined fingers. He carefully, reverently, cupped her freezing cheeks.
He leaned down. He pressed his lips against her dry, dead mouth. The kiss was desperately gentle, a stark contrast to the monster he was known to be.
Alana's soul watched from above. An invisible hand wrapped around her throat, squeezing until she felt she might suffocate all over again.
"My love," Corbin whispered against her dead lips. His voice broke. "I'm too late."
He turned his head toward the door. The grief in his eyes vanished, replaced by the hollow, dead stare of a demon.
"Kill them all," Corbin commanded Alex. "Every single person who pushed her to this. Wipe them off the earth."
Alex swallowed hard, nodded, and backed away. He pulled the heavy doors shut as best he could, leaving Corbin alone in the tomb.
Corbin reached into the pocket of his wet trench coat. He pulled out a transparent, unmarked pill bottle. It was filled to the brim with white opioid tablets.
Alana's soul screamed. She dove toward him, throwing her hands out to swat the bottle away. Her fingers passed right through his solid chest.
Corbin popped the cap. He tipped the bottle back and poured the entire contents into his mouth. He didn't have water. He just swallowed, his throat working hard to force the lethal dose down.
He climbed into the casket. He lay down beside her cold body and pulled her into his chest. He wrapped his arms tightly around her, burying his face in her hair.
He closed his eyes.
Minutes passed. The violent shivering in his body slowed. His breathing turned shallow, then stopped completely. A faint, peaceful smile rested on his lips.
Alana let out a wail of pure agony. The regret tore through her soul, ripping her apart piece by piece.
A blinding, piercing white light erupted from the center of her chest, swallowing the tomb, the casket, and the dead man who loved her.
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8.1
Arnetta had been married to a wealthy man for three years, but she had never even seen his face.
After a wild night of drinking, she woke up in a hotel room next to a handsome, ruthless stranger.
He coldly kicked her out, mocking her as just another desperate woman trying to sleep her way to the top.
To her shock, she soon discovered the stranger was Brennan Kirkland—her firm's top-tier client and a legendary Wall Street billionaire.
Hiding her true identity as a corporate spy, she manipulated her way into becoming his executive assistant to steal his data.
During a business dinner, Arnetta received a humiliating text from her absent husband, demanding a divorce and calling her a greedy parasite.
"He is a deadbeat coward who thinks money solves everything," Arnetta spat in anger.
"A man who hides behind lawyers is weak," Brennan agreed coldly.
He had absolutely no idea he was insulting his own actions, nor did he realize the wild, gold-digging wife he despised was sitting right across from him.
The next day, her husband's legal team sent a brutal twenty-million-dollar settlement offer, threatening to ruin her if she didn't take the payoff and disappear.
Staring at the degrading ultimatum, Arnetta's hands shook with blinding rage.
She looked at Brennan, who was busy plotting to destroy his own wife, and a terrifyingly calm smile touched her lips.
She wasn't just going to take the money; she was going to completely destroy him.
8.0
I sat at a table for two in the center of Le Coucou, clutching a gift box that had cost me two months of savings. It was our three-year anniversary, and I was waiting for Gavin to finally ask the big question.
But when the heavy oak doors opened, Gavin didn't walk toward me with a ring. He walked in with a polished blonde heiress tucked under his arm, her hand resting protectively over a small baby bump.
"This is Tiffany Stone. My fiancée," he said, his voice devoid of any warmth. He didn't apologize for being late or for the three years we'd spent together. Instead, he pulled out a checkbook, scribbled a number, and slid a ten-thousand-dollar check across the white tablecloth.
"Consider it severance for your time," he added, as Tiffany mocked my cheap drugstore dress. "Don't contact me again. Tiffany doesn't need the stress." I was the entertainment for the entire restaurant—the pathetic girl dumped for a better model. By the time I walked out into the rain, I had lost my boyfriend, my home, and the funding for my secret medical research project.
I was an orphan with no safety net, facing an eviction notice and a ruined career. I had given Gavin everything, and he had discarded me like a broken tool. The injustice burned in my chest, a hot, sharp rage that replaced my tears.
Desperate and freezing, I ducked into a coffee shop where I met Colton Bentley, a reclusive billionaire in a wheelchair. After I defended him from a cruel date, he offered me a contract: a marriage of convenience and a seven-figure payment to act as his shield. I signed the papers that night, ready to use his wealth to rebuild my life. But as I watched my new husband navigate his penthouse, I noticed his "paralyzed" legs tense with a strength that shouldn't exist.
7.2
I thought I was just marrying a middle-class commercial pilot who proposed to me in a Brooklyn cemetery to fulfill his grandmother's bizarre dying wish.
But when an arrogant pilot tried to harass me at the airport, my "ordinary" husband suddenly appeared, his eyes like chips of ice.
"Take your hand off my wife."
With that single cold command, he had the airline's top executives groveling and the man practically fired on the spot.
Everyone called him "Mr. Chandler." He handed me an exclusive black Centurion card, claiming it was just a standard "manager's perk." His retired parents, who supposedly ran a small business, visited me wearing Patek Philippe watches. I ignored all the glaring red flags, foolishly believing I had just lucked into a stable, caring marriage after a lifetime of disappointments.
Yet, despite his constant, suffocating generosity, he kept a physical wall between us. After a kiss so desperate and hungry it felt like he had been starving for it his entire life, he violently pushed me away.
"We should take this slow."
I couldn't understand why a man who looked at me with such intense, possessive devotion would treat our marriage like a sterile business deal. Why was he orchestrating every perfect detail of my life while refusing to even share a bed with me?
I had no idea that the man sleeping in the guest room wasn't a pilot at all. He was Harmon Chandler, the ruthless billionaire emperor of the Chandler Group. And he had been secretly monitoring my every move for ten years.
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.
8.6
As the eldest daughter of the Sharp family, I was treated worse than a stray dog, while my younger sister Seraphina was their precious princess.
When the family needed someone to marry a dying billionaire heir, they naturally chose me to take her place.
To force my consent, my brothers held a peanut butter sandwich to my face—knowing it was a lethal allergy—while dangling my EpiPen just out of reach.
On speakerphone, my own mother sighed in annoyance.
"Let her die. It might be for the best."
I choked out an agreement just as my throat closed up. But the forced engagement broke my sacred mystical vow, causing me to violently cough up my own lifeblood.
Seeing the blood, Seraphina dramatically fainted. My brothers instantly carried her to the hospital, stepping over my dying body and leaving me to bleed out on the cold marble floor.
I had to use a forbidden blood rune, draining my last ounce of strength, just to survive the night.
Even the mystical Order I served offered no comfort, calling only to demand I secure ten billion dollars for them or forfeit my soul for eternity.
Abandoned by my blood family and my spiritual master, I was completely alone, left with nothing but a broken body and a ticking clock.
But they made one fatal mistake: they let me live.
I turned to the dying heir they forced me to marry, a man plagued by a dark curse only I could cure.
"I will be your wife, and I will save your life," I told him.
In exchange, I would use his unimaginable wealth and power to make everyone who threw me away pay the ultimate price.
8.2
My ex-boyfriend of three years, Axel, married a perfect wealthy heiress.
I attended his wedding, not to mourn our relationship, but because he had spent the last three years bleeding me dry.
He left me with absolutely nothing but a final notice from the hospital for my dying brother's life support.
Instead of feeling guilty, Axel cornered me in the church hallway, crushing my wrist.
"I'll set you up with an apartment. You won't have to work another day in your life."
He thought he could buy my silence with spare change, while leaving my seventeen-year-old brother, Julian, to die when his treatments were cut off the very next day.
When I refused to be his dirty little secret, Axel used his power to utterly destroy my acting career.
He had my talent agency terminate my contract under a fake morals clause, publicly humiliated me on set, and blacklisted me across the entire industry.
I was shoved out into the freezing rain, left with a torn dress and absolutely no way to pay the five hundred thousand dollar medical bill.
He actually believed he could step on my brother's dying body to build his own fake empire.
He thought I was just a weak, pathetic victim who would eventually crawl back to him on my knees.
But he forgot about the one monster he was absolutely terrified of: his legitimate, ruthless billionaire half-brother, Jace Bauer.
Looking at the three positive pregnancy tests hidden in my drawer, I stepped right in front of Jace's armored Maybach.
"Marry me, and I'll give you the heir you need to secure your empire."