Reborn Heiress: The Revenge She Deserves
The rain was a solid sheet of gray as the black SUV rammed into my car, sending me spiraling over the guardrail. As the glass shattered and the world turned upside down, a searing pain ripped through my chest before everything went cold and dark.
I didn’t stay in the darkness. My spirit hovered ten feet in the air, watching the steam hiss from my mangled sedan.
I followed the magnetic pull of my soul back to my family estate, expecting to find them devastated. Instead, I found my stepmother, Florene, and my sister, Kassidy, pouring vintage champagne and laughing in the drawing room.
"To the end of the nuisance," Florene said, her eyes gleaming with greed. "The trust fund unlocks at midnight. We're finally rich."
The betrayal cut deeper than the metal that killed me, but the real shock came at my funeral. Hiram Tyson—the cold, masked husband I’d spent three years fearing—collapsed over my closed casket. He unbuckled his silver mask, revealing a face ruined by scars, and sobbed a name I hadn't heard since childhood.
"I'm sorry, Angel. I thought keeping you at arm's length would keep the darkness away."
He wasn't the monster I thought he was. He was the boy I had saved at the orphanage years ago, and he had been protecting me in silence while my own family plotted my murder.
I reached out to touch him, but the world exploded into a blinding white light.
When I opened my eyes, I wasn't in a casket. I was back in our bedroom, feeling the heavy weight of Hiram’s arm across my waist. The calendar on the nightstand read September 14, 2023—exactly one year before the crash.
I looked at the silver mask resting on the table and felt a cold, hard determination settle in my chest. This time, I wasn't going to be the victim. I was going to be the villain in their story and burn their world to the ground.
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Chapter 4
Delina watched Hiram adjust his cufflinks. His movements were precise, mechanical. She fought the urge to walk over and help him, to touch the hands that had ripped a car door off its hinges for her.
She took a step forward. "Hiram, about last night..."
Hiram flinched slightly. He didn't turn around. "The contract stipulates no discussion of indiscretions."
Delina bit her lip. The "contract." In her past life, she'd believed it was her idea, a shield she'd desperately erected to keep the monster at bay. Now, looking back with eyes that had seen him weep, she wondered if it hadn't been his cage all along-a set of rules he'd agreed to, to keep his own demons from touching her.
She changed tactics. "I'm not drunk anymore. I want to have breakfast with you."
Hiram turned slowly. His eyes narrowed through the holes of the silver mask. He scanned her face, looking for the trap. Was she asking for money? Was this a ploy from her father?
"I have a meeting," he said flatly. He grabbed his suit jacket from the bed.
He walked past her, leaving a trail of scent-sandalwood and cold rain. It made her chest ache.
Delina reached out and caught his sleeve.
Hiram froze. He stared at her hand on the expensive fabric of his suit as if a spider had landed there.
"Have a safe trip," she whispered. There was genuine warmth in her voice, a softness he had never heard directed at him.
Hiram pulled his arm away abruptly, as if burned.
"Stop acting," he growls. The words were low, dangerous.
He stormed out of the room without looking back.
Delina sighed, letting her hand fall. Undoing three years of damage wouldn't happen in a day. But at least she had made him react.
She went to the closet. She pushed aside the pastel, modest dresses she usually wore-the ones Florene said made her look "sweet." She pulled out a sharp, tailored black jumpsuit she had bought on a whim and never worn.
She dressed, fixed her hair into a severe bun, and opened the bedroom door.
She stepped into the grand hallway. A maid was dusting a vase near the railing. The girl looked at Delina with thinly veiled contempt, likely mimicking the attitude of the head housekeeper.
Delina ignored her and headed for the stairs.
Suddenly, a sharp pain stabbed her temples. It was blinding, white-hot. She stumbled, grabbing the railing to keep from falling. Her vision blurred for a second, the world tilting.
A strange whisper echoed in her mind. Not a sound, but a thought that wasn't hers.
Move.
The maid dropped her duster. She jumped, looking around startled. "Did you say something, Ma'am?"
Delina blinked, the pain receding as quickly as it had come. She hadn't spoken aloud. Had the maid heard her thought?
She shook it off. Stress. It had to be stress.
She continued down the stairs. At the bottom, in the foyer, stood Mrs. Creola Stone.
The housekeeper was on the phone, her back to the stairs, her voice hushed and conspiratorial.
Delina stopped. She recognized that posture. It was the posture of a spy.
Mrs. Stone turned, saw Delina, and quickly hung up the phone, sliding it into her apron pocket. She put on a smile that didn't reach her eyes.
"Good morning, Mrs. Tyson. Your mother called," Stone lied effortlessly. "She just wanted to check on you."
Delina stood on the bottom step, looking down at the woman who had reported her every move to Florene for three years.
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8.0
She only wanted to save her brother.
He only wanted an heir to secure his empire.
A contract bound us.
A heartbeat changed us.
I thought the ruthless Alpha was the devil in a tailored suit.
Instead, he became the man fate chained me to... the one my body recognises before my heart will ever dare.
But power demands sacrifice, and love was never part of our deal.
He promised protection, not affection.
I offered my womb, not my soul.
Now I carry his child...
And the secret of who I really am could destroy us both.
9.6
One hundred years ago, the witches cursed every she-wolf to be barren.
It was vengeance for their slain matriarch. It was meant to end the war. Instead, it nearly ended the werewolf race.
Werewolves were forced to interbreed with humans to survive, and the once-proud kingdoms fractured. Only one bloodline remained untouched by the curse, the ancient Lycans of Lupenreich, protected by powerful shamanic magic. Coveted by werewolves, hunted by witches, despised by vampires, the Lycans became both salvation and threat.
And now, only one true heir remains...
Sybil von Rosen was never meant to grow up among humans. Born a Lycan princess through a human surrogate, she was stolen from the castle as an infant by the very woman meant to nurse her, a woman who turned out to be a witch.
Hidden beneath a powerful spell that caged her wolf and erased her scent from the supernatural world, Sybil was raised knowing exactly who she was... and exactly what she had been bred for.
A womb. A crown. Her bloodline's legacy.
But Sybil was never meant to be a broodmare queen.
She grew up human with the strength and senses of a shewolf and the magic of the witches, which got transferred to her while she was still in the womb of her surrogate.
She's strong, intelligent, disciplined, and lethal. An MMA champion. A combat instructor for a private military contractor. A woman who learned to fight before she ever learned to howl.
When the magic of her witch mother begins to fade, and the werewolf King finally tracks them down, Sybil is summoned back to a kingdom that remembers her only as its missing heir.
Betrayed by her hybrid fiancé, who abandoned her to marry the princess of their kingdom, Sybil made a decision that will shake three kingdoms.
She returned. Not for love. Not for duty. For revenge...
But the throne comes with chains.
Instead of marrying one Alpha, she is bound to four-the Alpha Guardians of Lupenreich. Ruthless. Powerful. Pureblood. Feared across kingdoms. And fate claims they are her mates.
There's only one problem.
Sybil cannot feel her wolf, for it was caged deep within her soul. She cannot smell her mates. She is a Lycan princess trapped in a wolfless body.
While her four Alphas believe they are claiming their future Luna and Queen, Sybil is already planning something far more dangerous.
She will not stand beside a king.
She will not be used to breed to secure bloodlines.
And she certainly will not be ruled.
If the kingdom wants a queen... They're about to kneel to a rebel queen.
Because Sybil von Rosen is not an ordinary Luna.
She is the last Lycan heir. The forbidden daughter of witches. The mate of four Alpha Guardians.
And she intends to take the throne for herself and will bow to no one.
8.3
Lost in sin
8.3
Juliet Romano was born into privilege and power, until the LaRussos destroyed everything her family built. Overnight, the Romanos fell from grace, left with nothing but debts, shame, and broken pride.
Years later, Juliet swore she'd never forgive them. Never forget.
But fate has a cruel sense of humor.
When Ryan LaRusso, heir to the empire that ruined her father, walks back into her life, all the hate she's clung to begins to blur into something dangerous. He's everything she should despise, arrogant, powerful, untouchable, yet every glance, every argument, pulls her deeper into a forbidden fire neither of them can control.
One night shatters every boundary between them.
And one secret changes everything.
Now Juliet carries the child of the man she was raised to hate.
Ryan will risk his legacy to protect her. His father will destroy them both to keep the LaRusso name pure.
Love and vengeance collide in a world ruled by power, pride, and old sins.
Because some stories aren't written in innocence, they're carved in betrayal, obsession, and the kind of love that demands everything.
When the truth comes out, one question will decide their fate:
Will love be strong enough to survive the sins of their families?
8.1
I died on an apocalyptic battlefield, only to wake up pinned down by a lead-lined blanket of my own fat.
A violent download of memories hit me. I had transmigrated into the body of an exiled, sadistic noblewoman who was three million coins in debt.
The original owner was an absolute monster. She had purchased beastman guards just to torture them for fun. In the corner of the filthy room, a golden retriever boy cowered, his back shredded by her barbed whip. In the basement, a snake guard was frozen and scarred from constant electro-shocks. When the white tiger guard returned from hard labor, he looked at me with pure, murderous hatred, ready to tear me apart to protect the others. Even the local elites kicked down my door to mock my pathetic life and try to steal my men.
I was a decorated commander who bled for humanity. Why was I trapped in this ruined vessel, bearing the sins of a degenerate abuser?
It was all a setup by her sweet-faced cousin, Debera, who stole her royal life and sent her to this outer-rim hellhole to rot.
I gritted my teeth and plunged a military-grade gene repair serum into my arm, letting the agony burn away the black filth and weakness.
"The crazy woman you knew before is dead."
I tossed a medical kit to the trembling guards, loaded my old electromagnetic pistol, and headed for the deadly Demon Hunting Zone to start my revenge.
9.7
Rogues broke into the Pack House, holding a silver knife to my throat while another captive held Brooke, the so-called "Seer."
The Rogue leader gave my Alpha, Harrison, three seconds to choose who lived.
Without hesitation, he commanded, "Save Brooke."
I was gutted with a silver blade and left to bleed out on the carpet while he cradled her.
Miraculously, I survived, only to find he had already replaced me. He claimed Brooke was pregnant with his heir—something he said I, a "defective" Omega who couldn't shift, could never give him.
To protect his reputation and clear the way for his new Luna, he didn't just exile me. He drugged me with Wolfsbane and threw me onto a fishing trawler rigged with explosives.
As the timer ticked down in the dark cargo hold, I finally understood the depth of his cruelty.
Years ago, when I miscarried our actual child alone on the bathroom floor, begging for him through the mind-link, he hadn't just ignored me—he had blocked me to pick up his mistress.
The boat exploded, turning the ocean into fire. Harrison stood on the cliff, watching me burn, satisfied that his problem was gone.
But he forgot that my bloodline doesn't perish in fire.
Six months later, I walked back into the Council Hall.
I wasn't the weak Omega anymore. I was the legendary White Wolf.
And on my arm was the Lycan King—the one man Harrison feared most.
"Hello, Harrison," I smiled.
"I believe you're sitting in my seat."
9.5
Desperate to save her dying mother, Ariana Moreno walks straight into the world of the mafia.
Elijah Fiorensco is danger wrapped in power-cold, ruthless, and used to owning everything he touches... including her.
"And who the fuck is that guy?!" he roared, veins bulging in his neck.
"I–I... he's my friend," I stammered, fear creeping into my voice as his rage swallowed the room.
"Listen to me," he growled, fingers tightening around my throat. "The next time I see you with that bastard, I'll kill him-brutally-right in front of you. Don't ever try me, Ariana."
In a world ruled by his obsession, loyalty and rage. One wrong move could made her loose everything.