Reborn Heiress: The Wolf's Vengeance Deal
I lay paralyzed on stiff white sheets, a prisoner in my own skin, listening to the rain lash against the window like nails on a coffin. My father, Elmore Franco, didn't even look at my face as he checked his clipboard. He just listened to the steady, monotonous beep of the heart monitor-the only thing proving I was still alive.
Without a hint of remorse, he pulled a pen from his pocket and signed the Do Not Resuscitate order. My stepmother, Ophelia, stepped out from behind him, wearing my favorite pearl necklace and smelling of cloying perfume. She leaned close to my ear to whisper the truth that turned my blood to ice.
"It was the tea, darling. Just like your mother. A slow, tasteless poison."
She chuckled as she revealed that my fiancé, Bryce, had a two-year-old son with my sister, Daniela. My inheritance had been funding their secret life for years, and now that the money was secure, I was an inconvenience they were finally scrubbing away. As my father yanked the power cord from the wall, the beeping died, and the darkness swallowed me whole.
I was being murdered by my own flesh and blood, used as a bank account until I was no longer needed. I died in that sterile room, drowning in the realization that every person I ever loved was a monster who had been waiting for me to take my last breath.
Then, I gasped. I woke up in a luxury hotel suite surrounded by silk sheets, five years in the past-the very morning of my wedding. Next to me lay Basile Delgado, the "Wolf of Wall Street" and my family's most dangerous enemy. In my first life, I ran from this room in a panic and lost everything. This time, I looked at the man who would eventually destroy my father's empire and decided to join him.
"I'm not leaving, Basile. Marry me. Right now. Today."
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Chapter 8
A giant screen descended behind the altar.
It was meant for a slideshow of Celeste and Bryce's childhood photos.
A montage of their love story.
The projector hummed to life.
A photo appeared.
It was vivid. High definition.
It showed a yacht.
On the deck of the yacht, two people were intertwined.
Bryce.
And Daniela.
Bryce's hand was up Daniela's skirt.
Daniela's head was thrown back in laughter.
The timestamp in the corner of the photo was dated three months ago.
While Celeste was in Paris securing a deal for the family business.
The silence in the church was deafening.
Then, the murmurs started.
Like a wave crashing.
"That's fake!" Ophelia shrieked from the front row. "That's Photoshop!"
The slide changed.
It wasn't a photo this time.
It was a document.
A scanned copy of a birth certificate.
Child's Name: Adrian Franco Colon.
Mother: Daniela Franco.
Father: Bryce Colon.
Date of Birth: Two years ago.
Celeste gripped the microphone.
"Congratulations, Bryce," she said, her voice ringing with cold clarity. "You've been a father for two years. And congratulations, Daniela. Your son finally has a name."
She looked at her sister.
Daniela was standing in the aisle, her hands instinctively clutching her stomach.
The gesture confirmed everything.
The crowd went wild.
Phones were out.
People were recording.
Livestreaming.
Bryce looked like he was going to vomit.
He turned to Celeste.
"Celeste, please," he begged. "It was a mistake. She threw herself at me! I was drunk!"
Daniela let out a wail. "You said you loved me!"
Celeste looked at Bryce.
She looked at the man she had thought was her soulmate.
He was sweating.
He was pathetic.
"You're right," Celeste said into the mic. "It was a mistake."
She reached into her purse.
She pulled out the velvet ring box.
Inside was the three-carat diamond engagement ring he had given her.
A ring she later found out he had bought with her own money.
"I don't recycle," she said.
She tossed the box.
It sailed through the air.
It landed in the baptismal font with a loud plop.
Holy water splashed onto the stone floor.
"You're crazy!" Elmore shouted, rushing toward the altar. "You've ruined the family name!"
Celeste laughed.
It was a dry, humorless sound.
"The name was already ruined, Father," she said. "I'm just turning on the lights so everyone can see the rot."
She stepped down from the lectern.
She stood in front of Bryce.
He tried to grab her arm.
"We can fix this," he hissed. "Think about the merger. Think about the stock price."
Basile moved.
It was a blur of motion.
He kicked Bryce's legs out from under him.
Bryce hit the marble floor hard.
Basile planted a polished dress shoe on Bryce's chest, pinning him down.
"She's not thinking about your stock price, Colon," Basile said.
He pressed down.
Bryce wheezed.
"She's thinking about mine."
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8.0
When gifted cellist Vivienne Aurel inherits her late father's catastrophic $4.2 million debt, she expects to lose everything. She doesn't expect the debt to be bought by Caspian Vane, the most feared private equity magnate in New York. Caspian doesn't want to ruin her; he wants her to work exclusively for him as the artistic director of his new cultural foundation for eighteen months. Forced into his world under a binding agreement, Vivienne prepares to fight against a cold, transactional cage. But as the intense, quiet proximity between them begins to blur the lines of their contract, she discovers a terrifying truth: the man who now owns her future has been watching her from the shadows long before she ever knew his name.
7.2
Clara's husband of three years walked into their penthouse with two lawyers.
He threw a divorce agreement on the table, demanding she sign away all her assets. If she refused, he would bankrupt her family and send her mother to federal prison.
He did it all for his new girlfriend, Corinne. After stripping Clara of everything, Kane stood by while Corinne publicly humiliated her, stepping on her fingers and mocking her misery. When Kane suspected Clara might be pregnant, he dragged her to a private clinic. He forced her onto an examination table and ordered a deeply invasive medical check-up, treating her like absolute garbage just to ensure she wasn't carrying his heir.
Lying on the cold medical bed in a thin paper gown, Clara's heart completely shattered. She didn't understand how the man who once promised her forever could turn into such a ruthless monster. She was indeed pregnant, but she knew if he found out, he would steal her baby and destroy her completely.
With the help of a tech-genius friend, Clara faked a negative test result and escaped his clutches. The next day, she walked into their company, threw a bold "I QUIT" note right in the mistress's face, and walked away. Touching her belly, Clara swore she would return to make them pay for every single thing they had done.
7.7
I was driving through a rainstorm in upstate New York, pushing my old Volvo to the limit just to pick up a Dior gown for my wife, Catarina. She needed it for a gala tonight, where she planned to spend the evening standing next to the man she actually loved, Atticus Deleon.
The truck hit me head-on, crossing the center line and sending my car rolling down an embankment in a shriek of twisted metal and shattered glass. As the steering column crushed my chest, my brain didn't see a white light; it was pried open by a digital tsunami, flooding my mind with the "Quantum Archive"-billions of data points on surgery, high-frequency trading, and combat.
I woke up in the ICU with three broken ribs and a concussion, but the only thing waiting for me was a screaming voicemail from my wife's assistant.
"Jorden, where the hell are you? Catarina has been waiting for thirty minutes! You are so incompetent it's actually impressive."
There was no "Are you okay?" or "Are you alive?"-only fury over a ruined dress and a missing tie. While I was being resuscitated, my wife was on Instagram, singing "Endless Love" with Atticus and laughing at my "tantrum." She even called the family lawyer to freeze my credit cards, wanting to make sure I couldn't even buy a coffee without her permission.
For three years, I had been the "useful husband," the doormat who apologized whenever she stepped on my toes. But the accident had overwritten my desperation with cold, hard logic, and I realized I had almost died for a woman who viewed me as a liability with a negative return on investment.
When Catarina finally stormed into my hospital room to demand an apology for ruining her night, I didn't look at her with the usual puppy-dog eyes. I looked at her with ice in my veins and handed her a manila envelope I had drafted myself.
"Sign the divorce papers, Ms. Evans. I'm done being your canary."
8.3
"Strangers in the dark can change your life in the light."
Evelyn never meant to uncover the truth.
But one question won't leave her mind
What's really on those tapes?
What begins as curiosity drags her into a world of secrets, danger, and a man who is everything she should fear.
Lucas is darkness wrapped in temptation.
Ruthless. Dangerous. Untouchable.
He warns her away.
He gives her a chance to run.
But Evelyn doesn't.
Because there's something about him that pulls her closer even when every instinct scream to escape.
He's the villain everyone fears.
And the one she can't stop craving.
In a world where nothing is safe and desire is a weapon, Evelyn must decide:
Run from the monster...
or fall straight into his arms.
Because something can be both delicate and violent.
And loving Lucas might be the most dangerous choice she'll ever make.
7.2
Blurb:
They said loving him would ruin her, and they were right.
Adrianna never meant to fall for Xavier Palmer, the cold, untouchable billionaire whose name alone could silence a room. He was dangerous, controlling, and completely out of her world.
But the moment he claimed her as his, there was no escape.
What started as a forced bond quickly turned into something far more dangerous. Obsession and possession, a love so intense it blurred the line between protection and destruction.
Then everything shattered.
A brutal accident leaves Adrianna fighting for her life... and Xavier drowning in guilt, rage, and a darkness no one has ever seen before. While she lies unconscious, he hunts for the truth behind the attack, unaware that betrayal is closer than he thinks.
When Adrianna finally wakes up, nothing is the same.
Secrets have been buried, a child has been lost, and enemies are closing in.
But Xavier has made one thing clear.
He will destroy anyone who dares touch what belongs to him, even if it means becoming the monster she fears.
Even if it means losing her forever.
8.3
On the eve of my wedding to Grant Sutton, the heir to a vast real estate empire, I discovered the devastating truth. I wasn't his great love; I was just a convenient replacement for his wild, untamable ex, Ivory.
He didn't love me. He loved that I was a polished, "suitable" version of the woman he truly wanted.
When I walked away, he didn't just let me go. He destroyed me. After I published an exposé on his company's shady dealings, he had me fired and systematically ruined my reputation, painting me as a vengeful liar in the press.
My own family turned on me, furious.
"Think about us, Avery! You owe us this!" my sister shrieked, caring only about the fortune I'd lost them.
I was left with nothing-no career, no family, no future. All because I was a placeholder in a love story that was never mine.
Three years later, I came back. Not as the broken fiancée, but as A. Trevino, the anonymous journalist whose latest investigation targeted an elite institution.
An institution with deep ties to the Sutton family. And this time, I wouldn't be the one who was destroyed.