Reborn To Claim My CEO Husband
Elliana Lewis lay dying on the freezing concrete of a federal penitentiary, her ribs shattered by a guard's heavy boot.
She had been flawlessly framed for murder by the one person she trusted with her life: her sweet, innocent stepsister, Jovita.
During her final prison visit, Jovita wore their mother's diamonds and smiled cruelly behind the glass. She revealed she had liquidated the family company, caused their father's stroke, and paid the guards to ensure Elliana suffered a grueling, agonizing death.
"Your marriage was a joke from day one, Ellie. You have nothing left."
As her lungs stopped, the tragic truth finally dawned on Elliana. She had spent months screaming for a divorce and publicly humiliating her billionaire husband, Damon Stirling, believing his silence was weakness. She didn't realize until it was too late that his endless tolerance was the deepest form of protection. She had pushed away the only man who would have burned the world down to keep her safe.
Why had she been so incredibly stupid? Why did she blindly trust a monster and destroy the only person who truly loved her?
Then, a blinding light pierced her retinas. Elliana bolted upright, gasping for air on a massive, king-sized bed.
There was no pain. No broken bones. The digital clock on the nightstand flashed a date from exactly ten years ago.
It was the morning after her disastrous wedding night.
This time, she would tear Jovita's life apart piece by piece. And she would hold onto Damon so tightly that nothing could ever pry them apart.
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Chapter 3
Elliana descended the grand spiral staircase, her heels clicking softly against the marble steps.
Jovita was already seated at the massive dining table, sipping orange juice. When she saw Elliana, Jovita gave her a subtle, encouraging wink.
Elliana ignored her. She looked at the head of the table. The chair was empty. The silver cutlery was untouched. Damon was already gone.
A pang of genuine sadness hit her chest. In her past life, Damon had left early the morning after their wedding, too. He had known she hated him, and he had given her space, burying himself in his work rather than facing her hostility.
"See?" Jovita said, her voice dripping with fake pity. "He doesn't value you at all. Ellie, you can't put up with this."
Elliana didn't look at her stepsister. She turned her gaze to the woman standing rigidly near the kitchen entrance.
"Marge," Elliana said, her voice calm and clear. "What time did Mr. Stirling leave?"
Marge Kowalski, the head housekeeper in her stiff black uniform, stepped forward. Her face was a mask of professional indifference. "The mister left an hour ago, Mrs. Stirling." Marge's tone was entirely devoid of warmth, the title dropping from her lips with a subtle, dismissive edge that felt more like a chore than a sign of actual respect.
Elliana's eyes narrowed slightly. The mister. And the cold, forced 'Mrs. Stirling'.
In her past life, she hadn't cared. She had hated the Stirling name. But now, the blatant disrespect in the housekeeper's attitude grated against her nerves. It was a glaring symbol of how little genuine authority she held in this house, despite her legal title.
"You go ahead and eat," Elliana said to Jovita, her tone dismissive. "I don't have much of an appetite."
Jovita panicked. She jumped up and grabbed Elliana's wrist. "You're going to go find him on an empty stomach? How are you going to have the energy to fight with him if you don't eat?"
Elliana looked down at Jovita's hand clutching her wrist. She yanked her arm back with a sharp, violent motion.
"Who told you I was going to fight with him?" Elliana's voice was like cracked ice.
Jovita froze. Her mouth opened, but no sound came out. She stared at Elliana, a flicker of genuine fear crossing her wide eyes. This wasn't the impulsive, easily manipulated girl she knew.
Elliana turned back to the housekeeper. "Marge, prepare a breakfast to go. Pack it well. And have the driver bring the car around. I'm going to the Stirling Group."
Jovita's jaw dropped. The script in her head was entirely ruined. "Ellie, are you crazy? You're not going to demand a divorce? You're bringing him breakfast?"
Elliana stopped walking. She slowly turned around and locked eyes with her stepsister. A mocking smile curled the corners of her lips.
"Jovita," Elliana said softly, the threat in her voice unmistakable. "This is between my husband and me. Since when is it your place to tell me how to handle my marriage?"
Jovita's face drained of all color. She took a step back, physically intimidated by the sheer, crushing weight of Elliana's aura.
Without waiting for a response, Elliana walked straight into the kitchen. She bypassed Marge and stood over the prep counter, pointing at the ingredients.
"No pastries," Elliana instructed the stunned kitchen staff. "Make a simple club sandwich. And black coffee. No sugar, no cream."
She remembered exactly how Damon liked his breakfast.
Jovita stood paralyzed in the dining room. Her heart hammered with anxiety. Something was horribly wrong. Elliana was acting like a completely different person. Jovita quickly pulled her phone from her purse and typed a frantic text to her mother: Mom, the plan is messed up. Elliana is acting weird.
Ten minutes later, Marge walked out of the kitchen carrying an insulated paper bag. She handed it to Elliana, her expression still guarded.
Elliana took the bag by the handles. She didn't walk away immediately. She stood perfectly still, forcing Marge to maintain eye contact.
"From today onward, while you are inside this estate," Elliana said, her voice dropping an octave, "you will address me with the genuine respect due to Damon's wife, not as some temporary guest you can look down upon. Do you understand?"
Marge blinked, startled. She looked at the young woman standing before her. The rebellious teenager was gone, replaced by a woman radiating absolute authority.
Marge swallowed hard and bowed her head, the previous indifference completely wiped from her demeanor. "Yes, ma'am. I understand, Mrs. Stirling."
"Good." Elliana turned on her heel and walked toward the front doors.
Jovita, desperate to regain control, scrambled after her. "Sister, let me go with you! What if he treats you badly? I can protect you..."
Elliana stopped at the threshold. She didn't even look back.
"No need," Elliana said coldly. "Didn't you say Mom was worried about me? You should stay here. Give her a full report on exactly what I'm doing."
She hit the word report heavily.
Jovita gasped, her feet rooting to the marble floor. She didn't dare take another step.
Elliana walked out into the crisp morning air and slid into the back of the waiting town car. As the vehicle pulled away from the estate, she watched the scenery blur past the tinted windows. "Traffic is a bit heavy today, Mrs. Stirling," the driver remarked casually, glancing at the rearview mirror. "There's been a lot of chaos over by the East District intersections lately. Several major accidents just this week involving delivery trucks running red lights. We'll take the slightly longer route to be safe."
"That's fine," Elliana murmured, her mind entirely focused on her destination. Her chest felt tight, her pulse thrumming in her ears.
She was going to see him. And this time, she was going to do it right.
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7.9
One night of deception.
A lifetime of consequences.
A bond that cannot be broken.
Nadia Williams is an Omega living in the shadows of the pack she once called home.
Since her father's death, she and her mother, Estelle, have been treated as outcasts by her ruthless uncle, Alpha Edwards. When her mother is framed for theft, Nadia is forced into a deal with the devil.
To save her mother's life, she must become a virgin substitute for her cousin, Danielle.
Her aunt, Katerina, offers a devil's bargain to set her mother free: Nadia must spend one night in the bed of the most powerful man in the country, the billionaire; Alpha Conrad Bradley.
The catch?
She must swap places with her spiteful cousin.
Conrad demands a virgin bride to secure his royal bloodline, and Danielle, Nadia's cruel cousin, has already forfeited her purity.
What begins as a desperate night of passion in the dark spirals into a web of hidden identities and betrayal.
Nadia survives the night and disappears, hoping to bury the shame of the encounter forever.
But fate has a different plan.
Desperate for a fresh start away from her uncle's shadow, Nadia secures a high-level position at Bradley Group of Industries.
As Alpha Conrad unknowingly hires Nadia at his company, an undeniable connection sparks between them.
Conrad is haunted by the scent of the woman from that night-a scent that doesn't match his fiancée, Danielle, but seems to cling to his new, brilliant employee.
As they work side-by-side, Nadia finds an unexpected and beautiful second chance at a life she thought was lost.
Yet, buried secrets threaten to destroy everything.
When the Alpha discovers the woman he truly bonded with, the fallout will be legendary.
9.7
For three years, I was the dutiful wife of billionaire Ervin Valdez.
On our third wedding anniversary, he came home smelling of his mistress's perfume, pinned me down, and brutally mocked me.
His mistress, Sylvia, had even sent me a fake ultrasound report to force me out of the picture.
In Ervin's eyes, I was just a vicious, calculating liar who used a pregnancy to trap him into marriage.
He didn't care that I had actually lost that baby, nor did he know the trauma of my gambling father selling me to a dark club where I was assaulted by a stranger.
When I finally handed him the signed divorce papers, giving up all assets, and left the penthouse with nothing but an old suitcase, he just sneered.
"She is playing a game of hard to get. She won't last three days before she comes crying back."
He froze all my bank accounts, let his mistress humiliate me in public, and waited coldly for me to starve and beg.
He thought my entire existence relied on his wealth, completely confident that I would inevitably surrender to his control.
But he was wrong.
I calmly opened my old laptop, bypassed the complex encryptions, and looked at the dozens of unread emails from top-tier global brands begging for my return.
I resurrected my hidden identity as the legendary jewelry designer "R," and walked straight into the top design firm in Manhattan.
"It is time to find myself again."
7.2
Elmore Thomas rushed into the emergency room, clutching his feverish seven-year-old son, Buddy, tightly to his chest.
When the privacy curtain was pulled back, the air in Elmore's lungs vanished. The attending physician standing under the harsh lights was his wife, Kendal—the woman everyone believed had burned to death eight years ago.
But there was no tearful reunion. Kendal looked at him, and her eyes froze into impenetrable ice. She treated him like a biohazard, strictly referring to him as the family member.
Worse, she didn't recognize Buddy. She comforted their crying son with the same gentle warmth she used to reserve for Elmore, completely unaware she was soothing the baby she thought had died.
Days later, Elmore watched from the shadows as she picked up another boy outside a prep school, her left hand flashing a massive diamond engagement ring.
When his butler accidentally recognized her, Kendal shielded her new stepson with pure disgust in her eyes.
"Tell that psychopath to sign the divorce papers immediately. I have a new family now."
The words 'new family' echoed in Elmore's skull, tearing him apart. For eight years, he had lived in a hell of guilt and madness, raising their son in the shadow of her ghost. How could she just erase their past? How could she give her tender smiles to a stranger and look at him with absolute revulsion?
Standing in a luxury ballroom, Elmore squeezed his hand until his crystal champagne flute shattered, thick blood dripping onto the rug. The murderous obsession in his dark eyes returned as he called his lawyer.
"Freeze her divorce application. Use every dirty trick in the book. She isn't leaving."
9.8
When I woke up on the muddy bank of the freezing river, I unlocked a brutal, unfiltered preview of my actual future.
For the past six months, I had been the town's ultimate joke, chasing after a city boy who looked at me like a diseased insect. Everyone thought I jumped into the river because he rejected me.
But the nightmare didn't stop there. In the future I foresaw, my entire family was destroyed. My eldest brother was handcuffed and dragged into a squad car. My second brother died in a pool of blood on the asphalt. My parents passed away from sheer grief and humiliation, and our farm was foreclosed.
Meanwhile, Bart Hawkins—my family's sworn enemy, the boy everyone accused of pushing me, but who actually jumped in to save my life—became a billionaire tech mogul. I ended up starving to death in a damp, moldy basement, completely alone.
I finally understood that I was just a pathetic, tragic side character meant to drag my family into hell. My own sister-in-law, Felicie, had been stealing our food and money, laughing at my misery behind my back.
But right now, my mother was still alive, my brothers were safe, and the farm was ours.
When Felicie walked into my bedroom, playing the devoted sister-in-law with a bowl of clear, meatless broth while a stolen roasted chicken thigh leaked grease through her apron pocket, I didn't play along.
"What's in your pocket, Felicie?"
This time, I was going to tear that horrific future apart with my bare hands.
7.9
I woke up in a burning warehouse, twelve years after my supposed death. My body had been reset to its physical prime, the deep burn scar on my wrist completely gone.
Through the smoke, my eldest son, Kennard, rushed blindly into the flames. He was screaming the name of the very woman who had orchestrated this trap—Brittnie.
When I tackled him out of the way of a falling steel beam, he didn't recognize my youthful face. Instead, he pinned me to the concrete and nearly crushed my windpipe.
"How much did she pay you to carve up your face to look like a dead woman?"
He hissed the words at me, treating me like a sick corporate spy. For a decade, a bizarre narrative "script" had brainwashed my son, forcing him into pathetic devotion to Brittnie. She had drained his wealth, turned my daughter against him, and hollowed out our family empire.
Whenever Kennard tried to resist her, the mind control punished him with agonizing migraines, driving him to smash his own hands against the wall just to cope with the pain.
Hearing him quietly sobbing outside my locked door, my heart shattered. How could this invisible force torture my brilliant son and turn my family into puppets for a D-list actress?
I dragged him to the hospital for a DNA test.
When the results confirmed my maternity at 99.999%, the cold billionaire collapsed to the floor, weeping in my arms like a lost child.
I wiped his tears and smiled ruthlessly. It was time to take back my empire and burn Brittnie's life to the ground.
8.4
After being kidnapped for years and finally rescued, five-year-old Izzy thought she was going home to her wealthy biological family.
But when the social worker brought her to the freezing bus station, her biological father, Conrad, didn't even get out of his Mercedes. He took one look at her tangled hair and worn-out shoes, his lip curling in disgust.
"I have a real family now. I'm not disrupting my life for this."
He drove away, leaving her choking on his exhaust fumes. When her rough, grease-stained uncle Bryan forcefully brought her to the family mansion, things only got worse. Her biological mother refused to touch her, complaining that she smelled like a dumpster. Her half-sister Katelynn pushed her to the ground, making her bleed, and framed her for stealing. Instead of helping, Conrad roared at Izzy, calling her a wild animal and threatening to throw her back onto the streets.
Izzy stood there shivering in her oversized rags, watching them stand together in a perfect, unbroken circle. She didn't understand why her own blood looked at her like she was a monster, or why they were so eager to throw a traumatized child back into the dark.
But what her wealthy family didn't know was that Izzy had a secret: she could hear plants talking. And the greenhouse orchids were screaming at their cruelty. So, she climbed onto their expensive coffee table, pointed at her mechanic uncle, and made her choice.
"I don't want Conrad to be my daddy. I want Uncle Bryan."
She walked out of that loveless mansion forever, ready to follow the whispers of an old apple tree in her new backyard—a tree that was about to guide her to a buried fortune of gold.