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 4
The black town car glided to a halt in front of the towering glass-and-steel monolith of the Stirling Group headquarters.
Before the driver could even open her door, a swarm of reporters descended on the vehicle like vultures. Camera flashes exploded against the tinted glass.
Elliana took a deep breath, grabbed the insulated breakfast bag, and pushed the door open.
Microphones were immediately shoved into her face. The noise was deafening.
"Miss Lewis! Is it true your marriage to Damon Stirling is already over?" a reporter named Grant Fletcher shouted over the din, practically shoving his recorder against her chin. "Rumor has it you were discussing divorce terms on your wedding night!"
In her past life, the flashing lights and aggressive questions had triggered her anxiety. She had screamed at them, swatted the cameras away, and stormed into the building looking like a deranged, spoiled brat-giving them exactly the headline they wanted.
This time, Elliana stopped. She stood tall, her posture impeccable in her beige dress. A polite, radiant smile bloomed on her face.
She gently pushed Grant Fletcher's microphone down with two manicured fingers.
"I'm sorry," Elliana said, her voice smooth and carrying perfectly over the crowd. "My husband is waiting for me to join him for breakfast. I really can't keep him waiting."
She emphasized the words my husband and breakfast.
The reporters fell dead silent. The aggressive shouting died in their throats. They stared at her, completely thrown off balance. This wasn't the hostile, Damon-hating heiress they had been told to expect. She looked like a woman deeply in love.
Taking advantage of their shock, Elliana slipped past them, flanked by the building's security guards, and walked through the revolving glass doors.
The lobby of the Stirling Group was a cavernous expanse of white marble and chrome. Elliana walked straight to the massive front reception desk.
The receptionist looked up. Recognition flashed in her eyes, followed instantly by a wall of professional caution. "Mrs. Stirling," the receptionist said, though her eyes held a guarded, almost wary glint, clearly anticipating a tantrum. "How can I help you?"
"I'm here to see Damon," Elliana said, keeping her smile in place.
The receptionist shifted uncomfortably. "I apologize, but Mr. Stirling is in a crucial board meeting. He left strict instructions not to be disturbed by anyone."
It was exactly what Elliana expected. Damon was actively avoiding her, assuming she was coming to cause a scene.
Instead of slamming her hands on the desk and screaming, Elliana simply nodded. "That's perfectly fine. I'll just wait for him here."
She pointed to the sleek leather sofas in the waiting area. "I won't be in the way."
The receptionist blinked, clearly not knowing how to handle this calm, compliant version of Elliana. "Uh... alright."
Elliana walked over to the sofa, sat down, and placed the breakfast bag neatly on the glass coffee table. She crossed her legs and waited.
Her quiet presence sent ripples of whispered gossip throughout the lobby. Employees walked by, casting covert glances at the CEO's notorious new wife, who was sitting as still and patient as a statue.
An hour ticked by. Elliana's back ached slightly, but she didn't move.
Finally, the chime of the private VIP elevator echoed through the lobby. The polished steel doors slid open.
Damon Stirling stepped out.
He was surrounded by a phalanx of nervous-looking executives, but he eclipsed them all. He wore a bespoke charcoal suit that hugged his broad shoulders perfectly. His face was a masterpiece of sharp angles and cold, ruthless authority. The sheer power rolling off him made the air in the lobby feel thin.
His executive assistant, Campbell Gibson, walked closely beside him, leaning in to whisper something in Damon's ear.
Damon's dark eyes instantly snapped toward the waiting area.
When his gaze locked onto Elliana sitting on the sofa, a microscopic flicker of shock broke through his icy facade. He had expected her to be screaming at the front desk. He had expected shattered glass and a PR nightmare. He hadn't expected her to be sitting there quietly, holding a paper bag.
But the shock vanished in a millisecond. His jaw clenched tight. His footsteps faltered for a fraction of a second, a complex, turbulent emotion flashing through the deep, dark depths of his eyes. But he quickly forced it down, his expression hardening back into an impenetrable mask. He finally tore his gaze away, deciding it was safer to keep walking straight toward the exit rather than risk falling into whatever trap she had set.
The executives noticed Elliana, their eyes darting nervously between her and their boss, but no one dared to speak.
As Damon reached the doors, Elliana stood up. She didn't run, but she walked with urgent purpose.
Just as Campbell reached out to push the glass door open for his boss, Elliana stepped directly into Damon's path.
Campbell froze. The executives stopped breathing.
Damon looked down at her. His eyes were like chips of black ice. There was no warmth, no affection-only a deep, guarded distance.
Elliana felt a sharp pain in her chest at that look, but she forced her brightest smile. She held the insulated bag up toward his chest.
"Damon," she said, her voice sweet and entirely natural, as if they did this every day. "I knew you didn't eat this morning. I brought you breakfast."
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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.