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 8
The sharp, sterile scent of antiseptic burned Elliana's nostrils.
She slowly peeled her eyes open. The harsh fluorescent lights of the emergency room made her wince. She was lying on a narrow hospital bed, the steady beep of a heart monitor echoing in her ears.
She turned her head slightly.
Damon was sitting in a plastic chair right beside her bed. His usually immaculate white dress shirt was wrinkled and smeared with dust from the deployed airbags. His tie was gone. The top buttons were ripped open. He was leaning forward, his elbows on his knees, his face buried in his hands. He looked utterly exhausted.
Hearing the rustle of the sheets, Damon's head snapped up.
He was out of the chair in a fraction of a second, hovering over her. The cold, impenetrable CEO was gone. His dark eyes were wide, frantic, and scanning every inch of her face.
"How do you feel?" His voice was tight, strained to the breaking point.
Elliana reached up and touched her forehead. Her fingers met the rough texture of a gauze bandage. She offered him a weak, reassuring smile. "My head is spinning a little. But I'm not going to die."
The curtain around her bed was pulled back. A doctor in a white coat stepped in, holding a clipboard.
"Mr. Stirling," Dr. Allen Spencer said respectfully. "The CT scan is clear. Mrs. Stirling suffered a mild concussion and some superficial lacerations. She's going to have a headache for a few days, but there's no serious trauma. We can keep her overnight for observation, or she can be discharged tonight if she prefers to rest at home."
Elliana's heart did a tiny, joyful flip. Mrs. Stirling.
Damon hadn't corrected the doctor. When he brought her in, terrified and bleeding, he had claimed her as his wife.
Damon nodded curtly to the doctor. "Thank you."
He turned back to Elliana. He didn't ask what she wanted. He simply leaned over the bed and slid one strong arm under her knees, the other behind her back.
"I want to go home," Elliana whispered, leaning into his touch.
Damon lifted her effortlessly into his arms. He held her tightly against his chest, as if terrified she might shatter if he let go.
Elliana rested her cheek against his collarbone. She could hear the rapid, heavy thud of his heartbeat. She closed her eyes, a profound sense of safety washing over her.
The drive back to the Stirling Estate was a blur. When the car finally pulled up to the grand entrance, it was past midnight.
Marge Kowalski, the head housekeeper, hurried out the front doors as Damon carried Elliana up the steps. Marge's eyes widened when she saw the bandage on Elliana's head and the protective way Damon was holding her.
Damon walked straight into the main living room and gently lowered Elliana onto the plush velvet sofa.
"Go to the kitchen," Damon ordered Marge without looking at her. "Prepare something light. Soup or porridge."
Marge nodded quickly, her posture already deferential, and turned to leave.
"Wait."
Elliana's voice was quiet, but it cut through the room with absolute authority.
Marge stopped and turned back.
Elliana studied the housekeeper's face for a long moment. The condescension she had once seen there was gone—replaced now by a wary, genuine attentiveness. Satisfied, Elliana gave a small nod. "Never mind. You can go."
Marge bowed her head and hurried toward the kitchen.
Elliana looked up at Damon. "I'm hungry. But I don't want to eat anything they make."
She pushed herself up from the sofa, but the sudden movement sent a violent wave of dizziness crashing through her skull. Her vision blurred, and her knees buckled instantly.
"Elliana!" Damon lunged forward, catching her firmly by the waist before she could hit the floor. He easily lifted her back onto the cushions, his jaw tight with anxiety.
"You have a concussion," Damon ordered, his voice harsh to mask his panic. "Sit down and stay there."
Elliana grabbed his wrists as he tried to pull away. Her grip was weak, and her head was still spinning, but her eyes were fiercely stubborn. "No. I promised you this morning. I told you I would cook for you."
"You can barely stand," Damon argued, his dark eyes flashing with frustration.
"Then I'll sit on a stool and tell you exactly what to do," she countered softly, refusing to let go of him. "Damon, starting today, I want to make food for you. I want to take care of you, even if I need your hands to do it right now."
Damon felt as if a physical blow had struck his chest. The raw, burning sincerity in her eyes scorched him. He opened his mouth to order her to stay put, but the words died in his throat. He couldn't refuse her. Not when she looked at him like that.
Elliana used his hesitation to pull herself up slightly, leaning heavily against his side. She kept her hand wrapped around his wrist and let him support her weight as they moved slowly toward the kitchen.
She pushed open the swinging doors. A young maid, Patty, was standing by the stove.
"Leave us," Elliana told the maid. "I don't need any help."
Patty scurried out, leaving the husband and wife alone in the massive, gleaming kitchen.
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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.