Reborn To Marry The Ruined Billionaire
Janet woke up gasping, the phantom fire of a deadly explosion still scorching her lungs. She had been reborn three years in the past, on the exact day her mother forced her into a marriage contract with Gaylord Bradford, a paralyzed and severely disfigured billionaire.
Before she could even process her second chance, her cousin Kandy kicked the bedroom door open, flaunting a massive diamond ring. Kandy, who had also been reborn, smugly announced she had stolen Janet's Wall Street golden boy fiancé, Jax Adler.
"You're going to marry that paralyzed monster," Kandy spat, gloating that she would build a billionaire dynasty with Jax while Janet wiped drool off a rotting corpse. Kandy expected Janet to have a complete mental collapse, completely unaware that Gaylord's own medical team was secretly injecting him with lethal neurotoxins to finish him off.
But Janet only felt a cold, clinical pity. Kandy's "prophetic" memories were a polluted lie. Jax was actually sterile and dying of irreversible kidney failure, while Gaylord wasn't a dying freak—he was a dormant god whose body was merely in a high-dimensional hibernation. Why would Janet mourn losing a doomed fraud?
Leaving her delusional cousin behind, Janet packed her bags and headed straight to Gaylord's maximum-security military cell. She physically tackled his corrupt doctor, drove three bio-electric silver needles into the crippled king's spine to awaken his deadened nerves, and looked him dead in his glacial blue eye.
"Sign the marriage contract," Janet whispered. "I will make you walk again, and we will take back everything."
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Chapter 2
Kandy lunged forward. Her manicured fingers dug into Janet's wrist as she snatched the phone away, hurling it onto the tangled bedsheets.
"You think you can dismiss me?" Kandy hissed, pacing the narrow space between the bed and the wardrobe like a caged peacock. "Jax just bought a penthouse in Tribeca. Floor-to-ceiling windows. Private elevator."
Janet watched her. She didn't look at the phone. She looked at Kandy's hands. There was a slight, undeniable tremor in Kandy's fingers. Hyperarousal. Her nervous system was red-lining, desperately trying to convince herself of a lie.
"And we're going to have the perfect family," Kandy bragged, her voice pitching higher. "Four kids. All Ivy League legacies. Jax's bloodline is superior."
Janet's mind instantly accessed the encrypted medical files she had memorized in her past life. The dark web IVF records. Jax Adler didn't have a bloodline. He was sterile. Those four blonde, blue-eyed children were purchased from a high-end donor catalog.
"I am going to be the absolute matriarch of the Adler empire," Kandy declared, stopping to strike a pose, her chin lifted high.
Janet turned her back on her. She walked over to the cheap vanity, picked up a black hair tie, and gathered her long hair into a tight, practical ponytail. The movement was dismissive. It was a physical erasure of Kandy's presence.
Kandy let out a frustrated shriek. She slapped her palm against the vanity mirror. The glass rattled in its cheap wooden frame.
Janet paused. She met Kandy's furious gaze through the reflection in the mirror.
"Do you know what chromosome microdeletion is?" Janet asked. Her voice was flat, devoid of any emotion.
Kandy blinked. The medical term hit her like a foreign language. She quickly recovered, letting out a harsh scoff.
"Save your community college nursing vocabulary for the cripple," Kandy sneered.
Janet narrowed her eyes, her gaze dropping to Kandy's trembling hands and the erratic, shallow rise of her chest. Her reborn intuition was razor-sharp, picking apart the micro-expressions of Kandy's face. She didn't need any special powers to see the raw, deep-seated anxiety rolling off her cousin in waves. It was written in the tense line of her jaw and the frantic darting of her eyes.
Emboldened by Janet's silence, Kandy stepped closer. She thrust her index finger out, the sharp acrylic nail poking hard into Janet's shoulder.
"Gaylord is rotting in a military hospital," Kandy spat, the words dripping with venom. "His organs are literally liquefying. He's a corpse."
A strange, fierce heat flared in Janet's chest. It was an instinctual, violent urge to protect the man who was destined to be her ally.
Janet's right hand shot out. It was a blur of motion.
Her fingers clamped down on Kandy's wrist, her thumb pressing precisely into the radial nerve pulse point.
Kandy let out a piercing scream. Her knees buckled as her entire arm went instantly, terrifyingly numb.
Janet squeezed, just a fraction of an inch harder.
"Never point that filthy finger at me again," Janet whispered, her voice dropping to a deadly register.
She released the wrist. Kandy stumbled back, clutching her deadened arm against her chest. Tears of genuine physical pain welled in her eyes, but her face quickly twisted into a mask of pure, ugly hatred.
"I saw the news in the future!" Kandy cried out, her voice trembling. "I saw Gaylord's autopsy report! It was horrific!"
Janet felt a cold smile pull at the corner of her mouth. She knew exactly which report Kandy was talking about. The fake autopsy fabricated by Wall Street short-sellers to crash the Bradford stock.
Janet took a slow step toward Kandy.
"Can you tell the difference between cellular necrosis and high-dimensional physiological hibernation?" Janet asked, her tone mocking.
Kandy backed up until her spine hit the wall. "You're delusional. A pathetic little nurse can't raise the dead."
Janet was done wasting oxygen on her. She turned away, pulled open the squeaky closet door, and dragged out a faded canvas duffel bag. She started tossing her few plain shirts inside.
Kandy felt the sting of being ignored again. It was worse than the physical pain. She kicked out with her heavy Chanel heel, striking the side of the duffel bag.
The bag tipped over. Three massive, hardcover medical textbooks spilled out onto the floor. Advanced Neurosurgery. Cellular Pathology.
The air in the room froze.
Janet stared down at the books. Her eyes went completely dead. The temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees.
Kandy swallowed hard, intimidated by the sudden shift, but she forced a laugh. "Taking your little picture books to the mansion? You're going to be the laughingstock of New York society."
Janet crouched down. Her movements were slow, deliberate. She picked up the neurosurgery textbook, gently wiping a speck of dust from the cover.
She stood up, holding the heavy book against her side. She looked Kandy dead in the eye.
"Very soon, Kandy," Janet said, her voice carrying the absolute weight of a prophecy, "those high-society elites you worship will be kneeling on the pavement outside my door, begging me to save their miserable lives."
Kandy stared at her for a second. Then, she threw her head back and let out a hysterical, grating laugh. She clutched her stomach, acting as if it was the funniest joke she had ever heard.
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9.7
For three years, I hid my identity as the sole heiress of a multi-billion dollar tech empire to live in a cramped apartment and support my boyfriend, Ben.
But the day before our engagement, I stood outside a meeting room and overheard him talking to his wealthy boss, Haylie.
"She's just a stepping stone," Ben laughed, his voice full of contempt. "A poor, ambitionless distraction while I work my way up to where I really belong."
He mocked the cheap silver ring he gave me, calling it a necessary prop to keep a naive fool happy.
He bragged about the multi-million dollar merger proposal he was presenting, planning to use it to secure his promotion and build a future with her.
He had no idea that I had secretly negotiated that entire deal using my real connections just to give him his big break.
I had sacrificed my family's comfort, my true identity, and my own career just to watch him rise.
I poured my heart and soul into our humble beginnings, only to realize he saw my love as a pathetic joke and me as disposable trash.
I calmly picked up a pen and voided the merger agreement, tearing my hard work into tiny pieces.
I went home, slid the cheap ring off my finger, and dropped it into his mug of cold coffee.
"Soon, you'll find out exactly who is nothing."
Walking out the door, I pulled out my phone and texted my billionaire father.
"I'm in. Announce the merger."
9.6
For five years, I was Barron Santana's elite bodyguard and loyal shadow. I stood between him and bullets, giving him my youth and my entire heart.
But last night, the CEO announced his engagement to a flawless socialite on national television.
Heartbroken, I got blackout drunk and ended up crashing on the couch of Cassidy Gross, a billionaire tech CEO who saved me from a bar creep.
When I showed up late to work, Barron locked me in his freezing office. He pinned me against the glass, smelling Cassidy's cologne on my clothes.
"Are you already looking for your next meal ticket?"
He snarled the words, treating me like a cheap whore. When I defended myself, he pulled out a silk handkerchief and wiped his fingers, acting as if my very touch contaminated him.
Then, he coldly ordered his assistant to draft my termination papers.
Five years of risking my life for him, thrown away like garbage just because of his twisted ego.
Devastated, I ran out and collapsed in the hallway, sobbing uncontrollably until a kind coworker gently pulled me into his arms to comfort me.
I didn't know Barron had followed me out.
Seeing me clinging to another man, his legendary control completely shattered, replaced by a dark, violent possessiveness.
But it was too late. I was done playing his obedient dog, and it was time to take Cassidy up on his offer.
7.8
Andrea was trapped in a suffocating marriage with billionaire Gregory Morse, forced to live as the pathetic substitute for his dead fiancée.
When armed intruders broke into their estate in the dead of night, she called her husband in pure terror.
"Stop playing these cheap, attention-seeking games," Gregory sneered with disgust, and hung up the phone.
She barely escaped with her life, but the cruelty only escalated. At the family mansion, his dead fiancée's sister deliberately scalded Andrea's hand with boiling tea. Instead of defending his wife, Gregory publicly humiliated her, ordering her to clean up the mess while calling her a stray dog.
That night, hiding in the dark wine cellar, Andrea overheard a chilling confession.
Gregory admitted to his brother that he knew Andrea was completely innocent of the car crash that killed his fiancée. He knew she had been framed.
Why did he marry her? Just to use her as a psychological punching bag to vent his twisted grief. He watched her suffer every single day, treating her like disposable trash, while violently threatening anyone who showed her an ounce of kindness.
He thought she was just a useless, helpless shadow who would quietly endure his torment forever.
He had no idea that behind her submissive facade, she was secretly Madame Lan, the apex predator of the global fashion world. And now, she was ready to burn his empire to the ground.
8.2
My ex-boyfriend of three years, Axel, married a perfect wealthy heiress.
I attended his wedding, not to mourn our relationship, but because he had spent the last three years bleeding me dry.
He left me with absolutely nothing but a final notice from the hospital for my dying brother's life support.
Instead of feeling guilty, Axel cornered me in the church hallway, crushing my wrist.
"I'll set you up with an apartment. You won't have to work another day in your life."
He thought he could buy my silence with spare change, while leaving my seventeen-year-old brother, Julian, to die when his treatments were cut off the very next day.
When I refused to be his dirty little secret, Axel used his power to utterly destroy my acting career.
He had my talent agency terminate my contract under a fake morals clause, publicly humiliated me on set, and blacklisted me across the entire industry.
I was shoved out into the freezing rain, left with a torn dress and absolutely no way to pay the five hundred thousand dollar medical bill.
He actually believed he could step on my brother's dying body to build his own fake empire.
He thought I was just a weak, pathetic victim who would eventually crawl back to him on my knees.
But he forgot about the one monster he was absolutely terrified of: his legitimate, ruthless billionaire half-brother, Jace Bauer.
Looking at the three positive pregnancy tests hidden in my drawer, I stepped right in front of Jace's armored Maybach.
"Marry me, and I'll give you the heir you need to secure your empire."
9.3
I was the rightful heir to the Valenzuela estate, but my aunt and cousin treated me worse than a stray dog.
On a freezing rainy night, they forged documents to strip me of my trust fund and violently ordered their bodyguards to throw me out.
My cousin snatched the rosewood urn containing my mother's ashes. She smashed it onto the marble floor and maliciously ground the white powder under her stiletto heel.
When Aidan, the elderly butler who had protected me since I was a baby, tried to shield me from their assassins in the storm, he was stabbed in the back.
His hot blood poured over my hands as he died in the muddy puddle, while my aunt's men laughed and raised their blades to finish me off.
They thought I was just a nameless orphan they could easily erase.
The next day, they went to the press, branding me a degenerate thief who ran away, happily preparing to parade around at my grandfather's charity gala using my stolen wealth.
But they didn't know I was rescued from the rain by the most ruthless billionaire in New York, a man willing to burn the city down to protect me.
Staring at my pale reflection in the penthouse mirror, I took a pair of heavy silver scissors and chopped off my long hair.
"From today on, the weak girl is dead. I am Evelena Valenzuela, and I am going to make them bleed for every single thing they took."
9.0
Angelena was the proud heiress of the wealthy Beasley family, until a single drink shattered her life.
Drugged by her jealous cousin and best friend, she stumbled into the wrong hotel suite and lost her innocence to a terrifying, authoritative stranger.
The next morning, reporters burst through the door, their camera flashes blinding her.
"Look at this mess! You were so desperate for money you'd sleep with some old man?"
Her cousin orchestrated the entire scandal to steal her inheritance. Her grandmother publicly disowned her, stripped her of her trust fund, and banished her from New York in absolute disgrace.
Seven months later, bleeding out in a freezing off-the-grid cabin, Angelena gave birth to quadruplets.
But as she slipped into unconsciousness, a corrupt black-market midwife stole her two newborn sons and sold them into the blizzard, leaving Angelena with only her twin daughters.
She clutched the single platinum cufflink the stranger had left behind, her heart shattered. She couldn't understand why her own blood relatives would destroy her so viciously, or who the monster was that took her innocence.
But the agonizing betrayal ignited a white-hot, burning vow for revenge.
Five years later, she returned to the city not as a broken outcast, but as a legendary underground doctor and a ruthless biotech CEO.
And the very first billionaire she clashed with was Fabian Richmond, a paranoid tyrant who unknowingly possessed her stolen sons—and the exact same platinum crest.