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 3
Kandy's hysterical laughter echoed off the peeling wallpaper. It was loud, forced, and desperate. But it died in her throat the moment she realized Janet wasn't reacting.
Janet just stood there, her dark eyes locked onto Kandy with the detached fascination of a scientist observing a struggling insect.
Humiliated by the silence, Kandy decided to go for the throat. She targeted the one thing she knew would draw blood.
"You're just as pathetic as Marlene," Kandy sneered, using Janet's mother's first name with deliberate disrespect. "A miserable, subprime mortgage gambler. She couldn't pay her debts, so she sold her own daughter to a deformed vegetable."
Janet's body went completely rigid.
The strange energy in her blood spiked. Tiny, invisible sparks crackled at the very tips of her fingers, begging for a release.
Kandy didn't notice the danger. She leaned in, her lips curling into an ugly sneer. "Your mother was crying like a street whore in bankruptcy court-"
Janet moved.
She didn't step; she launched. The distance between them vanished in less than a second. Kandy's pupils dilated in sudden terror. The insult died on her tongue. She didn't even have time to raise her hands.
Janet's right hand swung in a perfect, brutal arc.
The slap sounded like a gunshot in the cramped room.
The sheer kinetic force of the blow threw Kandy off balance. Her head snapped to the side, and her body slammed violently into the solid wood of the wardrobe. She slid down the door, her expensive dress bunching up around her thighs.
Kandy sat on the floor, stunned. She slowly brought her trembling hand to her rapidly swelling left cheek. She looked down at her fingers. There was a smear of blood where her own five-carat diamond had scraped against her skin from the impact.
The sight of her own blood shattered Kandy's sanity.
She let out a feral, bloodcurdling scream. She scrambled up from the floor, her manicured hands hooked into claws, aiming directly for Janet's eyes.
Janet didn't flinch. She simply pivoted on her heel, letting Kandy's momentum carry her forward. Janet grabbed Kandy's outstretched arm, twisted it sharply, and pinned it high up between Kandy's shoulder blades.
With a hard shove, Janet slammed Kandy face-first into the cold drywall.
Kandy whimpered, her face squashed against the peeling paint, completely immobilized.
Janet leaned in. Her lips were barely an inch from Kandy's ear.
"You talk about his perfect life, his perfect future," Janet whispered. Her voice was the chilling calm of a grim reaper reading a sentence. "But have you actually looked at him, Kandy? Looked past the tailored suits and the trust fund?"
Kandy's struggles stopped instantly. Her body went stiff against the wall. The sheer weight of Janet's absolute certainty created a terrifying blank space in her rage.
"The exhaustion he can't hide? The way his hands shake when he thinks no one is watching?" Janet continued, her voice slipping into Kandy's ear like ice water. "You saw the money, Kandy. You saw the penthouse. But you didn't look close enough at the man. You're building your entire dynasty on a foundation of sand."
"No," Kandy choked out, shaking her head against the wall. "He's the strongest man on Wall Street. You're lying. You're just trying to scare me."
Janet let out a dark, humorless chuckle. She released Kandy's arm and stepped back, letting the girl slide down the wall like a discarded ragdoll.
"Next time you're in that beautiful Tribeca penthouse," Janet commanded, staring down at her, "pay attention to the prescriptions hidden behind his imported cologne. Pay attention to the reality you just married into."
Kandy pushed herself up onto her hands and knees. Her legs were shaking so violently she couldn't stand. She looked up at Janet, her eyes wide with a horrifying mix of denial and dawning realization.
"You're making this up!" Kandy screamed, her voice cracking. "You're a jealous psycho!"
Janet looked at her with absolute disgust.
"Think about your precious future, Kandy. Those four kids you bragged about. What did they look like?"
Kandy's breath hitched. Her eyes darted frantically as she dug into her polluted reborn memories.
"They were blonde," Janet said softly, delivering the final, fatal blow. "Blonde hair. Blue eyes. Jax Adler has dominant dark hair and brown eyes. Basic genetics, Kandy. It's impossible."
Kandy's brain short-circuited. The fragmented memories of the future collided with the brutal biological facts Janet just laid out. The image of the four perfect children suddenly twisted into a grotesque mockery.
She realized she hadn't stolen a billionaire dynasty. She had stolen a dying man and a lifetime of being a cuckold.
Kandy clutched her head, her fingers digging into her scalp. She let out a low, agonizing wail of pure psychological defeat.
Janet stood over her, watching the breakdown without a single ounce of empathy. A slow, terrifyingly controlled smile spread across Janet's face. It was the smile of someone who held all the cards and enjoyed watching the house burn down.
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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.