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 5
The heavy, frantic pounding on the front door vibrated through the floorboards of the old house.
Janet walked down the narrow, creaking wooden staircase, her duffel bag slung over one shoulder. Below her, in the cramped living room, her mother Marlene was pacing.
Marlene's eyes were red-rimmed and swollen. She was nervously twisting a damp tissue around her fingers. When she saw Janet on the stairs, a fresh sob tore from her throat.
Kandy trailed a few steps behind Janet, clinging to the banister. She kept one hand pressed against her bruised cheek, her eyes fixed on Janet's back with a toxic mix of hatred and anticipation. Kandy was waiting for the military to drag Janet away like a prisoner of war.
Janet reached the bottom step. Marlene rushed forward, throwing her arms around Janet's neck.
"I'm so sorry, Janie," Marlene wept, her voice muffled against Janet's shoulder. "The debts... the bank was going to take everything. I had no choice. I'm so sorry I did this to you."
Janet didn't pull away. She wrapped her free arm around her mother's trembling back. She patted her gently, her touch firm and grounding.
"It's okay, Mom," Janet said. Her voice was a steady anchor in the chaotic room. "This is exactly where I need to be. It's the best choice."
Before Marlene could respond, the front door was pushed open.
The sound of heavy, military-grade tactical boots stepping onto the wooden porch sent a shockwave of dread through the room.
A man stepped into the doorway, completely blocking out the morning sun. He was nearly two meters tall, built like a concrete bunker, and dressed entirely in black tactical gear.
Misha Volkov. Gaylord Bradford's head of private security.
He stepped into the living room like a Siberian wolf entering a pen of trembling sheep. The air temperature in the room seemed to instantly plummet. Misha radiated a thick, suffocating aura of bloodlust-the kind of metallic, heavy scent that only clung to men who had survived countless warzones.
Marlene gasped, physically recoiling. She shrank back against the sofa, terrified by the sheer mass of the man.
Janet didn't flinch. She stood her ground, her chin level. She narrowed her eyes slightly, observing the way he carried his massive frame. She recognized him instantly from the fragmented memories of her past life. Misha Volkov. She knew the absolute, unyielding loyalty that beat beneath that terrifying exterior. Her calmness didn't come from a place of ignorance, but from a deep, unspoken understanding of the man standing before her. She knew he wouldn't hurt her unless she proved to be a threat to his master. She held her ground, letting the silence stretch.
Misha noticed her stare. He expected fear. He expected tears. Instead, he found himself being analyzed by a pair of dark, bottomless eyes that seemed to strip him down to his skeleton. A flicker of surprise crossed his icy blue eyes.
He straightened his posture, his hands resting naturally near his waist.
"Future Mrs. Bradford," Misha said. His voice was a deep, gravelly rumble, devoid of any warmth. "The convoy is ready."
At that exact moment, Kandy reached the bottom of the stairs. She peered over Marlene's shoulder to look at the man at the door.
Kandy's pupils contracted to the size of pinpricks. A sharp, loud gasp ripped from her throat, sounding incredibly loud in the dead silent room.
Her face turned the color of spoiled milk. Her whole body began to shake violently.
"Misha..." Kandy whispered. The name slipped out of her mouth, carried by a wave of absolute, paralyzing terror.
Misha's head snapped toward Kandy. His icy blue eyes locked onto her like a laser targeting system. In an instant, the passive security guard vanished, replaced by a lethal predator.
Janet caught the shift immediately. Her brain fired rapidly, piecing together the timeline. Kandy's visceral terror. Misha's instant hostility. In the past life, Kandy must have betrayed the Bradford family, and Misha was the one who executed the cleanup.
Misha took one heavy, menacing step toward the stairs.
"How does a civilian in the Rust Belt know my classified operational callsign?" Misha demanded. His voice was a low, dangerous growl that vibrated in Kandy's chest.
Kandy's knees gave out. She collapsed onto the bottom step, her Chanel dress pooling around her. Her teeth were physically chattering.
"I... I saw it!" Kandy stammered, tears of pure terror streaming down her face. "On a visitor badge! From a security company!"
Misha let out a dark, terrifying scoff. "Blackwater-level operatives do not wear name tags, little girl."
Kandy looked at Janet, her eyes wide, silently begging her cousin to save her from the monster. Janet just crossed her arms, her face a mask of cold indifference.
Misha's large hand moved smoothly toward his tactical belt. His thumb brushed the activation button of his encrypted radio. He was preparing to call in the tactical squad waiting outside to detain a potential spy.
The tension in the room was a stretched wire, seconds away from snapping.
Janet finally spoke.
"Don't waste your time, Misha," Janet said, her tone utterly bored. "She's a pathological liar with a severe delusion complex. She probably heard it in a movie."
Misha's hand froze over his radio. He slowly turned his head to look at Janet. He was assessing her, trying to read the truth in her steady gaze.
His primary directive was to secure the heir's fiancée. A messy extraction would draw unwanted military police attention.
Misha let out a harsh breath through his nose. He pulled his hand away from the radio, but he kept his eyes locked on Kandy for one more terrifying second.
"Move," Misha commanded Janet.
Janet hoisted her bag, stepped past her weeping mother and her paralyzed cousin, and walked out the door into the blinding sunlight.
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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.