Reborn To The Wife of a Billionaire with Disabilities
Eileen woke up in a trashed hotel room, her head pounding with the pathetic memories of a despised Hollywood actress.
Outside the window, paparazzi were already screaming about her manufactured cheating scandal, but the real nightmare was waiting at her door.
Her paralyzed, billionaire husband, Carlisle Vinson, looked at her with pure disgust while his butler shoved a divorce settlement at her chest.
"Mr. Vinson is offering a severance package of fifty million dollars, provided you sign immediately and vacate the premises."
The original owner had left her an absolute mess.
Her trusted assistant had sold her room number to the press to frame her, and a playboy had scammed her out of her entire two million dollar life savings.
If she signed those papers and lost the Vinson family's protection, the breach of contract fees and her enemies in the industry would swallow her alive in days.
Eileen felt a cold fury override the original owner's lingering panic.
Why should she take the fall and be thrown out on the streets while the parasites who set her up lived out their wealthy fantasies?
She had died once, and she wasn't about to waste her second chance playing the victim.
Eileen slammed the heavy divorce folder shut right against the butler's chest.
"I'm not signing," she said with a terrifying, absolute calm.
She stepped behind her husband's wheelchair, ready to shield him from the cameras, secretly cure his dead legs, and make everyone who betrayed her bleed.
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Chapter 5
The grand dining room was cavernous. A ten-meter-long oak table dominated the space, covered in a pristine white linen cloth. Silver candelabras cast flickering, warm light across the crystal glassware.
Eileen followed Harrison into the room. A server immediately pulled out the chair to the right of the head seat.
It was the position of the lady of the house. Eileen didn't hesitate. She sat down smoothly, adjusting her posture. Carlisle maneuvered his wheelchair into the space at the head of the table.
The kitchen staff moved in a synchronized ballet.
The head chef approached Eileen with a silver cloche. He lifted it, revealing a small, sad plate. It contained a handful of dry arugula leaves and three cherry tomatoes, glistening with a microscopic drop of olive oil.
Eileen stared down at the plate. Her stomach cramped violently, letting out a pathetic, audible gurgle.
She lifted her chin. Her eyes bypassed the salad and locked onto the center of the table.
Sitting on a silver platter was a massive Beef Wellington. The golden pastry was perfectly baked. It had just been sliced open, revealing a center of flawless, pink, steaming tenderloin. The rich smell of butter, mushrooms, and roasted meat filled her nostrils.
Carlisle picked up his wine glass. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her staring at the meat. He saw her throat bob as she swallowed hard. His fingers paused on the stem of the glass.
Eileen reached out and shoved the salad plate away. The porcelain scraped loudly against the table.
She grabbed the heavy silver serving tongs.
The two servers standing nearby froze in shock. They watched as Eileen clamped the tongs around the thickest, center cut of the Beef Wellington. She lifted it, the rich juices dripping onto the tablecloth, and dropped it onto her own bone china plate.
She didn't stop there. She grabbed a serving spoon and scooped a massive mound of creamy, butter-heavy mashed potatoes next to the meat.
Harrison stopped cutting his fish. He stared at her plate, his eyes wide behind his reading glasses.
"Eileen, my dear," Harrison stammered. "That is... quite high in calories."
Eileen picked up her steak knife and fork. She sliced through the pastry and the tender meat. She dragged the piece through the dark truffle jus and shoved it into her mouth.
She closed her eyes. A soft, involuntary moan of pure pleasure vibrated in her throat.
She opened her eyes and looked at Harrison, her cheeks bulging slightly as she chewed.
"Screw the Hollywood diet," she mumbled through the food. "I want to actually enjoy being alive."
Harrison blinked. Then, a booming laugh erupted from his chest. He slapped his hand on the table, making the silverware rattle. "Good! Good! Young people should eat! You're too thin anyway!"
Carlisle slowly lowered his wine glass.
He stared at her. He watched her chew, watched the way she unapologetically wiped a drop of sauce from her bottom lip with her thumb. The vain, neurotic woman who used to faint from starvation to fit into a size zero dress was completely gone.
Eileen felt his heavy gaze.
She swallowed her food. She cut another piece of the tenderloin, making sure it had a perfect ratio of meat and pastry.
She stabbed it with her silver fork. She leaned across the corner of the table, extending her arm, and held the bite of food directly in front of Carlisle's lips.
Carlisle's body violently recoiled.
He threw himself back against his chair. His eyes turned into chips of ice. The air pressure in the room seemed to drop ten degrees.
"Move it," he ordered. The words were razor blades.
The room went dead silent. The servers stopped breathing. Harrison froze with his fork halfway to his mouth.
Eileen didn't blush. She didn't look embarrassed.
She simply shrugged her shoulders. She rotated her wrist, brought the fork back to her own mouth, and ate the piece of meat herself.
"Your loss," she mumbled, chewing happily.
The crushing tension in the room evaporated instantly. Her absolute lack of shame defused the bomb.
Carlisle stared at her lips, watching them move as she chewed. His Adam's apple bobbed once. He looked down at his own plate and picked up his knife, his grip white-knuckled.
The dinner proceeded. Eileen decimated two massive slices of the Wellington and scraped her potato bowl clean.
When the servers cleared the plates and poured the black tea, Eileen picked up her white napkin. She dabbed the corners of her mouth and stood up.
She walked over to Harrison and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, giving him a firm hug. "Thank you for the food, Grandpa. It was amazing."
She pulled back and turned to Carlisle.
The playful, relaxed aura vanished. Her eyes hardened, turning sharp and clear.
"I need to go to Aura Entertainment," she announced, her voice flat and businesslike. "I have a mess to clean up."
Harrison frowned, worry creeping back into his eyes. "Tonight? The paparazzi are swarming the city."
"There is a tumor in my team," Eileen said coldly. "If I don't cut it out tonight, it will kill me tomorrow."
Carlisle looked at her. He saw the absolute resolve in her posture.
He turned his head slightly toward the head butler. "Ainsworth. Have the Team One security detail escort the Madam to the agency."
The word 'Madam' hung in the air. It carried a heavy, undeniable weight of authority.
Eileen's heart skipped a beat. She looked at Carlisle, giving him a single, firm nod of gratitude.
She turned on her heel and marched out of the dining room. Her steps were fast and purposeful, carrying her out of the warm light and into the dark night.
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7.2
Blaire woke up in a Manhattan penthouse, her body covered in bruises and her innocence stolen.
Before she could process the terror, her adoptive sister Danita burst in, acting heartbroken and accusing Blaire of shamelessly seducing the powerful Kamryn Lane. Kamryn threw a one-million-dollar check at Blaire's bleeding face, calling her a calculating gold digger.
That night, Blaire overheard a conversation in the family study that shattered her entire reality.
"Once she gives birth to the Lane family's seed, we'll stage an accident, drain her blood, and transplant her healthy heart into your chest."
Her adoptive mother and Danita were celebrating the success of their trap. She wasn't an adopted daughter; she was a living organ bank and a disposable surrogate. Even her adoptive brother, Calhoun, knew everything, trapping her in the dark hallways with a sick, possessive obsession to ensure she never escaped.
The horrific truth suffocated her. The family that had taken her in had raised her like livestock for slaughter. How could they smile at her every day while planning to carve out her heart?
Terrified but burning with a desperate will to survive, Blaire swallowed a Plan B pill to ruin their surrogate plot and fled the estate. To get the money and power she needed to crush her adoptive family, she pulled out Kamryn Lane's business card. This time, she would make a deal with the devil.
7.3
Eloise was the untouchable Brandt family heiress, just one audition away from landing a lead movie role and escaping her golden cage.
But overnight, her family's empire completely collapsed.
With her father dying of heart failure, her mother forced her to beg the only man who could save them: Christian Clarke.
Christian was the ruthless billionaire who had publicly humiliated Eloise in college, ripping up her love letter in front of a laughing crowd.
Now, he tossed a fifty-million-dollar acquisition contract on the table.
"What exactly is the Brandt heiress putting up for sale today?"
To secure her father's medical care, Eloise was forced to sign a suffocating marriage contract, selling herself as a corporate tax shield.
He moved her into his freezing penthouse and treated her like a purchased asset. He mocked her attempts to cook him dinner, yet pinned her against the wall with punishing, possessive kisses whenever she tried to pull away.
Eloise's pride was entirely shattered.
She didn't understand why he was doing this. If he hated her so much and only wanted revenge, why did his touch carry such an agonizing, desperate heat?
Determined to survive, she went to her final audition and miraculously won the lead role, crying tears of joy because she had finally earned something on her own.
She had no idea that the cold-blooded monster sleeping beside her had just secretly threatened to destroy all of Hollywood to give it to her.
8.4
Everly spent four years playing the perfect, accommodating wife to Carson Moss, swallowing every grievance just to secure medical treatments for their sick daughter.
But at a high-society banquet she exhausted herself organizing, Carson's pregnant mistress crashed the party.
The woman shoved an ultrasound of Carson's "real heir" directly into Everly's frail grandfather's face.
The shock triggered a massive heart attack.
Carson refused to use his private helicopter to save the dying old man, choosing to protect his mistress and his company's IPO instead. Her grandfather died on the hospital table.
Instead of remorse, her mother-in-law demanded Everly publicly cover up the murder.
"You will do exactly as I say, or I will freeze every single cent of the medical trust fund paying for your crippled daughter's treatments."
When a battered Everly returned to the estate, she discovered her three-year-old daughter covered in dark bruises and pinch marks. Her in-laws were deliberately torturing her disabled child.
Everly couldn't comprehend how a family could be so utterly heartless. Her only family was murdered, her child was abused, and her husband threw a five-million-dollar check at her face as hush money.
They thought she would just break and quietly disappear.
But when a terrifyingly powerful billionaire unexpectedly blocked Carson's security team from locking her up, Everly finally saw her window.
She grabbed her sleeping daughter and ran out into the freezing storm, making a blood-bound vow to make the entire Moss family bleed.
9.3
Grace finally decided to end her toxic, one-sided relationship with Adelbert, the arrogant heir to a global empire, by texting him to terminate their family trust.
His response was a single, freezing word: "Done."
When they accidentally bumped into each other in a law firm elevator, Adelbert looked right through her.
"I don't know her," he stated coldly to his frat brothers, treating her like invisible trash.
Humiliated and completely exhausted, Grace sought an escape in a brutal shooter game called PUBG.
But by a sick twist of fate, the random matchmaking threw her into a squad with Adelbert's frat brothers and a god-tier, toxic player named 'Ø'.
'Ø' relentlessly mocked her terrible skills, humiliating her and calling her a "pig" over the voice chat.
Yet, during the final shootout, this ruthless player suddenly threw his character in front of hers, taking a fatal barrage of bullets just to keep her alive.
Grace soon uncovered the terrifying truth: the top-ranked 'Ø' was actually Adelbert himself.
She was utterly confused and furious.
Why would the untouchable billionaire who ignored her legal texts and publicly humiliated her suddenly sacrifice himself for her in a cheap video game?
Refusing to swallow her pride in both the real and digital worlds, Grace sent a direct challenge to his gaming profile.
"I'll prove I'm not a pig."
Across the city, Adelbert stared at the notification, a dark smirk curling his lips, and clicked accept.
7.5
I am the biological daughter of the wealthy Fitzpatrick family, but I spent my childhood eating out of dumpsters.
When I was finally brought back to the estate at age seven, I thought I would experience my parents' love.
Instead, my biological parents looked at my dirty clothes with raw disgust. They only cared about Hallie, the fake daughter who lived like a princess.
The moment I walked in, Hallie hurled a heavy ceramic cup at my head, slicing my hand open.
"Get out of my house!"
My father didn't even look at the blood. He raised his hand to strike me, accusing me of bringing trailer park rules into his home.
In my past life, I dropped to my knees and begged for their forgiveness. I endured their abuse, hoping they would eventually love me.
But they let the maids humiliate me, let Hallie steal my identity, and eventually threw me back onto the streets to die. Even my playboy Uncle Byron, the only person who ever showed me mercy, was driven to suicide by them.
I didn't understand why my own flesh and blood hated me so much, or why a vicious liar deserved everything while I was treated like a jinx.
Opening my eyes again, I was back on the exact day I first returned to the estate.
As my father raised his hand to hit me, I didn't cower.
Instead, I looked at the family patriarch and pointed directly at my notorious, alcoholic uncle.
"I want him to be my new guardian."
7.0
I was the Stanton family heiress, engaged to the President's son to secure a vital military alliance.
But he cornered me in the White House sitting room, slamming a thick manila folder onto the marble table.
"I said, sign the annulment agreement, Hester."
He looked at me like I was dirt, demanding I step aside so he could be with a manipulative intern named Tricia.
In my past life, I was a naive lamb. I cried and begged him not to end it. My devotion was rewarded with absolute cruelty. He ordered my bones broken and my reputation completely shredded. My trusted assistant forced poison down my throat, and I was left to die with a rope burning my neck.
Until my last breath, I didn't understand. I had done everything perfectly for the family. Why did my unwavering loyalty only bring me a gruesome death? Why did the monsters who tortured me get to live happily in the highest seats of power?
Opening my eyes again, the suffocating terror of the noose suddenly washed away. I was sixteen again, staring at the exact same annulment papers.
"Hester, please. Just let us be happy," Tricia whimpered, reaching out her trembling hand.
This time, I didn't cry. I picked up the solid gold fountain pen, stabbed it violently through the center of the contract, and prepared to drag the entire First Family straight to hell.