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 6
Four black Range Rovers tore through the streets of Century City. The convoy moved in a tight, aggressive formation, projecting absolute dominance.
They descended into the private underground parking garage of the Aura Entertainment building. Tires screeched as they boxed in the elevator entrance.
Three paparazzi hiding behind a concrete pillar raised their cameras. Before they could press the shutters, two massive bodyguards in black suits slammed into them, shoving the lenses down hard against the pavement.
Eileen stepped out of the center vehicle.
Her four-inch stilettos clicked against the concrete. Flanked by four guards, she walked straight into the VIP elevator. She hit the button for the top floor.
The doors opened to the executive suite.
Eileen pushed open the frosted glass door to Gwen's office. A thick cloud of cigarette smoke hit her face.
Gwen was pacing furiously in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows. Crumpled newspapers and printed screenshots littered the floor. In the corner, huddled on a leather sofa, sat Mindy, the team's junior assistant. She was chewing her fingernails, looking terrified.
Gwen spun around at the sound of the door. She opened her mouth to scream, but the sight of the four towering bodyguards filling the hallway choked the words in her throat.
Eileen waved her hand dismissively. The guards stepped back and pulled the door shut, sealing the room.
Eileen ignored Gwen's glaring eyes. She walked over to the wet bar, picked up a crystal glass, and poured herself some ice water. The cold liquid soothed her dry throat.
Gwen marched over to her desk and slammed a stack of glossy, high-definition photos onto the wood.
"What the hell were you doing?" Gwen hissed. "Look at these!"
Eileen took a sip of water. She walked slowly to the desk and looked down.
The photos showed a woman with a similar build to hers, standing in the shadows of a hotel stairwell, entangled with a tall man. The lighting was terrible. The faces were obscured.
Eileen let out a short, derisive scoff.
She reached out and tapped her index finger hard against the glossy paper, right on the woman's wrist.
"Look at the shape," Eileen said, tapping the photo. "That's the Alhambra clover. I have a documented nickel allergy, and I've always found that specific design incredibly tacky anyway. I haven't worn a metal bracelet in five years. You know this."
Gwen frowned, leaning in to squint at the blurry gold chain.
The detail was slightly blurred, but the distinct four-leaf shape was undeniably there. It was a fatal flaw in the setup.
"Second," Eileen continued, her tone turning surgical. "The Beverly Hills Hotel has military-grade security on the VIP floors. Paparazzi do not accidentally wander into the twelfth-floor fire escape."
Eileen turned her head slowly. Her gaze swept across the room and locked onto the girl shrinking into the sofa.
"There is only one explanation," Eileen said, her voice echoing in the quiet office. "Someone sold my room number and my private itinerary to the press."
Mindy's shoulders jerked violently. The tablet in her lap slipped and clattered onto the floor.
Gwen whipped her head around, staring at the assistant. "Mindy? You've been with us for three years."
Eileen set her water glass down on the desk. She walked toward the sofa. Her stilettos sank into the plush carpet, muffling her steps, making her look like a predator stalking prey.
She stopped right in front of Mindy, looking down at her.
"Where were you between three and four o'clock this afternoon?" Eileen asked. The question was soft, but heavy with pressure.
"I... I went down to the lobby to get coffee," Mindy stammered, her eyes darting everywhere except Eileen's face.
Eileen leaned down, bringing her face level with the assistant's.
"It takes an hour to get a coffee?" Eileen sneered. "And why does the hem of your skirt have a grease stain on it? The kind of grease you only get from brushing against a car bumper in an underground parking garage."
Mindy gasped. Her hands flew down to cover the edge of her skirt in a desperate, guilty reflex.
Gwen realized the truth instantly. She lunged forward, grabbing Mindy by the collar of her blouse. "You sold her out? Who paid you?!"
Tears spilled out of Mindy's eyes. She started shaking her head frantically. "No! I didn't! You have to believe me!"
Eileen stood up straight. She was done playing detective.
She turned to Gwen. "Revoke all her email access. Deactivate her keycards. Cut off her company phone. Tomorrow morning, have the legal department pull her bank records."
At the words 'legal department' and 'bank records', Mindy's legs gave out. She collapsed back onto the sofa, her face turning the color of ash. She began to sob hysterically.
Eileen picked up her water glass and slammed it down on the glass coffee table. The sharp crack made Mindy flinch.
"You're fired," Eileen said coldly. "Get out of my sight."
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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.