
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 7
The adrenaline crash hit Eileen the moment she stepped out of the Aura Entertainment building.
She rubbed her throbbing temples as the bodyguards escorted her back into the black Range Rover. The heavy doors slammed shut, sealing her in the quiet, climate-controlled cabin.
The convoy sped through the midnight streets of Los Angeles. Neon lights bled across the tinted windows. Eileen leaned her head against the leather headrest and closed her eyes.
This body was weak. The original owner's extreme dieting and lack of exercise meant that a few hours of high-stress confrontation had completely drained her physical reserves. Her stomach twisted with a dull ache, and her muscles felt like lead.
The cars glided silently through the gates of the Vinson estate.
Eileen thanked the guard who opened her door. She slipped her stilettos off, holding them in one hand, and walked barefoot across the thick carpets of the mansion.
She moved quietly down the dim hallway. As she passed Carlisle's study, she noticed a thin sliver of warm light spilling from under the heavy oak door. She didn't stop.
She reached her bedroom at the end of the hall. She stepped inside and immediately threw the deadbolt, locking the door with a solid click.
She dropped her expensive handbag onto the floor. She walked straight to the massive floor-to-ceiling windows and yanked the heavy blackout curtains shut.
The room plunged into absolute darkness. The silence was absolute.
Eileen walked to the center of the room and sat down cross-legged on the Persian rug. She rested her hands on her knees, palms facing up. She took a deep breath, forcing her heart rate to slow.
She closed her eyes and focused all her mental energy on a single point right between her eyebrows.
This was the secret she had carried from her original world. She needed to know if it had crossed over with her soul.
As her concentration deepened, a tiny spark of heat ignited behind her forehead. The heat rapidly expanded, turning into a powerful, magnetic pull that enveloped her entire body.
A violent sensation of weightlessness hit her. It felt like falling backward off a cliff in the dark.
The sensation lasted for half a second. Then, her body hit solid ground.
Eileen snapped her eyes open.
She was no longer in the dark, stuffy bedroom. She was standing under a sky that had no sun, yet radiated a soft, perfect, ambient light. The air was incredibly pure, thick with the smell of rich, wet soil and growing things.
She looked down. She was standing on a patch of jet-black soil, about the size of half a football field. The edges of the dirt were swallowed by a dense, impenetrable wall of gray fog.
In the exact center of the black soil sat a circular well made of ancient, moss-covered stones.
Water bubbled up from the center of the well, the water level slowly rising as a single drop formed at the lip of the stone every few seconds with a crisp, musical trickling sound.
Eileen let out a breathless laugh. She sprinted toward the well, her bare feet sinking slightly into the soft earth.
She dropped to her knees beside the stones. The water inside was crystal clear, emitting a very faint, pulsing blue glow.
She cupped her hands and plunged them into the freezing water. She brought her hands to her mouth and drank greedily.
The water was icy and sweet. The moment it hit her stomach, it exploded into a wave of intense, soothing heat.
The heat rushed through her veins like liquid fire. The dull ache in her stomach vanished instantly. The heavy fatigue in her muscles dissolved. The lingering toxins from the original owner's hangover and poor diet were flushed out of her system in seconds.
Eileen looked down at her hands. The pale, sickly skin was rapidly taking on a healthy, vibrant pink flush. Her fingernails looked stronger.
She stood up, her body buzzing with limitless energy.
She paced around the well, her mind racing. This pocket dimension was tied to her soul. The spring water was a biological miracle. It repaired cellular damage at an impossible rate.
If this water could fix her ruined body in seconds, what could it do to Carlisle's legs?
The doctors had declared his spinal nerve damage permanent. But they didn't have magic water.
Curing the most powerful media mogul in the country wasn't just about paying him back for his protection. It was about creating an unbreakable bond. If she gave him his legs back, he would give her the world.
She knelt back down and studied the flow of the water. The well only produced a slow trickle. It would take a full day to gather a small glass. She would have to dose him slowly, secretly.
Her plan was set.
Eileen closed her eyes and focused on the heat between her brows.
The weightlessness returned. When she opened her eyes, she was sitting on the Persian rug in her dark bedroom.
She felt incredible. She stood up and walked into the master bathroom. She flipped on the harsh vanity lights and looked in the mirror.
Her skin was glowing. Her eyes were bright and sharp.
She smiled at her reflection. "Watch your back, Hollywood."
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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.