The Jilted Heiress And Her Lethal Comeback
7.3 / 10.0
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Clara was the despised fake heiress of the wealthy Price family.
For years, she endured their coldness, desperately trying to please her adoptive mother and her fiancé, Preston.
But a sudden, terrifying vision of an alternate timeline shattered her reality.
In that life, the real heiress, Bria, framed Clara for stealing a priceless antique pearl earring.
Her adoptive family chose blood over loyalty, watching coldly as Preston publicly dumped her.
Clara was thrown out without a penny, hunted down by hitmen Bria hired, and died a miserable, lonely death.
Now, as the agonizing memories faded, Clara found herself back in the exact moment the nightmare began.
Bria was whimpering in Preston's arms, while the family matriarch slammed her cane against the floor.
"You will call Preston," Eleanor ordered, her voice cold and absolute. "You will cancel the engagement yourself."
They expected her to panic and beg.
They expected her to cry over the family that never loved her and the man whose bankrupt tech company she had secretly saved with her own code.
Why should she suffer for their greed?
Why should she let a venomous sister and a useless fiancé destroy her life when she possessed the lethal combat skills of a brutal alternate reality?
This time, Clara didn't shed a single tear.
She yanked off the five-carat diamond ring, threw it onto the table, and publicly broadcasted the secret audio of Bria's vicious setup.
Then, she packed a single bag and walked out the door, ready to crush anyone who stood in her way.
The Jilted Heiress And Her Lethal Comeback Chapter 1
A violent spike of pain drove into the base of Clara's skull.
Her fingers dug into the edge of the vintage leather sofa. Her knuckles turned white. The sheer volume of memories from a sudden, terrifyingly vivid vision of an alternate timeline forced their way into her nervous system. Every fragmented image was accompanied by a visceral sensation-the smell of sterile hospital rooms, the agonizing sting of betrayal, the cold emptiness of dying alone. The sensory overload spiked her heart rate, making her chest heave as her brain desperately tried to process a lifetime of pain in a matter of seconds. Her stomach pitched. The physical weight of her own body felt foreign, heavy, and entirely wrong.
Before the nausea could recede, a low, suppressed sob echoed across the expansive living room.
The sound was manufactured. It grated against Clara's eardrums.
Across the Persian rug, Eleanor Price slammed the silver tip of her cane into the floor. The heavy thud was designed to crush the fake heiress into submission.
Clara slowly lifted her head.
The fear that usually clouded her eyes was gone. Instead, her gaze was a sheet of solid ice, slicing straight toward the two women on the opposite couch.
Bria's breath hitched. The unfamiliar, lethal look in Clara's eyes made her physically recoil. She shrank closer to Eleanor's side, seeking cover.
Eleanor's brow furrowed. She hated the direct eye contact.
"You will call Preston," Eleanor ordered, her voice cold and absolute. "You will cancel the engagement yourself."
"I don't want to ruin my sister's happiness," Bria whimpered, her face twisted in a mask of perfect pity. Every word was a calculated reminder that Clara was nothing but a fraud.
Clara didn't panic. She didn't beg.
She let out a short, breathy laugh.
The sound froze the air in the room.
Eleanor's face turned a mottled purple. She opened her mouth to scream, but Clara simply raised her left hand.
Her fingers didn't tremble. She pinched the five-carat pink diamond engagement ring resting on her ring finger.
The metal was tight. Clara gave it a hard yank. The skin around her knuckle turned red, but her expression remained completely dead.
Bria's eyes widened in shock.
Clara tossed the multi-million-dollar ring into the air.
It arced perfectly and slammed onto the marble coffee table right in front of Eleanor.
Clack.
The sharp sound echoed off the high ceilings. The diamond caught the chandelier's light, blindingly bright. Eleanor jerked backward, her chest heaving.
Clara stood up. She looked down at them.
"The engagement is off."
Bria's mouth fell open. The venomous speech she had prepared died in her throat. Her face flushed a deep, angry red.
"You ungrateful, classless wretch!" Eleanor shrieked, her hands shaking on her cane.
Clara ignored the old woman's tantrum. She brushed a nonexistent piece of lint off her skirt. Her movements were fluid and entirely unbothered.
Bria couldn't handle the dismissal. She lunged upward, reaching out to grab Clara's wrist.
Muscle memory from those visceral, hyper-realistic visions kicked in instantly. The phantom feeling of countless hours of brutal, life-or-death struggles surged through her veins, overriding her current physical weakness. Clara shifted her weight and pivoted her shoulder.
Bria's hand grasped empty air. Her momentum carried her forward. She lost her balance and crashed hard against the edge of the marble table.
Her elbow clipped a coffee cup. Dark brown liquid splashed across the front of Bria's pristine white couture dress.
Bria let out a high-pitched scream. She frantically clawed at the spreading stain.
"Stop her!" Eleanor yelled.
Footsteps pounded against the hardwood floors as maids rushed into the room.
Clara watched the chaos with zero empathy. She turned her back and walked toward the exit.
The butler stood by the doorway. He stepped forward on instinct, but Clara shot him a glare so oppressive that he immediately backed away.
Clara walked through the entrance. She grabbed the heavy brass handles of the double oak doors and pulled them shut behind her.
Bang.
The heavy wood sealed off the screaming. The silence was instant.
Clara stood on the front steps. She inhaled the crisp, cold New York autumn air.
She tilted her head back and looked up at the second-floor window. It was time to pack her bags.
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The Jilted Heiress And Her Lethal Comeback of Contents
Chapter 1 Ch. 1Chapter 2 Ch. 2Chapter 3 Ch. 3Chapter 4 Ch. 4Chapter 5 Ch. 5Chapter 6 Ch. 6Chapter 7 Ch. 7Chapter 8 Ch. 8
Chapter 9 Ch. 9
Chapter 10 Ch. 10
Chapter 11 Ch. 11
All Chapters all
New Release Novels
7.6
When the Pollard family kicked Alyssa out into the freezing rain, Walter threw a ten-thousand-dollar check into a dirty puddle.
"Take it and get out. Don't ever come back," he sneered.
Her adoptive mother and stepsister stood on the mansion's porch, mocking her as a worthless country girl who tarnished their wealthy name. They laughed, claiming she wouldn't even be able to afford community college and would be begging on the streets in a week.
They looked at her cheap clothes and worn backpack with absolute disgust.
They were completely unaware that for the past five years, Alyssa was the secret mastermind who had built their failing gallery into a multi-million-dollar investment empire.
Every key investment, every fortune they made, came from the anonymous notes she had slipped into their unread books. They genuinely believed they were business geniuses, while treating the true architect of their wealth like a stray dog.
Looking at their smug, arrogant faces, Alyssa didn't feel a shred of sadness, only a cold, sharp irony.
They actually believed they had raised her.
She stepped close, whispered the master code to Walter's most secret offshore account, and watched the blood completely drain from his face.
"I raised you," she said, turning her back on the mansion without hesitation.
Walking into the storm, she pulled out a heavily encrypted phone and gave a single, cold order.
"Initiate a full hostile takeover of the Pollard Group."
It was time to end this little game and step into her true life—as the world's most elusive medical genius, and the long-lost billionaire heiress of the Summers dynasty.
9.0
I am the undisputed ice queen of the ER, a doctor whose life is built on absolute control. A month ago, I impulsively married a stranger to create a legal shield against my ex-mentor's betrayal.
Our prenup had one strict rule: a fake marriage with zero interference in each other's lives. But tonight, my "husband on paper" was wheeled into my ER, unconscious, reeking of cheap whiskey, and suffering from a bleeding ulcer.
To authorize his emergency surgery, I had to sign the consent form as his wife, detonating a gossip bomb among my colleagues. Worse, his overbearing family found out he was hospitalized. To stop his terrifying mother from flying in and exposing our sham marriage, I had to lean over his hospital bed and take a fake, loving couple's selfie.
I didn't understand why this disciplined math professor was suddenly drinking himself to death, nor why my chest tightened when he looked at me with exhausted eyes and begged for homemade soup. My perfectly ordered, untouchable life was crumbling into a chaotic mess, and I was losing my grip on the narrative.
"We should probably spend some time together beforehand. We could be roommates."
To prepare for an unavoidable family dinner and a wedding, my stranger husband just asked me to move into his apartment. The ultimate uncontrolled variable has just crossed the line, and our fake marriage is about to become dangerously real.
8.0
Finley's stepfather gave her a sickening ultimatum: marry her predatory stepbrother Shane tonight, or he would throw her fragile mother out on the street.
To escape this hell, she used a matchmaking agency and hastily married a complete stranger. Garrison Strickland claimed to be an ordinary data analyst making $95,000 a year, driving a beat-up Honda Civic, and needing a wife in name only. They got their marriage license at City Hall that very afternoon.
But when Finley returned home to pack her bags and threw the certificate on the table, her family just laughed. Dozier ordered Shane to drag her into the bedroom to "teach her a lesson" and trap her forever.
"Come on, little sister," Shane crooned, lunging at her. "Don't fight it."
Finley's own mother just stared at the floor, blaming Finley for ruining the family, watching blindly as Shane cornered her.
Terrified and desperate, Finley smashed an ashtray over Shane's head and frantically dialed her new husband's number. Shane snatched the phone, mocking the "imaginary husband" before the line went dead. Finley felt a bottomless despair. Garrison was just a normal guy; he would never risk his life against her violent family. She was completely on her own, waiting for the end.
Suddenly, deafening bangs echoed through the house, and Garrison stepped into the living room radiating a cold, terrifying fury. This supposedly "frugal data analyst" effortlessly snapped Shane's wrist, leveled a ruthless death threat that made Dozier tremble, and whisked Finley away in a waiting Bentley. Looking at the powerful man beside her, Finley's heart raced: just who exactly had she married today?
9.0
Allegra woke up in a sterile alien hospital with no memory, no ID chip, and a terrifying snow leopard General claiming responsibility for her crash.
But a routine ID scan at a local boutique shattered her fragile cover.
The machine shrieked, flashing a fatal red warning: NO NEURAL LINK DETECTED.
She was a "Ghost"—an illegal, unregistered biological entity in a ruthless Hybrid Empire.
The boutique locked down instantly. Heavily armed police swarmed the plaza, laser sights painting her chest red.
She was dragged into a subterranean military black site, where a manic geneticist tested her blood and discovered the impossible truth.
She wasn't a Hybrid. She was a pure Homo Sapiens—an extinct race whose mere presence could cure the Hybrids' fatal Psyche collapse.
To keep her all to himself, the scientist lied to the General, branding her a toxic, mutating bio-weapon.
Forced by Imperial law, the General abandoned her to the scientist's cruel custody.
Allegra was locked inside a reinforced glass cage in the deepest isolation ward, waiting to be dissected.
She huddled on the floor, trembling in absolute despair.
She didn't belong in this nightmare world. Why was she being treated like a monster? Why did this madman look at her like a prize to be torn apart?
Watching the scientist's fox ears twitch in manic stress outside the glass, her human empathy momentarily overrode her terror.
She stood up and pressed her palm against the glass, perfectly aligning it with his.
"Don't be so nervous, Mr. Fox."
Instantly, an invisible wave of human resonance flooded his core, shattering his genetic madness.
The terrifying predator was reduced to a whimpering, devoted puppy, pressing himself against the window in absolute submission.
Allegra slowly pulled her hand back, her heart skipping a beat.
Well, she thought, that changes things.
7.3
Ten years ago, I was banished from my pack, branded a whore and a traitor for allegedly drugging and stealing my sister's fated mate.
Now, I was summoned back because my father, the Alpha who disowned me, was dying from a poisoned attack.
Standing by his deathbed, a locked memory finally surfaced—I didn't drug anyone. My husband and I were both victims, poisoned with wolfsbane to force our mating.
But before my father could reveal who orchestrated the setup, his heart monitor flatlined.
My brother instantly shoved me to the ground, pointing a trembling finger at my face.
"You killed him. I will hunt you, I will break you, and I will make your life a living hell."
Even my husband, Kieran, the man I was forced to marry to save our unborn child, walked right past me in the hospital corridor.
He didn't spare me a single glance, choosing instead to gently comfort my mother while I sat bruised and shattered on the cold floor.
I didn't understand why my own family hated me so blindly, and I understood even less who had framed me a decade ago.
What terrified my father so much in his final moments that he couldn't even speak the culprit's name?
Watching my cold husband walk away with the family that abandoned me, the last shred of my naive hope died.
I wiped my tears and stood up. This time, I was going to tear this pack apart to find the truth.
9.0
I spent a year scrubbing floors in my fiancé’s club, hiding my identity as the daughter of the Capo dei Capi.
I needed to know if Connor Bishop was a King worth merging empires with, or just a puppet.
The answer came walking in wearing a neon pink dress.
Jaden Juarez, a civilian he was infatuated with, didn't just treat me like a servant; she deliberately poured scalding espresso over my hand because I refused to be her valet.
The pain was blinding, my skin blistering instantly.
I video-called Connor, showing him the burn, expecting him to enforce the code of our world.
Instead, seeing his investors watching, he panicked.
He chose to sacrifice me to save face.
"Get on your knees," he roared through the speaker. "Beg her pardon. Show her the respect she deserves."
He wanted the daughter of the most dangerous man on the East Coast to kneel to his mistress.
He thought he was showing strength.
He didn't realize he was looking at a woman who could burn his entire world to ash with a single phone call.
I didn't cry. I didn't beg.
I simply hung up the phone and locked the kitchen doors.
Then, I dialed the one number everyone in the underworld feared.
"Dad," I said, my voice cold as steel. "Code Black. Bring the papers."
"And send the wolves."
![[Dubbed Version]The Unspoken Regret](https://v.melolo.com/b1265344voduse1318177724/3ad602b95145403706034363383/f0LUTJ1nxC4A.webp!15491.webp!15491.webp)
