The Reborn Duchess's Ruthless Revenge
I stood in the Royal Hall, clutching a glass of warm champagne while watching Senator Levine laugh. To the crowd, he was a pillar of the community; to me, he was the parasite who had already destroyed my life once.
In my past life, this gala was the night the monarchy began to bleed. Levine successfully planted his cameras, the Vance empire funded a coup, and the kingdom I loved was sold off to the highest bidder.
I lived through the consequences of my silence. I watched my sister, Seraphina, die in childbirth because the medical supplies were intercepted by traitors. I watched the man I loved, Duke Elliot, stripped of his titles and branded a criminal. I spent my final days in a damp, freezing cell, listening to the executioner sharpen his blade while the people cheered for our demise.
The injustice burned in my throat like lye. I died wondering how I could have been so naive, how I could have let these monsters walk among us while I played the part of a perfect, quiet wife.
Why did the gods let the wicked prosper while my family’s blood watered the palace gardens? What would I have given for just one chance to strike first?
Then, the world shifted. I opened my eyes to find myself back at the gala, the scent of sandalwood and rain surrounding me as Elliot rested a possessive hand on my back. I wasn't just a Duchess anymore; I was a ghost from a future that would never happen, and I was ready to erase every name on my list.
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Chapter 10
The ballroom was a sea of diamonds and silk. The orchestra played a swelling waltz, but nobody was dancing. Everyone was watching the stage.
King Edward stood at the podium. General Stone stood beside him, the newly pinned Imperial Cross gleaming on his chest.
The applause was deafening.
"And now," the King announced, his voice amplified by the microphone, "we have one more hero to honor."
The spotlight swung around, blindingly bright. It landed on Julian and Imogen.
A hush fell over the crowd.
Julian unlocked the brakes on his wheelchair. He gripped the armrests.
"Julian, don't," Imogen whispered. "Your leg..."
"Help me up," he said through gritted teeth.
Imogen hesitated, then slipped her arm under his. With her support, Julian pushed himself up. His bad leg trembled violently. Pain shot up his spine, white-hot and searing.
But he stood.
He stood tall, leaning heavily on Imogen.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out the velvet box.
He shifted his weight, a sharp hiss of pain escaping his lips. Wincing, he slowly, agonizingly, lowered himself onto one knee. The fabric of his uniform strained against the bandages, and a fresh, hot spike of agony shot through his side, but he locked his jaw against it.
The crowd gasped. A collective intake of breath.
"Imogen Sterling," Julian's voice was strong, carrying to the back of the room. "I told you I would do this when we weren't covered in blood."
Imogen covered her mouth with her hands. Tears streamed down her face, ruining her makeup. She didn't care.
"Will you marry me?"
"Yes!" she cried out. "Yes, you idiot, stand up!"
She dropped to her knees to hug him. The crowd erupted. Thunderous applause. The King clapped from the stage, sealing the union with royal approval.
In the shadows near the buffet table, Isolde watched them. She was smiling, clapping.
Then, the room spun.
A wave of nausea hit her so hard she almost dropped her clutch. She grabbed Elliot's arm to steady herself.
"Isolde?" Elliot asked, concern instantly replacing his social smile. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine," she muttered, swallowing back bile. She instinctively touched her stomach. No. It couldn't be. Not yet. The timing would ruin everything. The thought was a shard of ice in her gut.
She looked up, trying to focus. Her gaze drifted to the stage.
The King was stepping down. As he descended the stairs, a man in a black tuxedo stepped out from behind a heavy velvet curtain.
He was nondescript. Forgettable. But Isolde knew him. Agent Cipher. The head of the King's 'Special Operations' division-the department that handled things that needed to disappear. Not people. Problems.
Cipher caught the King's eye. He gave a single, sharp nod. The King touched his tie-a signal.
Isolde's blood ran cold as she understood. It wasn't an order to kill. It was an activation signal. A green light for an extraction.
She scanned the room frantically. She found her.
Consort Cecilia. The King's wife.
Cecilia was standing near the balcony doors. She wasn't looking at the proposal. She wasn't looking at the King. She was staring at the exit sign with a look of utter, hollow despair.
Isolde remembered the headlines from her past life. Consort Cecilia Dies of Sudden Heart Failure. It was supposed to happen next month.
But the nod. The signal.
They moved the timeline up.
Isolde gripped Elliot's arm tighter, her fingernails digging into his suit fabric. The joy of the engagement evaporated, replaced by the cold, hard reality of the game they were playing.
Julian and Imogen were kissing in the spotlight, bathed in applause.
But in the shadows, the knives were already out for the Queen.
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7.4
In a world ruled by dominance and desire, being an Omega is a curse, especially when you're mine.
On his eighteenth birthday, Luca wakes to a nightmare, his wolf has chosen the lowest rank of all. An Omega. The scent of submission, the mark of shame and the kind of wolf others own, use, and discard.
But Luca isn't broken, he's burning and the only one who's ever made him feel safe is Rafe, his best friend, his protector and his temptation.
Then Rafe shifts and becomes an Alpha and their wolves recognize each other, the bond between them is instant, magnetic, and utterly forbidden.
Because an Alpha claiming a Male Omega?
That's forbidden, but this Omega? He's different
Now their connection is more than a secret, It's a sin to their world, a deadly craving, slow, delicious and primal to fall into.
And when one bite can seal a bond or spark a war, how long can they resist it?
He's not supposed to want him.
But gods, he does.
And once an Alpha touches what's his... he never lets go.
8.4
I worked three double shifts at the garage just to buy a velvet-boxed cake for my wealthy girlfriend, Arleen.
But when I pushed open the VIP room door, I saw her lover kissing her bare leg.
She didn't push him away. Instead, she laughed and swirled her martini.
"I only forgot Finn because I knew he would stay. He is a poor boy from Queens who follows me around like a loyal dog."
Later that night, her lover intentionally crashed a Porsche to scare me, sending a piece of jagged metal into my skull.
Lying in a growing pool of my own blood, I watched Arleen crawl out of the wreckage.
She didn't even look at me. She threw herself at her uninjured lover, screaming for a medic.
"He just got scraped by a piece of plastic. He is faking it. Deal with Jaquez first!"
When I woke up, I wasn't free. Arleen had locked me in a private hospital wing with 24-hour security, planning to isolate me and keep me as her broken, captive toy forever.
My blind, pathetic devotion finally froze into absolute disgust.
I looked at the heart monitor next to my bed and grabbed an IV needle.
I severed the sensor wire to trigger a flatline, slipped out the fire stairs while the nurses panicked, and burned my identity to ashes.
This time, I was going to disappear to London, build my own empire, and watch hers burn.
9.3
Born into privilege, Eleanor never imagined her life could shatter in a single night. Then her father disappeared with his mistress, her mother fell from a building and slipped into a coma, and everything she once owned turned to dust.
Determined not to ruin Jonathan's future with her family's disgrace, she ended their relationship and became the bride of a man trapped in a vegetative state.
She believed that was the last time their paths would cross. But two years later, Jonathan pinned her in the dark and whispered, "Long time no see, my sister-in-law."
7.5
Raven Noir, stolen and sold at birth, a lethal assassin scarred by a decade-old rape, infiltrates billionaire Damien Blackwood's elite nightclub empire as stripper, her cover to get close enough to torture and kill the man who unknowingly fathered her daughter. Damien, captivated by her icy control and commanding presence, pulls her deeper with lucrative nights and charged intimacy. But when he encounters her identical twin, the buried memories flood back. Mistaking the twin for his victim, guilt drives him to propose marriage. Devastated, Raven faces an impossible choice: expose the truth, seize her revenge, or let obsession destroy them all in a dark, slow-burn thriller of betrayal and forbidden desire.
8.4
"Are you going to treat me like the enemy?" Raffaele asked, hovering over me like a predator.
"You are the enemy," I sneered.
He smiled. "Careful. You're hurting my feelings."
"I hope I can hurt much more than that."
His eyes darkened. "You forget-I'm the one who can break you."
I vowed never to give my heart to a man. Never let one bend me. Never let one own me.
Then a single night changed everything.
When my best friend became a target, I took her place and caught the attention of the most dangerous man in the city. Raffaele, My friend's older brother, wasn't supposed to see me. We were never meant to meet but the moment his eyes locked on mine, I became his new obsession.
I don't bend and he doesn't let go.
Suddenly caught up in a world of blood and power, resisting a man like Raffaele might cost me everything...heart, body, and soul.
He wants me, dead or alive.
7.1
For ten years, my family kept me locked away, forcing me to play the part of a broken, mentally unstable girl. They controlled me with sedatives and treated me like a ghost in my own home, a prisoner in a gilded cage.
But I had a secret. I was a world-famous anonymous artist with a hidden fortune, and I had an escape plan. On the day of my cousin's wedding, my rebellion was accidentally witnessed by a dangerous stranger who saw the predator beneath my fragile mask.
To silence him, I dragged him into a dark closet. The encounter turned raw and reckless, a violent collision I used as the perfect cover for my escape. I vanished with a new name and a one-way ticket to a new life, leaving him with nothing but a bloodstain and the bitter taste of betrayal.
I thought I was free, that I had successfully buried the girl I was forced to be and the man I was forced to use.
Three months later, on a superyacht in Monaco, he found me. He wasn't just some wealthy guest; he was the ruthless head of a powerful crime syndicate, and I was trapped in his private penthouse. He locked the door, his eyes black with possessive rage.
"The game is over," he whispered. "This time, you're not running."