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 4
The morning light was cruel. It cut through the gaps in the canvas tent, sharp and bright, illuminating the dust motes dancing in the air.
Julian opened his eyes.
Pain was the first thing he felt. A dull, throbbing ache in his side that radiated down to his hip. His mouth tasted like metal and ash.
He tried to move, but his body felt heavy, like it was made of lead. He turned his head slightly.
Imogen was asleep in a plastic chair next to his cot. Her head was resting on the mattress, her hand clutching his. She looked wrecked. Her face was streaked with dried mud and tear tracks. Her scrubs were stained with dark spots.
His blood.
Julian squeezed her hand. His fingers were weak, barely a flutter.
Imogen jerked awake. She sat up so fast the chair scraped loudly against the floor.
"Julian?" Her voice was a croak. Her eyes widened, scanning his face as if checking for ghosts.
"Hey," he rasped. It hurt to speak.
Imogen burst into tears. She didn't cry gracefully. She buried her face in her hands and sobbed, her shoulders shaking violently.
"I'm sorry," she choked out. "I'm so sorry. It's my fault. You almost died because of me. I shouldn't be here. I'm a curse."
Julian frowned. He hated seeing her cry. He tried to sit up, but the pain slammed him back down. He groaned.
"Don't move!" Imogen panicked, hovering over him but afraid to touch him. "The doctor said you need to be still."
"Imogen," Julian whispered. "Stop."
"I'm going to request a transfer," she rambled, wiping her eyes frantically. "When we get back, I'll break the engagement. I can't let you get hurt again. I'm not worth it."
Julian reached out. It took every ounce of strength he had. He grabbed the front of her scrub top and pulled.
It wasn't a strong pull, but it was enough to bring her face inches from his.
"If you try to leave me," he said, his voice low and gritty, "I will rip this IV out of my arm and chase you down. And I will bleed all over the sand doing it."
Imogen stared at him, shocked into silence. Julian Harris was a gentleman. He was a scholar. He didn't make threats.
"You..." she stammered.
"I didn't save Stone," Julian said, looking straight into her eyes. "I mean, I did. But when I ran out there... I wasn't thinking about the chain of command. I wasn't thinking about the war."
He paused to catch his breath.
"I saw the angle," he said. "If he missed Stone, he was heading for the medical tent. He was heading for you."
Imogen's breath hitched.
"I took that knife for you, Imogen," Julian said. "So don't you dare tell me you're not worth it. You are the only thing worth dying for in this godforsaken desert."
Imogen let out a soft, broken sound. She leaned down and kissed his forehead. Her lips were trembling.
"You are an idiot," she whispered against his skin.
"I'm a doctor," he corrected, a faint smile touching his lips. "I know anatomy. I knew where to get stabbed."
"Liar."
"Okay, liar," he admitted. "Can I have some water?"
Imogen laughed, a wet, sniffly sound. She grabbed a cup with a straw and held it to his lips. He drank greedily.
When he finished, he rested his head back on the pillow, exhausted but content. He watched her. She was fussing with his blanket, checking the monitors. She was alive. She was here.
"Imogen?"
"Yes?"
"That proposal I mentioned before the mortars hit..."
Imogen froze. She looked at him, her expression softening.
"Ask me again," she said. "When we're not covered in blood."
"Deal," Julian closed his eyes. "But the answer better be yes."
"Go to sleep, Julian," she whispered, stroking his hair.
He drifted off, the feeling of her hand on his head anchoring him to the world of the living.
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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."