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 5
The C-17 Globemaster was a beast. It sat on the tarmac like a dormant dragon, its rear ramp lowered to swallow the wounded.
The engines were already spooling up, a high-pitched whine that vibrated in the chest.
Julian refused the stretcher. He sat in a wheelchair, his face pale, his side heavily bandaged, but his back straight. Imogen pushed him up the ramp.
Inside, the cargo hold was cavernous and dim. It smelled of hydraulic fluid, sweat, and aviation fuel. Rows of seats lined the sides, and stretchers were secured in the center.
General Stone was already strapped in near the front. He nodded at them as they passed. He looked older today. The weight of the command, the near-death experience, it sat heavy on his shoulders.
Imogen secured Julian's wheelchair into the locking mechanism on the floor. She sat in the jump seat next to him, buckling her four-point harness.
"Comfortable?" she shouted over the noise.
"Never better," Julian lied. The vibration of the plane was sending spikes of pain through his wound, but he wouldn't show it.
The ramp closed, sealing out the blinding desert sun. The hold plunged into a red-lit gloom.
The takeoff was rough. The plane shuddered as it fought for altitude. Imogen reached out and gripped Julian's hand. Her palm was sweaty.
Julian looked at her. In the red light, she looked fierce. Beautiful.
Once they leveled off, the roar of the engines settled into a steady drone. The soldiers around them began to doze off, exhaustion taking over.
Julian unbuckled his harness.
"What are you doing?" Imogen hissed.
"Come here," he said. He tugged on her hand.
Imogen looked around. No one was watching. She unbuckled and leaned in close, kneeling on the metal floor between his knees.
"You need to rest," she whispered.
"I need you," he said.
He reached into his pocket. His movements were slow, deliberate. He pulled out a small object.
It wasn't a diamond. It was a brass shell casing. A 9mm casing. He had polished it against his uniform until it shone like gold.
"I didn't have time to go to Tiffany's," he murmured. "I found this on the floor of the tent after the attack."
Imogen stared at the piece of brass. It was a piece of garbage. Debris of war.
It was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen.
"Julian..."
"Imogen Sterling," he said, his voice barely audible over the engines. "We survived hell. I don't want to do heaven without you either."
He took her left hand. The brass casing was too big for her finger, but he slid it onto her thumb. It fit perfectly.
"Will you marry me?"
Imogen didn't answer with words. She leaned forward and pressed her lips to his.
It wasn't a movie kiss. It was awkward. Their noses bumped. She tasted of stale coffee and he tasted of painkillers. But it was desperate and real.
She pulled back, breathless. "Yes."
She looked at the brass ring on her thumb. "It's perfect."
"It's temporary," Julian promised. "The real one is in the Powers family vault. Isolde promised me I could raid it."
Imogen laughed. She rested her head on his knee, holding his hand against her cheek.
"We're going home," she whispered.
Julian looked out the small porthole window. The desert was gone. Below them, the ocean stretched out, vast and blue.
"Home," he repeated. But his eyes narrowed slightly. He knew the capital. He knew the politics. The desert had bullets, but the capital had whispers and knives in the dark.
"Are you ready?" he asked. "The sharks will be waiting."
Imogen kissed his knuckles. "Let them come. We're shark hunters now."
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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."