The Scumbag's Regret: My Lethal Comeback
When Karina opened her eyes, she had transmigrated from a blood-soaked war zone into the body of a despised, D-list Hollywood "vase."
Before she could even process the glaring lights, the lead actress went entirely off-script, swinging a vicious slap right at her face.
Karina's muscle memory took over, nearly crushing the woman's wrist in a steel grip, but a much harsher reality was waiting for her back home.
The original owner had maxed out every credit card to buy a Ferrari and Rolexes for a scumbag idol named Kole, leaving Karina buried under a staggering three million dollar debt.
To make matters worse, Kole and the lead actress were teaming up as the main couple on a hit wilderness dating show.
Her agent told her she was contractually obligated to join the cast as their pathetic, obsessed ex-girlfriend, while millions of rabid fans spammed death threats online, waiting to watch her cry and break.
To a warlord who had crawled out of mass graves, this cyberbullying was a joke, but the crushing capitalist debt was a real threat.
"I'd like to see how hard the bones of these greenhouse flowers really are."
Karina chopped off her cheap blonde hair, scrubbed off the hideous makeup to reveal a lethal, flawless face, and packed her tactical survival gear.
If they wanted to use her as a stepping stone, she was going to show them what a real massacre looked like—while a certain untouchable A-list actor secretly listened to every bloodthirsty thought echoing in her mind.
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Chapter 4
Karina tossed her empty cola cup into a trash can with perfect precision. She shoved her hands into the pockets of her cheap windbreaker and walked down the hallway, heading back to her dressing room for a touch-up.
As she rounded the corner, Candice blocked her path. Two massive bodyguards and an assistant flanked the lead actress.
Candice had already reapplied her makeup. A vicious sneer twisted her lips. The sweet, innocent mask she wore in front of Jefferson was completely gone.
"Karina, don't think you can turn things around just because you got lucky in one scene today," Candice spat, her voice dripping with venom. "You'll never wash off the label of being a desperate, obsessed stalker!"
Karina stopped walking. She kept her hands in her pockets and didn't even lift her eyelids. She looked at Candice as if the woman were nothing more than empty air.
At the far end of the hallway, hidden in the shadows, Jefferson had been on his way out. Hearing the commotion, he stopped. His piercing gaze locked onto the confrontation through the dim light.
[Is this idiot a fly? Why is she buzzing around everywhere I go? ]
Karina's crisp, annoyed thought crossed the physical distance and slammed right into Jefferson's brain.
Jefferson raised an eyebrow. He crossed his arms over his chest, leaned his broad shoulders against the wall, and decided to enjoy the show.
Seeing Karina ignore her, Candice thought she was scared. She took a step forward, emboldened. "Kole and I are going to be the main couple on the reality show. You better behave yourself and play your part as my stepping stone!"
Karina finally looked up. Her eyes were as dead and calm as stagnant water. She stared at Candice, visually assessing the structural integrity of the woman's body.
[That neck is so thin. One quick snap and it's broken. But there are cameras here. Murder is illegal. Too much paperwork. ] Karina weighed her options seriously in her head.
In the shadows, Jefferson heard the casual, murderous thought. His pupils dilated. His heart skipped a beat for no logical reason. She wasn't joking.
Candice felt the hairs on her arms stand up under Karina's dead-eyed stare. Relying on her bodyguards, she yelled, "What are you looking at? ! I'll have them throw you out!"
[If this idiot says one more word, I'm going to give her a beautiful roundhouse kick to the jaw. I guarantee she'll be drinking her meals through a tube for the rest of her life. ] Karina sneered internally.
"Pfft-"
Standing in the dark, Jefferson actually laughed out loud. The mental image was too vivid. He could perfectly picture Candice flying through the air like a broken doll.
The low, rich sound of his laugh was jarring in the quiet hallway. Candice and Karina both snapped their heads toward the shadows.
Jefferson stepped out into the light with slow, deliberate grace. The dim wall sconces illuminated his flawless face, catching the lingering trace of amusement in his eyes.
Candice's face changed instantly. The arrogant bully vanished, replaced by a terrified, fragile rabbit. "Jeff... what are you doing here?"
Karina frowned slightly, a flash of high alert in her eyes. [Does this block of wood have a fetish for eavesdropping? ]
Hearing that, the amusement in Jefferson's eyes deepened. He was absolutely certain now. He wasn't losing his mind. He had acquired a supernatural ability that belonged exclusively to this woman.
He ignored Candice completely. He walked straight up to Karina, his tall frame towering over her. He looked down, his gaze carrying a heavy, probing aggression.
"The security here is garbage. Any random fly can just buzz its way in," Jefferson said coldly. His words were directed at Karina, but his freezing eyes slid over to Candice.
Candice turned ashen. She heard the undisguised insult loud and clear. Her eyes welled with tears, and she bit her lip.
Before things could escalate, director Arthur came running down the hall, clutching a walkie-talkie. "Karina! Thank God you're still here!"
Arthur ignored the bizarre tension in the air. "That scene had so much raw power, I decided to rewrite the script! You're officially wrapped for the day! You can go home early!"
The moment Karina heard the word 'wrapped', the rigid tension in her shoulders vanished.
[Thank God. I can finally go to sleep. Whoever wants to work this garbage job can have it. ]
Jefferson listened to her sudden shift into pure laziness, fighting the urge to smile. He realized he was actually looking forward to hearing more of her unfiltered thoughts.
Karina gave the director a polite nod of thanks. Without sparing a single glance at Jefferson or Candice, she turned and walked into her dressing room, shutting the door.
Candice stood frozen, her nails digging bloody crescents into her palms. Not only had she failed to humiliate Karina, but she had also embarrassed herself in front of Jefferson again.
Jefferson stared at the closed dressing room door for a long moment. He turned his head slightly toward Julian, who was standing behind him.
"Tell the PR department to pull every single piece of data on Karina Abbott's current online reputation," Jefferson ordered.
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8.3
My husband watched as my skin melted, scalded by boiling soup, yet his hands were busy comforting my attacker. Five years of marriage, built on a foundation of my family's power, crumbled with a single, brutal act of betrayal. He bought me off with a penthouse and a trust fund, but I tore out my IV and threw his charity back in his face.
It was our fifth anniversary, but my husband, Ethan, remained distant, avoiding any talk of Chicago or the mafia protection my family once offered him. He then pushed a black velvet box across the table.
Inside was a Separation and Property Division Agreement, not a diamond. He told me to sign for Ilene's security, offering millions. When I refused, Ilene hurled boiling soup. Ethan shielded her, not me, as the scalding liquid melted my dress.
With second-degree burns, he blamed me, ordering me from our home for Ilene’s comfort. My family saved him, yet he sacrificed my body and marriage for another woman.
The love I felt turned to ash. What kind of debt demanded my flesh and marriage?
I ripped the IV from my arm, hurling his "charity" keys back. My diamond ring placed on the agreement, I walked away. From today on, Ethan, you and I are dead to each other.
7.2
Allie Patterson poured fifteen years into her husband Grayson’s tech startup, living in a cramped San Jose apartment. Every penny, every late night coding session, was for their shared future, built on his constant claims the company struggled, always on the verge of its big break.
Then, a grant deed arrived: a stunning $4.2 million Atherton villa, paid in full, listing Grayson and an unknown Kacey Schmidt as joint tenants.
Her coffee mug shattered as Allie’s world imploded. Driving to the mansion, she found Kacey in silk pajamas, flaunting a massive pink diamond and, beneath it, Grayson’s grandmother’s heirloom ring – the one he’d tearfully claimed to have lost years ago.
Kacey purred, "He's in the shower. We were so tired last night."
The words were a serrated knife, twisting, confirming years of lies.
Humiliation and rage burned out, leaving a terrifying, absolute silence. All her sacrifice and trust were a cruel, elaborate joke, orchestrated by the man she loved.
Allie calmly took photos, then gave herself one minute in her beat-up car to mourn. When it passed, her tears stopped, replaced by cold, calculated murder in her eyes. She typed a text to Grayson:
"Come home early tonight. I have a surprise for you."
9.6
My world revolved around Jax Harding, my older brother's captivating rockstar friend.
From sixteen, I adored him; at eighteen, I clung to his casual promise: "When you're 22, maybe I'll settle down."
That offhand comment became my life's beacon, guiding every choice, meticulously planning my twenty-second birthday as our destiny.
But on that pivotal day in a Lower East Side bar, clutching my gift, my dream exploded.
I overheard Jax' s cold voice: "Can't believe Savvy's showing up. She' s still hung up on that stupid thing I said."
Then the crushing plot: "We' re gonna tell Savvy I' m engaged to Chloe, maybe even hint she' s pregnant. That should scare her off."
My gift, my future, slipped from my numb fingers.
I fled into the cold New York rain, devastated by betrayal.
Later, Jax introduced Chloe as his "fiancée" while his bandmates mocked my "adorable crush"-he did nothing.
As an art installation fell, he saved Chloe, abandoning me to severe injury.
In the hospital, he came for "damage control," then shockingly shoved me into a fountain, leaving me to bleed, calling me a "jealous psycho."
How could the man I loved, who once saved me, become this cruel and publicly humiliate me?
Why was my devotion seen as an annoyance to be brutally extinguished with lies and assault?
Was I just a problem, my loyalty met with hatred?
I would not be his victim.
Injured and betrayed, I made an unshakeable vow: I was done.
I blocked his number and everyone connected to him, severing ties.
This was not an escape; this was my rebirth.
Florence awaited, a new life on my terms, unburdened by broken promises.
8.9
The mangled car teetered on the cliff's edge, my leg crushed, gasoline fumes thick in the air. My husband, Holden, stood safe on the highway, directing the rescue – but not for me. He was saving her, the woman in the passenger seat, leaving me and our unborn child to the ocean below.
I woke trapped in the crushed Maybach, leg pinned. The cliff loomed; the driver's seat was empty.
Holden, safe outside, directed paramedics past me to Giana, his "most valuable asset," ordering her rescue first.
I watched him comfort Giana, oblivious, as the car slid. My baby barely viable. Holden offered a black card for silence; Giana gloated.
Ten years of devotion, a cruel lie. Rage fueled me: how could he abandon his wife and child?
I swore a venomous oath: never again an accessory. I flicked his card away, shielded my pregnancy, and promised my baby escape.
7.5
I was Nyx, a top-tier covert operative. But when I opened my eyes, I was trapped in the unfamiliar, overweight body of a bullied girl named Eliza.
Before I could even process the body swap, the bedroom door splintered open. I was in bed with Julian Malone, a wealthy military heir, both of us heavily drugged. Cameras flashed wildly. It was a vicious setup to ruin his career, and I was the bait.
To save his family's reputation, Julian was forced to marry me. But the moment the wedding was over, he abandoned me. His elite family treated me like a disease. His mother froze my only bank account, trying to starve me into submission.
I even intercepted a private conversation between his parents.
"Once she's in a private facility, she loses all legal standing. We can sign anything we want on her behalf."
They planned to lock me up in a mental asylum and erase my existence entirely to get rid of the "trailer park trash."
To them, I was just a weak, pathetic pawn they could crush without a second thought. They thought they had backed a helpless girl into a corner.
They had no idea they had just declared war on a lethal weapon.
I didn't cry or beg. Instead, I bypassed their state-of-the-art security, cracked their safe, and stole the financial secrets that could destroy their entire empire.
"I want five hundred thousand dollars, or these files go to the IRS."
This time, I was playing by my own rules.
8.9
Aubree Hamilton was the top-tier executive assistant to Wall Street's most ruthless titan, Beck Franco. A month ago, she made a catastrophic mistake and spent the night in his bed.
Thinking she had erased the mistake with a morning-after pill, she panicked upon his return and lied about being engaged to push him away.
But Beck, a man who despised disloyalty above all else, immediately suspended her and ordered her escorted out of the building. Her nightmare only escalated when her toxic ex-boyfriend attacked her on the street, tearing her purse open and exposing the empty morning-after pill box to the public—and to Beck, who was watching from his penthouse. After having his security rescue her, Beck trapped her in his car, ruthlessly tearing apart her fake engagement. Later in her apartment, the suffocating tension between them almost ignited into a kiss, but a violent wave of nausea suddenly hit Aubree.
She shoved him away with all her strength and violently threw up in the bathroom.
Beck took it as the ultimate physical disgust. He walked out, deeply humiliated and dangerously obsessed, unleashing his resources to investigate her every move.
Left alone and trembling, Aubree finally checked the crushed white box. The pill she took had expired a month ago.
Staring at the two bright pink lines on the pregnancy test, she made a desperate vow: Beck Franco could never know she was carrying his child, and she had to disappear before he found out.