The True Heiress Returns: His Bitter Regret
Ariel woke up in a hospital bed surrounded by five titans of Wall Street. She instantly realized she had transmigrated into the corporate warfare novel she read last night.
She was the real daughter of the ruthless Washington family, a family destined to be completely destroyed. And the one who would cause their bankruptcy, imprisonment, and deaths was the crying, hypocritical adopted sister holding her hand—Cherilyn.
Knowing the plot, Ariel was terrified. She watched Cherilyn hand her a glass of organic juice and internally screamed about how it was laced with neurotoxins. She expected the cold, calculating family to side with the fake daughter and throw Ariel into the Hudson River. To survive, Ariel planned to play dumb, steal a Picasso painting, and run away to Hawaii before the feds raided their estate.
But things got weird. Instead of bullying her, her terrifying father ordered the poisoned juice destroyed. Her ruthless brothers started buying out Michelin-star restaurants for her lunch, dropping off diamond-encrusted pens in military helicopters, and mercilessly crushing anyone who dared to cross her.
"Why are these doomed villains suddenly acting like invincible strategic geniuses?" Ariel thought, utterly baffled.
She had no idea that her entire family could hear her inner thoughts. And the Wall Street wolves were using her mental spoilers to rewrite their tragic fate.
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Chapter 1
"Ariel? Sweetie, can you hear me?"
The voice was too sweet. It scraped against Ariel's eardrums like sandpaper.
She forced her heavy eyelids open. The harsh glare of the surgical lights sliced through her retinas. She blinked, her throat burning like swallowed glass.
The blurry shapes around her bed sharpened. Five figures stood over her.
Three men in bespoke suits. An older man leaning on a custom mahogany cane. A woman dripping in diamonds.
The Washington family.
Ariel's stomach dropped. Bile rose in the back of her throat. She was inside the book. The Wall Street corporate warfare novel she had finished reading at 2 AM last night.
Cherilyn threw herself at the edge of the mattress. She grabbed Ariel's hand.
"Oh, thank God," Cherilyn sobbed. Her Upper East Side accent was flawless. "I was so worried about you, sister."
Ariel coughed. Her lungs felt tight.
Look at this fake bitch, Ariel thought. She's probably going to spike my IV bag with potassium next.
The thought didn't stay in her head.
It rang out. Sharp, clear, and metallic. It echoed directly inside the minds of the five Washington family members in the room.
Conrad's hand clamped down on the gold head of his cane. The wood groaned. His knuckles turned bone-white. His sharp eyes darted to the ceiling, hunting for a hidden speaker.
Eleanor stumbled back. Her stiletto heel caught on the linoleum floor. She slammed into the metal IV pole. The saline bags swayed violently.
Jonas's hand shot to his waistband. His fingers brushed the cold fabric of his suit jacket, right where he kept his concealed Glock. His jaw locked.
Greggory ripped his Tom Ford sunglasses off his face, his hand flying to his temple as if struck by a sudden migraine. He squeezed his eyes shut, his face twisting in pain as the sound bypassed his eardrums entirely and echoed directly in the very center of his consciousness.
Devontae yanked his encrypted phone from his pocket. His thumbs flew across the screen, scanning for rogue Bluetooth frequencies.
Ariel watched them. Her heart hammered against her ribs.
What is wrong with these Wall Street wolves? Ariel thought. They look like they just got struck by lightning. No wonder they all end up jumping off a building after the hostile takeover.
The words jumping off a building exploded in their skulls.
Jonas froze. His hand dropped from his waist. He stared at the girl on the bed. His chest stopped moving.
Conrad swallowed hard. The muscle in his jaw ticked. He forced his hand to relax on the cane.
"Ariel," Conrad said. His voice was thick. "How are you feeling?"
Ariel put on a weak, obedient smile. "A little dizzy, Father."
Keep acting like a loving dad, you old fox, Ariel thought. You're all going to be sleeping on the streets in a year anyway.
This time, they saw it. Ariel's lips didn't move. But the voice came directly from her.
Eleanor slapped a hand over her mouth. Her eyes turned bloodshot. Her chest he heave as panic seized her lungs. Sleeping on the streets. The words paralyzed her.
Cherilyn didn't flinch. She couldn't hear it.
"Here, drink some water," Cherilyn said softly. She picked up a glass from the nightstand and brought it to Ariel's lips.
Don't touch me! Ariel screamed in her mind. You sociopath! You faked a pregnancy to steal the shares and killed a man!
Greggory's head snapped toward Cherilyn. The protective warmth in his eyes vanished. Pure, unfiltered disgust replaced it.
Devontae moved faster than anyone.
He lunged forward and smacked the glass out of Cherilyn's hand.
"It's too cold," Devontae barked. "Bad for her stomach."
The glass hit the floor. It shattered into a hundred pieces. Water splashed onto Cherilyn's designer heels.
Cherilyn gasped. She stepped back, her perfect mask cracking for a fraction of a second.
Ariel flinched at the loud crash.
This third brother has severe anger issues, Ariel thought. No wonder he gets stabbed to death in federal prison.
Devontae's face lost all its color. He looked like a corpse. His hands shook so violently he almost dropped his phone.
Conrad stepped forward. His presence sucked the air out of the room.
"Cherilyn," Conrad ordered. His tone left no room for argument. "Go find the doctor. Now."
Cherilyn bit her lower lip. Her eyes pooled with real tears of frustration. She turned and walked out of the room, her heels clicking angrily against the floor.
The heavy door clicked shut.
Silence suffocated the room.
Five pairs of eyes locked onto Ariel. They stared at her like she was a ticking bomb.
Ariel's skin crawled. Cold sweat slicked her palms.
Why are they staring at me like that? Ariel thought. Did they figure out I'm an imposter? Are they going to tie me to a cinder block and throw me into the Hudson River?
Eleanor gasped. She forced the corners of her mouth up. It was a grotesque, trembling smile.
"We are just glad you are awake, sweetie," Eleanor choked out.
Ariel stared at her mother's twisted face.
They are completely insane, Ariel thought. I need to play dead.
She squeezed her eyes shut and pulled the white hospital blanket over her nose.
The five titans of Wall Street stood frozen around the bed. Cold sweat dripped down their spines.
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8.9
Betrayed by the people she trusted most, Ava Lin's perfect life shatters overnight. From losing her mother under mysterious circumstances to being tormented by her stepmother and stepsister, Ava learns early that love in her world comes at a price. But nothing prepares her for the ultimate betrayal,catching her fiancé in bed with her own sister just weeks before their wedding.
Humiliated and heartbroken, Ava makes a reckless decision that changes everything: a contract marriage to a stranger. What she doesn't know is that her new husband is Elias Ward,a powerful, cold-hearted billionaire with secrets of his own.
Thrown into a world of wealth, power, and hidden enemies, Ava finds herself entangled in a dangerous game of revenge, lies, and unexpected passion. As she rises from the ashes of betrayal, those who once destroyed her will stop at nothing to bring her down even if it means exposing deadly secrets buried in her past.
But when love begins to bloom in the most unexpected place, Ava must decide,will she continue fighting for revenge, or risk everything for a second chance at love?
In a story filled with scandal, heartbreak, and justice, one woman's pain becomes her greatest strength... and her ultimate weapon.
8.9
For three years, Alana acted as the sole tactical brain for the Dawnbreaker squad, keeping them alive despite being labeled a useless "Dud" Conduit.
But right before the crucial Ascension Trials, squad leader Cash handed her a corporate sponsorship contract. The condition? She had to become the "private companion" to a greasy corporate heir just so the squad could get high-tier gear.
When she refused, the teammates she had bled for unanimously voted to kick her out.
"You're just window dressing, a liability."
They revoked her safehouse access, burned her belongings, and the academy advisor even tried to force her into a state-sanctioned breeding program. They left her to freeze in the slums, betting she would desperately crawl into the rich man's bed.
What they didn't know was that her inability to summon an Eidolon wasn't a lack of talent. Her teammate Dallin had been secretly sabotaging her rituals for years, crippling her potential just to keep her chained as their free tactician.
Stripped of everything and pushed to the absolute brink, Alana's despair morphed into a deadly resolve.
Using a million-credit black market loan and a forbidden blood matrix, she forcibly anchored an Apex-Tier cosmic wolf disguised as a harmless silver pup.
When her ex-squad tried to publicly humiliate her and burn her new "pet" alive in the cafeteria, a flash of silver light severed Dallin's hand instantly.
Looking at her screaming former teammates, Alana finally smiled.
9.7
I was a top cardiac surgeon, trapped in a dead marriage with a ruthless billionaire.
One afternoon, he brought his mistress to my hospital, ordering me to perform her high-risk heart surgery.
When I refused and handed him our divorce papers, he violently tore them up and threatened to erase my name from the medical community.
Worse, I discovered they had a five-year-old surrogate son—bought and born the exact same year I bled out on an operating table, losing our baby.
The mistress mocked my trauma, calling me a barren piece of trash who couldn't give him an heir.
I slapped her across the face.
The next morning, the NYPD publicly handcuffed me in my own hospital.
She had framed me for attempted murder, claiming I injected her IV with a lethal dose of potassium.
My husband cornered me in the interrogation room.
"Just confess to me. I will throw enough money at the DA to make this entirely disappear."
I looked into his dark eyes and saw nothing but raw, unfiltered suspicion.
He actually believed I was a jealous murderer.
I swore I would rather rot in a concrete cell for the rest of my life than bow down to them.
Just as my childhood savior miraculously appeared to bail me out, my phone rang.
The mistress had gone into full cardiac arrest.
Only I had the surgical skill to save her.
I turned around, deciding whether to let the woman who ruined my life die, or pick up my scalpel.
7.4
Frieda married Dewitt believing he was just a struggling middle-manager, living in a cramped apartment with only seventy-two dollars left to her name.
She had no idea her cold husband was actually a ruthless billionaire running a cruel psychological test on her. Convinced she might be a gold digger, Dewitt gave her a meager allowance, keeping the divorce papers ready the moment she showed any greed.
While Dewitt secretly judged her every move, Frieda suffered endlessly. At her toxic workplace, she was relentlessly bullied by her arrogant in-laws and mocked for her scuffed shoes. Even after she risked her life to protect his grandmother from an armed mugger and exposed her own hidden tech genius, her coworkers still treated her like trailer-park trash. They cornered her on the street, pointing fingers in her face.
"You are a shameless, gold-digging whore! A billionaire would never want you!"
She endured the humiliation, having just rejected a priceless no-limit black card from his family out of pure principle. She truly believed she and her husband were fighting through poverty together. She had no idea her "poor" husband was watching her every struggle from the tinted windows of a hidden Maybach across the street.
But when her bullies finally pushed too far and raised a hand to strike her, the icy wall around the billionaire's heart completely shattered. Dewitt tore up the divorce papers, his eyes turning pitch black with murderous rage.
"If anyone ever raises a hand to her again, break it."
8.1
Chantal Lewis's family legacy was twenty-four hours away from a fifty-million-dollar foreclosure.
Desperate to save her parents, she sold her soul, offering herself as a paper wife to Dell Valdez, a ruthless Wall Street billionaire needing a quick PR fix.
But Dell didn't just buy her; he trapped her in a living nightmare.
He forced her into a brutal three-year repayment plan she could never afford, treated her like a disposable prop, and deliberately leaked a scandalous paparazzi photo to destroy her hard-earned professional credibility.
Worst of all, the first time his calloused hand touched hers, a violent, terrifying flashback assaulted her brain.
The scorching heat of his palms and the distinct, dark scent of his cedarwood cologne perfectly matched the repressed memory of a pitch-black room where she was pinned to a mattress against her will.
Chantal didn't understand why her cold-blooded fake husband felt exactly like the monster from her unspoken trauma.
She understood even less why, after months of ignoring her, he was suddenly acting violently jealous and possessive when she merely smiled at another man!
Why did his scent match her attacker, and what was he truly planning?
Furious, she called him to threaten a divorce, only for his voice to drop into a lethal whisper.
"Try it. See what happens."
Before she could process his deadly threat, her office phone rang.
"Ms. Lewis," her receptionist trembled. "Your brother is in the lobby. He owes money to some very bad people, and they are coming here right now."
8.6
To save my father's failing workshop from ruthless loan sharks, I sold one year of my life.
I signed a fake marriage contract with Cameron Fox, an icy billionaire who needed a wife to pacify his sick grandmother. The rules were strict: it was purely a commercial transaction, with absolutely no physical contact and no emotional attachments.
Soon after, that cold hearted man seemed different to me. Wait, is he pursuing me?