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 4
The morning sun hit the floor-to-ceiling windows of the Washington Tower on Wall Street.
Jonas stood by the glass. His eyes were bloodshot. He hadn't slept.
He pressed the intercom button on his desk.
"Deploy the decoy files to the core servers," Jonas ordered his Chief Cybersecurity Officer. "Activate the tracking scripts."
Twenty miles away, in the Long Island estate, Ariel was eating a blueberry muffin.
Today is the day Jonas gets ruined, Ariel thought. Caspian is probably sitting in the VIP lounge right now with a Trojan horse on his flash drive.
Jonas heard it. His fingers tightened around his ceramic coffee mug.
His phone vibrated on the desk. A voice note from Caspian.
"Hey man, get to the club early. I've got a killer proposal to show you."
Yesterday, Jonas would have smiled. Today, the sound of Caspian's voice made his skin crawl.
Jonas hit the intercom again.
"Call Caspian," Jonas told his assistant. "Tell him I have acute gastroenteritis. Cancel the golf trip."
"Sir?" the assistant asked. "That's our biggest merger meeting."
"Do it," Jonas snapped.
He hung up. He logged into the master terminal. He downgraded Caspian's database access to read-only.
At 3 PM, Caspian sat in the golf club VIP room. He checked his watch. He cursed under his breath.
He pulled out his encrypted laptop. He connected to the Washington servers remotely. He needed those files today.
He typed in his password. He hit enter.
A massive red screen flashed.
ACCESS DENIED.
Caspian's heart slammed against his ribs. He hammered the keyboard. Nothing worked.
In his office, Jonas watched a red dot blink on his monitor. The tracking script had locked onto Caspian's IP address and physical GPS location.
Jonas's chest felt hollow. His best friend was a rat.
He took a screenshot. He emailed the entire packet to his head of corporate security and the firm's ruthless litigation department. He added a single instruction: Destroy him.
That night, Jonas walked into the Long Island estate. His muscles ached. The betrayal weighed on his shoulders like lead.
He saw Ariel walking down the hallway in her pajamas.
Ariel stopped. Her eyes went wide.
Wait, Ariel thought. Why is he home? Why isn't he crying over his stolen company? Did the plot change?
Jonas stopped in front of her. He looked down at the girl who had just saved his life and his empire. His throat felt tight. He couldn't say thank you. The curse would choke him.
He reached out his hand. He rested his palm on the top of her head. He gave her hair a gentle, awkward pat.
"Get some sleep," Jonas said softly.
Ariel froze. Her entire body went rigid. Her breath hitched.
Oh my god! Ariel screamed in her mind. Why is he touching my head?! Did he find out I ate his black caviar from the wine cellar?! Is he measuring my skull to crush it?!
Jonas bit the inside of his cheek. The pain stopped him from bursting into laughter.
He pulled his hand back, faked a cough, and walked quickly to his room.
He's completely lost his mind, Ariel thought, watching him run away.
At the end of the hallway, hidden in the shadows, Cherilyn stood perfectly still.
Her fingernails dug so deep into her palms that they drew blood. She watched the cold, ruthless Jonas show affection to Ariel.
Panic seized Cherilyn's chest. She was losing her grip on the family.
She pulled out her phone. She scrolled to her contacts from St. Jude's Prep School.
She was going to destroy Ariel tomorrow.
Ariel walked into her bedroom. She looked at her new school uniform hanging on the door.
Great, Ariel thought. Tomorrow I have to deal with the Upper East Side mean girls. My life is a joke.
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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?