Too Late For Regret: The Ruthless Wife
My sister stripped me of my entire life in a single night. She bought out my company, froze my bank accounts, and left me with absolutely nothing.
As a final twisted psychological test, she forced me into a hyper-realistic VR simulation. When I opened my eyes, I was trapped in the body of "Heloise Vance"—a miserable, bullied wife in the elite Mercer family.
My new reality was an absolute nightmare. My alcoholic husband lunged at me with his fists.
"You think you run this house? You're my wife. You do what I say."
My tyrannical mother-in-law raised her hand to slap me, treating me worse than a stray dog while demanding I serve them.
Even my parasitic biological parents showed up at the estate, demanding a million dollars to cover up my brother's crimes, threatening to ruin me if I didn't pay.
They all looked at me with pure contempt, expecting me to cower, cry, and beg for mercy just like the real Heloise always did.
They thought I was just a weak, helpless punching bag they could abuse without consequence.
But they didn't know the soul inside this body had changed.
I wasn't the pathetic Heloise; I was Cora Sawyer, the ruthless heir to a corporate empire.
If my sister wanted me to play this sick survival game to escape, I would gladly burn the entire Mercer family to the ground first.
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Chapter 2
The darkness was absolute.
Suddenly, a sharp, metallic electronic voice echoed inside Cora's skull.
System initializing.
A violent sensation of weightlessness hit her. Cora's stomach lurched into her throat. She felt like she was falling from a ten-story building.
She gasped and her eyes snapped open.
Blinding light stabbed into her pupils. She squeezed her eyes shut and threw her hand up to shield her face. Her breathing was shallow and fast.
Slowly, she lowered her hand and squinted. A massive, ostentatious crystal chandelier hung directly above her.
She was lying on a bed. The mattress was incredibly soft, almost suffocating. She looked around. The room was huge, decorated in a heavy, oppressive Victorian style. Dark wood, thick velvet curtains, and gold accents everywhere.
Suddenly, a spike of pure agony drove through her temples.
Cora grabbed her head. She gritted her teeth to stop herself from screaming. Memories that didn't belong to her ripped through her brain.
Heloise Vance.
That was her name now. She saw flashes of a miserable life. A husband who smelled like cheap perfume and alcohol. A mother-in-law who spat insults daily. A life spent looking at the floor, apologizing for breathing.
The pain slowly faded, leaving a dull throbbing behind her eyes.
Cora pushed the heavy silk duvet off her body. She swung her legs over the side of the bed. Her bare feet hit the cold, intricate Persian rug.
She stood up. The room spun for a second. She steadied herself and walked toward the massive vanity mirror across the room. She gripped the cold marble edge of the table and stared at her reflection.
Cora sucked in a sharp breath.
The face looking back at her was a stranger. Pale skin, dark circles under terrified eyes, and a weak, trembling jawline. She looked exhausted and broken.
Cora raised her hand and pinched her own cheek, hard.
The sharp sting of pain radiated across her skin. Her heart hammered against her ribs. This wasn't a dream. The physical sensations were too real. The cold marble, the soft rug, the pain in her face.
She let go of the vanity and opened the top drawer.
A large, orange prescription bottle sat inside. Cora picked it up. Heavy antidepressants. The label had Heloise's name on it. She tossed the bottle back into the drawer with a look of disgust.
She opened the bottom drawer of the nightstand. A small leather diary lay hidden under a stack of tissues. It had a cheap metal combination lock on it.
Cora rummaged through the top drawer of the vanity, her eyes scanning a pile of useless hair accessories. She finally found an old, bent bobby pin hidden in the corner of a cheap jewelry box. She shoved the metal tip into the lock, twisted her wrist, and popped it open in three seconds.
She flipped through the pages. The handwriting was shaky. Page after page of desperate pleas. Fear of her husband, Leland. Terror of her mother-in-law.
Cora's upper lip curled into a sneer. She slammed the book shut.
Get me out of here, Cora demanded in her mind.
Silence.
System. End simulation.
The cold, metallic voice echoed in her head again.
Logout denied. You must complete the counterattack mission to exit the simulation.
Cora let out a harsh, bitter laugh.
Claudia. This was exactly the kind of sick, expensive, immersive torture her sister would design. A forced psychological stress test.
Cora's fear vanished, instantly replaced by a cold, calculating rage. If Claudia wanted to play games, Cora would burn this virtual house to the ground.
She straightened her spine. The weak, trembling posture of Heloise Vance disappeared. Cora's eyes hardened, turning into shards of ice.
She walked over to the massive floor-to-ceiling windows. She grabbed the heavy velvet curtains and yanked them apart.
Blinding morning sunlight flooded the dark room.
Outside, a sprawling, manicured estate stretched out as far as she could see. Cora stared down at the perfect lawns. She was going to tear this family apart piece by piece.
She turned and walked into the walk-in closet.
Row after row of dull, conservative dresses hung on the racks. Grays, browns, high collars. The wardrobe of a victim.
Cora grabbed handfuls of the ugly fabric and ripped them off the hangers, throwing them onto the floor in a massive pile.
In the very back corner, she found a sleek, black silk robe. She pulled it on and tied the belt tightly around her waist.
Suddenly, the heavy, rhythmic thud of angry footsteps echoed in the hallway outside.
Cora stopped moving. She tilted her head, listening. The footsteps were heavy, fast, and completely lacking in hesitation. Someone was coming to pick a fight.
The brass doorknob rattled violently. The metal scraped loudly as someone tried to force it open.
Cora crossed her arms over her chest. She stood dead center in the middle of the bedroom. She stared at the heavy mahogany door. Her breathing was perfectly even.
Bang.
The door was kicked open. It slammed against the wall, shaking the frame.
An older woman stormed into the room. She was dripping in heavy gold jewelry. Her face was pulled tight with anger, her lips painted a harsh, blood red.
This was Marge. The mother-in-law.
Marge stopped in her tracks. She looked at Cora standing in the middle of the room. A flicker of confusion crossed Marge's face. Heloise usually hid under the covers when she entered.
But the confusion only lasted a second. Marge's habitual arrogance took over. She opened her red mouth, her eyes flashing with malice.
Cora didn't flinch. She slightly raised her chin and looked down at the older woman. Her eyes were completely dead, filled with absolute, chilling contempt.
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7.7
Not only was I drugged, blinded and assaulted. I was deceived into carrying a baby by a stranger I never knew. Then he appeared and took my child away.
I was sent to a militia by the father of my child. I thought I was rescued but I was recruited to be a weapon for killing. Who was manipulating me, I didn't know. The answers were far from what I knew.
Forced to blend into the world that I could never believe I would be to, a place where brutality reigned, kill or be killed was the only language. I have survived but he has to pay for everything he did to me, because I believed every phase of my life was set by him and him alone. Have I really survived?
Who would have thought, he existed twice in the same world? Do I really know who I should take revenge on? Him or the person I would sacrifice everything for?
Was my mother the one who orchestrated everything? What kind of pawn am I?
8.3
Betrayed at the altar. Replaced by her own sister.
On what should have been the happiest day of her life, Amara loses everything-her fiancé, her dignity, and her future.
But that same night, a dangerous man steps out of the shadows with an offer she can't refuse.
Marriage. Power. Revenge.
Now bound to a ruthless CEO, Amara is ready to destroy everyone who betrayed her.
There's just one problem...
Her new husband knows more about her past than he should.
And the closer she gets to revenge-
the more she realizes she may have married the man who ruined her in the first place.
9.6
Areli was the hardest-working medic in the Blackridge Clan, but her efforts only earned her the title of a useless burden.
Her supposed lover, Eugene, and her senior mentor, Gloria, lured her to the edge of the deadly Blackwind Cliff and shoved her straight into the abyss.
She miraculously survived the freefall, only to return and find Gloria standing before the entire clan, wearing a mask of fake sorrow.
"Look! The traitor is back! She eloped with wild males!" Gloria shrieked.
Eugene stepped up, looking heartbroken, and publicly accused her of betraying his love.
The crowd erupted, raining hisses and boos upon her, completely ignoring the horrific, life-threatening bruises that covered her battered body.
They blindly believed the lies, treating her like garbage while Gloria secretly plotted to poison her water and destroy her completely.
Areli felt a chilling sense of betrayal. How could the man who claimed to love her watch her fall with such cold eyes?
To make matters worse, her modern biochemist instincts revealed a terrifying truth: she was unexpectedly pregnant with the child of a savage Warlord she had encountered in the wild.
In this brutal, primitive world, showing any weakness was an absolute death sentence.
But she wasn't going to cower or run away.
Refusing the Warlord's offer to simply rescue her, Areli calmly placed a highly toxic herb on her drying rack and left her tent flap open.
The bait was set. Now, she just had to wait for the screams.
7.8
My abusive ex was threatening a lawsuit that would destroy my father's career and wipe out my PhD. I was completely out of options.
That night, Graham, the boy from next door I hadn't seen in a decade, showed up at my apartment in the middle of a hurricane. Now a wealthy orthopedic surgeon, he offered a transactional marriage: he needed a local wife to keep his family away while he cared for his sick mother, and in return, he would make my ex disappear.
I thought it was a simple deal. But the morning after we signed the marriage license, Graham didn't just scare my ex off—he ruthlessly dismantled him. Then, Graham turned to me. His eyes were dead as he pulled out his phone, showing me a high-resolution photo of the night I illegally sold lab samples to pay off my ex's initial blackmail. He had hired a private investigator to stalk me. If that photo leaked to the FDA, I wouldn't just lose my degree; I'd go to prison.
"I needed a guarantee," he said flatly.
I was shaking with rage and terror. This wasn't a rescue. It was a hostage situation. Why did he hunt me down? Why use my darkest secret to trap me in this twisted marriage?
I couldn't live like this. I demanded an immediate divorce. But at the courthouse, the clerk dropped a bomb on us: state law required a mandatory thirty-day waiting period. Thirty days trapped with a ruthless, manipulative stranger. I had to find a way to break his leverage before the month was up.
9.7
Eighteen months ago, the man I loved shattered my heart, claiming everything between us was a mistake. Now, he's back, a ghost of his former self, a rookie tryout in my pro esports team. And I will make him regret crawling back.
Clifton, captain of a legendary esports team, was secretly battling a severe wrist injury that threatened his career, every match a fight against his own body. He pushed through the pain, ignoring doctors' warnings, desperate to maintain his god-like status.
His world was already on the edge, but nothing prepared him for seeing Justice Terry again in the team basement. Justice, pale and trembling, his eyes wide with naked terror, was now a rookie tryout.
Clifton had spent a year and a half trying to forget that rainy Chicago alley, the raw revulsion in Justice's eyes, the whispered "it wasn't real" that had left him heartbroken. Justice had vanished, and Clifton had erased every trace. Now, the boy who once looked at him like he was the sun was back, flinching at his touch, displaying a deep, primal fear. Amidst sponsor pressure and whispers of being "washed," Clifton saw Justice's return as a chance for vengeance. He publicly humiliated Justice on a live stream, forcing him into a suicide mission, then coldly benched him.
Yet, the satisfaction never came. Instead, a hollow emptiness and a torrent of questions: What had truly happened in the past? Why was Justice here, and what trauma had carved such fear into his bones?
Clifton, unwilling to be fooled again, swore to uncover every secret and every lie. He would force Justice to explain why he had returned, even if it meant tearing down everything they both had left.
7.6
Top DEA agent Kaitlynn Bruce woke up to a heavy, chemical lethargy, only to realize she was trapped in the body of a weak, abused war widow.
Before she could even process her new reality, she heard her sister-in-law counting cash, selling her unconscious body to a local thug for a measly two hundred dollars.
The thug dragged her new seven-year-old son, Cason, into the bedroom.
"Mommy!"
When the boy reached out, the man brutally kicked his small body into a wooden doorframe, leaving him gasping and bleeding on the floor.
Memories flooded Kaitlynn's mind. Her predecessor was a pathetic doormat whose husband's military pension had been bled dry by these greedy in-laws, leaving her children to starve and suffer endless abuse.
But as Kaitlynn looked at the bleeding boy's dark, unnervingly alert eyes, a chilling piece of DEA intelligence clicked in her mind.
Cason Richmond.
The name, the town, the abusive aunt—it all matched the classified files of the "Director of the Hive," the most ruthless and feared cartel puppet master in the criminal underworld.
How could this battered, starving child be destined to become the ultimate monster she used to hunt?
The original widow's tragic death was supposed to be the catalyst that pushed this boy into total darkness.
But Kaitlynn Bruce was not a victim.
Adrenaline burning through the drugs, she cracked the thug's neck with a brass lamp and choked the sister-in-law against the wall.
Looking down at the boy who was supposed to become a global nightmare, she made a vow. She was going to rewrite his script, even if she had to burn the whole world down to do it.