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 3
"You lazy, ungrateful bitch!" Marge shrieked. Specks of spit flew from her red lips. "It is eight in the morning! Why isn't breakfast on the table?"
Cora wrinkled her nose in disgust. She tilted her head slightly to the left, letting the spit fly past her face. She looked at Marge like she was a rotting piece of meat.
Marge's face turned purple. She wasn't used to being ignored. She raised her hand high in the air, her heavy gold rings catching the light, and swung her palm toward Cora's face.
Cora's muscle memory took over.
Her left hand shot out like a viper. She clamped her fingers around Marge's wrist, stopping the slap inches from her cheek.
Marge gasped. She tried to yank her arm back, but Cora's grip was like a steel vice.
Cora didn't change her expression. She twisted her wrist sharply downward, putting intense, grinding pressure on the joint.
A sharp, sickening crackle of strained ligaments echoed in the room. Marge let out a blood-curdling scream. Her knees buckled instantly, and she crashed onto the Persian rug, cradling her injured wrist against her chest.
Cora looked down at the woman kneeling before her.
"Move again," Cora whispered, her voice dangerously soft, "and I will shatter it completely."
Heavy, frantic footsteps pounded down the hallway.
Leland rushed into the bedroom. He was only wearing his suit trousers and an undershirt. His face was puffy from sleep and alcohol.
He stopped dead when he saw his mother kneeling on the floor, screaming in pain, while his wife stood over her holding her wrist.
Leland's face turned a violent shade of red. The veins in his neck bulged.
"You crazy bitch!" Leland roared. He lunged forward, pulling his right arm back. He threw a heavy, uncoordinated punch straight at Cora's head.
Cora released Marge's wrist. She didn't step back. She stepped inside his guard.
She ducked smoothly under his swinging fist. As Leland's momentum carried him forward, Cora dropped her weight and swung her right leg out in a brutal sweep.
Her shin slammed into Leland's ankle.
Leland yelled as his feet were ripped out from under him. His massive body crashed onto the floor. The impact shook the furniture.
Before he could even process what happened, Cora stepped forward. She planted the heel of her bare foot directly onto the center of his chest. She pressed down hard, pinning him to the floor.
Marge scrambled backward, still clutching her wrist, until her back hit the wall. She pointed a trembling finger at Cora with her good hand.
"I'm calling the police!" Marge babbled, her chest heaving, tears of pain and fury streaming down her face. "You're going to jail!"
Cora let out a short, cold laugh. She shifted her weight, pressing her heel deeper into Leland's sternum.
Leland's eyes bulged. He choked, his hands clawing uselessly at Cora's ankle. He couldn't draw a breath.
Cora leaned down. She patted Leland's red, sweating cheek.
"Stay out of my way, Leland," Cora said. Her voice was calm, almost conversational. "Or next time, I'll break your neck."
She lifted her foot off his chest. She stepped back and wiped the bottom of her foot on the silk bedsheets, looking thoroughly disgusted.
Leland gasped for air, coughing violently. He scrambled backward across the floor, pressing himself against his mother. He looked at Cora with pure terror in his eyes.
But his fragile male ego couldn't handle the humiliation. He rubbed his chest and glared at her.
"You think you're tough?" Leland spat, his voice raspy. "I'll cut off the payments. Your brother's medical bills? Gone. Let the little freak die."
Cora felt absolutely nothing. Heloise's brother meant nothing to her. But her brain instantly calculated the situation. She needed them to think they still had leverage.
Cora narrowed her eyes, faking a flash of panic.
Leland saw it and smiled, a nasty, triumphant grin spreading across his face.
"That's right," Leland sneered, gaining his confidence back. "You're going to put on a dress, and you're going to come to Veronica's wedding tomorrow. You will smile, and you will play the perfect wife. Or your brother is dead."
Cora's mind raced. A high-society wedding. The entire Vance family would be there—though the press and social circles still insisted on using the matriarchal empire's name, Mercer. It was a relic of old money branding, but for Cora, it was the perfect place to gather intel and map out the power dynamics of her enemies.
"Fine," Cora said coldly.
She turned her back on them and walked straight into the master bathroom. She didn't look back.
She slammed the heavy bathroom door shut, cutting off Leland's voice.
Outside, she could hear Marge whining and demanding Leland call the family doctor.
Cora walked over to the marble sink. She turned the silver handles. Freezing cold water blasted out of the faucet. She cupped her hands and splashed the ice water onto her face.
She grabbed a thick towel and patted her skin dry. She looked at herself in the mirror. The terrified Heloise was gone. A predator looked back at her.
A sharp ping echoed in her mind.
Achievement unlocked: Physical Deterrence. Plot deviation increased by 10%.
Cora dropped the towel onto the marble counter. She stared at her reflection, a cruel smile touching the corners of her mouth.
Tomorrow, the Vance family was going to have a very memorable wedding.
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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.