Vows of Vengeance: A Bride Reborn
She thought she was happily married - until she was diagnosed with terminal stomach cancer.
Then came the truth: her "devoted" husband Lucien had been poisoning her for years, all to avenge a dead lover.
On her deathbed, Calliope made a vow:
If life gave her one more chance, she'd rewrite every ending-starting with his.
Now reborn seven years earlier, she tears off the wedding dress and walks away from Lucien's lies.
To protect her family and reclaim her stolen legacy, Calliope proposes a marriage of convenience to Conrad: a cold, enigmatic firefighter with more power-and more secrets-than anyone realizes.
But Lucien is also reborn. And just as cruel.
But this time, she's not the naïve bride.
She's a tech genius. A business queen. A woman with nothing to lose.
And Conrad?
He's not just fire and steel-he's the weapon she never knew she needed.
They're not here to survive.
They're here to win.
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Chapter 14
Calliope's fingers were turning cold, bit by bit.
She took a breath and forced herself to speak calmly. "Mr. Sterling, I think you've misunderstood. That thing... was just a product sample sent by mistake. I'll have someone contact you tomorrow to retrieve it."
There was a brief silence on the other end before Lucien replied, "Calliope, let's not kid ourselves, alright? Since we've both moved on, we should really let the past stay in the past."
Her breath caught.
She didn't expect him to just lay it out there like that.
He was the one who betrayed her-how was he now speaking as if he was the one who got hurt? Like she was the problem?
That sudden wave of rage almost had her blurting something out, but she swallowed it back.
"Lucien, don't you think it's ridiculous for that to come out of your mouth?"
Lucien didn't seem fazed at all. His voice stayed indifferent. "Stop sending me things like that. It's childish."
Childish?
Calliope almost laughed out loud.
He once said it was the most romantic and thoughtful gift he'd ever received.
And now it was... childish?
Holding back the emotions bubbling up in her chest, her tone cooled. "If Mr. Sterling doesn't like it, feel free to toss it."
"I didn't like it, that's true. But Angel loved it, so I gave it to her."
Calliope's eyes sharped slightly in shock, her mouth pulled into a near-incredulous smile.
Lucien's voice kept going. "Calliope, I'm going to marry Angel. It's something I owe her."
He paused.
"As for you... you'll be my only sister from now on."
What a joke.
Calliope felt a surge of absurdity and fury crash over her like a wave.
"You're absolutely disgusting, Lucien."
She hung up hard.
If she had let him say another word, she might've completely lost control, letting every inch of pain and resentment she'd buried inside come spilling out.
The wind on the balcony blew harder, tangling her hair and stinging her eyes.
Calliope clenched her lips together, refusing to let the tears fall.
Not worth it.
She opened her phone and blocked Lucien's number.
Just as she turned to head back into the room, her screen lit up again.
It was a Ins group chat she hadn't checked in ages, now flooded with tags.
A message popped up from Olivia: [Cal! Hurry up and check the chat! That fake angel is stirring up crap again!]
Calliope frowned and tapped into the group.
She scrolled up through the messages and saw a photo shared by Angelina.
It was the custom AI figure she'd sent Lucien.
Below the pic, Angelina had tagged her:
[@Calliope, I got the collectible~ It's so pretty and such a surprise! Lucien told me you made it just for us-I knew it! Deep down, you've always wished us well. I'll treasure this forever!]
Calliope stared at the text, half laughing from disbelief.
This was the same group she'd created six months ago to help expand Angelina's network. It included mutual friends of hers and Lucien's.
Now?
[@Calliope Angel's already been so generous; maybe let it go?]
[@Calliope Not to be rude, but you two have been done for a while. It's better like this for everyone.]
[@Calliope Seriously, stop making it awkward for Lucien. We're all friends here.]
[...]
One message after another, coming from those who used to warmly call her "family"-now all changing their tune overnight.
Calliope felt nauseated.
Olivia had already exploded in the chat: [WTF?! Are you all blind?? Cal's the one who got screwed over here! Angelina, have you no shame? You stole her fiancé and her gift, and now you're putting on a show like this?]
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7.2
Genevieve woke up choking on her own blood, a fatal gash tearing through her abdomen. The memories of a primitive world crashed into her mind—she had transmigrated into the body of a sadistic beastman Mistress.
But the five powerful beastmen "mates" standing over her hadn't come to her rescue. They had come to watch their tormentor die.
"We should just leave her," Kameron sneered coldly. "The scavengers will clean up the mess."
Gilberto spat in disgust, while Angelo, a silver-scaled snake-man, trembled in pure terror at the sight of her. The original owner had whipped them, humiliated them, and driven another mate to suicide. Now, they were letting her bleed out in the mud, their eyes filled with undisguised loathing and satisfaction.
She was a top-tier apocalyptic survival expert, yet here she was, paying the ultimate price for a stranger's monstrous sins. It was a bitter, unacceptable irony to die helplessly in the dirt while her supposed protectors waited for her corpse to rot.
She refused to accept this ending.
Forcing a chaotic surge of energy through their shared Biological Link, she brought all five men to their knees in agonizing pain, commanding them to carry her back. In the dark cave, without a single scream, she plunged her bare hands into a fire and brutally cauterized her own gaping wound with searing ash. As the beastmen stared in horrified awe at the unbreakable soul now occupying the tyrant's body, Genevieve wiped the blood from her face and began to rewrite her fate.
7.2
Clifton, the god of esports, was secretly battling a career-ending wrist injury to protect his team.
A year ago, he kissed his duo partner, Justice, only to be met with violent disgust. Justice shoved him away and dry-heaved in the rain, looking at him like a monster.
Humiliated by the straight man's raw revulsion, Clifton cut him out of his life.
But now, Justice suddenly appeared at Clifton's club as a rookie tryout.
Instead of an ambitious climber, Justice played the perfect, pathetic victim. He cowered, trembled, and acted terrified whenever Clifton was near.
He even signed a bloodsucking contract with a toxic teammate, sparking rumors he was brought in to replace Clifton as captain.
During a scrimmage, Clifton hesitated to shoot because he remembered Justice had just severely burned his hand.
Justice showed no mercy. He ruthlessly gunned Clifton down, humiliating the captain in front of the entire coaching staff.
Clifton was consumed by blinding rage and betrayal.
If Justice was so disgusted by him, why did he fake his devotion for six months just to use him?
Why was he acting like helpless prey now, after trampling all over Clifton's pride?
Determined to rip off the liar's disguise, Clifton dragged Justice into a live stream in front of sixty thousand viewers.
"He's asking if you are in love with me."
Clifton smiled cruelly, waiting for the public execution. But just as the trap snapped shut, a choked, terrified gasp came through the headset.
7.8
On my fifth wedding anniversary, I wasn't arranging flowers; I was staging my own death.
My husband, Graham, treated me like a prized accessory, but the antique watch on his nightstand revealed the brutal truth.
It was engraved "Forever, Elia"-proof that his heart belonged to his business partner, not me.
So I vanished into the ocean, letting the world believe I had drowned.
For two years, I lived as "Anna," finding peace in a small coastal town and rediscovering my art.
But the past has a way of clawing its way back.
Elia tracked me down, storming into my pottery studio with a weapon, screaming that my "death" had ruined Graham.
She lunged, and I took the blow to protect a child.
That' s when the door burst open.
Graham stood there, frozen, staring at his "late" wife bleeding on the floor.
He fell to his knees, sobbing, begging to destroy his empire just to have me back.
I looked at the man I once worshipped and felt nothing but cold indifference.
"I loved the man you pretended to be," I told him.
"But that man never existed."
7.5
For seven years, I hid my identity as a wealthy heiress to be with my boyfriend, Ewing. I followed him across the country and made myself small so he could feel big.
On Thanksgiving, he ditched our celebration for his first love, Bree, who supposedly had a "burst pipe."
Later, she posted an intimate selfie with him, calling him her "hero."
Then she sent me a video of him at a bar, laughing with his friends.
"She's just being dramatic," he slurred, smirking at the camera. "A new necklace and she'll forget all about it. She's easy."
Easy. Seven years of my life, my love, my sacrifice-all reduced to that one word. I realized I was never his partner. I was just a placeholder.
I didn't cry. I packed my bags, booked a one-way flight to New York, and sent him one final text before blocking his number.
"Don't bother coming home. I'm getting married."
7.2
I went to the bank to set up a trust fund for my twins, only to have the manager look at me with pity.
"Mrs. Dunlap, the trust requires the *biological* mother's signature."
I froze. I *was* their mother. Or so I thought.
That day, I learned my husband, the most powerful Mafia Don on the coast, had used his ex-lover’s frozen eggs.
For six years, I wasn't his wife. I was just the incubator.
When his "true love," Iliana, returned from exile, my life disintegrated.
My children, poisoned by her lies, pushed me down the stairs and called me "just the nanny."
Gavyn didn't help me up. He stepped over my bleeding body to take his "real family" out for ice cream.
But the ultimate betrayal happened on a windswept cliff.
Staged by Iliana, we were both tied up, allegedly rigged to explode.
Forced to choose who to save, Gavyn didn't hesitate.
He cut Iliana loose.
"You did this to yourself, Alex," he said, driving away with the children, leaving me to die.
He thought he was leaving behind a corpse.
He didn't know I had skimmed ten million dollars from the household accounts.
"Cut me loose," I told the hitman, transferring the money. "And tell him the ocean took me."
Two years later, the Don is on his knees in my garden, begging for a second chance.
Too bad he has to get through my new fiancé first—the head of the rival cartel.
8.6
"Her blood type is a match. It’s the only option."
I froze outside the conference room door, the quarterly reports digging into my ribs.
I knew that voice. It was Ben, my husband’s best friend and doctor. But the next voice, cold and devoid of warmth, shattered my world.
"Then we do it," my husband Ethan said. "Chloe cannot wait any longer. If Ava is the match, then Ava is the solution."
For the past month, Ethan had been obsessed with my health, insisting on daily "vitamins" and endless checkups. He called it love.
Standing in that hallway, I realized he was actually shopping for spare parts.
"She is your wife, Ethan," Ben argued weakly. "You can't just harvest her like a crop."
"She became my wife because she was useful," Ethan replied, his indifference cutting deeper than any scalpel. "Now, she can be useful for this."
The realization hit me with the force of a physical blow. The nausea I’d been feeling wasn't stress.
I was pregnant.
And those "vitamins" he fed me every morning? They weren't supplements. They were poisons designed to ensure I remained a viable donor.
He was killing his own child to save his mistress.
To him, I wasn't a partner. I was livestock. An asset to be liquidated for parts.
I didn't burst into the room. I didn't scream.
I walked away in silence, my hand hovering over my stomach.
He wanted my kidney? He wanted to carve me up?
I decided right then. I wouldn't just leave.
I would terminate the pregnancy, fake my death, and burn his entire world to the ground.