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 3
Lucien's words were like a dagger, stabbing Calliope right in her most vulnerable spot.
Even though she'd already experienced the sting of betrayal once and come back determined to cut all ties, hearing him-actually hearing him-rush to dump her for another woman still knocked the breath out of her. That sharp, bone-deep pain came rushing back just like before.
"Why?"
The word slipped out before she even realized it, voice shaking, tinged with a desperation she hated herself for.
But what was she even hoping for? That maybe he'd feel guilty? That maybe he'd at least try to let her down gently?
Lucien was silent on the other end for a beat before he finally said, "Calliope, I think you deserve the truth now. I never loved you... not that way. It's always been Angelina. Only her."
"I used to think maybe love would grow between us, like we could learn to make it work. But then just now... Angelina nearly got hurt. In that moment, I knew. I can't lose her. I can't have anything around her that could hurt her or shake her peace. I have to eliminate every threat. Calliope, I'm sorry, but I can't lie to you-or myself-anymore. I love her. And no matter what happens, I'm not letting her go."
Eliminate. That's the word he used.
So this is what she was now? A problem to be cleared out?
That one word made her blood run cold. Her whole body froze.
But colder still was the terrifying thought that burst into her mind-fast and clear as lightning:
In her previous life, even when Lucien hated her enough to kill her, he never admitted loving Angelina. He always wore that mask of kindness, never let her see through it... until it was too late.
But now, this Lucien-he wasn't hiding a thing. He sounded relieved. Like he'd just dodged death itself.
Suddenly, everything clicked.
What if... what if he had been reborn too?
What if that's why he was in such a hurry to call it off and run back to Angelina? Because he got another shot, and this time, he wasn't going to waste it.
The thought exploded in Calliope's head, shaking her to her core.
All the pain, the betrayal, the helplessness she felt in that past life came flooding back, boiling inside her like lava.
If Lucien really had come back too... did that mean he thought he could just hurt her all over again? That, for Angelina, he could treat her like nothing for a second time?
Her chest was so tight with rage and heartache, she could barely breathe.
She opened her mouth, ready to throw his words back at him-
But before she could say a thing, the fury that Eleanor had held in finally snapped.
"Lucien!" Eleanor grabbed the phone from her daughter in a flash. Her usual elegant voice was sharp and thunderous now, practically shaking with rage.
"Say that again, I dare you!"
Eleanor's chest heaved, her carefully maintained face flushed with anger. "You've been in love with that Angelina this whole time? Then what the hell was all this with Calliope for? What about everything you promised when your family came to propose? Was all that just a game to you?"
Her voice trembled with emotion, each word forced out with barely-contained rage.
"Lucien! What has the Godfrey family ever done to wrong you? What part of my daughter isn't good enough for you? How could you treat her like some kind of fool?! If your heart belonged to someone else, why didn't you just say so earlier? Why wait until the night before the wedding to humiliate her like this, to crush her like that? What do her seven years of feelings mean to you? What about our family's dignity?!"
Calliope stood frozen, watching her mother break down. Her heart felt like it had been slammed into by something heavy and sharp.
In her memory, Eleanor was always the picture of grace and composure. No matter how unpleasant a situation, her mother never raised her voice-let alone lose control like this.
Lucien's cruel confession hadn't just broken her mother's heart; it had crossed a line that Eleanor, as a mother, could never forgive.
A blow to her daughter's pride hurt Eleanor more than any insult to herself.
On the phone, Lucien hadn't expected Eleanor to be there, much less to lash out like this.
He fumbled for words, clearly caught off guard. After a pause, he finally managed to say, "Mrs. Carmody, I'm sorry. This is all my fault. I let Calliope down. I let your whole family down. I'll make it up to you-whatever you've lost, I'll compensate twice over..."
"Compensate? And what exactly are you going to give her to make up for wasting her youth and playing with her feelings?" Eleanor was shaking, every nerve on edge, about to explode all over again.
"Mom," Calliope suddenly stepped in, voice strangely calm. She gently held her mother's trembling hand, giving her a reassuring look before taking the phone.
"Lucien, I heard your apology. I'm agreeing to call off the engagement."
Her calmness made the silence on the other end even heavier.
Without giving him room to speak again, she continued, her tone unwavering, "From now on, you go your way, I'll go mine. We're done here. And please, keep your new love, Angelina, far away from me."
Without hesitation, she ended the call.
Eleanor looked at her daughter's serene face and felt her heart ache all over again. She pulled Calliope into a tight hug, her voice choked, "Sweetheart, it's okay to cry. You don't have to hold it all in when you're with me..."
Calliope sank into her mother's arms, her eyes stinging, but she forced the tears back down.
Now wasn't the time to cry. If Lucien had relived events like she had, then things might already be heading down a dangerous path.
She needed her mother to see through some people, to protect what belonged to the Godfreys.
She slowly pushed away from her mother, her eyes clear and steady, maturity in her gaze that didn't match her age.
"I'm not wasting tears on someone like him, Mom. He's not worth it."
She squeezed Eleanor's hand firmly. "Right now, we've got more important things to handle."
Eleanor looked back, puzzled.
Lowering her voice, Calliope leaned close and spoke seriously, "Mom, don't you think it's a bit too convenient that Angelina's been living with us this past half year?"
Eleanor blinked. "What do you mean? That poor girl's had a rough life... Her mom was my good friend for years-"
"You can never really know someone's heart, especially when money's in the equation," Calliope interrupted, her gaze sharpening.
"Money?" Eleanor frowned, still confused.
Calliope inhaled deeply, her voice barely above a whisper. "Mom, find someone reliable, a professional auditor maybe, and go through Dad's recent financial dealings, especially anything unusual-big transfers, foreign accounts..."
She paused before adding, "I heard there might be some trouble with Dad's company's funds..."
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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.