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 6
Dorothy bowed slightly. "Yes, Madam."
She led a few maids around Lucien and headed straight upstairs.
Lucien pointed at Eleanor, fuming. "You-you're being completely unreasonable!"
But in front of Eleanor, who was obviously pissed, his anger still lost a few notches.
He didn't dare push things too far with her.
Not long after, the maids came back down with an armful of fancy boxes and bags, dumping them right at Angelina's feet.
Eleanor pointed at the pile and snapped, "Take your stuff and get out!"
Angelina's eyes instantly welled with tears, and they started falling uncontrollably.
She looked like the typical pitiful heroine in a soap opera, as if the Godfreys were the villains bullying her for no reason.
Lucien immediately pulled her behind him.
"Mrs. Carmody, this is really unnecessary. If you don't like her, fine-I'll take her and go."
He paused, glancing at Calliope. "I owe you an apology for today. But I'm not changing my decision."
Then he tightened his hold on Angelina's hand. "If I've chosen someone, I won't let go."
He turned around, pulling Angelina along without looking back.
"This got out of hand..." Jonathan sighed, looking conflicted, and hurried after them.
"Lucien, Angelina, wait!"
Angelina stopped and turned around to Jonathan, her eyes still glistening. "Mr. Godfrey, I'm sorry I've caused so much trouble."
Jonathan's heart ached a little seeing her like that. "Don't say that. This isn't your fault."
He leaned in closer and spoke softly, "Angelina, don't forget our deal. Be at the company on Monday. The Technical Director position is still waiting for you."
Angelina nodded gently. "Okay, Mr. Godfrey. I won't forget. Thank you."
Just as Lucien and Angelina stepped out of the Godfrey mansion, another clatter came from behind them.
Thud! Thud! Thud!
Those bags and boxes got tossed out again.
A few of the fancy boxes even popped open, and their contents spilled all over the place.
Angelina turned to look at the jewelry and accessories she'd cherished over the past six months, now strewn across the ground like they were trash. Her expression twisted with hurt and embarrassment.
Lucien gave the mess a quick glance, pulled her into his arms, and said in a low voice, "Forget it. Whatever you need from now on, I'll get it for you. We don't need any of that junk."
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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.