Benjamen Ernst

I returned to Boston after three years, not for forgiveness, but to die. My family, who blamed me for my mother's death, had cast me out, replacing me with a quiet, grateful orphan named Gabriela. She stole my father's love, my brother's affection, and my childhood sweetheart, Corey. Now, terminally ill, my only wish was to reclaim my mother's wedding dress, a final piece of her to hold onto. But Gabriela was wearing it to marry Corey. When I confronted her, she destroyed my mother's locket and cursed me to drop dead. In a blind rage, I slapped her. She shrieked, stabbed her own arm, and framed me for the attack. As my family and Corey looked on with disgust, calling me a maniac, my body gave out. I collapsed, coughing up blood, my secret illness revealed in the most brutal way possible. "You always blame me," I gasped, the words bubbling out with blood. "But I was just... dying." Their faces filled with dawning horror, but it was too late. I was already gone. Until I opened my eyes again, and my mother, who had been waiting for me all along, took my hand. "We'll be reborn," she promised, her eyes blazing with fury at the family who had destroyed me. "Together. As mother and daughter, again."

I was standing in the center of the gallery, holding a glass of expensive champagne, when the screens behind me flickered and my life ended. It was supposed to be an art unveiling, but the monitors shifted to fake footage of me handing evidence to the FBI. My fiancé, Ethan, looked at me like I was a sick dog that needed to be put down. My father slapped me across the face in front of everyone, disowning me to save his own skin. That was when Luca Vitti, the city’s most dangerous man, stepped in. He cleared the room and took my hand. I thought he was saving me. I didn't realize he was just collecting a new pet. I was locked in his estate, isolated and terrified. Then, my healthy mother suddenly "died" of pneumonia in a Vitti clinic. Days later, I saw Luca’s frail stepsister, Clara, breathing easily for the first time in her life. She had my mother’s lungs. I became nothing more than a breeding vessel. When I fell pregnant, I overheard Luca and Ethan planning my death. "Once the kid is cut out, she's a loose end," Luca had said. They were going to kill me and give my son to the woman who stole my mother's breath. I couldn't let that happen. So, I staged a tragedy. I induced labor in secret, hid my living son, and placed a fake corpse in the crib with a note: The Vitti Legacy. I escaped while they mourned. Five years later, Luca finally found the doctor’s confession. He learned that Clara had orchestrated everything. He opened the velvet box I left behind and realized it was empty. Now, he knows I didn't kill his son. I saved him from becoming a monster like his father.

While I was fighting for my life in the delivery room, my husband was on the front page of every tabloid, caught in a scandalous affair. He never came to see me or our newborn son. Instead, he whisked his actress mistress away to a luxury resort in the Swiss Alps, dismissing his betrayal as a mere "business arrangement." When his mistress brazenly appeared in my home, she taunted me, claiming my husband wished I had died in childbirth. Then, she revealed a paternity test claiming my son wasn't his. My husband believed her. He believed the lies of the woman who secretly snuck into our nursery to pinch and bruise our helpless, sleeping baby. He took her side, shielded her from me, and even tried to take my son away to raise with her. I had lost my parents and my brother, and now I was losing everything else. I was an orphan, a betrayed wife, and they were trying to take the only thing I had left: my child. But they underestimated me. They thought Kane Powell was the most powerful person I knew. They were wrong.

The first time my husband tried to have me killed, he used our eight-year-old daughter as the bait. After I discovered his affair with a woman whose college tuition I was paying, he staged our daughter's kidnapping to lure me into a trap. I woke up in a hospital, my legs amputated, my womb removed, a permanent cripple. My husband, Eugene, played the part of the grieving spouse perfectly, promising police he' d find the monsters responsible. But I overheard him whispering to our daughter in the hallway. "You were so brave," he praised her. "You made Mommy believe you were in danger. It was the only way to stop her from leaving us." Her reply destroyed what was left of my soul. "I like Brenna better anyway. She's prettier than Mommy." They thought they had broken me, leaving me a shattered shell of a woman. So I let them believe it. I faked my own suicide and vanished. Now, three years later, I've returned. Standing on two legs of polished steel, I'm the CEO of a robotics empire, and I'm here to burn their world to the ground.

The last thing I remembered was the freezing cold of a lonely alley, the bitter taste of cheap whiskey, and the image of a newspaper: a glossy photo of my ex-wife, Sarah, and her new husband, Mark Thompson, cradling their perfect baby. My final breath fogged in the winter air as I died with the brutal truth ringing in my mind. I had failed them-my son, Leo, and my mother, Susan, both lying in fresh graves, victims of Sarah' s abandonment and my naive loyalty. For four years, I toiled, clinging to her empty promises, while they withered away from neglect and poverty in our crumbling home. I' d even sold a kidney to save them, but the money came too late; my mother starved, and Leo succumbed to a preventable fever. At their funeral, Sarah returned not to mourn, but to accuse, to divorce, and to flaunt her new life with Mark-a life built on our ruins. Then, a sharp, ragged gasp tore through me. I wasn' t in an alley, but on the cold, splintered floorboards of my own bedroom, the air thick with the scent of sickness. My heart hammered as I saw them: my mother, Susan, frail but breathing, and Leo, flushed with fever but alive, nestled in his crib. A quick glance at the calendar confirmed it: three days before their deaths. The raw grief, fused with a cold, hard rage, ignited a fire in my gut. No more silence. No more waiting. "Mom," I declared, my voice steady, "We' re leaving. We' re going to find Sarah." I had a second chance, and this time, I wouldn' t just survive; I would make them pay.

I gave up my music journalism career, piece by piece, to build Nathaniel Roberts' country music empire. He was my college sweetheart, my golden boy, the man I poured my soul into making a star. Then, his new pop-country princess co-star, Gabrielle, called me, her voice sickeningly sweet, telling me Nathaniel' s credit card was maxed out. She was in our bed, and I heard the rustle of our expensive sheets, the ones I picked out. I didn' t scream, I didn' t cry. I simply packed everything he ever bought me into garbage bags and told him to get out. He laughed, calling me dramatic, but agreed to a divorce, assuming I was after a final payday. He gave me a massive settlement and an iron-clad NDA, smugly believing he' d bought my silence and dignity. Months later, his manager called, oozing fake sympathy, inviting me to a reality show, "Second Takes," for "closure." I knew their true plan: to make me look pathetic, clinging to him so he could gently reject me, cleaning up his image after the cheating scandal. They wanted me to be his public doormat, boosting his new duet with Gabrielle. I sobbed into the phone, playing my part perfectly, swearing I missed him, begging to get him back. But their elaborate scheme was about to backfire spectacularly. They thought I wanted his heart, but I was about to go for his wallet, his freedom, and his entire career.

My office air, thick with stale coffee and cheap air freshener, always reminded me of the dreams I built with Ethan. We were supposed to marry in a month, invitations sent, a Vera Wang dress waiting, our Boston Harbor Hotel wedding booked. But then, Ethan, my fiancé of ten years, looked at me with what he thought were "soulful" eyes and dropped a bombshell. He was going to marry Sabrina, the scholarship intern my family' s foundation sponsored, to "save" her from a loan shark. He expected my "good heart" to understand this temporary arrangement, this noble sacrifice for a girl he plainly adored. I didn't cry or scream; the pain was a cold stone, but my face was calm. I saw him then, not as the boy I' d known since prep school, but as a weak, pathetic stranger using a flimsy excuse for a dirty affair. He had been counting on my blindness, my willingness to be a doormat. My hands didn' t tremble as I pulled an identical invitation from my Hermès bag. I slid it across his desk: an invitation to my wedding, to Matthew Lester, on the very same day. His disbelief turned to a slack-jawed horror as Sabrina, his tearful damsel, stumbled in. He instantly became her protector, glaring at me, accusing me of scaring her. I simply walked out, leaving the invitation like a time bomb, knowing my humiliation was far from over. The city' s elite whispered as he publicly chose her over me, his "powerful fiancée losing her grip." But they didn' t know the truth: this wasn' t the end of me; it was the start of something new. I tossed my family' s heirloom sapphire engagement ring into a recycling bin and typed my resignation to his company. I knew Ethan would try to cling to me, or worse, retaliate. What he didn' t know was that I was already steps ahead, ready to reclaim everything he thought he could steal.

The quarterly earnings call had just wrapped, leaving me with the quiet hum of success as CEO of Apex Innovations. My company was thriving, big but discreet, just how I liked it. All I truly cared about was getting home to my son, Leo, my everything. Then, the school's number flashed on my phone. My heart always jumped when they called, but this wasn't the usual secretary. It was Leo, his small voice shaking, "Dad, I got beat up at school!" My blood ran cold. He explained the bully was Ethan Miller, who'd twisted truths, calling me a "freeloader living off Mom." At the school, anger warred with disbelief. The principal and Ms. Albright, draped in a designer scarf I' d just bought my wife, blamed Leo, siding with Ethan and his arrogant father, Rick Miller. Jessica was even worse. My own wife dismissed Leo' s pain as a "schoolyard squabble," defending Rick as an "important contact." She then signed a "reconciliation agreement" that forced our bruised son to apologize, all to "protect our family image." She prioritized appearances over her child. Freeloader? Me? The CEO? The blatant bias, Rick's veiled threats, and Jessica's cold dismissal screamed betrayal. What in God's name was really going on? This was more than a schoolyard fight; it was a deeply unsettling web of lies, and I was furious. A cold, hard knot of suspicion tightened in my gut. This wasn't just about school donations. That evening, I made a call to my most trusted executive assistant: "Sarah, I need everything you can find on Richard Miller and Jessica' s recent projects. Discreetly." The game had changed. And I would find out why.

I was Ethan “Ghost” Riker, an elite PMC leader, engaged to Sophia. My disciplined, trust-filled life felt stable, despite its dangers. But a botched mission, leaving my best man critically injured, shattered that. The culprit? Kevin, Sophia’s arrogant younger brother, whom I held accountable. This decision would unearth a betrayal I never imagined. The next morning, my secure sat phone buzzed with an alarming alert. My full bio, deepest secrets, and safe houses were on the dark web for $9.99. Too fast, too precise, too intimate – it pointed to Sophia. Then, from the Walker estate, I heard her chilling laugh, boasting she’d listed me for pennies. She confirmed I was a "tool," a "dog" who needed reminding of his place. My blood ran cold, burning with rage, as she casually plotted my further humiliation. Driven by disbelief, I walked into her trap: a desolate factory, a fake "safe house." Drugged, helpless, I faced my bitter old enemies, orchestrated by Sophia and Kevin. They beat me bloody, filming every degrading moment, leaving me for dead. Each blow was agony, but the public humiliation was worse. "Why, Sophia?" I rasped, as she knelt beside me, her perfume mixing with my blood. Her whisper sealed my fate: "Because it's entertaining." "This is what happens to dogs that bite," she purred, abandoning me. How could she destroy me so meticulously, so coldly, after everything? I refused to die her dog. A stubborn defiance ignited in my broken spirit. Against all odds, I clung to life, rescued by a loyal brother-in-arms. They thought they’d killed the Ghost, but Ethan Riker was truly reborn. The man who survived would be harder, colder, and ready to rewrite the rules.

Out of pity, I rescued Jaycob who was abandoned by his family from the hands of the villain. He swore to always treat me well. But after he was recognized by his family, I overheard him talking to his friends: "Jennifer? Just a loveless old woman, approaching me with a purpose. If she hadn't actually saved me, she wouldn't even have the right to stay by my side." I realized that this is how he sees me. I stayed away from him as he wished. But Jaycob regretted it, with red eyes he begged softly, "Jenny, you said you wouldn't reject me."

Elliana, the unfavored "ugly duckling" of her family, was humiliated by her stepsister, Paige, who everyone admired. Paige, engaged to the CEO Cole, was the perfect woman-until Cole married Elliana on the day of the wedding. Shocked, everyone wondered why he chose the "ugly" woman. As they waited for her to be cast aside, Elliana stunned everyone by revealing her true identity: a miracle healer, financial mogul, appraisal prodigy, and AI genius. When her mistreatment became known, Cole revealed Elliana's stunning, makeup-free photo, sending shockwaves through the media. "My wife doesn't need anyone's approval."

"Stella once savored Marc's devotion, yet his covert cruelty cut deep. She torched their wedding portrait at his feet while he sent flirty messages to his mistress. With her chest tight and eyes blazing, Stella delivered a sharp slap. Then she deleted her identity, signed onto a classified research mission, vanished without a trace, and left him a hidden bombshell. On launch day she vanished; that same dawn Marc's empire crumbled. All he unearthed was her death certificate, and he shattered. When they met again, a gala spotlighted Stella beside a tycoon. Marc begged. With a smirk, she said, ""Out of your league, darling."

For three quiet, patient years, Christina kept house, only to be coldly discarded by the man she once trusted. Instead, he paraded a new lover, making her the punchline of every town joke. Liberated, she honed her long-ignored gifts, astonishing the town with triumph after gleaming triumph. Upon discovering she'd been a treasure all along, her ex-husband's regret drove him to pursue her. "Honey, let's get back together!" With a cold smirk, Christina spat, "Fuck off." A silken-suited mogul slipped an arm around her waist. "She's married to me now. Guards, get him the hell out of here!"

After five years of playing the perfect daughter, Rylie was exposed as a stand-in. Her fiancé bolted, friends scattered, and her adoptive brothers shoved her out, telling her to grovel back to her real family. Done with humiliation, she swore to claw back what was hers. Shock followed: her birth family ruled the town's wealth. Overnight, she became their precious girl. The boardroom brother canceled meetings, the genius brother ditched his lab, the musician brother postponed a tour. As those who spurned her begged forgiveness, Admiral Brad Morgan calmly declared, "She's already taken."

Sunlit hours found their affection glimmering, while moonlit nights ignited reckless desire. But when Brandon learned his beloved might last only half a year, he coolly handed Millie divorce papers, murmuring, "This is all for appearances; we'll get married again once she's calmed down." Millie, spine straight and cheeks dry, felt her pulse go hollow. The sham split grew permanent; she quietly ended their unborn child and stepped into a new beginning. Brandon unraveled, his car tearing down the street, unwilling to let go of the woman he'd discarded, pleading for her to look back just once.

Maia grew up a pampered heiress-until the real daughter returned and framed her, sending Maia to prison with help from her fiancé and family. Four years later, free and married to Chris, a notorious outcast, everyone assumed Maia was finished. They soon discovered she was secretly a famed jeweler, elite hacker, celebrity chef, and top game designer. As her former family begged for help, Chris smiled calmly. "Honey, let's go home." Only then did Maia realize her "useless" husband was a legendary tycoon who'd adored her from the start.

In their previous lives, Gracie married Theo. Outwardly, they were the perfect academic couple, but privately, she became nothing more than a stepping stone for his ambition, and met a tragic end. Her younger sister Ellie wed Brayden, only to be abandoned for his true love, left alone and disgraced. This time, both sisters were reborn. Ellie rushed to marry Theo, chasing the success Gracie once had-unaware she was repeating the same heartbreak. Gracie instead entered a contract marriage with Brayden. But when danger struck, he defended her fiercely. Could fate finally rewrite their tragic endings?

Linsey was stood up by her groom to run off with another woman. Furious, she grabbed a random stranger and declared, "Let's get married!" She had acted on impulse, realizing too late that her new husband was the notorious rascal, Collin. The public laughed at her, and even her runaway ex offered to reconcile. But Linsey scoffed at him. "My husband and I are very much in love!" Everyone thought she was delusional. Then Collin was revealed to be the richest man in the world. In front of everyone, he got down on one knee and held up a stunning diamond ring. "I look forward to our forever, honey."

The whispers said that out of bitter jealousy, Hadley shoved Eric's beloved down the stairs, robbing the unborn child of life. To avenge, Eric forced Hadley abroad and completely cut her off. Years later, she reemerged, and they felt like strangers. When they met again, she was the nightclub's star, with men ready to pay fortunes just to glimpse her elusive performance. Unable to contain himself, Eric blocked her path, asking, "Is this truly how you earn a living now? Why not come back to me?" Hadley's lips curved faintly. "If you’re eager to see me, you’d better join the queue, darling."

Blinded in a crash, Cary was rejected by every socialite—except Evelina, who married him without hesitation. Three years later, he regained his sight and ended their marriage. "We’ve already lost so many years. I won’t let her waste another one on me." Evelina signed the divorce papers without a word. Everyone mocked her fall—until they discovered that the miracle doctor, jewelry mogul, stock genius, top hacker, and the President's true daughter… were all her. When Cary came crawling back, a ruthless tycoon had him kicked out. "She's my wife now. Get lost."