Sariya Chaton

Katalea was born a werecat. There wasn’t a time when she could remember being just ‘human’. Now, as she grows and powers develop she discovers that all freedom isn’t free. There are those who would like to see her Pride extinguished. Will she be able to rise to the challenge and lead her people to freedom? Will she be able to accept the responsibilities of being the only royal alpha?

Veronica Demoore was the girl everyone despised. Mocked for her weight, humiliated for her grades, and crushed beneath a brutal home life, she lived every day as the target of ridicule-until the day she couldn't bear it anymore. The world thought Veronica died that night. But when she opens her eyes again. someone else is looking through them. Savanna. A woman once raised in the shadows of a powerful organization. A genius trained to survive, manipulate, and dominate. In her previous life, she had wealth, intelligence, and strength. In this one, she has none of those things-only Veronica's broken body and shattered reputation. But weakness is temporary. Bullies who once laughed at Veronica soon discover the girl they tormented is no longer the same. Her mind is sharper. Her gaze is colder. And the quiet girl they used to push around now carries a dangerous confidence. As Savanna begins transforming Veronica's life piece by piece-losing weight, exposing enemies, and rising to the top of the school-the truth behind her rebirth slowly unfolds. Because Savanna didn't die by accident. And the people who killed her are still out there. This time, she won't be their victim. This time- she's coming for everything.

She died in the apocalypse-betrayed, abandoned, and torn apart by the infected. Then she woke up. Two months before the end of the world. Twenty-two years old again. And on her wrist, a wooden bracelet that her mother had left behind. The bracelet came with a system. A system that eats gold. With enough gold, she can unlock infinite storage for food, water, weapons-anything she needs to survive. The super-hurricane, the floods, the insect plagues, the volcanic winter, the scorching heat... she knows exactly what's coming. While the world sleeps, Joanna shops. She drains her aunt's bank account, maxes out every loan she can find, and buys out half the city. The apocalypse is coming. She'll be ready. But when the chaos begins, the wolves come crawling back-relatives who sold her, friends who betrayed her, a father who abandoned her. They want her food. Her water. Her mercy. Joanna has a different plan. "Why don't you decide who dies first?"

Maya Cross woke up in a nightmare-trapped in the body of a sadistic villain who'd tortured five powerful beastmen into submission. Good news? She finally had the power to break their bonds and set them free. Bad news? They were stranded on a dying ship surrounded by Zerg swarms, with zero rescue coming. The first was Caleb, a snake beastman whose red eyes burned with pure hatred. Every time he looked at her, she saw the memory of chains and venom extraction. The second was Finn, an aquatic beastman whose scales she'd ripped off one by one. He could barely stand to be in the same room without his hands shaking with rage. The third was Sage, a griffin beastman she'd tormented so badly he barely went a day without fresh wounds. The fourth was Hunter, a lion beastman she'd mocked relentlessly, calling his beast form hideous and grotesque. The fifth was Jasper, a fox beastman whose face she'd scarred so badly he'd lost his consortium inheritance. "Protect me until I find my father," Maya told them, drawing her own blood, "and I'll give you what you need to break our bond." Caleb laughed bitterly. "Since when do you make deals instead of demands?" "Since we're all dead if we don't work together." But when survival depends on trust, can a torturer become a savior-or will her victims choose revenge over rescue?

The doctor's words echoed, a distant hum, yet crystal clear: "Congratulations, Mrs. Prescott, you're pregnant!" My husband Ethan beamed beside me, his grip on my hand tightening, a wide, genuine smile lighting his face – the kind of pure joy I hadn't seen in far too long. He pulled me into a hug, his voice booming with happiness that filled the sterile room. But a cold dread pierced me, deeper than any clinic air conditioning. This exact moment. I remembered it. In my last life, this pregnancy, this supposed joy, became the very weapon they used against me. Chloe, Ethan's first choice, the woman he was supposed to marry, had returned. She feigned concern, using her 'wellness expertise' facade to get close. She then whispered poison in Ethan' s ear, painting me as a burden, before orchestrating my 'accident' – a fall that led to the tragic loss of my child, and soon after, my own broken, wasted death. I could still hear Chloe's voice, soft and venomous, as I lay bleeding: "You were always beneath us, Ava. Just in the way." That memory burned, a raw wound in my soul. The sheer injustice of their cruelty, the depths of their betrayal, still sent ice through my veins. How could I have been so naive, so easily discarded? The confusion, the despair from that past life resurfaced, potent and suffocating. But this time, I was ready. The knowledge wasn't a shroud, but a shield. I blinked, forcing a fragile smile. My new goal was clear, etched in the pain of my past: survive, protect my child, and utterly destroy them.

The air in the small living room was thick, heavy, mirroring the cold dread gripping my stomach. My father, Richard, cleared his throat, his eyes avoiding mine, avoiding my mother' s. "Emily, the papers are signed," he said, his voice flat. "It's done." He then looked at me and my younger sister, Jessica. "Girls, you need to decide. Who you want to live with." I was Sarah, and this was my second chance, my second life. The memories of the first one were branded into me. Jessica, beside me, shifted, her eyes holding a greedy flicker I recognized from before-she remembered a life she called poor, a life she hated. "I choose Dad," Jessica said, her voice far too quick, too eager. "Victoria will be pleased," Richard affirmed, a thin smile on his face. Victoria Sterling. The tech billionaire, my future stepmother, her name a scar. In my first life, she had chosen me. I remembered the endless lessons, the cold praise, the constant pressure to be perfect. She broke me down, piece by piece, until Jessica, twisted by Victoria' s influence, ended my life. No. Not again. My father urged me to be "sensible," to consider the "opportunities" Victoria offered. Jessica scoffed, "You're an idiot, Sarah. You want to stay in this dump? With her?" She chose the fire, thinking it was gold, unaware of the torment that awaited her. But I knew the price. I looked at my mother, her eyes full of pain, but also a quiet strength I hadn't truly seen before. This time, I would protect her. I would protect myself. "I choose Mom," I declared, my voice clear and firm, irrevocably altering the script of my reborn life.

Sarah Miller, with her uncanny gift of foresight, was a sensation. Her "Sarah Sees" livestream, broadcast from her humble Vermont farmhouse, brought comfort and answers to thousands. She was a rising star, a rare and authentic voice in the world of online spiritual guidance. But then, out of nowhere, an old childhood acquaintance, Jessica Evans, appeared. "Mystic Jess," she called herself, launching a strikingly similar channel. Whispers of Sarah being a "copycat" began, subtly fueled by Jessica and an influential local figure, Alex Peterson. The online comments turned vicious, branding Sarah a "fraud" and "liar." Her followers evaporated, her income vanished. The local community, once supportive, grew cold, and the stress bled into her family's life. Then came the vandalism, spray-painted threats, culminating in a confrontation that tragically led to her father's fatal heart attack. I watched my family shatter, my life ruined, all by someone who seemed to mimic my every move, even my private thoughts, always one step ahead. How could Jessica know what I was about to say or do before I even did it? My own gift, once so clear, became a dark, confusing static whenever I tried to foresee anything about Jessica or my grim future. It made no sense. Crushed by grief and public scorn, wishing for an end to it all, I closed my eyes. A snap, a void, then a gasp. I opened them to find sunlight streaming through my old bedroom window, my laptop waiting-showing the exact date I launched my first livestream. I was back. And I wouldn't let it happen again.

Fresh from a C-section, my baby girl Lily safe in the nursery, I awaited my husband, Mark. He was the celebrated CEO of Innovatech, our startup, built on my algorithms, his stage presence. But his arrival brought no warmth, no questions about Lily. Instead, he presented divorce papers, flatly stating his intern, Chloe, was pregnant, and he needed to protect them. The words stung deeper than surgical pain, awakening a past life memory: refusing, then dying with Lily in a "car accident" Mark orchestrated. This time, I signed. Yet, the nightmare escalated: Chloe grabbed fragile Lily, taunting me by an open window. Mark, believing her lies, had me, bleeding, dragged from the hospital. Days later, seeking my belongings, he smashed a mirror over my head, abandoning me on our doorstep. The raw betrayal, his calculated erasure of my contributions-my intellect, my love, years poured into our company-returned only with cruelty. How could he be so utterly monstrous, so blind? But this was my second chance. My precious Lily was alive, needing me. Fueled by that agonizing past and his brutal abandonment, a cold, new resolve set in. I wouldn't just survive; his spectacular downfall would be my meticulous design.

A five-million-dollar inheritance from a distant aunt. It was meant to be our fresh start, a dream come true for my loving husband, Mark, our sweet daughter, Lily, and me. But within hours, my world shattered. First, Lily lay tragically still on the patio below, then my mother and I were caught in a horrific car crash. We were all gone. Floating above my dead body, I watched Mark. His grief-stricken face twisted into a chilling smirk as he embraced his very pregnant assistant, Jessica. He brazenly confessed: they had murdered my daughter, my mother, and me. All for the five million dollars. The betrayal was a physical ache, a searing pain, for a family wiped out by the man I loved, all for greed. An unspeakable injustice burned within me. Then, strangely, I woke up. The familiar email from the lawyer pinged again. My Lily was alive, tucked safely in her bed. This time, they wouldn' t win. This time, I would make them pay.

I woke up with a gasp on the day of my debutante ball, the most anticipated event of the Texas social season. My eyes snapped open to the familiar silk canopy, but a strange, phantom pain still clung to my last breath. My custom-designed gown, perfected over months with the couturier, was gone from its stand. This void, this seemingly small act, brought a cold dread, sharp and entirely too familiar. Because in my previous life, this "missing" dress was the very first tiny crack, the prelude to a cascade of betrayals. I remembered Savy' s brazen appearance, her stolen spotlight, her smug face, Brent' s weak compliance, Grayson' s cruel dismissal. Their collective treachery had led to my father' s "accidental" death, my shocking disinheritance, a hellish rehabilitation facility, and my own lonely, mysterious end. They thought they had won; they thought they had erased me for good. The sheer, agonizing injustice of their victory, the vivid memories of my suffering, burned hotter than any fire. How could I have let them destroy my family, my legacy, my very self, without a fight? But they didn't know I was back. I had reawakened on this pivotal morning, carrying every single agonizing memory of their deceit and my demise. This time, there would be no panic, no helplessness, only a chilling, absolute resolve to reverse my tragic fate. I was Aurora Sterling, and I was taking my life back, one strategic move at a time.

I woke up floating. Not in a dream, but tethered to a nightmare. My body lay cold on the bed, while my son, Leo, whispered, "Papa won't wake up." My wife, Eleanor, stood by the door, her face a mask of ice. I was a ghost, able to watch, but powerless to intervene. Then Julian Croft appeared, oozing charm and false sympathy. The man who'd received my liver, the root of my demise. Eleanor dismissed Leo's desperate pleas, accusing *me* of manipulation, of using our son. She chose Julian, leaving Leo behind, a small, trembling figure in our empty home. What followed was agony. I watched my seven-year-old journey miles to her office, only to be publicly humiliated, framed by Julian, and then viciously beaten. Eleanor, blind to the truth, abandoned him again, leaving him bruised and alone in a dark alley. My spirit seethed, consumed by a cold, useless rage. How could she believe such lies? How could she discard her own child so easily? The injustice was unbearable. I was murdered, my son brutalized, and the woman I loved stood by my killer. I longed to warn her, to protect Leo, but I was just air. A silent scream. Then Julian delivered the final blow: my little boy was tossed into the freezing Hudson River. But as Leo's small form sank into the darkness, a desperate hope ignited. A stranger, an angel, pulled him from the depths. My death was real, my son's suffering unbearable. And now, the true battle for justice, and for Leo's future, was about to begin.