Traveling Star

I died in the terrifying plunge of Flight 815. But when I opened my eyes, I was lying in a luxurious bathtub, completely unharmed. The door opened, and my husband Jordi walked in—looking fifteen years older, his eyes glacial. He pinned me to the wall, his thumb pressing against my windpipe, demanding to know who hired me to play his dead wife. I managed to prove I was the real Isadora, biologically still twenty-eight years old. But my nightmare had just begun. My twenty-three-year-old son Hector looked at my unaged face with pure hatred. "Get this cheap replica out of my father's house, or I'll have him declared incompetent!" My twenty-year-old daughter Blossom, now a spoiled stranger treating Jordi like a personal ATM, screamed at me over the phone. Even Jordi's ambitious female colleague showed up at our estate, treating me like a temporary toy she could easily replace. In the space of a single breath, I had lost fifteen years. My children had grown up without me, learning to hate instead of grieve. Now, they looked at their real mother as if I were a monster trying to steal my own inheritance. But I didn't return from the dead just to be pushed out. I put on my old green silk dress, stepped in front of the female executive, and smiled. If they want to treat me like a threat, I'll fight them all to get my family back.

I spent three years as the silent architect of the Maynard family’s fortune, bound by an iron-clad NDA that turned me into a ghost. As Calhoun’s wife, I was the "silent asset," the one who saved their empire from the shadows while they took the bows and the credit. The betrayal started in a boardroom when my life's work was publicly handed to my incompetent brother-in-law, Conrad. But the real knife came later that night at the victory gala. I caught Calhoun in a VIP lounge, whispering promises to his sister-in-law, Bianca, as they plotted to strip me of my voting shares. When I tried to walk away, the Maynards struck. Bianca faked a pregnancy and threw herself in front of a car, framing me for attempted murder. My father-in-law gave me a brutal choice: rot in prison for fifteen years or sign an annulment forfeiting my inheritance, my identity, and my mother’s last sapphire necklace. They threw me out into a midnight storm with nothing but a trash bag of old rags. I knelt in the mud, watching the gates of the estate slam shut, realizing my entire marriage had been a transaction and I was finally out of stock. How could they steal my work, my name, and the only memory of my mother I had left? As I collapsed on the side of a dark road, a black Rolls Royce cut through the rain. Julian Montgomery, the Maynards’ most ruthless rival, stepped out and draped his cashmere coat over my shivering shoulders. He looked at me not with pity, but with predatory interest. I looked back and whispered the only thing that mattered. "Leverage."

My husband, the man I saved from a suicide attempt and built an empire for, was forcing me to kneel on frozen peas. My crime? A splash of cream in my coffee. This was all for his new "soulmate," a vegan influencer named Kassie, who had moved into our home and declared war on all animal products. The cruelty escalated. He kidnapped my ailing father, torturing him over his hobby of building birdhouses, then used my father' s life to blackmail me into silence. Then, at a gala, he left me for dead in the path of a raging bear to save Kassie. As he turned his back, leaving me to be mauled, I realized the man I loved was gone, replaced by a monster. But I survived, saved by a mysterious stranger. And as I healed, I remembered the one weapon he'd forgotten: the ironclad prenup that gave me a controlling interest in his billion-dollar company. He thought he had broken me, but he had just given me the means to burn his empire to the ground.

I am the sole heiress to a Texas oil empire. To protect me, my father adopted seven boys who were meant to be my future, and I was in love with their leader, Jax, my intended fiancé. But it was all a lie. I overheard them confess they were only playing along to secure my fortune for Daisy-Mae, the girl Jax truly loved. The humiliation was relentless. Jax sabotaged my saddle, breaking my leg. He publicly shamed me at an auction, buying a million-dollar necklace for her after freezing my funds. The final blow came at my birthday party, where a private video of me crying over him was broadcast to hundreds of guests. He did it all for her. Even when I exposed Daisy-Mae's plot, he confessed to her crimes to protect her, then offered to marry me as a bribe to buy my silence. He thought he still had power over me. But in front of everyone, I looked him in the eye and delivered the killing blow. "I stopped loving you a long time ago, Jax." Then I turned to the one man who had defended me, Sterling Prescott, and announced, "The man I'm going to marry is him."

After my family's business collapsed, I married my first love's older brother. On the wedding day, even though Jase Mitchell begged me with tears, I never looked back. Four years later, my husband Kade Mitchell passed away from illness, and his stepmother Katie Fuller drove me and my son out of the Mitchell family. Desperate and with nowhere to turn, I knocked on Jase's door. His tone was playful and teasing. "What brings you here, sister-in-law?" I hid my emotions and stepped closer. This time, I would make Katie's son return the stolen inheritance with his own hands.

My life was simple, if a little messy, running a tech repair shop, but I had everything that mattered: my wife, Olivia, and our five-year-old son, Leo. Then, Olivia left for her sister' s funeral, promising to return. She didn' t. I later found her living a new, lavish life, engaged to her dead sister' s wealthy fiancé. When I confronted her, begging for answers, her bodyguards brutally beat me. In the chaos, Leo darted into the street and was struck by a car. He died in my arms in the pouring rain, while Olivia watched, emotionless. "He was a mistake," she said, her voice like ice, offering me a paltry sum to disappear. Daniel Thorne, her fiancé, then stabbed me, leaving me for dead beside my son' s body. As darkness consumed me, I felt nothing but utter despair and a burning hatred for the woman I had once loved. But then, my eyes opened. I was in my own bed, in our small apartment. And from the other side of the room, I heard a small cough. Leo was playing with his blocks, alive and well. Olivia walked in, suitcase in hand, ready to leave for that funeral. I had been given a second chance, a do-over. This time, Olivia Reed would pay.

For three years, my marriage to Liam Hayes was a meticulously spun fairytale, built on our family' s business deal and his seemingly perfect devotion. Then, on our third anniversary, Chloe Davis, his childhood sweetheart, messaged him, shattering the fragile illusion. Liam publicly abandoned me, leaving me alone at a gala to chase after a woman who later accused me of assault, an incident he believed without question. The man I loved, the one who whispered sweet nothings, openly dismissed me as merely "a means to an end" for his company and public image. I found myself heartbroken and pregnant, forced into an unimaginable choice because of his callous betrayal. He dismissed my pain, my very existence, all while protecting Chloe and his perfect public facade. When I was brutally attacked by his enemy, his primary concern wasn't my well-being, but how my hospitalization might inconvenience his carefully constructed life and reputation. His words, "She's resilient. She'll recover. And then we can move forward. But for now, I have to play the part of the concerned husband," echoed in the sterile hospital room-a final, gut-wrenching confirmation of my insignificance to him. How could he be so blind, so utterly devoid of empathy for the woman who bore his secret child? The rage that ignited within me was a revelation, burning away the last vestiges of my love and despair. I wouldn't just leave; I would erase him from my life, starting with a one-way ticket to London and a silent promise of reclamation.

The gallery was my dream, my soul poured onto vibrant canvases. My fiancé, Mark, stood by my side, whispering promises of our future, of a life built on art and love. Then came the searing pain, a blinding agony that stole my breath and sent me crashing to the cold, hard floor. My hands came away wet and red, and the world blurred around the edges. I woke in a hospital bed, the pain a dull throb. Two voices drifted from the hallway, sharp and urgent: Mark and Chloe, my best friend. "Did you get the portfolio? The final design?" Mark' s cold voice cut through my haze. "Yes, of course," Chloe replied, pride lacing her tone. "My gallery opening will be the talk of the town. No one will even remember Ava's little project." My heart froze. Her gallery, my designs. Then Mark added, "Just make sure no one connects this back to you. It needs to look like a random mugging." This wasn' t a random mugging. This was planned by the man I was supposed to marry, the man who had held me just last night. A new, deeper pain ripped through me, and a nurse rushed in, her face a mask of concern. "We did everything we could, but... you've lost the baby." Our baby. The secret I was going to share with Mark tonight. The doctor' s words finally broke me. The future, my art, my child-all gone, destroyed by their greed. Mark, this isn't just a breakup. This is war. Later, they came to my room, performing their roles with false pity. Mark mused about the "random mugging" story, calculating its narrative. Then the doctor returned, his face grave. "We had to perform an emergency hysterectomy to save your life. You won't be able to carry a child, Ava." They hadn't just stolen my art or my baby. They had stolen my entire future. Mark returned, bringing flowers and feigned remorse. I overheard him raging at Chloe on the phone, blaming her for the "mess," for the "permanent damage" that might "blow back on him." His concern wasn't for me, but for his reputation, his precious plan. He returned, took my hand, and tried to spin a new lie. "We can't tell anyone the full extent of this, Ava. It's for your privacy. We control the story." He saw me as a problem to be managed. I just stared at him, letting him believe I was too broken to see the truth. Let him think he was still in control. It would make his downfall all the more satisfying. Then came the settlement offer: money for my silence, a non-disclosure agreement naming Chloe as a party to the "unfortunate accident." The audacity was breathtaking. I looked at him, at his soft, encouraging smile, and then I looked at the name on the papers-Chloe Devereaux. "Get out," I said, my voice low. His smile vanished, replaced by the cold businessman underneath. He snatched the papers and stormed out, leaving me alone. He expected weakness, tears, and compliance. He had underestimated me. And that was going to be his biggest mistake. Two days later, Mark returned, Chloe by his side, pale and nervous. She dropped to her knees, sobbing theatrically. "I am so, so sorry, Ava," she cried, reaching for my blanket. "I don't know what came over me." I pulled away. She began hitting herself, pathetically. "I'm a monster! I deserve to be punished!" Mark put a hand on her shoulder. "You see, Ava? She's distraught. All we are asking for is your forgiveness. And your signature." I closed my eyes. Then I saw it: around Chloe' s neck, my unique pearl necklace, the one Mark had bought for me. The evidence was blatant. They weren't just business partners; they were together. This was personal. They were flaunting it. "Just sign the papers, Ava," Mark's voice was sharp. "End this now." "No," I whispered. Chloe scrambled up and slammed her head against the wall, a sickening thud. Mark roared, "Look what you've done! Is this what you want? Your stubbornness is cruel, Ava!" He was blaming me. Something inside me snapped. "Fine," I choked out, tears flowing freely. "Fine. You win." My hand shook as I signed. But as my pen touched the paper, a new thought solidified: This wasn't a surrender. It was a strategic retreat. I was free to plan my revenge. The city lights glittered below Mark' s penthouse. Chloe, in a silk robe, raised her champagne glass. "To us. To my new gallery. And… I'm pregnant, Mark." He genuinely beamed. A frantic pounding shattered the moment. Leo, Mark's head of security, stood at the door, pale and soaked. "Mark… it's Ava. There was a fire at the safe house. She didn't make it out." Mark just stared, then collapsed. He unraveled completely, lunging at Chloe, slapping her. "This is your fault! You did this!" he roared. "Ava was my wife!" He didn't care that they were only engaged. Broken, Mark begged Leo to take him to the scene, clinging to a desperate hope it was a mistake. At the burned-out house, a fire captain handed Mark an evidence bag. Inside was a silver bracelet with a jade lotus charm. Her grandmother's bracelet. She never took it off. The final proof. A terrible animal wail tore from Mark's throat. "I did this! I killed her!" he sobbed to the universe, collapsing to his knees. "Ava!" he screamed into the night. "Come back and punish me! Please!" The only answer was the silence of the rain and embers. Days later, Mark was still at the scene, smoking, a hollow shell. Leo, frustrated, spat at him, "You destroyed the best thing that ever happened to you for a cheap, manipulative tramp!" Mark mumbled, "She wasn't who I thought she was. She had a past. Chloe showed me proof. Pictures. Text messages. She said Ava was just using me for my money." "You idiot!" Leo raged. "Those pictures were fake! Chloe set the whole thing up because she wanted you!" The truth, brutal and stark, finally pierced through Mark's grief. He had been played, manipulated. He had thrown away a diamond for broken glass. He crumpled, sobbing quietly. "What have I done?" Leo watched him, then returned to his car and called me. "It's done," he said. "He knows. He completely believes you're gone." I was alive, in a warm, charming flower shop, arranging bouquets. The fire, the body, the bracelet-all a meticulously staged deception. I knew Mark' s money and influence would bury any legal case. My only path to freedom was to die. Leo, the only one I trusted, had arranged everything. My death had to be absolute, brutal enough to shatter Mark's world, forcing his confession. I was no longer Ava the victim. I was Ava the survivor. And my new life had just begun. Six months later, Leo visited my shop. "Mark is… away. Indefinitely," he said, revealing Mark had checked into a psychiatric facility. Then Ethan, my employee, walked in, his smile easy and bright. He was kind, hardworking, with a subtle protectiveness in his eyes. Leo noticed it too. "He looks at you like you're the sun, Ava," Leo smirked. Later, at a noisy bar, Leo revealed Ethan was from old money. "Don't let the ghosts of the past cheat you out of a future," Leo advised. He then shared Mark's final act: discovering Chloe's fake paternity test, her affair, and dismantling her life, piece by piece. She got twenty years. I felt… nothing. My justice wasn't in their ruin. It was here, in this bar, with the possibility of a simple, quiet life. Weeks later, Ethan landed my shop a massive contract, transforming it into a serious enterprise. He was writing his love letter in purchase orders and logistics plans. I knew I had to tell him everything. At the hotel launch party, I saw him. Mark. Gaunt, a shadow. Our eyes met. He stared, then the glass slipped from his fingers. "Ava," he whispered, tears streaming. "You're alive." He stumbled towards me, desperate hope in his eyes. I took a step back. "Do I know you?" I asked, my voice cool. "My name is Claire." Leo appeared, his hand on Mark's shoulder. "You're seeing things, Mark," he said, steering him away. "Her name is Claire. You're confused." Ethan stood beside me. "He seemed to really think he knew you," he said. "He did. He was my fiancé, Mark." "I know," Ethan said. "Leo told me everything. About Mark, Chloe, the attack, and why you can't have children." He knew. All this time. And he had never treated me like I was broken. He took my hand. "None of it matters. Your past doesn't define you. And whether or not we can have kids... that has nothing to do with why I'm falling in love with you." Tears streamed. "There's something else you should know," he added, pulling up his sleeve. A thin scar. "It's a contraceptive implant. I never wanted kids. I just want to find one person to build a life with. Just you, Ava." My armor melted. He embraced all of me, light and dark. "Okay, Ethan," I said, my voice thick with happy tears. "Let's build a life."

My father placed the bank card on the table, calling me the "most capable" in the family, entrusting me with their retirement. I knew it wasn't trust; it was a trap, a way to access my money through guilt. My brother, Liam, smirked, reinforcing their expectation that my success was a family resource – primarily for him. The peace shattered less than a week later when Liam demanded $50,000 for another failed business venture. When I refused, citing his past failures, he escalated, claiming I was hoarding family money. My parents, instead of defending me, sided with him, pressuring me to give in. The climax arrived when Liam physically assaulted me in my apartment, and my own father destroyed my phone to cover it up, blaming me for the outburst. How could my family side with my abuser, enabling his irresponsibility while erasing evidence of his violence? The injustice ignited a cold rage, burning away years of fear and restraint. I grabbed the largest kitchen knife I owned, and with a voice shaking with fury, screamed, "Get out of my house!" The next day, they launched a public smear campaign at my office, accusing me of stealing and being a heartless monster. But I was done being their victim; I was ready to fight back. I challenged them to a live stream, promising to expose every financial transaction and reveal the police report for assault. The game had changed, and I was about to unleash a truth they never expected.

The sterile white hallway of the hospital echoed with the sickening crack of bone. It was my bone, shattered by Daniel Hayes, the man who once swore to cherish me. He'd just slammed my hand against the wall, shielding my ex-best friend, Chloe Davis, who feigned tears behind him. Chloe, the architect of my ruin, had twisted Daniel's amnesia, painting me as a gold-digger and our son, Ethan, as a child of questionable paternity. Daniel, stripped of memory, looked at me with cold fury, then at our infant son with contempt. "Get out," he spat, threatening security. My son, innocent in his bassinet, was disowned. The man who wept with joy at our ultrasound now called his own son a bastard, even shoving Ethan's high chair over, causing a severe injury. His cruelty knew no bounds; I sold our last symbol of love, my engagement ring, for Ethan's surgery, only for Daniel to steal our son at gunpoint. My pleas fell on deaf ears; the police sided with the powerful CEO, and a fabricated court order made me an unfit mother. How could he forget everything? How could he believe such monstrous lies? The man I loved was gone, replaced by a ruthless stranger determined to erase me. But a mother's rage is a force no amnesia can quell. With nothing left to lose, I swore to take back my son, even if it meant tearing down the empire he'd built on our shattered past.

My fiancé, Warden Rex Thorne, was the most powerful man in the state, and I was about to marry him. His promotion party glowed with our future. Then, a shattering scream. Rex' s stepsister, Brenda, stumbled in, clothes torn, pointing a shaking finger at me. "She attacked me! She said she' d kill me!" The room went silent. Rex' s eyes, once full of love, turned to ice. Without a single question, he declared, "You are no longer my fiancée. You are an inmate." He sentenced me to ten years in the chilling, forgotten Old Wing of Blackstone Penitentiary. No trial. No defense. Just banishment by the man I loved, based on a single, venomous lie. How could he believe such a monstrous accusation without a shred of doubt? What dark secret was Brenda hiding to wield such power? My life, once bathed in promised happiness, was now swallowed by the shadows of a brutal prison, where every day was a fight for survival, and the truth was buried deeper than any grave. But in the darkness, a silent protector would emerge, and together, we would uncover the shocking conspiracy that stole my life.

"Daddy, are we really not going?" my daughter Chloe asked, her eyes big and hopeful, clutching the beautiful dress she was supposed to wear to the Memorial Day gala with her mother. My wife, Congresswoman Ava Hayes, had just called, her voice crisp and professional, claiming a last-minute, critical political function with donors. But I saw the disappointment in Chloe's trembling lip, and I knew I had to make it right for her. So, against Ava's instructions, I took Chloe to the gala, hoping for a special surprise night for my little girl. When we arrived, the grand D.C. estate was buzzing with national news cameras, and there, bathed in a spotlight on a massive stage, was my wife Ava. She wasn't at a "critical function" – she was standing next to her Chief of Staff, Mark, publicly introducing him and his son Liam as her "husband" and "our wonderful son." My world tilted, and a cold dread washed over me as Chloe whispered, "Daddy, why is Mommy with Mr. Mark? And why is she calling Liam her son?" I confronted Ava, demanding to know why she was pretending another man's son was hers, when our daughter, Chloe, stood right there beside me. She didn't miss a beat, her smile replaced by a mask of cold fury as she shrieked, "Security! This man is a disturbed constituent! He's been harassing my family!" The crowd, a sea of D.C. elites, jeered, calling me a "stalker" and a "nobody," as Mark put a protective arm around Ava, playing the devoted husband. Then, a text from Ava buzzed on my phone, citing our sacred "Veto Card" to cover this grotesque betrayal for the "campaign," twisting our most intimate promise into a tool of deceit. But the deepest cut came when Chloe, wanting to defend me, ran forward, only for Liam, Mark's son, to shove her back, her head hitting a marble planter. Chloe's cry of pain echoed, and blood trickled from her forehead as Ava shielded Liam, glaring at me with icy eyes, "Stop harassing a child!" Mark, with a patronizing smirk, threw a platinum credit card at my feet, telling me to "get lost" before he had me arrested. As I cradled my bleeding daughter, hearing her whimper, "Mommy doesn't want me anymore," something inside me snapped. The quiet, unassuming stay-at-home dad was gone, replaced by a profound rage that demanded retribution, a quiet fury about to turn the world upside down.

I gave him seven years. Seven years of unwavering support, sacrificing my Georgetown scholarship and a promising career to stand by Carter's side. But at Thanksgiving dinner, while his mother gifted his "friend" Sofia a vintage Chanel bag, my reward was a $20 Starbucks gift card. Then, Sofia moved in, and Carter gave her our master bedroom, relegating me to a cramped guest room. My shock turned to horror when Sofia, fully aware of my life-threatening nut allergy, served me pesto pasta, and Carter forced me to eat it. As I gasped for air, he sneered, "Drama, all for attention." He defended her, even after she gleefully destroyed my deceased grandmother's locket. He then accused me of being violent and crazy, kicking me out of my own home. How could the man I loved for seven years betray me so shamelessly, side with a clear manipulator, and dismiss my suffering as an act? Was I truly just a placeholder, a temporary distraction until his "true love" returned from Europe? The pain wasn't just heartbreak; it was a profound injustice. I wouldn't just disappear. Armed with clarity and a quiet fury, I walked away, not to mourn, but to reclaim the ambitious woman he tried to erase. And when he inevitably came crawling back, offering millions to buy my forgiveness, he'd learn that some things, once broken, can never be bought back.

I just received my SAT scores. Top percentile. A golden ticket to an Ivy League and a desperate escape from my perpetually unsettling family life. But at dinner, even a hint of my triumph was met with a cold, disgusted stare from my father. He snarled, accusing me of insensitivity towards my “struggling” cousin, Jessica—his latest obsession—then banished me to our stifling, dusty basement “to reflect.” A severe asthmatic, I quickly realized Jessica had deliberately sealed the tiny window, knowing the heat and dust would trigger an attack. My frantic pleas for help and my life-saving inhaler were met with mocking laughter from upstairs as my parents drove away, leaving me to suffocate. Every desperate attempt to call 911 or my grandma was mysteriously disconnected or sent back as a fake "pocket dial"—Jessica had intercepted and sabotaged my only lifelines, even bribing our housekeeper to ensure I wouldn't be helped. How could my own parents so readily believe her lies and abandon me to such a cruel fate? The chilling realization that a deliberate murder attempt was unfolding, orchestrated by my cousin and enabled by my family, was a betrayal deeper than the suffocating darkness around me. Yet, through sheer defiance, I clawed my way back from the brink of death, miraculously receiving new lungs. And when I finally walked out of the hospital, I knew my true fight had just begun. Jessica’s reign of terror was over. The truth would come out, and I would finally reclaim my life.

Elena died on the operating table, betrayed by her husband, her unborn child already gone. But death? Just her intermission. She woke up in a whole new world-a beastmen's world, where females are rarer than diamonds and the strongest males go mad without a woman's mark to calm them down. And her? Labelled the weakest female alive. An F-rank body with a joke of a status. But hidden inside? Unlimited mental power. Just as she's figuring out this mess, a system pops up with one hell of an offer: Complete the missions. Bond with assigned males. Save this world. Do all that, and you get a one-way ticket back home. for revenge. Sounds simple? Think again. A Wolf General, colder than a blizzard, who should have ended her-ended up letting her mark him. A Fox Prince, all charming smiles and secret schemes, who started playing games only to lose his own heart. A golden Dragon, sunshine-bright and fiercely possessive, who declares her his destined treasure. A shadowy Serpent, too patient and too dangerous, watching her every move from the dark. A Phoenix King, whose love burns so hot he'd reduce empires to cinders for her. They all need her mark. They all want her. And sharing? Not in their vocabulary. Too bad for them- She's not here for love stories. She's here to survive. To climb. To turn their legendary power into her own stepping stones. And one day. To go back and make her betrayers wish they were never born.

Once the cherished heiress of the Douglas family, she lost everything when her parents were brutally murdered and she was framed by her own blood. Labeled a criminal, she was cast into prison with no one to trust and nothing to her name. Six years later, she returns-not as a broken woman, but as the Scarlet Valkyrie, the deadliest warrior in all of Juzora. Her aim is flawless, her signature weapon Manjusaka strikes without mercy, and her name alone sends tremors through the underworld. With one hand, she saves her ailing grandmother with the precision of a master healer. With the other, she takes down Draco City's most ruthless criminals. But her true purpose is vengeance. Every debt owed, every wound inflicted, every lie told-she will settle them all, with interest. The war goddess has returned. And the ones who wronged her are about to learn what it means to face the wrath of a legend.

The sensation of falling wasn't like flying; it was heavy, violent, and smelled of burning flesh. Above us, on the crumbling balcony of the Sears manor, Duke Cato Sears turned his back, shielding his cousin Bianca from the smoke as he walked away, leaving my sister Blossom and me to drop into the abyss. As the darkness slammed shut like an iron door, I realized my entire life had been a cruel script written by the people I called family. In my first life, I was the sacrificial lamb of the Dawson manor, sold to a man who eventually watched me die without blinking. My sister Blossom had pushed me into Cato's arms to avoid his rumors, only to laugh when the fire finally consumed us both. My father had measured my value like a piece of livestock, and my step-grandmother didn't even acknowledge my existence while I was being led to the slaughter. I died in that fire, feeling the heat scorch my skin and the weight of a hatred so potent it tasted like bile. I spent twenty years being the weak, manipulated shadow of a girl, only to end up as nothing more than a phantom scorch mark on a "hero's" estate. I couldn't understand why my own blood treated my life like a game they could discard. The injustice of it all burned hotter than the flames that took my last breath. Then, I sat up, sucking in air that tasted of lavender and air conditioning, not smoke. I was back in my bedroom, three days before the engagement ball that ruined my life. Blossom stood at the door, her "sweet" mask slipping as she tried to manipulate me into the Duke's path again. She thought she was the only one who had come back, but she didn't realize that this time, I was going to let her have exactly what she wanted: the Duke, the bankruptcy, and the living hell that awaited her in that house.

Emberly, an esteemed scientist of the Imperial Federation, took her own life after completing important research. She was reborn, and just like in her first life, she was born into a wealthy family. She could’ve lived a carefree and prosperous life. However, the babies got mixed up in the hospital and she was taken home by another family from the countryside. Her foster parents later found out the truth and brought her to her real family, but they didn’t like her. Her evil adopted sister even loathed her. She was framed and ultimately, she died in prison. But in her next life, she refused to stay a coward and swore she would take revenge on all who wronged her. She would only care about those who were truly good to her and turn a blind eye to her heartless family. In one life, she had once experienced darkness and been trampled upon like an ant. In another, she had stood on top of the world. This time, she only wished to live for herself. As if a switch had gone on inside of her, she suddenly became the best at everything she put her mind to. He won the math contest, topped the college entrance exams, and solved an age old question... Later, she garnered countless scientific research achievements. People who had once slandered her and looked down on her cried bitterly and begged her for a patent authorization. She just sneered at them. No way! This was a world without faith, but the world put their faith in her. Austin, the heir to a powerful aristocratic family in the imperial capital, was cold-hearted and decisive. He scared anyone who laid eyes on him. Unbeknownst to everyone, he doted on one woman: Emberly. Nobody knew that his desire for her grew stronger with every passing day. She brought light to his originally dull and gloomy life.

He's been looking for her for over ten thousand millenniums, he wants her, he needs her and he won't wait for another second to get her. Victoria Jane Heavenly is your average normal girl with a normal life. Ever since she could toddle her has been...

Chloe Decker has spent her whole life trying to stay out of trouble especially the kind that rides a motorcycle, wears a leather jacket, and smirks like the world belongs to him. Unfortunately, that trouble has a name: Alfie. They go to the same school, live in the same town, and hate each other with a passion that could burn down the world. He's the arrogant son of the Black Fangs MC President, while she's the quiet girl who wants nothing to do with the club or its reckless members. But when a cruel prank, a dangerous secret, and one unexpected night throw them together, Chloe's world begins to unravel. Alfie isn't just the ruthless biker everyone fears he's also the boy who can't stop looking at her like she's the only thing keeping him alive. Every fight between them feels like a spark. Every touch feels like a threat. And soon, their hate turns into something much darker and much harder to control. In a world filled with roaring engines, loyalty, and betrayal, love was never supposed to happen especially not between enemies. But fate has other plans, and Chloe will soon discover that sometimes, the most dangerous hearts are the ones that were meant for you all along.

He is a Dragon Warrior sent to the Thregonad Village to rule its people. He is fearless, handsome and robust but cold hearted. Then he found her in the verge of death; a Lycan Princess with all her grace and beauty but with hidden spirit of being a warrior too. Secretly, he fell in love with her but she has a fiancé waiting or searching for her; the Duke of Sussex. What will happen if circumstances would force the Lycan Princess to submit herself as a wife to the Dragon warrior?

Mo Xuetong has lost everything. Her mother, her child, even her servants, have been killed. Betrayed, disfigured, and alone, she dies trying to destroy the people who deceived her… …and wakes up as a child again. Given a second chance, she vows to make things different. This time she will not be a naïve child. This time she is beautiful, cold, and willing to do whatever it takes to get revenge. But her plans are disrupted when she uncovers a thirty year old conspiracy that changes everything. Will she still be able to change her fate? And even if she does, will her new fate be any better, or will her hunger for revenge destroy her?

I woke up on my wedding day, the morning sun streaming into my opulent Charleston bedroom. But the taste of asphalt and blood was still in my mouth, memories of screeching tires and a crushing impact vivid in my mind. My stepfather' s perfect plan: a staged hit-and-run, his neat solution to inherit my mother' s fortune. Because I had died. Now I was back, alive, staring at the date-my wedding day, the day he had me killed. A wave of phantom pain, of broken bones and crushed hope, washed over me. Then I saw her: my stepsister, Brielle, in my custom wedding dress, admiring herself in the mirror. The sight was a physical blow, a reminder of the humiliation and betrayal I endured in my first life as they drugged me and locked me away. He walked in, Senator Richard Thorne, playing the concerned father, but his eyes were cold and full of the disappointment I' d known my whole life. He gaslighted me, painting me as hysterical, just as he did before, controlling everything. "Your mother is gone," he hissed, "And I control you. Don\'t you ever forget that." I was trapped, again, the crushing weight of powerlessness threatening to suffocate me. Rage, so profound it burned, replaced the despair. Why did I have to relive this nightmare, this perfect setup for my destruction? But something was different this time. The naive girl died on that dark road; I was what was left. If he wanted to control the Vance family, there would be no Vance family left to control, not the way he expected. I found my mother' s hidden failsafe: an encrypted flash drive, her "in case of Richard" file. It held years of meticulous corruption, a dossier so damning it would send him to federal prison for life. With a grim smile and a single click of the send button, I launched the nuclear option, sending it to the FBI, SEC, and every major news outlet. The game had changed, and they didn' t even know they were playing.

I was Ellie Vance, living a quiet life, secretly the Grand Lumina, wielding immense power I called The Radiance. For years, I poured my very essence into Michael Thorne, elevating his career, believing our deep love meant a future as husband and wife. Then, I overheard him plotting his political marriage to Victoria Ashworth, and the horrifying truth hit me: I was merely his "Pure Spring essence," a convenient resource to be exploited, dismissed, and discarded. The betrayal was a relentless, agonizing assault: Michael left me to nearly drown for Victoria' s feigned stumble, physically forced my healing blood from my arm for her, and let her flaunt the Heartstone Locket he' d given only to me. He watched while his friends mocked me, then heartlessly tore the treasured bracelet he' d made for me from my wrist to buy her a trinket. Finally, he callously struck me, leaving me bruised and trapped after fabricating an attack, instantly believing Victoria' s vile lies. How could the man I loved and sacrificed everything for be so utterly blind, so profoundly callous, so unspeakably cruel? My unwavering devotion, my secret, immense power, my very identity, had all been meticulously used as a mere stepping stone for his ambition, reducing me to a disposable tool. But the pain, the incandescent rage, the profound destruction of my world, forged an unyielding strength within me. No longer just timid Ellie Vance, I returned to the High Sanctum, severing every last emotional thread binding me to Michael Thorne. I strode into his lavish wedding, not as The Grand Lumina, but as the "simple Ellie" he so disdained, utterly prepared to shatter his carefully constructed facade. My name is Elara, and from the ashes of his monumental betrayal, my true ascension had just begun.