The CEO's Unwanted Substitute Walks Away

After surviving twenty-one years in a brutal orphanage, I finally returned to my billionaire biological family with the silver pocket watch that proved my identity. But my relatives didn't care about me; they only loved Corie, the fake daughter who had stolen my life after our mothers switched us during a hospital fire. On my very first day home, the family faced total ruin over a thirty billion dollar debt. The creditors demanded a Dunlap daughter marry their comatose, vegetative heir to settle the score. Without a second thought, my grandmother and uncle pointed their fingers at me. They claimed Corie was too delicate and precious to spend her life nursing a corpse with a heartbeat. "You're used to hardship and deprivation," my grandmother sneered, demanding I fulfill my so-called family obligation to save them all. I looked at these strangers who had ignored my existence for two decades, expecting me to sacrifice my future just so a thief could keep enjoying my stolen wealth. They thought they were tossing an unwanted orphan into a living hell. But when I saw the medical file of the comatose heir, a cold thrill ran through my veins. It was Andres Gillespie. The man who had taken my innocence during a mountain storm four years ago, and the secret father of my hidden twins. I calmly set down my coffee cup and smiled at my arrogant family. "I'll do it. I'll marry him."

For three years, I was the perfect, invisible wife to Bart Brown. On our third anniversary, I stood in the kitchen for four hours, preparing his favorite meal with imported truffles, only to receive a cold text command. "Crysta fainted again. Get to the hospital. Now." My rare Rh-negative blood was the only thing the Brown family valued. Bart didn't want a wife; he wanted a walking blood bank for his "sick" best friend, Crysta. While I was fainting from chronic anemia, Crysta was smirking in her hospital bed, clutching Bart's hand and mocking my "peasant" lifestyle. Even his mother treated me like a servant, demanding I vacuum the floors after I'd already offered my veins for the hundredth time. When I finally reached my breaking point and signed the divorce papers, they didn't let me go quietly. They filed a false police report, accusing me of stealing a multi-million dollar diamond necklace just to watch me crawl. I didn't understand how a family could be so heartless. I had cooked their meals, cleaned their house, and literally bled for them, yet they were determined to ruin my life the moment I stopped being useful. Did they really think I was a nobody with nowhere to go? Standing outside the hospital with a bruised wrist and nothing to my name, I didn't cry. I simply took off my cheap wedding ring and dialed a secure line I hadn't touched since the day I married him. "It's me, Dad," I whispered as a fleet of black Maybachs rounded the corner. "The extraction is a go. I'm coming home."

I stood at the altar, about to marry Enzo, a notorious and bloodthirsty Mafia Capo. Suddenly, my own mother stormed the blood-red carpet, hurling illicit photographs at my face to frame me as a used-up club whore. She screamed to the armed guests that I was tainted, and pulled out my hidden, "pure" twin sister Sienna to take my place. Enzo immediately discarded me, possessively taking Sienna's hand and announcing her as his real bride. But he didn't let me go; he dragged me into a soundproof room, his eyes scanning my face like a butcher appraising meat. That was when I learned the horrifying truth: my mother and sister had sold me. Enzo didn't want a wife; he wanted a perfect facial donor to graft onto his scarred childhood sweetheart, and I was just the backup spare part. For years, I had scrubbed floors and surrendered my youth to pay off my mother's crushing medical debts. I couldn't believe my own family had faked the illness just to drain my blood, only to hand me over to a monster's operating table for a massive wire transfer. But before Enzo could carve up my face, the ruling Don raided the estate, exposing the gruesome underground lab where Sienna had already died on the table. Looking at my bankrupt mother begging on her knees in the dirt days later, I didn't feel a shred of pity. "You signed the contract." I stepped around her sobbing form and got into the Don's car, completely dead to my toxic past.

For three years, Hortense was trapped in a gilded cage, playing the perfect, submissive wife to billionaire CEO Gerhardt Goodwin. The fragile facade shattered when his mistress, Brittni, waltzed into their Upper East Side townhouse with the front door passcode, flaunting an ultrasound photo of Gerhardt's "heir." When Hortense coldly demanded a divorce, Gerhardt violently refused. He used her sick mother's health insurance to force her compliance and keep her as a prisoner. At the hospital, Brittni deliberately faked a sudden miscarriage to frame her, and Gerhardt looked at Hortense with pure, undiluted hatred. "If anything happens to that baby, I will destroy you." To make matters worse, Clyde Emerson—the psychotic stalker who had once used a legal loophole to terminate Hortense's own pregnancy—suddenly resurfaced, cornering her in a hallway and vowing to claim her. Hortense was suffocating in despair. She had sacrificed her career for a man whose brain injury made him forget she had saved his life, replacing his love with a fabricated, venomous hatred. Why wouldn't her cruel husband just let her go? Why was she being punished and humiliated while he built a new family? The breaking point came when Brittni publicly mocked her for being a "barren, empty vessel." All the pain vanished, replaced by a terrifying, icy resolve. Hortense slapped the mistress hard across the face, filed a unilateral divorce petition despite Gerhardt's furious threats, and made a decisive phone call. "Paul, it's Hortense. I need your help. It's time to come home."

My father ordered me to marry a dying billionaire to save our family from bankruptcy. My stepmother and stepsister gloated, telling me it was a miracle for a dropout like me. They even joked that my sister Alice jumped off a cliff just to escape this exact arrangement. I didn't care about their threats or the money. I only agreed to the marriage to infiltrate the Davenport family and find the truth about Alice's death. I even pushed my sickly fiancé off a cliff and dragged him back to life to test him. I thought I was in total control, easily crushing my stepfamily's plot to drug and ruin me at the wedding. But as my new husband carried me away from the chaos, my blood ran cold. On his wrist was a thin, braided leather bracelet with a silver charm. It was the exact, one-of-a-kind bracelet Alice was wearing the day she disappeared. Was the man I just married actually my sister's murderer? I sneaked out on our wedding night to hack his private servers for answers, but froze in the hallway. A two-year-old boy with my husband's sharp gray eyes looked up at me, clutching a teddy bear. "Are you my new mommy?" My cold-blooded revenge plan had just hit a terrifying, living wall.

Agent Alivia Sanford opened her eyes to the suffocating stench of wild animal musk and raw sex. She hadn't just transmigrated into a savage beastman world; she had woken up in the body of a 300-pound, diseased, and universally despised woman. Worse, the original owner had just drugged the tribe's strongest warrior, trying to force a mating. Now, the warrior pinned her to the cave floor with murderous fury. "You think you can trap me, you disgusting pig?" he snarled, ready to rip her throat out. After kneeing him and escaping, a "Super Charm AI" bound to her mind demanded she conquer her five designated mates to survive. But these men treated her like a walking plague. They mocked her bloated face, threw bloody raw meat into the mud for her to eat, and publicly announced they would starve her to death. Even her own family looked at her with utter disgust. In her past life, she was a legendary survivor who could have crushed these arrogant men with her bare hands. Now, she was trapped in a weak shell, threatened with soul erasure by a system if she didn't grovel for their affection. Why should she beg for love from beasts who wanted her dead? Looking at the five "-100" hostility scores on her system panel, Alivia coldly drew a mental cross over each of their faces. Enduring agonizing pain, she forced her bio-manipulation ability to violently purge the toxins from her fat body. She wasn't going to play their twisted game; she was going to find her own resources and make them pay.