Reborn As The Billionaire's Wife：The Despised Wife Shines On Live TV
Cecile jolted awake from months of prescription haze, only to realize she was trapped in a live reality show designed to destroy her.
Her billionaire husband had orchestrated the broadcast to publicly humiliate her and elevate his own PR image. He ordered her to follow a degrading script. What was worse, her five-year-old son, Damien, was genuinely terrified of her. When an empty wine bottle rolled across the floor, the tiny boy instantly threw his arms over his head, bracing for a hit.
The production crew shoved microphones into the trembling child's face, trying to trigger his trauma for ratings. The live chat cursed Cecile as a toxic abuser. The show's golden girl maliciously tried to poach Damien on camera to prove Cecile was an unfit mother. The crew even rigged the game, forcing Cecile and her son into a freezing, rotting mud shack with a collapsed roof. They were all just waiting for her to break down and beg.
"A toxic woman like you doesn't deserve to be a mother."
The crew read the hateful comments aloud, expecting a hysterical meltdown. The realization that she had been manipulated into destroying her own child hit Cecile like a physical blow. How could a father subject his own son to this public cruelty?
The weak, easily manipulated Cecile was dead. She threw the PR script away, rolled up her sleeves, and picked up a rusted hammer. This time, she would protect her son and tear down anyone who stood in her way.
Chapters
Share
Chapter 6
Cecile looked up at the gaping hole in the roof. The wind was blocked, and they had a bed, but the temperature was dropping rapidly. They had no blankets, no fire, and no food.
"We need supplies," Cecile said, brushing the dried mud off her leggings. "Let's go to town."
They walked back down the muddy path, heading toward the small commercial strip of Rust Creek.
Halfway down the trail, the path widened. Walking toward them was Abbey White.
Abbey wore a pristine, cream-colored trench coat and spotless designer boots. Two cameramen flanked her, capturing her every angle. When Abbey saw Cecile's dirt-streaked face and ruined shoes, a flash of pure disgust crossed her eyes.
But as the cameras swung toward them, Abbey's face instantly melted into an expression of profound, heartbreaking concern.
She quickened her pace and stopped right in front of them. She dropped to a crouch, bringing herself down to Damien's eye level.
"Oh, Damien," Abbey sighed, her voice trembling with manufactured emotion. She reached into her deep pocket and pulled out a bar of expensive, foil-wrapped Swiss chocolate. She held it out to him like one might offer a treat to a stray dog. "You must be starving. Here, sweetie."
Damien stared at the silver foil. His mind instantly replayed the sound of Abbey screaming at Brayan over the piano keys just an hour ago. His stomach twisted in revulsion.
When Damien didn't move, Abbey looked up at Cecile.
"Cecile, really," Abbey said, making sure her voice carried to the microphones. "Are you actually going to make him sleep in that mud pit? It's going to be freezing tonight."
She stood up, brushing imaginary dust off her coat. "I have a heated guest room in Villa 3. It has a plush rug and a real bed. Damien," she looked back down at the boy, her voice dripping with honey, "why don't you come with Auntie Abbey? I have warm food. Not like your mommy, who can't even boil an egg."
It was a vicious, calculated strike. She was trying to humiliate Cecile by proving that even her own son would choose a stranger over her.
In the live chat, Abbey's massive fanbase cheered.
Yes! Save him, Abbey!
Cecile is such a failure. The kid is definitely going to go with Abbey.
Cecile didn't say a word. She didn't defend herself. She simply looked down at Damien. She wanted to know if the last two hours had meant anything to him.
The silence stretched. The cameramen zoomed in on Damien's face.
Damien looked at the chocolate in Abbey's hand. He looked at Abbey's perfectly painted, fake smile. Then, he turned his head and looked up at Cecile. He saw the dirt on her cheek, the exhaustion in her eyes, and the steady, unyielding strength in her posture.
Damien reached out. His small fingers bypassed the chocolate entirely. He grabbed the hem of Cecile's dirty white t-shirt and gripped it tight. He stepped behind her leg, using her body as a shield.
"No thank you," Damien said. His voice was small, but it was crystal clear. "My mom is making me a bed."
The words hit the air like a physical shockwave.
Abbey's face froze. The angelic smile shattered, leaving her features rigid and grotesque. Her hand, still holding the chocolate, trembled in mid-air.
The cameraman to her right caught the exact moment her mask slipped. The live chat abruptly stopped scrolling.
A surge of heat rushed into Cecile's chest. Her son had chosen her. He had defended her.
Cecile reached down with her left hand and placed it over Damien's, squeezing his fingers gently. Then, she looked up at Abbey. A slow, mocking smirk spread across Cecile's lips. "Did you hear him, Mrs. White?" Cecile's voice was a low, dangerous purr. "Take your cheap pity and your chocolate, and go worry about your own son."
Abbey's face flushed a dark, ugly purple. She stood up so fast her heel caught on a rock. She stumbled, her arms flailing wildly for a second before she caught her balance. The pristine image was completely ruined.
Humiliated and furious, Abbey sneered, "Fine. Let's see what kind of magic trick you pull for dinner tonight."
She spun around and stormed off down the path, her cameramen struggling to keep up with her frantic pace.
Cecile watched her go. She crouched down and gently tapped Damien on the nose with her left index finger.
"Good job, little knight," she said softly.
Damien's cheeks turned a faint shade of pink. He wasn't used to praise. He quickly looked away, staring at the trees, but the corners of his mouth twitched upward in a tiny, undeniable smile.
Cecile stood up. The victory felt good, but the cold wind biting through her thin shirt was a harsh reminder of reality.
"Come on," Cecile said, her eyes fixed on the town below. "We need to find the woodshop."
You may also like
7.3
I found out my husband of three years had cheated on me and his mistress is the one who told me-because he didn't have the balls to do it himself.
I move out and get a new apartment, a job as a bartender, and try to move on with a broken heart. I wonder where it all went wrong, if I hadn't been enough for him, if I'd been stupid for marrying him in the first place.
I'm at work one night when he walks inside-the most beautiful man I've ever seen. He sits at the bar and a forest fire burns between us. I was depressed the moment before he entered, but the second I look at his blue eyes, I forget the dumpster fire that my life has become. I invite him back to my place and it's the most passionate night of my life. I expect to never see him again.
I just want him as an anti-depressant-but he wants me all to himself. I just got my heart ripped out of my chest so I want something easy and no-strings-attached, but he wants all the strings because he's hooked.
I don't get much of a say in the matter, and that's not surprising when I learn why-because he's the Butcher. The crime lord of all crime lords, the boss that overshadows all of Paris, that makes everyone abide by his rules-or pay.
And now I'm his.
7.9
One night of deception.
A lifetime of consequences.
A bond that cannot be broken.
Nadia Williams is an Omega living in the shadows of the pack she once called home.
Since her father's death, she and her mother, Estelle, have been treated as outcasts by her ruthless uncle, Alpha Edwards. When her mother is framed for theft, Nadia is forced into a deal with the devil.
To save her mother's life, she must become a virgin substitute for her cousin, Danielle.
Her aunt, Katerina, offers a devil's bargain to set her mother free: Nadia must spend one night in the bed of the most powerful man in the country, the billionaire; Alpha Conrad Bradley.
The catch?
She must swap places with her spiteful cousin.
Conrad demands a virgin bride to secure his royal bloodline, and Danielle, Nadia's cruel cousin, has already forfeited her purity.
What begins as a desperate night of passion in the dark spirals into a web of hidden identities and betrayal.
Nadia survives the night and disappears, hoping to bury the shame of the encounter forever.
But fate has a different plan.
Desperate for a fresh start away from her uncle's shadow, Nadia secures a high-level position at Bradley Group of Industries.
As Alpha Conrad unknowingly hires Nadia at his company, an undeniable connection sparks between them.
Conrad is haunted by the scent of the woman from that night-a scent that doesn't match his fiancée, Danielle, but seems to cling to his new, brilliant employee.
As they work side-by-side, Nadia finds an unexpected and beautiful second chance at a life she thought was lost.
Yet, buried secrets threaten to destroy everything.
When the Alpha discovers the woman he truly bonded with, the fallout will be legendary.
8.3
Ayleen Ramirez sat in the sterile Hope Hill Fertility Clinic, her heart shattering as Dr. Finch delivered the crushing news: her third IVF cycle had failed.
Eavesdropping outside a supply closet, she overheard her husband Don on the phone, laughing cruelly. "She's a defective incubator," he sneered to his mistress Alessandra. "I never used my sperm—just cheap bank donation. No trailer trash carries a Bradley heir."
Betrayed, Ayleen confronted him, but her adoptive family ambushed her at home. Her parents and brother sided with Alessandra, now pregnant by Don, demanding Ayleen sign divorce papers to secure family investments. "You're an embarrassment," her mother snapped, threatening to cut her trust fund. Ayleen tossed back their heirloom necklace and walked out.
She stormed the Bradley mansion, slapped divorce papers on Don, packed her bags amid his aunt's insults, and fled into the night.
Drunk in a trendy bar, she stumbled into a powerful stranger—Burdette Guerrero—spilling whiskey on his crotch, then accidentally grabbed a napkin to his trousers. He shoved her away in rage.
Worse, she mistook his penthouse suite for her hotel room, bursting in on his shower, smashing a mirror in panic. He pinned her to the wall, snarling accusations.
How did this arrogant man know her name? Why demand she sign a mysterious contract at 9 a.m.? Devastated and clueless she's actually pregnant—with his stolen heir—Ayleen sobbed alone, the world crumbling.
The next morning, she straightened her spine in the Grand Guerrero lobby, ready to face him and demand answers—no matter the cost.
8.2
My ex-boyfriend of three years, Axel, married a perfect wealthy heiress.
I attended his wedding, not to mourn our relationship, but because he had spent the last three years bleeding me dry.
He left me with absolutely nothing but a final notice from the hospital for my dying brother's life support.
Instead of feeling guilty, Axel cornered me in the church hallway, crushing my wrist.
"I'll set you up with an apartment. You won't have to work another day in your life."
He thought he could buy my silence with spare change, while leaving my seventeen-year-old brother, Julian, to die when his treatments were cut off the very next day.
When I refused to be his dirty little secret, Axel used his power to utterly destroy my acting career.
He had my talent agency terminate my contract under a fake morals clause, publicly humiliated me on set, and blacklisted me across the entire industry.
I was shoved out into the freezing rain, left with a torn dress and absolutely no way to pay the five hundred thousand dollar medical bill.
He actually believed he could step on my brother's dying body to build his own fake empire.
He thought I was just a weak, pathetic victim who would eventually crawl back to him on my knees.
But he forgot about the one monster he was absolutely terrified of: his legitimate, ruthless billionaire half-brother, Jace Bauer.
Looking at the three positive pregnancy tests hidden in my drawer, I stepped right in front of Jace's armored Maybach.
"Marry me, and I'll give you the heir you need to secure your empire."
7.7
Jaclyn woke up in the sterile hospital room after falling down the stairs. The nurse delivered the devastating news: she had bled heavily and lost her baby.
But before she could even cry, her trusted cousins, Katelyn and Cherri, locked the door and revealed the horrifying truth.
"It wasn't an accident," Katelyn smirked, pinning Jaclyn's arm down. "The lubricant on the top step was a very deliberate choice."
They needed her broken and unstable. They had forged her signature, draining her massive trust fund to save their uncle's bankrupt business.
What shattered Jaclyn's world was the fresh hickey on Cherri's neck. Her lover, Bradford, had helped plan the entire murder.
When Jaclyn tried to scream, they smothered her with a pillow, framing her as a lunatic having a mental breakdown.
Two weeks later, when she confronted them, Bradford violently shoved her through a second-story glass window to silence her forever.
As she fell to her death, the husband she had spent her life hating—the ruthless billionaire Gaines—burst through the doors.
He threw himself forward, his face filled with pure terror, desperately trying to catch her.
When her body hit the stone patio, Gaines fell to his knees in her blood, weeping and begging her not to close her eyes.
Until her last breath, Jaclyn was consumed by suffocating regret. Why did she trust the monsters who killed her, and hate the only man who truly loved her?
Opening her eyes again, she was back in the penthouse, exactly one month into her marriage with Gaines.
7.1
For six years, I was the perfect, obedient wife to billionaire Hartwell Ware, enduring his coldness because I thought my love could eventually thaw his heart.
Then, my friend sent me a photo. Hartwell was at the airport, tenderly holding the waist of his first love, Eveline Craig.
He came home smelling of her synthetic rose perfume, accused me of stalking him, and coldly demanded a divorce.
His lawyer handed me a thick settlement agreement. It offered astronomical alimony and luxury properties, but it came with a humiliating ten-page non-disclosure agreement.
He wanted to buy my silence. He wanted to strip me of my rights to our son and gag me permanently, just so he could parade his new life with Eveline without any PR backlash.
Even now, he still thought I was a gold digger who had orchestrated a media scandal to trap him into marriage.
I stared at the man I had worshipped for two thousand days. My six years of desperate devotion had been nothing but a humiliating, one-sided delusion.
Hope was finally dead, and with it, my tears had completely dried up.
He expected me to cry, to beg, to negotiate for more millions.
Instead, I snatched the pen, crossed out the massive alimony, and signed my name on the dotted line.
"I am taking the basic child support, and not a single red cent more."
Leaving my five-carat diamond ring on the marble table, I walked out the door with nothing but my old suitcase.