Reborn To Marry The Disabled Billionaire
Bonnie Galvan woke up to the suffocating scent of lilies, staring at the mirror in the exact same seven-figure wedding dress she had worn seven years ago.
In the doorway stood her so-called best friend Itzel and her secret lover Erwin, desperately urging her to elope.
They warned her that her soon-to-be husband, the billionaire Arlington Townsend, was a crippled monster, and marrying him would ruin her life forever.
In her previous life, she blindly believed their lies and ran away from the altar.
Because of her public betrayal, the ruthless Townsend family completely bankrupted her father's company in retaliation.
Erwin and Itzel swooped in as her saviors, only to steal whatever was left of her family's wealth and power.
When she was finally stripped of her value, Erwin pushed her down an icy mountain slope during a brutal blizzard.
With a shattered ankle, she could only watch as Itzel smirked and Erwin coldly walked away, leaving her to be buried alive under the freezing snow.
As her lungs burned and her heart gave out in the agonizing cold, she was consumed by hatred.
Why did the man who swore to protect her and the friend she trusted with her life plot so meticulously to destroy her?
Opening her eyes again, Bonnie was back in the bridal suite, minutes before the ceremony.
This time, she didn't run.
She walked straight down the aisle, looked the terrifying Arlington Townsend in the eye, and firmly said her vows.
"I do."
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Chapter 1
The suffocating scent of lilies flooded Bonnie Galvan's senses, thick and cloying, like funeral flowers. Her eyes shot open.
A gasp tore from her throat, raw and desperate, as she sucked in air. Her lungs burned.
The world swam into focus. She was in a room of blinding white. White walls, white furniture, and a floor-to-ceiling mirror that reflected a ghost. A ghost in a wedding dress. Her wedding dress. The seven-figure gown she'd worn seven years ago.
A tremor started in her hands, spreading through her entire body. The memory hit her not as a thought, but as a physical sensation-the brutal, biting cold of a blizzard, the rough texture of the snow against her cheek, the final, agonizing stillness as her heart gave out.
She scrambled backward, away from the mirror, away from the ghost. Her heel caught on the leg of a vanity table.
A crystal vase wobbled, then crashed to the floor. The sound of shattering glass echoed in the silent room, water and white petals spilling across the pristine carpet.
The noise was a gunshot. The heavy oak door flew open.
"Bonnie? What happened?"
Itzel Sparks stood in the doorway, a glass of water in her hand, her face a perfect mask of concern. Behind her, tall and handsome in a tailored suit, was Erwin Woods. The man who had taken everything from her.
The sight of their faces sent a wave of nausea through her. Her fingernails dug into her palms, the sharp pain a welcome anchor in the dizzying reality. She wanted to scream. She wanted to claw their lying eyes out.
But she didn't.
"Oh, honey, you're shaking," Itzel said, rushing to her side. Her grip on Bonnie's arm was surprisingly strong, almost painful. "Are you having second thoughts? It's not too late, you know."
Erwin was there a second later, his handsome face etched with worry. He gently took Bonnie's free hand, his thumb stroking her knuckles. "Bonnie, listen to me. We can leave. Right now. I won't let you marry a cripple. I won't let you throw your life away."
His touch felt like ice. His words were poison. The same words he'd used last time. Her stomach churned. This was the hand that had pushed her down the icy slope during the blizzard, leaving her with a broken ankle, unable to move as the snow slowly buried her alive.
She took a deep, shuddering breath, forcing her muscles to obey. She let her shoulders slump, her eyes widen with manufactured panic.
Her voice trembled when she spoke, a flawless imitation of the girl she used to be. "You... you really mean it? Is the car ready? The tickets?"
A flicker of triumph flashed in Itzel's eyes, gone as quickly as it appeared. "Of course, silly. Everything's ready. We just need to get you out of this dress."
Itzel's voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. "You've heard the rumors about Arlington. He's a monster. If you go through with this, you'll be trapped with him forever. Your life will be over. Running with Erwin is your only chance at freedom."
Bonnie bit her lip, a gesture she knew they'd interpret as fear. Her gaze darted to the broken glass on the floor, then back to their expectant faces. Her mind was a whirlwind of calculations. If she exposed them now, she had nothing. No power, no leverage. They would just find another way to destroy her.
No. She had to play their game. Let them think they were in control.
She lifted her head, her eyes welling with tears she didn't feel, and looked at Erwin. She made him her entire world, her only savior.
"I'm scared," she whispered, the words tasting like ash. "I'm scared of him. Of Arlington. I don't want to be tied to a man in a wheelchair for the rest of my life. I don't want to drag my family down with me."
A slow, satisfied smile spread across Erwin's face. He pulled her into a hug, his arms wrapping around her in a possessive embrace. "I'll protect you, Bonnie. I swear it."
Over his shoulder, hidden from his view, Bonnie's expression turned to ice. A cold, profound disgust washed over her before she quickly masked it, burying her face in his suit jacket.
"We have to hurry," Itzel urged, tapping her foot impatiently. "The driver is waiting at the back entrance. Get changed. Now."
Bonnie pulled away from Erwin, wiping her fake tears. "Okay. Just... give me a few minutes. To calm down. And to change."
Itzel and Erwin exchanged a look of pure victory. The little princess was still so easy to manipulate.
"Of course," Erwin said, his voice smooth as silk.
They left, closing the door softly behind them.
The second the latch clicked, the fear and fragility vanished from Bonnie's face. Her posture straightened. Her eyes, moments ago wide with terror, were now hard and sharp as shards of glass.
She walked to the full-length mirror, staring at the reflection of a woman she barely recognized. Younger, healthier, and very much alive. A vow formed in her heart, solid and unbreakable. Never again.
She wasn't going to run.
She was going to walk down that aisle, become Mrs. Arlington Townsend, and use the full, terrifying power of that name to grind these two into dust.
She picked up her bridal bouquet from the table. The stems of the white roses dug into her palm as she squeezed, her knuckles turning white.
She glanced out the window at the church's tall, stone bell tower.
The show is just beginning, she thought, a cold smile touching her lips. But this time, I'm writing the script.
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7.5
I am the biological daughter of the wealthy Fitzpatrick family, but I spent my childhood eating out of dumpsters.
When I was finally brought back to the estate at age seven, I thought I would experience my parents' love.
Instead, my biological parents looked at my dirty clothes with raw disgust. They only cared about Hallie, the fake daughter who lived like a princess.
The moment I walked in, Hallie hurled a heavy ceramic cup at my head, slicing my hand open.
"Get out of my house!"
My father didn't even look at the blood. He raised his hand to strike me, accusing me of bringing trailer park rules into his home.
In my past life, I dropped to my knees and begged for their forgiveness. I endured their abuse, hoping they would eventually love me.
But they let the maids humiliate me, let Hallie steal my identity, and eventually threw me back onto the streets to die. Even my playboy Uncle Byron, the only person who ever showed me mercy, was driven to suicide by them.
I didn't understand why my own flesh and blood hated me so much, or why a vicious liar deserved everything while I was treated like a jinx.
Opening my eyes again, I was back on the exact day I first returned to the estate.
As my father raised his hand to hit me, I didn't cower.
Instead, I looked at the family patriarch and pointed directly at my notorious, alcoholic uncle.
"I want him to be my new guardian."
9.1
Isabella thought she had the perfect life as the wealthy Conrad family heiress, complete with a loving childhood sweetheart.
Until she woke up drugged in a hotel bed, blinded by paparazzi flashes, as her fiancé pointed a shaking finger at her, screaming that she had drugged and seduced him.
"She threatened to ruin Kaylie if I didn't sleep with her!" he yelled to the cameras.
Kaylie, the newly discovered biological daughter, stood in the doorway weeping perfectly.
Within hours, Isabella's adoptive father publicly severed all ties, froze her assets, and kicked her out into a violent thunderstorm.
Fleeing the city, her car's brakes suddenly failed.
As Isabella lay dying in the crushed metal of her Porsche, Kaylie strolled up with a pristine umbrella and a genuine smile.
"The mechanic was quite expensive, but cutting the brake lines was worth every penny," Kaylie laughed.
Isabella coughed up blood, her heart turning to ice. Her twenty years of family, love, and loyalty had been nothing but a cruel joke, destroyed by a calculated frame-up.
She died suffocating on absolute betrayal and unadulterated hatred.
Then, she gasped for air.
She wasn't dead. She was sitting in the driver's seat of her car, staring at her flawless reflection in the rearview mirror.
It was exactly four years ago—the day the real heiress first arrived.
A chilling smirk curled the corner of Isabella's mouth. This time, she was going to rip their lives apart from the inside out.
9.2
Celestia woke up heavily sedated, her wrists bound tightly to the legs of a grand piano in a cold, opulent room.
Before she could even process the panic, a towering billionaire named Sterling Sinclair IV stepped in, looking at her like a possessed piece of art.
The head maid then handed Celestia a thick surrogacy contract with her perfectly forged signature.
"You are here to bear an heir for Mr. Sinclair," the maid stated flatly.
Celestia screamed that they had the wrong person, but her desperate cries bounced uselessly off the soundproof walls.
Stripped of her clothes, phone, and identity, she was trapped on an isolated island surrounded by high-voltage electric fences and armed guards.
When she furiously fought back, Sterling physically overpowered her, punishing her resistance with brutal, terrifying dominance until she lost consciousness on the marble floor.
She didn't understand who had kidnapped her from her normal life.
Why was her biometric data perfectly faked in a classified dossier?
Who had framed her as a willing, ten-million-dollar premium product for a ruthless billionaire?
Driven by pure survival, Celestia began aggressively consuming raw garlic and bathing in harsh white vinegar to destroy her fertility and repel his touch.
And when Sterling finally reviewed her bizarre, self-sabotaging dietary logs, the terrifying truth hit his calculating mind like a physical blow.
The broken, innocent woman he had been brutally tormenting all week was never his hired surrogate.
8.9
Seraphina, a broke single mother of triplets, snuck into a billionaire's charity gala just for the free food, desperate to fund her daughter's urgent heart surgery.
But her genius five-year-old son secretly hacked the gala's raffle system, thrusting them directly under the spotlight. The untouchable billionaire host, Donovan Vance, froze when he saw the star-shaped birthmark on her wrist—the exact same mark from a dark hotel room five years ago.
Cornered, Seraphina was forced into a five-million-dollar marriage contract to appease Donovan's dying father and secure his corporate empire. She swallowed her pride, took the money to save her daughter, and moved into the penthouse. But Donovan's obsessive childhood friend, Gwendolyn, immediately targeted her. She humiliated Seraphina for her poverty and violently grabbed her in the foyer.
"I dare you to get a DNA test. When the world finds out they're not his, he'll throw you into the street himself!"
Gwendolyn's vicious threat made Seraphina's blood run cold. She was suffocating in sheer panic. She didn't even know if Donovan was actually the father. If a test proved he wasn't, she would be destroyed, and her daughter would lose her only lifeline.
But to her absolute horror, Donovan's father overheard the threat and ordered a legally binding paternity test that very day to permanently silence all doubts. With the medical team arriving and nowhere left to run, the terrifying secret Seraphina had buried for five years was about to be dragged into the light.
9.6
I was the dedicated, "wolfless" Luna of the Blackwood Pack, bound to Alpha Damien for seven years.
Just three days before our marriage contract expired, Damien burst into my clinic carrying his mistress, Allena.
He used his Alpha Command to clear the room, humiliating me in front of my own medical staff.
The ultrasound revealed Allena was suffering from internal bleeding due to their uncontrolled mating frenzy.
Instead of feeling shame for his weakness, Damien shoved me brutally against a metal counter to protect her.
He threw a $100,000 check at me to buy my silence, treating my broken soul like a cheap transaction.
Later, when I refused to kneel and apologize to his mistress, he pushed me again, shattering my arm against a glass table.
As my blood soaked the pristine white rug, he stood over me, demanding my absolute submission.
He thought I was just a pathetic, weak Omega who would endure his cruelty forever because I had nothing else.
He didn't know that five years ago, after he threatened to kill any pup I bore him, I secretly built a massive offshore empire.
I calmly tied a tourniquet over my bleeding arm and wiped my blood right over his heart.
"I am done with you."
Then I liquidated his thirty-five-million-dollar penthouse assets and walked out into the night, ready to show him who the real monster was.
9.6
I endured years of humiliation and forced sedatives from my billionaire husband's family, hoping my quiet obedience would eventually win his heart. When I finally discovered I was pregnant, I thought the child would be our anchor.
But when I rushed to his office to tell him, I found his untouchable first love sitting in his chair, rubbing her own swollen belly.
She smiled and whispered that she was the one who orchestrated the car crash that left my adoptive mother in a vegetative state.
When I lunged at her in a blind rage, my husband shielded her and shoved me backward with brutal force. My spine slammed against a marble table, and blood pooled at my feet.
"Kingston, please! I'm pregnant too!" I sobbed, clutching my stomach.
He just looked down at me with profound disgust.
"I had a vasectomy five years ago," he hissed, condemning me as a cheating whore before ordering his men to lock me up and forcibly abort the child.
I had never touched another man. I couldn't understand how the man I loved could order the murder of his own flesh and blood without a second thought.
To save myself, I stole his prized Aston Martin and drove it off a bridge into the freezing Atlantic, letting his pathetic, obedient wife drown in the wreckage.
Five years later, I returned to New York as a powerful European executive, ready to burn his empire to the ground.