Reborn To The Wife of a Billionaire with Disabilities
Eileen woke up in a trashed hotel room, her head pounding with the pathetic memories of a despised Hollywood actress.
Outside the window, paparazzi were already screaming about her manufactured cheating scandal, but the real nightmare was waiting at her door.
Her paralyzed, billionaire husband, Carlisle Vinson, looked at her with pure disgust while his butler shoved a divorce settlement at her chest.
"Mr. Vinson is offering a severance package of fifty million dollars, provided you sign immediately and vacate the premises."
The original owner had left her an absolute mess.
Her trusted assistant had sold her room number to the press to frame her, and a playboy had scammed her out of her entire two million dollar life savings.
If she signed those papers and lost the Vinson family's protection, the breach of contract fees and her enemies in the industry would swallow her alive in days.
Eileen felt a cold fury override the original owner's lingering panic.
Why should she take the fall and be thrown out on the streets while the parasites who set her up lived out their wealthy fantasies?
She had died once, and she wasn't about to waste her second chance playing the victim.
Eileen slammed the heavy divorce folder shut right against the butler's chest.
"I'm not signing," she said with a terrifying, absolute calm.
She stepped behind her husband's wheelchair, ready to shield him from the cameras, secretly cure his dead legs, and make everyone who betrayed her bleed.
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Chapter 8
Morning sunlight flooded the master bedroom. Eileen woke up feeling completely refreshed, a stark contrast to the agony of the previous day.
She showered quickly and dressed in a crisp, white silk loungewear set. It was elegant but comfortable, projecting a relaxed authority.
She walked down the sweeping spiral staircase, holding a cup of black coffee. As she reached the foyer, she noticed the tense posture of the security guards stationed by the front door.
Mr. Ainsworth stepped forward, his face pinched in disapproval.
"Madam," the butler said, bowing slightly. "The former assistant, Mindy, is at the front gates. She is causing a scene. She refuses to leave until she speaks with you."
Eileen took a slow sip of her coffee. The bitter liquid washed over her tongue.
She lowered the cup and smiled coldly. "Let her in. Bring her to the front lawn."
The heavy iron gates groaned as they opened just enough to let a person through. Two massive security guards dragged Mindy onto the manicured grass.
Mindy looked terrible. Her hair was a tangled mess, her clothes were wrinkled, and her face was streaked with black mascara.
The moment she saw Eileen standing on the marble steps, Mindy broke free from the guards and threw herself onto the grass. Her knees hit the ground hard.
"Eileen! Please!" Mindy screamed, her voice cracking. "You can't fire me! I need this job! My mother is in the hospital, I need the insurance money!"
A few gardeners trimming the hedges nearby paused their work. They exchanged uncomfortable glances, pity softening their eyes.
Eileen stood on the top step, looking down at the sobbing girl. Her face was carved from marble. Not a single muscle twitched in sympathy.
She reached into the pocket of her silk trousers and pulled out her phone. She swiped the screen, opening an encrypted email sent by the Aura IT department at 3:00 AM.
Eileen didn't raise her voice, but the absolute coldness of her tone cut through Mindy's crying.
"Yesterday, at 3:15 PM, your personal bank account received an anonymous wire transfer of twenty thousand dollars."
Mindy's sobbing choked off instantly. Her eyes widened in sheer terror. She scrambled for an excuse. "That... that was a loan! From my uncle!"
Eileen let out a short, harsh laugh. She read the next line on the screen.
"At 3:20 PM, your phone connected to the public Wi-Fi network in the lobby of the Beverly Hills Hotel."
Eileen walked down two steps, closing the distance. Her presence was suffocating.
"At 3:25 PM, you sent an encrypted message containing a photo of my room number to an unregistered burner phone."
Eileen flipped her phone around and shoved the screen toward Mindy's face. The bright display showed the exact IP logs and data transfer records.
The irrefutable proof hit Mindy like a physical blow. The color drained completely from her face. Her jaw slacked, and she slumped forward, her hands pressing into the grass as if she couldn't support her own weight.
"You tried to destroy my life for twenty thousand dollars," Eileen said, her voice dripping with venom. "And now you want to play the victim?"
Eileen turned her head, sweeping her gaze over the gardeners and the security staff. She raised her voice, making sure every word echoed across the lawn.
"In this house, betrayal is a terminal disease."
The staff members who had felt pity a moment ago immediately looked down at their feet. The new Madam was terrifying.
Eileen looked at the head of security. "Throw her out. Tell the press camped outside that if any agency in this town hires her, they are declaring war on Aura Entertainment."
It was a total industry blacklist.
Mindy let out a bloodcurdling shriek. She lunged forward, trying to grab Eileen's ankles, but the guards snatched her by the arms and dragged her backward across the grass.
The heavy iron gates slammed shut, cutting off Mindy's wails.
The lawn was silent again.
Eileen took a deep breath of the morning air, smelling the cut grass. She brushed her hands together, a physical gesture of discarding trash.
Suddenly, the hair on the back of her neck stood up. She felt the distinct weight of someone watching her.
She tilted her head back and looked up at the second-floor balcony.
Carlisle was sitting in his wheelchair, half-hidden in the shadows of the overhang. He held a porcelain teacup in his hand. He was looking down at her, having witnessed the entire execution.
Eileen didn't look away. She held his gaze across the distance. The morning sun hit her face, making her skin glow.
Carlisle's hand moved. Very slowly, he raised his teacup an inch in the air. It was a microscopic gesture of acknowledgment.
Eileen blinked in surprise. Then, a massive, genuine smile broke across her face. She raised her hand and gave him a cheeky, exaggerated wink.
Carlisle's Adam's apple bobbed hard. He gripped the wheels of his chair and violently spun it around, fleeing into the shadows of his bedroom.
Eileen laughed out loud, the sound ringing across the lawn as she turned to go back inside.
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8.9
My father was marrying a gold-digger, the mother of my cheating ex-boyfriend.
To end the charade, I crashed their luxury wedding with a ten-foot funeral wreath.
In front of hundreds of elites, my father slapped me across the face, calling me a vicious bitch while his new wife smiled in victory.
I triggered the estate's fire system to ruin them, but a terrifying stranger in the VIP section bypassed my military-grade hack in seconds.
He was Kavon Velasquez, a dangerous billionaire heir who had been missing for twelve years.
Instead of exposing me, he shielded me from my father's second blow.
When my pathetic ex tried to drag me away, I grabbed Kavon and kissed him to humiliate my ex.
I shoved a $500,000 check into Kavon's pocket as hush money and left.
I thought that was the end of it.
But why did this apex predator move into the penthouse right next to mine at 2 AM?
Why did he violently crush my ex's face the next morning just for grabbing my arm?
"She is my woman. If you ever come within ten feet of her again, I will bury you."
I didn't understand why a man with lethal skills was suddenly hunting me.
Then I found out he had just blackmailed my father with undeniable proof of corporate money laundering.
His demand wasn't money. It was me.
He ordered my father to announce our engagement by tomorrow sunset, and this dangerous game officially began.
8.7
For three years, I played the perfect, submissive housewife to billionaire Julian Harrison.
But right after an intimate night together, he coldly threw a divorce agreement onto the bed.
"Scarlett landed an hour ago. I need my single status restored to welcome her back."
That same night, I ended up in the emergency room and discovered I was pregnant with twins.
When Julian found out, he didn't show a shred of joy. Instead, he stormed into my hospital room, threw a blank check directly at my face, and ordered me to get rid of them.
He accused me of using the babies as a sick game to trap his assets.
Then, his ruthless lawyer kicked me out of our penthouse, confiscating the jewelry he gifted me and tossing my worn-out notebook onto the floor like garbage.
Standing in the freezing rain, my heart completely died.
I had swallowed my pride, managed his life, and cooked his meals to his exact standards for three years, only to be thrown away the second his first love returned.
But he didn't know that the notebook his lawyer discarded contained the secret formulas of Aura Beauty, a billion-dollar empire I built in the shadows.
I tore his check into pieces, blocked his number, and left in a Maybach sent by my associate.
Logging into my global CEO database, I looked at his company's fragile stock chart with a predatory smile.
The docile Mrs. Harrison died in the rain. It was time to crush his empire.
9.0
Once a pampered princess, Alaina now clutched a deactivated American Express card, staring out at Central Park. Her family’s fortune was gone, her life, over.
Her family's Hamptons estate, a four-generation legacy, was seized by Dyer Capital. The name hit her: Hardin Dyer, the poor boy she’d once scorned, had returned.
Hardin marched in, serving a divorce agreement. He'd orchestrated her family's downfall for revenge, giving her 24 hours to vacate his property. Penniless, her father faced prison, needing $50 million. Her mother forced her to beg Hardin, who sneered, offering the money for her body. Alaina ripped up the contract.
Hours later, her father had a heart attack. Desperate, she became "Lexi," a club girl enduring humiliation. In the Viper Room, Hardin's lackeys demanded she lick whiskey off his shoe for $10,000. Hardin watched. Outside, her brother Ashton's hand was threatened for a $3 million debt. Spirit shattered, Alaina returned, knelt on broken glass, offering to sign. But Hardin declared her family "dead," offering $10 million for her body, commanding her to use her mouth.
In a furious act of defiance, Alaina threw whiskey in his face, snatched the check, and fled. Yet, when he finally took her, a searing, foreign pain and blood on the sheets revealed a shocking truth: he had never touched her three years ago. Why had he let her believe such a monstrous lie?
8.8
Clara supported her boyfriend Leo for four years, paying his rent and buying his headshots while working dead-end extra gigs.
On his twenty-sixth birthday, she caught him in their bed with Veronica, a wealthy producer's daughter who constantly stole Clara's roles.
Leo mocked Clara as a "pathetic, poor stepping stone" who was just there until he got his foot in the door.
Veronica threatened to ruin Clara's career forever.
Clara dumped him, packed her bags, and impulsively entered a contract marriage with a cold stranger she met at City Hall.
But her nightmare wasn't over.
When her mother suddenly needed a $200,000 emergency brain surgery, Clara was forced to take a demeaning extra gig to survive.
There, Veronica and her starlet friend cornered Clara.
They mocked her cheap clothes, ridiculed her new wedding ring as fake glass, and intentionally poured scalding coffee on her feet.
"Well, maid, you better clean that up."
Veronica laughed, forcing Clara to her knees to wipe up the burning liquid while snapping photos.
Clara swallowed her burning humiliation, secretly recording their abuse on her phone.
She endured the pain, desperate for the $300 day rate to save her mother's life, feeling entirely crushed by their overwhelming wealth and power.
What she didn't know was that outside the soundstage, her new contract husband—the man she thought was just a struggling, broke tech worker—was sitting in a sleek black Maybach.
He watched his wife kneeling on the floor, and his dark eyes filled with a lethal, terrifying rage.
7.1
The night before her wedding to Wall Street billionaire Everette Baird, Deliah Quinn stood happily in her haute couture gown.
Then, her younger sister Arvilla walked in, handed her a drugged glass of champagne, and slammed an ultrasound on the vanity.
"I'm pregnant with Everette's child," Arvilla sneered.
Before Deliah's paralyzed body could react, Arvilla dragged in a canister of industrial gasoline, soaked the bridal suite, tossed a lighter, and locked the heavy oak doors from the outside.
To escape the roaring inferno, Deliah smashed the glass balcony and threw herself into the freezing, violent waters of the Atlantic Ocean.
For five agonizing years, everyone believed the Quinn heiress was dead.
Deliah returned to New York entirely reborn—a top architectural designer and a single mother, having scrubbed her past clean and forgotten the people who destroyed her.
She only wanted a peaceful life with her five-year-old genius son, Leo.
But she had no idea her son was secretly hacking airport security cameras to find himself a wealthy stepdad.
Leo deliberately bumped into a terrifying, cold-blooded tycoon, spilling scalding coffee on his custom suit to get his attention.
When Deliah frantically rushed over to protect her son and apologize, the air in the terminal vanished.
Everette Baird stared at the exact face he had obsessively mourned for five years, his eyes turning pitch black as he crushed his phone in his bare hand.
9.7
Gemma expected the tearing agony of the bullet wound that had just ended her life.
Instead, her trembling fingers met the cool, smooth friction of heavy silk.
She stared into the mirror. Her face was flawless, completely devoid of the jagged scar that had marred her cheek for the last five years.
It was exactly ten years ago. The day of her engagement party to the ruthless billionaire, Brion Hubbard.
In her past life, her "best friend" Katelyn convinced her to run away with a scheming scumbag.
Katelyn claimed Brion was a heartless tyrant who would ruin her. Gemma had foolishly believed those fake tears.
That choice led to her family's bankruptcy, her brutal disfigurement, and ultimately, a fatal bomb explosion.
The only person who tried to save her was Brion, his blood-soaked body shielding hers from the blast.
She even realized too late that the strawberry cream cakes she always made for him were full of dairy.
He wasn't leaving to cheat on her. He was locking himself in a medical bay, fighting fatal allergic shock, just to accept a tiny scrap of her affection.
Gemma had been so incredibly blind. Why did she trust the venomous snakes who destroyed her, while hating the man who died for her?
Hearing Katelyn frantically knocking on the dressing room door, urging her to run away again, a towering hatred surged through Gemma's veins.
This time, she wasn't going to run.
She was going to expose the traitors, take back her family's wealth, and claim the tyrant for herself.