Rising From Ashes: My Reincarnated Love
Cora Foster was a brilliant archaeologist, but a jagged burn scar across her face made the world treat her like a contagious monster.
During an elite excavation of a Gilded Age crypt, touching an ancient artifact triggered a terrifying memory. She remembered being Seraphina Beaumont, a socialite brutally buried alive by her vain, cruel sister, Isolde.
When the team pried open the crypt's pristine mahogany casket, they cheered, believing the mummified corpse inside was Seraphina. But Cora recognized the onyx hairpin and the angular jawline. It was Isolde. The sister who had stolen her life, mocked her agony, and left her to suffocate in the dark. Her colleagues scoffed at her forensic proof, dismissing her as a scarred, delusional liability.
Worse, the ruthless billionaire funding the expedition, Julian Montgomery, was the spitting image of Alistair—the man Seraphina had deeply loved. Why was Julian staring at her ruined face with such intense, inexplicable recognition? And why did Isolde take Seraphina's most precious silver ring to the grave?
Driven by a century of agonizing grief, Cora secretly pried the tarnished ring from the mummy's stiff, dead fingers and dropped it into her pocket.
"What are you looking at, Foster?"
Julian's deep voice vibrated inches from her ear, his cold, predatory eyes locked directly onto her half-open pocket.
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Chapter 1
The heavy glass doors of the local supermarket slid open. Cora Foster stepped into the brightly lit vestibule, rain dripping from the hem of her black hoodie.
The harsh, white fluorescent lights above flickered. They instantly illuminated the puddle forming around her worn canvas sneakers.
Cora reached up with freezing fingers. She pulled back her soaked hood just enough to see the aisles. The movement exposed the right side of her face.
The thick, dark red burn scar stretched from her jawline to her temple. It was jagged, angry, and impossible to ignore.
A heavy-set man pushing a shopping cart toward the exit stopped dead in his tracks. He sucked in a sharp, audible breath. His eyes widened in pure shock.
He didn't say a word. He just yanked his cart hard to the left, his tires squeaking against the linoleum. He avoided her gaze completely, rushing past her as if she were carrying a deadly virus.
Cora dropped her eyes to the floor. Her stomach tightened into a hard, painful knot. She forced herself to ignore the reaction. She walked toward the produce section, her wet shoes squeaking with every step.
She grabbed a plastic shopping basket. Her knuckles turned white as she gripped the handle. She walked down aisle four and picked up a discounted box of microwave macaroni and cheese. She dropped it into the basket.
On the other side of the shelf, a supermarket employee named Trish Kowalski turned her head. Trish's eyes locked onto Cora's face.
The price-tag gun in Trish's hand slipped. It hit the floor with a loud clatter.
Trish didn't bother picking it up. She openly grimaced, her upper lip curling in disgust. She took a physical step backward, bumping into a display of canned beans.
Another employee, Sharon Miller, quickly stepped over. She nudged Trish's elbow, her posture stiffening as she pretended to restock a row of canned tomatoes. "Don't stare," Sharon murmured under her breath, her eyes fixed on the shelf but her voice tight with warning. "It's her... the one who always comes in late at night. The manager said just don't engage and let her buy her stuff."
Cora's chest squeezed. Her lungs felt like they were shrinking. She tightened her grip on the basket handle, the cheap plastic digging into her palm. She pretended the shelves were the most interesting thing in the world. She pretended she was deaf.
She turned on her heel and walked quickly toward the checkout lanes. She stopped behind a mother and her young daughter.
The little girl, Brittany White, peeked over her mother's shoulder. Her curious blue eyes landed on Cora.
Brittany stared at the scar. Her mouth fell open. Then, she let out a piercing, high-pitched scream.
Her mother, Karen White, spun around in a panic. She grabbed Brittany and yanked the child into her chest. Karen's eyes found Cora, and her expression morphed from fear to pure, unadulterated rage.
"What is wrong with you?" Karen yelled, her voice echoing across the quiet store. "Coming out looking like that in the middle of the night? You're terrifying my child! Have some common decency and cover your face!"
Every customer in the checkout lines turned to look. Their eyes were full of suspicion, defense, and pity.
Cora's heart hammered against her ribs so hard it physically hurt. Her throat closed up. She couldn't pull air into her lungs.
She clamped her jaw shut. She stared down at the scuffed toes of her canvas sneakers. She didn't defend herself. She never did.
Karen practically threw her cash at the cashier. She grabbed her bags and dragged her crying daughter toward the exit, running as if Cora were a monster about to attack them.
Cora stepped up to the register. She placed her single box of macaroni on the black conveyor belt.
The cashier, Tammy Hicks, refused to look up. Tammy kept her eyes glued to the scanner.
Tammy scanned the box with lightning speed. Her fingers visibly trembled as she punched the buttons on the register.
"Two dollars," Tammy muttered to the machine.
Cora handed her a crumpled five-dollar bill. Tammy snatched it, slammed the change onto the counter, and tossed the receipt next to it. She didn't say thank you. She didn't say have a good night.
Cora silently picked up the plastic bag. She reached up and pulled her hood far forward, completely hiding the right side of her face in the dark fabric.
She pushed through the heavy glass doors and stepped back out into the freezing downpour.
The icy rain hit the exposed skin of her scar. It stung like a swarm of angry bees.
Cora wrapped her arms tightly around her stomach. She lowered her head against the wind and started the long, lonely walk back to her empty apartment.
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9.0
Adaline Poole thought she had escaped her family's toxic corporate grip by moving to London and adopting a stray cat named Monty.
But when she returns to her empty apartment, her father delivers a chilling ultimatum: he has kidnapped the cat and will euthanize it by morning unless she accepts an arranged marriage with Barron Cooke, a notoriously elusive billionaire.
Her entire family becomes complicit in her sale. Her mother demands she secure their elite status, and her brother secretly spies on her social media to feed Barron her every move. Horrified to discover Barron is a thirty-three-year-old "fossil" twelve years her senior, Adaline resorts to sabotage. She goes to a Soho club, takes a scandalous photo with a frat boy, and sends it to the old billionaire to disgust him into canceling their upcoming dinner.
But her rebellion backfires horribly when the frat boy spikes her drink with a powerful narcotic. As her body burns with a terrifying, feverish heat, she collapses in a dark corridor. Stripped of her phone and betrayed by her bloodline, she is left utterly defenseless as a predator approaches to drag her away.
Suddenly, the heavy fire door is kicked open by a towering, terrifyingly handsome stranger who effortlessly neutralizes her attacker.
"Please... help me," Adaline begs, deliriously throwing her burning body into his arms.
She has absolutely no idea that the handsome savior she is clinging to is Barron Cooke himself.
9.1
What would a woman do if one day she is waiting for her husband to tell him the news of her pregnancy but he comes home with another woman who is pregnant with his child?
........
Ariadne had a perfect life until her mother died in a car accident and her father remarried, bringing a stepmother and stepsister into her life. Once adored by all, Ariadne became an eyesore to everyone, including her father. Her stepmother and stepsister took everything from her.
However, she lost it when their eyes fell on Xander, the sole heir of the richest family in the country and her childhood love. When rumors of Crystal, her step sister and Xander's dating spread, Ariadne used her everything to force Xander into marrying her.
Despite pouring her heart and soul into the marriage Ariadne failed to make Xander reciprocate her feelings. Their loveless marriage came to an end when Crystal returned in their lives.
With a broken heart, Ariadne left the city with a secret and rebuild her life.
Five years later, she returned as a successful interior designer to design her ex-husband's new mansion. But this time, what she saw in Xander's eyes for herself was not hatred. It was something else.
She came face to face with the same people who had wronged her in the past. They still held resentment towards her. But this time Ariadne vowed to strike back at her bullies.
Many secrets were revealed in the process that made Xander regret his past actions. He determined to win Ariadne back.
BUT Will Ariadne be able to forget their past and get back together with Xander or She will choose someone else?
7.6
I am the illegitimate, mute daughter of the wealthy Owen family, kept hidden in the attic like a shameful secret.
To save his failing company, my father decided to sell me off to a repulsive, predatory investor named Grossman.
At the family dinner, Grossman's sweaty hands roamed my bare legs while my half-sister Kaleigh intentionally spilled red wine on my dress, laughing as she watched me suffer.
When I grabbed a steak knife to defend myself, my father slammed his fist on the table.
"Sit down, or I will cut off the maintenance payments for your mother's grave."
My stepmother and sister sneered, treating me like a piece of meat meant to be sacrificed for their luxury. I was starved, locked away, and treated worse than a stray dog, all while my family paraded their high-society status to the world.
I couldn't understand why they hated me so deeply, or who really ordered the hit that killed my mother twenty years ago. The police reports were buried, and I was entirely powerless, trapped in a house of monsters.
But they didn't know that the night before, I had accidentally stumbled into the secret life of Burleigh Livingston—the ruthless, supposedly paralyzed billionaire who was faking his madness.
When Burleigh suddenly crashed our family dinner and threw a limitless Black Card on the table to outbid Grossman and buy me for the night, I didn't hesitate.
I grabbed the handles of his wheelchair, accepted his twisted deal, and prepared to use the devil himself to tear my family apart.
9.3
For five years, I was Ashton Miller's invisible partner, his loyal fiancée, pouring my life into building his empire from the shadows. Tonight, the Bronze Deer exhibition, my masterpiece, was finally opening at the Met, a testament to our shared future.
Then, Bianca, a third-tier actress, stepped into the spotlight in *my* custom Vera Wang wedding dress. My blood ran cold as Ashton's arm circled her waist, his whispered words promising to make her the "new queen of the city."
Five years of trust and sacrifice crumbled. I was a blood bag, drained and discarded. When I publicly exposed their lies, Ashton cornered me backstage, his face twisted in fury, threatening to ruin me, to blacklist me forever. I ripped off his engagement ring, tossing it at his chest. "We're done," I said, walking out as his enraged screams echoed.
The man whose empire I secretly built called me a parasite, his mistress feigning tears, painting me as delusional. My guilt vanished, replaced by freezing, absolute hatred for the man who twisted reality to erase my existence.
Standing in the New York rain, I finally pulled out the military-grade encrypted phone hidden for five years. The line clicked open instantly, a low, gravelly voice asking, "Is it you?" Before I could answer, Archer's voice hardened: "Give me the location. I'll be there in ten minutes. Who touched you? I want his life."
9.5
I woke up gasping from a nightmare of flames devouring Chandler Finch's estate, my body wrapped in burning curtains as I died alone.
But my eyes opened to silk sheets in his penthouse master bedroom. He was alive beside me, his cedarwood scent real. This was my second chance—I'd been reborn.
His phone buzzed: Eugenia Stewart's "emergency." Her security detail reported her refusing meals, unstable. Chandler bolted without a glance, rushing to her side.
I signed the brutal cohabitation contract binding me to him, but Temperance had planted birth control pills in the trash—a trap to frame me. Chandler found them, exploded in jealous rage, crushing the pills to dust. "No child unless it's mine," he growled, possessive fire in his eyes.
Brett, Eugenia's lapdog, stormed in later, accusing me of manipulation. I fired back: Chandler demanded my womb for his heir. Brett paled, fled to tattle.
Then the storm hit—power outage, locked on the terrace in pouring rain, freezing as Eugenia faked an asthma attack on Chandler's line, stealing his focus again. I hung up, huddled with a stray puppy, nearly dying from hypothermia.
He'd never believed me before—Eugenia's lies always won, dooming me to isolation and fire. Why did her every whimper trump my screams? How could he be so blind?
This time, reborn weeks before the inferno, I wouldn't beg. I'd play his game, shatter Eugenia's web, and make Chandler mine—before the flames returned.
9.0
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.