The Disguised Heiress And Her Obsessive Tycoon
I joined a brutal wilderness survival reality show, playing the perfect role of a pathetic, uneducated girl from a trailer park.
I needed the five million dollar prize to fund my revenge against the wealthy family that drove my father to his death.
I played everyone flawlessly. I outsmarted the arrogant contestants, ruined a corrupt restaurant owner, and secured enough food to guarantee my absolute victory.
But just as I was dominating the game, a massive black helicopter landed in our camp.
The show's new billionaire sponsor had arrived, and he immediately ordered his tactical guards to confiscate every ounce of food I had earned.
My hard-won advantage was wiped out in seconds. The other contestants cheered, pointing at my empty hands.
"Take that, you greedy bitch!"
But the real nightmare wasn't the stolen food or the sudden rule change. It was the man who stepped out of the chopper.
Glenn Ryan. The ruthless CEO from my past life as an elite heiress.
He took off his sunglasses, his dark eyes locking onto my muddy shoes and frayed flannel shirt with a terrifying, obsessive smirk.
Why was he here? Why did he instantly target me the moment I started winning?
He didn't just know my true identity.
He had bought this entire game just to hunt me down.
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Chapter 3
The automatic doors slid shut behind her.
Anabelle grabbed a red plastic shopping cart. The wheels squeaked loudly against the polished linoleum floor. She didn't wander. She didn't browse. She walked with the absolute certainty of a predator tracking prey.
The cameraman hoisted his rig onto his shoulder, zooming in tight. The live chat was buzzing with anticipation. Everyone was waiting for her to steal something. Everyone wanted to see the poor girl get arrested.
Anabelle stopped in the personal care aisle. She reached out and grabbed exactly six boxes of a specific, high-end whitening toothpaste.
She tossed them into the cart.
Next, she moved to the hair care aisle. She picked up two bottles of a promotional shampoo. Finally, she walked to the refrigerated section and grabbed four cartons of eggs that had bright yellow "Manager's Special - Expiring Soon" stickers slapped on them.
She kept her head down, her thumb nervously rubbing her index knuckle as she mentally cross-referenced the barcodes with the crumpled glossy pages in her pocket.
Ten minutes later, she pushed the cart up to register number two.
Brenda Kowalski, the cashier, popped a bright pink bubble of gum. Brenda's eyes dragged slowly up and down Anabelle's muddy shoes and frayed flannel shirt. Her lip curled in obvious disgust.
Brenda grabbed the first box of toothpaste and dragged it across the scanner.
Beep.
The green numbers on the digital display lit up. The total started climbing.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
The live chat was moving so fast it was a blur. Viewers were placing bets on how fast the security guard would throw her out onto the pavement.
"Forty-seven dollars and eighty-five cents," Brenda said, her voice flat and bored. She didn't even look at Anabelle.
Anabelle didn't flinch. Her heart rate remained perfectly steady. She reached into her pocket and pulled out the blank white emergency medical card Trey had given her.
"I need to register for a new ExtraCare rewards account with this card," Anabelle said, her voice polite but firm.
Brenda rolled her eyes hard. She aggressively punched the keys on her register, pulling up the new member screen. She scanned the blank card.
The moment the system accepted the new account, the register chimed. The new member welcome discount automatically applied.
The total on the screen dropped instantly from $47.85 to $35.00.
Before the viewers could even process the drop, Anabelle pulled the crumpled newspaper clippings from her pocket. She smoothed them out flat on the black conveyor belt.
She slid six manufacturer coupons across the counter.
"Two dollars off each toothpaste," Anabelle said.
Brenda frowned, snatching the coupons. She scanned them one by one.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
The total plummeted to $23.00. Brenda stopped chewing her gum. Her jaw hung slightly open.
Anabelle pointed a steady finger at a cardboard promotional sign hanging right above Brenda's head. "The store promotion says buying two of those shampoos generates ten dollars in ExtraBucks rewards."
Brenda glared at her, but the system prompted the printer. A long strip of receipt paper spat out, bearing a $10 store reward barcode.
Anabelle reached out, tore the coupon off the machine herself, and handed it right back to Brenda.
"Apply it to this transaction."
"You can't do that," Brenda snapped, her face flushing red.
"Store policy allows same-transaction application if the subtotal exceeds the reward amount," Anabelle recited, her voice dropping an octave. She sounded exactly like an obsessive couponer who had memorized the fine print of every rulebook, staring at the cashier with a paranoid, unyielding intensity.
Brenda's hands shook slightly as she scanned the barcode.
The total dropped to $13.00. The live chat froze. Millions of people stopped typing at the exact same second.
Anabelle pulled out her final weapon. Two manufacturer compensation vouchers for the expiring eggs.
"State consumer protection laws mandate that manufacturer compensation vouchers can be stacked with store markdowns," Anabelle said, her eyes locking onto Brenda's. "Scan them."
Brenda's fingers were trembling so hard she dropped one of the vouchers. She picked it up, her breathing shallow, and ran them over the red laser.
The register let out a loud, angry, continuous buzz.
The digital screen flashed red.
TOTAL DUE: -$0.15
The entire front of the store went dead silent. The cameraman forgot to focus the lens, letting the shot go slightly blurry.
The system couldn't process a negative balance. Brenda's hands shook violently as she manually keyed in an override, adjusting the total to exactly $0.00.
The receipt printer whirred to life, spitting out three feet of paper.
Anabelle smiled, a genuine, terrifying smile. She took the receipt, shoved the eggs and toiletries into her backpack, and walked away.
On Twitter, the hashtag TrailerParkGenius exploded, hitting the number one trending spot in three minutes.
Anabelle walked out the automatic doors. The California sun hit her face, warming her freezing skin. The corners of her mouth twitched upward. The hunt had officially begun.
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8.9
Aliana braved a heavy storm, carrying a warm stew for her fiancé, Ivan, just as she always put his needs before her own. This ingrained habit, a survival mechanism from a cold childhood, was about to shatter into a million pieces. Tonight, everything she believed was a lie.
The iron gates of Ivan's private villa flashed red, denying her entry, and a guard mumbled lies. Ignoring him, she pushed past, a strange orchid perfume leading her to Ivan's car, where a tube of crimson lipstick lay on the passenger seat. Through a window, she saw him with another woman and a small child, an image that felt like jagged glass twisting in her heart.
Then his words cut through the storm, cold and cruel:
"Aliana is just a placeholder."
He was marrying her for her multi-billion-dollar patent, a secret deal made with her own parents, who had sold her for a kickback to buy this very house. Her family, her love, her future-all were a calculated lie.
Her inner wolf, usually fierce, fell terrifyingly silent, replaced by a chilling resolve. The burning acid in her throat wasn't just bile; it was the taste of her shattered devotion.
She didn't want his apologies or his guilt. She wanted his ruin, and as Ivan walked in with a fake smile the next morning, Aliana was ready to deliver it.
7.8
Elie Joyce’s entire life was controlled by Ebert Ewing, a ruthless billionaire who held her sick grandmother's survival and her family's freedom in his hands.
But on a freezing, stormy night, he forced her into a scandalous scrap of red silk and handed her over to a notorious, disgusting predator.
"You aren't an escort. You're just a free gift."
Ebert mocked her, using her as a disposable bargaining chip to secure a corporate funding round.
When the predator humiliated her, forced high-proof vodka down her throat, and violently pinned her to the floor, Ebert simply watched with dead eyes.
And when Ebert finally intervened to brutally beat the man, it wasn't out of mercy.
"She is my property. Even if she is trash that I threw away, a filthy pig like you doesn't get to touch her."
Afterward, he dragged her battered, barefoot body into his car, only to kick her out into the torrential rain, leaving her on the dark streets to die.
Standing in the storm, shivering and bleeding from broken glass, the last shred of Elie's hope shattered.
She had sacrificed her dignity and soul, enduring his violent bites and cruel control, just to keep her family alive.
Why did she have to suffer this endless, twisted humiliation for a psychopath who only saw her as trash?
But she didn't break.
Tearing a strip of his expensive shirt to bandage her bleeding foot, Elie gripped her broken stiletto like a knife.
With her eyes turning cold and calculating, she limped out of the shadows.
She was going to survive, and Ebert Ewing would soon realize she was no longer his obedient prey.
8.3
EDEN
8.3
Elianila, an AI Architect, is part of an elite team tasked with designing a global system meant to prevent threats, manage disasters, and distribute resources to vulnerable regions. After five years of tireless work with her colleagues, she uncovers disturbing anomalies, code-named, X-variables, that flag individuals according to criteria she never programmed.
As Elianila digs deeper to understand what the X-variables measure and where their origin, she finds herself in direct conflict with the authorities. Soon, the System marks her and her daughter as threats - targets to be eliminated.
With a small band of colleagues and dissidents, Elianila goes on the run, hiding in places beyond the Systems reach. As they evade surveillance, they race against time to warn others, expose the truth, and fight back against the omnipresent authority of the System.
8.7
For eighteen years, I lived as the lowest Omega in the Silver Moon Pack, surviving only because Alpha Gideon took me under his wing.
But the moment his coffin was lowered into the ground, his wife and the new Alpha son immediately turned on me.
"Her presence has brought a curse upon us!"
Luna Lyra pointed a trembling finger at me in the freezing rain, blaming me for Gideon's sudden death.
She stripped me of my pack ties and permanently exiled me into the deadly wilderness with nothing but a wooden toy.
The entire pack watched with cold contempt as I was thrown out like garbage.
To make matters worse, the new Alpha later hunted me down in the woods, threatening to kill me just to steal the only thing Gideon had secretly left behind for me—an ancient, unreadable book.
I didn't understand why they hated me so deeply, or what terrifying secret this blank book held that made my own pack want me dead.
But the moment my foot crossed the pack boundary, an ancient, immense power I never knew I had snapped free inside my veins.
I was no longer their weak Omega.
And when I escaped deeper into the forest and crashed straight into the arms of a wounded Rogue, my destiny completely rewrote itself.
Because he wasn't just a Rogue, but the legendary Northern Alpha King.
And as his glowing golden eyes locked onto mine, our inner wolves roared the exact same word:
"Mate!"
7.4
Clara Davis was trained to seduce, deceive, and destroy.
Her mission is simple: infiltrate billionaire Jeffery Rothwell's life, gain his trust, and help seize his empire in exchange for the freedom she has always craved.
But the deeper she slips into his dangerous world, the more the lines between mission and desire begin to blur. Falling for him was never part of the plan and neither was discovering that the man she was sent to manipulate may not be the real Jeffery at all.
Now trapped in a deadly web of obsession, power, and hidden identities. Clara is caught between the organization that owns her, the monster who remade her, and a love that has turned into vengeance. Clara must survive a man who sees everything, controls everything, and may be far more dangerous than the organization that created her.
Because in this game of seduction and revenge, love might be the deadliest trap of all.
7.2
I am a top-tier Alpha from another universe, but a spatial jump error dropped me straight into a high-security military isolation chamber.
Right in front of me was a terrifying, silver-haired wolf-beastman Admiral, completely losing his mind to a lethal biological heat cycle.
To survive in this strange dimension where my powers were restricted, I had to pretend to be a helpless, terrified girl.
Surprisingly, my mere presence and scent instantly cured his incurable madness.
But this backfired horribly. He became obsessively possessive, treating me like a fragile, priceless treasure.
When I managed to sneak out to the city's lawless slums to gather intel and accidentally saved a dying panther boy, the Admiral went completely feral.
He brought an entire war fleet, blotting out the sky, just to "rescue" me.
He nearly slaughtered the boy out of blind jealousy, forcing me to throw myself into his arms and cry fake tears to stop the bloodshed.
"I'm taking you home. No one will ever hurt you again."
He brought me to his flagship's secret medical bay and ordered the Empire's chief doctor to run a full genetic classification test on me.
I panicked. If they discovered my true identity as an off-world Alpha, I would be dissected or executed.
I immediately commanded my AI system to fake my blood data, aiming for a perfectly average, forgettable Omega result.
But as the machine processed my blood, the alarms blared, and the system overloaded.
The old doctor fell to his knees in absolute worship, and the terrifying Admiral looked at me with wild, starving eyes.
My system had overcompensated. I wasn't registered as average. I was just classified as the only SSSSS-grade Omega in the history of the universe.