The Jilted Heiress And Her Karmic Revenge

I woke up in a sweltering attic, my body covered in overlapping whip scars. I was Alice Morrow, a top-tier occultist, but now I was trapped in the body of a girl who served as a human punching bag for the wealthy Wallace family. Before I could even catch my breath, my adoptive sister Britney Wallace kicked the door open. She pointed a silver revolver right at my forehead. She had been siphoning my luck through a parasitic karmic tether, using me as a sink for all her misfortune. "Go to hell, you useless freak," she screamed, pulling the trigger. But she didn't know the absolute rule of the tether: any malicious attack reflects back to the sender. The massive recoil blasted backward, snapping her wrist in half. I walked out of that hellhole and was found by my biological family, the incredibly powerful Morrows. But Britney wasn't done. She sent them deepfake photos to frame me for cursing them, and even planted a deadly amulet to kill my biological grandfather. My own uncle threw the photos at me, his eyes full of disgust. "She's a rabid dog raised by the Wallaces! She's been cursing her own blood!" I didn't argue. I simply rolled up my sleeves to reveal the mangled flesh, burn marks, and protruding bones the Wallaces had left me with. As my real family broke down in tears of agonizing guilt, I smiled and gripped my ancient copper coin. It was time to show the Wallaces what real karma looked like.

Chapters

Chapter 2

Alice stood on the cobblestone driveway outside the estate gates. She reached into her pocket for her phone to check the nearest bus route.

A deafening roar of an engine tore through the quiet neighborhood.

A beat-up, dust-covered Ford F-150 slammed on its brakes, skidding to a halt mere inches from her legs. A cloud of dirt washed over her.

Alice frowned. She took a half-step back, her fingers slipping into her pocket to pinch a cold, ancient copper coin.

The truck door groaned open with a terrible screech. A massive man jumped out. He wore a faded flannel shirt covered in drywall dust and scuffed work boots. He had a heavy stubble and a hard, weathered face.

But the moment his eyes locked onto Alice, the harshness vanished. His pupils dilated, and his chest heaved.

"Alice?" he choked out, his voice trembling. He said her mother's name like a prayer.

Alice's mind raced, sifting through the merged memories.

Byron Morrow. Her third uncle. A construction worker.

Before she could speak, the heavy oak doors of the estate swung open. Richard Wallace stormed out, flanked by two burly security guards.

Richard stopped, his nose wrinkling in disgust as he looked at the dirty truck.

"Get this trailer trash off my driveway," Richard spat. "You're polluting the air."

Byron didn't even look at Richard. His eyes were glued to Alice's arms. The sleeves of her hospital gown had slipped, revealing the dark purple bruises and raised whip marks.

The muscles in Byron's jaw locked. His massive fists clenched at his sides. The knuckles popped loudly, one by one. The air around him suddenly felt heavy, suffocatingly dangerous.

"Get him out of here," Richard ordered.

One of the guards stepped forward, shoving his hand against Byron's chest.

Byron moved. It was a blur. He grabbed the guard by the collar, planting his heavy work boots firmly on the ground. With a violent surge of raw, physical strength, he shoved the two-hundred-pound man backward with both hands, driving him relentlessly until he slammed back-first into the hood of the Ford.

The metal caved in with a sickening crunch.

Richard stumbled backward, his face draining of color. "I'm calling the police! You violent thug!"

Byron turned his head slowly. He took one step toward Richard.

"Shut your mouth," Byron growled, his voice so low it vibrated in the ground.

Alice stepped forward. She reached out and gently tugged on the rough fabric of Byron's flannel sleeve.

"I want to leave," she said quietly.

The murderous rage vanished from Byron's face instantly. He looked down at her and offered a clumsy, awkward smile.

He turned to the passenger side of the truck, yanked the door open, and furiously scrubbed the already clean seat with his dusty sleeve. He gestured for her to get in.

Candice came running out of the gates, pointing a shaking finger at Alice.

"You ungrateful bitch!" Candice shrieked. "Go on! Leave with this bottom-feeding trash!"

Alice stood by the open truck door. She looked back at Candice. Her eyes were completely dead, looking at the woman as if she were already a corpse.

"Good luck," Alice said flatly.

She climbed into the high cabin of the truck.

Byron slammed the door shut. He walked around to the driver's side, shooting one last lethal glare at Candice.

He turned the key. The engine roared. He slammed his foot on the gas pedal, intentionally blowing a massive cloud of thick black exhaust smoke straight into the faces of the Wallace couple.

The truck merged onto the highway.

The cabin smelled like motor oil and stale tobacco. Byron looked incredibly nervous. He quickly reached out and snapped off the static-filled country music playing on the radio, afraid it was too loud for her.

He dug into the center console and pulled out a squished, plastic-wrapped convenience store sandwich.

"I'm sorry," he muttered, his face flushing red. "I didn't have time to get real food."

Alice took the sandwich. She didn't feel disgust. She felt a strange, unfamiliar warmth in her chest.

She looked over at him. Her eyes narrowed.

Coiled around the back of Byron's neck was a thick, pulsing mass of black energy. A curse.

Byron kept his eyes on the road, sighing heavily. "The Morrows are just blue-collar folks, Alice. We can't give you the fancy life those Wallaces did."

Alice tore open the plastic wrapper and took a bite of the dry bread.

"I don't need it," Alice said, chewing slowly. "I'm very good at making money."

Just as she spoke, her phone buzzed. A loud, retro cash register ringtone echoed in the cramped cabin.

Continue to next part

Michael Carter is an undercover FBI agent on a mission to take down ruthless mafia king Fernando Ramírez-the man he believes killed his sister. But getting close to Fernando means playing a dangerous game, one where seduction and power blur the lines between enemy and lover. When Michael uncovers a shocking truth, his thirst for revenge turns into a fight for something far more dangerous-his own heart. Now, torn between duty and desire, he must decide: destroy the man he swore to take down or surrender to the one thing he never saw coming. Love has never been more lethal.

Action Horror Mafia

8.3

Death Of A Marriage, Birth Of Revenge

8.3

My husband watched as my skin melted, scalded by boiling soup, yet his hands were busy comforting my attacker. Five years of marriage, built on a foundation of my family's power, crumbled with a single, brutal act of betrayal. He bought me off with a penthouse and a trust fund, but I tore out my IV and threw his charity back in his face. It was our fifth anniversary, but my husband, Ethan, remained distant, avoiding any talk of Chicago or the mafia protection my family once offered him. He then pushed a black velvet box across the table. Inside was a Separation and Property Division Agreement, not a diamond. He told me to sign for Ilene's security, offering millions. When I refused, Ilene hurled boiling soup. Ethan shielded her, not me, as the scalding liquid melted my dress. With second-degree burns, he blamed me, ordering me from our home for Ilene’s comfort. My family saved him, yet he sacrificed my body and marriage for another woman. The love I felt turned to ash. What kind of debt demanded my flesh and marriage? I ripped the IV from my arm, hurling his "charity" keys back. My diamond ring placed on the agreement, I walked away. From today on, Ethan, you and I are dead to each other.

Action Modern Romance

8.7

From Discarded Mate To Enemy's Gamma

8.7

For seven years, I was Alpha Zane’s Chosen Mate, suppressing my warrior instincts to be the docile, supportive partner he demanded. On our seventh anniversary, while I waited by a candlelit table, I accidentally overheard his mind-link with another woman. "Seven years is a habit, my dear, not love. She's docile, she'll understand." He told Seraphina, his new political ally, laughing as he dismissed my entire existence. I didn't scream or cry. I scraped the anniversary cake into the trash, drafted a formal rejection letter, and walked out of the packhouse. But Zane didn't even notice my departure. He was so consumed by his new lover that my rejection letter was treated as garbage and tossed into the incinerator. He paraded Seraphina around the pack, even handing my hard-earned strategic command over to her—a woman who knew absolutely nothing about war. When my loyal subordinates protested, he violently suppressed them, declaring my absence a "childish tantrum" and framing me as the bitter obstacle to his destined romance. He honestly thought I was just hiding in my room, waiting to beg for his charity and accept a humiliating demotion. He had no idea that I had already crossed the border into enemy territory. Tonight, I am attending his grand celebration. Not as the heartbroken mate he discarded, but as the newly appointed Gamma of his deadliest rival, the Sterling Pack.

Action Romance Werewolf

9.0

His Vengeful Game: The Bankrupt Heiress

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?

Action Billionaire Modern

7.5

My Unwanted Wife Is A Top Assassin

7.5

I was Nyx, a top-tier covert operative. But when I opened my eyes, I was trapped in the unfamiliar, overweight body of a bullied girl named Eliza. Before I could even process the body swap, the bedroom door splintered open. I was in bed with Julian Malone, a wealthy military heir, both of us heavily drugged. Cameras flashed wildly. It was a vicious setup to ruin his career, and I was the bait. To save his family's reputation, Julian was forced to marry me. But the moment the wedding was over, he abandoned me. His elite family treated me like a disease. His mother froze my only bank account, trying to starve me into submission. I even intercepted a private conversation between his parents. "Once she's in a private facility, she loses all legal standing. We can sign anything we want on her behalf." They planned to lock me up in a mental asylum and erase my existence entirely to get rid of the "trailer park trash." To them, I was just a weak, pathetic pawn they could crush without a second thought. They thought they had backed a helpless girl into a corner. They had no idea they had just declared war on a lethal weapon. I didn't cry or beg. Instead, I bypassed their state-of-the-art security, cracked their safe, and stole the financial secrets that could destroy their entire empire. "I want five hundred thousand dollars, or these files go to the IRS." This time, I was playing by my own rules.

Action Modern Romance

9.1

Rising From Exile: The Widow's Comeback

9.1

The heavy oak doors of the Crane estate splintered under the battering ram. Annetta was just putting her five-year-old daughter to sleep when the SWAT team stormed the nursery. They told her that her husband, Major Alek Crane, was killed in action overseas. But instead of a hero's funeral, he was branded a national traitor, and the feds were seizing every penny of their wealth. Lead investigator Issac Rocha dragged Alek's charred remains into the grand hall just to mock him. He stripped Annetta of her wedding band, confiscated her winter coat, and officially exiled her, her daughter, and her hostile mother-in-law to a freezing Appalachian death zone. In the federal holding cell, the extended family turned on Annetta, calling her a cheap commoner and leaving her to shiver on the concrete floor. They were dumped in an abandoned mining town with nothing but canvas jumpsuits to die in the snow. Annetta knew Alek was framed in a ruthless political hit. Issac Rocha wanted them to rot in the mud and freeze to death, completely forgotten by the world. "We are going to live, and we are going to burn Issac Rocha to the ground." But Issac made one fatal mistake. He didn't know the quiet, submissive daughter-in-law had spent the last three years secretly building a military-grade doomsday bunker right in the heart of that very mountain. Stepping past the freezing mud, Annetta initiated the biometric scan, and the massive steel blast doors slowly swung open.

Action Modern Romance

The Jilted Heiress And Her Karmic Revenge

Chapter 2

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