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 5

The living room fell dead silent.

Daryn's frown deepened. He clearly thought the word Deepfake was just a pathetic excuse.

Byron bent down, his knees popping, and snatched one of the photos off the rug. He squinted at it. "The lighting is wrong on her face. Alice wouldn't do this."

"They were sent to my private, encrypted email server," Daryn said, his voice cold and clinical. "A normal person can't do that. It's premeditated."

Horatio sat in his wheelchair, his wrinkled hands gripping the armrests. He looked at Alice, his eyes filled with a heavy, exhausting sadness. "Do you have anything else to say, child?"

Alice didn't rush to defend herself. She walked slowly to the coffee table and picked up the clearest photograph.

She tapped her finger against the image of the girl holding the voodoo doll.

"Look at the right hand," Alice said, her tone completely flat. "The fingers are smooth. The nails have a fresh French manicure."

Daryn leaned in, his eyes tracking her finger. He saw the manicured nails. He scoffed. "So what? That proves nothing."

Alice didn't argue. She simply raised her right hand to the buttons of her hospital gown.

Slowly, deliberately, she unbuttoned the cuff. She rolled the sleeve up past her elbow. The fabric felt heavy, sliding over her skin.

Under the warm glow of the floor lamp, her arm was exposed.

It was a landscape of horrors. Jagged, raised burn scars overlapped with dark, purple whip marks. Her wrist bone protruded at an unnatural angle from an old fracture that had healed wrong. The skin was rough, calloused, and broken.

The silence in the room became absolute. The air stopped moving.

Horatio's pupils dilated. His pale lips trembled violently. A choked, agonizing whimper escaped his throat.

Daryn's cold, CEO facade shattered. His face froze. He stared at the mangled flesh, his eyes wide with a shock so profound it looked like physical pain.

Byron, who had seen glimpses of the bruises earlier, now saw the full extent. He let out a roar of anguish and slammed his fist into the wooden load-bearing pillar next to him. The wood cracked. Blood instantly seeped from his split knuckles.

Alice held her arm up, standing perfectly still.

"The Wallaces never let me keep my nails long," she said quietly. "It made scrubbing the floors too difficult."

Daryn stumbled backward. His heel caught the edge of the rug. A tidal wave of guilt crashed over him, suffocating him.

Horatio struggled, trying to push himself out of the wheelchair. His hands reached out, shaking violently, wanting to touch her but terrified of causing her pain.

Alice walked over and knelt beside the wheelchair. She let the old man's trembling fingers gently stroke a small, unscarred patch of skin near her elbow. His tears dripped onto her arm.

Daryn spun around. He ripped his phone from his pocket. His voice was hoarse, raw with fury. "Trace the IP address of that email. I don't care what it costs. Find them."

Byron walked over, his chest heaving. He picked up a heavy cashmere coat from the sofa and draped it over Alice's shoulders, carefully hiding the scars from the cold air.

Daryn hung up the phone. The ruthless corporate emperor walked over to Alice and bowed his head deeply.

"I am so sorry," Daryn choked out. "I let my prejudice blind me. I will make the Wallaces pay in blood."

Alice shook her head. "I'll handle my own revenge. I just wanted to come home."

The word home shattered the last of the men's defenses.

Daryn reached into his suit jacket and pulled out a thick, slightly crumpled paper envelope. He pressed it firmly into Alice's hand. "For clothes. Pocket money."

Alice looked down. Inside was a stack of crisp hundred-dollar bills, easily five thousand dollars.

She raised an eyebrow, looking at Byron. Weren't they a poor, blue-collar family?

Byron didn't miss a beat. He kept a straight face. "Daryn just got his year-end bonus from the property management company. And I chipped in some overtime pay. We've been saving up for when we finally found you."

Daryn nodded firmly, his eyes filled with a desperate earnestness. "Yes. It's just a little spare cash. Take it."

Alice looked at the two grown men, clumsily lying to protect her feelings. Her mind, sharpened by decades of surviving the occult underworld, easily cataloged the glaring inconsistencies: the military-grade cameras outside, the impeccably tailored suit Daryn wore, and the sheer amount of disposable cash they handed over without a second thought. They were hiding something massive. Yet, as she looked at their anxious, hopeful faces, she recognized the raw, unfiltered protective instinct underneath the deception. They weren't trying to harm her; they were terrified of losing her again. For the first time since she woke up in this body, a real, relaxed smile touched her lips. She slipped the envelope into her pocket, deciding to let them keep their secrets for now. She would uncover the truth on her own terms.

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 5

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