Renan Gedorio

"Love, let's go to the park." I went down the stairs, filled with hope, and approached Cloud, hoping for a softer response. "Please, Luna, can you stop this? And don't call me 'love'-I don't love you. Ours is just an arranged marriage, and maybe you've forgotten that you're the reason Stella and I broke up." "Is it my fault, Cloud? I'm a victim too. Do you think I wanted to be tied to a man I don't even love? I'm struggling just as much as you are, Cloud." My voice trembled, pleading for his understanding. "Why don't you just leave me? Oh, right, because you won't have anyone to leech off of if you leave me." He laughed, but his every sneer was filled with anger, especially when our eyes met. "You have no right to say that, Cloud! I've never asked you for money!" I shouted back, holding onto what little dignity I had left. "I'm getting the divorce papers finalized today, and you need to sign them as soon as possible. I can't stand seeing your face every day." But the truth was, every word he said felt like a knife cutting into my heart. "C-Cloud, maybe we can still talk about this." I reached for his hand, still hoping there was a chance, but he pulled it away. "What's there to talk about? Isn't it clear that I don't want you and that I don't love you?" His voice thundered through the mansion, his words like a storm shattering my world. "Right, you don't love me." I laughed, but it was filled with bitterness. I looked at him, trying to hide my tears. "You know, Cloud, I wanted to stay by your side until you learned to love me. But I can't, because you've already given up on us. Yes, you don't love me because I'm the reason you and Stella broke up." "Cloud, I studied how to love you. I admit, at first, I didn't want to be with you. But I couldn't help it. Slowly, I started falling for you, and I foolishly thought that maybe one day, you'd learn to love me too. But no, I was wrong. I just wanted to be loved by you, Cloud, but you denied me even that. My chest felt heavy, and trembling, I stepped back." "You know, I dreamed of you loving me the way you loved Stella. But I guess that's impossible." I laughed again, but this time, it was empty, filled only with sadness and pain. "There's no point in forcing myself on you anymore. Maybe I've suffocated you so much that you're begging for your freedom. I'm sorry for being the reason you and Stella broke up. Don't worry, I'll talk to her." I forced a smile, even as I felt myself breaking inside. "Since your birthday is coming up, my gift to you is my signature on the divorce papers. Just call me when they're ready. I'll start packing." Once inside my room, I collapsed to my knees, letting the tears I'd been holding back flow freely. "Why does it always have to be like this? I just wanted to feel his love..." After I finished packing, I went down the stairs. I found Cloud in the living room, standing with his back to me. "Ah, Cloud, I'm leaving now. Just call me when the divorce papers are ready. Thank you for everything, Cloud." I forced a smile and walked out of the mansion, carrying the feelings I wanted to bury but couldn't let go of. "You're free now, Cloud. You can be with Stella. Even though it hurts, I'll endure it. I took a deep breath. This time, I won't beg for your love."

In my world, if you're weak, you're done for. I refused to be one of the weak, so I committed myself to intense training to become stronger. I pushed my limits, sharpened my skills, and believed that I could overcome any challenge. But in the end, I died... trying to help someone weak. Or at least, that's what I thought. When I opened my eyes, I found myself in an unfamiliar place. And soon, the truth hit me: I had been reincarnated.

"P-please d-don't," I said to him fearfully. "Uh huh, let me enjoy tonight, baby," he whispered in my ear. Tears streamed down my face as my body trembled from his presence. I never wanted to wear this to our prom. I didn't choose this. I should have refused back then so none of this would have happened. I knew he'd be angry seeing me in this outfit, but we ran out of time, so I couldn't argue anymore. "Please, Kairus, d-don't, s-stop, please," I begged him. "Shhh, don't test my patience, baby. You know what I can do, right?" he grinned. "N-no, p-please," I cried. "The more you beg, the more I want you," he smirked. He's Kairus Jei Styles, the son of the owner of my school, and he's the bad boy everyone fears. He has friends who are also feared at Styles University. He's the man who raped me and turned my four years in their school into a living hell. I'm Allysiah Quin De Villa, and I was 17 years old when Kairus took control of my life. He was 20 at the time, and I later discovered that he was a terrifying psycho bad boy.

"You are not my child. "You don't belong in this family! "trash!" "Gross!" "What a disappointment!" "Ugly and trash!" "You're disgusting!" "You don't belong in this school, b*tch!" I let out a deep sigh as I recalled the hurtful words they hurled at me. Whether at home or school, it was the same—nothing but pain was brought upon me. "Why is the world so unfair to me?" This was the question I always asked God. Why was I born into this world only to suffer? All I wanted was to be loved—to be happy—so why does it seem like everything is denied to me? I don't understand why it feels like the world is playing a cruel trick on me, intentionally keeping me from getting what I desire. I sighed again. "I hope in my next life, I will be happy." I forced a smile, hiding the deep pain that lingered within me. I could never have imagined that everyone would be so cruel to me, that I would experience such hardship. I placed my hands on the concrete while gazing at the vast surroundings and the students scattered around. I had been sitting here on the railing of our school building's rooftop for some time. This is where I come whenever I'm sad or when everyone bullies me. I sighed once more and looked up at the sky. "Lord, was I a bad person in my past life? Because the world is so cruel to me." Was I truly bad? Or is it just the people around me who are? No one treated me well. Everyone hates me. I have no friends or even anyone I can call 'family.' Do I deserve to live in this world? I placed my hands on the concrete again to support myself as I stood up. "I'm tired of everything. I want this to end." I looked down. My knees trembled as I realized how high up I was. If I fall from here, I will surely leave this world forever. "Maybe if I die, they will be happy," I whispered sadly as I closed my eyes, recalling the faces of all those who caused me so much pain. Tears streamed from my eyes. I felt trapped in a never-ending cycle of torment, reliving the painful experiences over and over again. I've had enough. I'm tired. Maybe it's time to rest... forever. "To end this pain is to finish everything," I whispered again, opening my eyes and slowly stepping onto the edge of the railing. "Goodby—" I was about to fall when suddenly someone forcefully grabbed my hand, causing me to land on top of someone's body. I recognized the familiar scent of his perfume. I quickly stood up as I realized who it was. It's him again... The guy who became my tormentor, making my life even more miserable. "You should have just let me go. Isn't that what you—and everyone—want? For me to disappear from this world," I said lifelessly. His face remained blank, showing no emotion as he looked at me. "Tsk!" I was startled when he suddenly closed the distance between us and spoke coldly into my ear, "If you want to die, wait for me to be the one... to end your life." Then, he immediately turned his back on me. I don't know why, but a surge of intense anger suddenly welled up in my heart because of what he said. The sadness I felt moments ago was instantly replaced with rage. My face suddenly became devoid of emotion. "Oh, is that so?" I said, colder than ice, which made him stop walking. "Alright," I continued, quickly removing my heeled shoe and throwing it at him with all my might, hitting him squarely on the head. I quickly walked toward him and confronted his shocked face. "Sorry, I didn't mean to," I said, cold as ice, but dripping with sarcasm. After saying that, I picked up my shoe and swiftly turned my back on him.

In a dark and cold room, someone was sitting in a corner, trembling intensely from the chilly breeze, accompanied by soft sobs and the quiet fall of tears. The door opened, revealing the person who had locked them in that room, though they didn't know why. Their face lifted, and their eyes immediately met, causing them to shrink further into the corner, continuing to cry. "Please, don't hurt me," they pleaded, their voice trembling with each word. Their body trembled even more as the person they feared slowly approached. The person lifted their face with a gentle left hand. Their face was pitiful, with slightly flushed cheeks and nose. Their innocent, delicate face, more beautiful than a woman's, was flushed from the cold, as they had developed a fever. The man could no longer bear it and immediately lifted them up. They were slightly startled but lacked the strength to resist, their body too weak from the fever. "Supremo..." they softly whispered before losing consciousness. Supremo quickly brought them to his room, immediately changing and treating them, laying them on his soft bed. He gazed at the innocent face of the young one, and only one thought crossed his mind: "I will mark you as mine."

On our third anniversary, my husband canceled our dinner, claiming a sudden work emergency. I tracked his phone to an exclusive French restaurant, only to find him tenderly fastening a blessed bracelet—one I had flown across the world to get for him—onto his college ex-girlfriend's wrist. The sheer shock triggered a violent placental abruption. Bleeding out in my car just across the street, I frantically called his number. Through the window, I watched him glance at his screen, frown in annoyance, and press decline to focus on his lover. While I was wheeled into a freezing operating room for an emergency C-section utterly alone, he took his mistress back to our marital bed. He didn't even bother to check if I was alive, completely oblivious that our premature daughter was fighting for her life in the NICU. I soon discovered our entire marriage was a sham. He had used my family's wealth to save his company, and now he was trading me to secure a massive business deal with his ex's father. The man I loved didn't exist; he only saw me as a disposable asset. "I'm going to make him wish he had never been born." After secretly securing my baby in a private retreat, I ordered a medical-grade silicone pregnancy belly to hide my flat stomach. I stepped back into our penthouse, ready to burn his precious empire to the ground.

I was an intern nurse working exhausting shifts, yet my mother constantly forced me into blind dates with wealthy, arrogant men to secure our family's social standing. During a terrifying hospital lockdown, an assassin disguised as a doctor held a scalpel to my throat. I was almost killed, but a high-ranking military colonel threw his own body down a flight of concrete stairs to shield me. I survived with cuts and bruises, but when I went home, my mother didn't care about my near-death experience. She was only furious that I had rushed out on my blind date with Preston, a rich financial analyst. She forced me to meet him to apologize. When Preston grabbed my arm, bruised me, and mocked my attack as a pathetic lie, my mother still took his side. "Men get angry," she told me coldly. "It's your job not to provoke them. You will beg for his forgiveness, or you are no longer welcome in this house." I had narrowly escaped an assassin, yet my own family was willing to feed me to a monster just for a fat paycheck and neighborhood gossip. My heart went completely dead. So, when the intimidating Colonel appeared, offering me maximum military protection through a sudden marriage, I didn't hesitate. I walked back into my parents' house and calmly slapped a crisp marriage certificate onto the coffee table. "I won't be apologizing to Preston. I got married today."

I was once the heiress to the Solomon empire, but after it crumbled, I became the "charity case" ward of the wealthy Hyde family. For years, I lived in their shadows, clinging to the promise that Anson Hyde would always be my protector. That promise shattered when Anson walked into the ballroom with Claudine Chapman on his arm. Claudine was the girl who had spent years making my life a living hell, and now Anson was announcing their engagement to the world. The humiliation was instant. Guests sneered at my cheap dress, and a waiter intentionally sloshed champagne over me, knowing I was a nobody. Anson didn't even look my way; he was too busy whispering possessively to his new fiancée. I was a ghost in my own home, watching my protector celebrate with my tormentor. The betrayal burned. I realized I wasn't a ward; I was a pawn Anson had kept on a shelf until he found a better trade. I had no money, no allies, and a legal trust fund that Anson controlled with a flick of his wrist. Fleeing to the library, I stumbled into Dallas Koch-a titan of industry and my best friend's father. He was a wall of cold, absolute power that even the Hydes feared. "Marry me," I blurted out, desperate to find a shield Anson couldn't climb. Dallas didn't laugh. He pulled out a marriage agreement and a heavy fountain pen. "Sign," he commanded, his voice a low rumble. "But if you walk out that door with me, you never go back." I signed my name, trading my life for the only man dangerous enough to keep me safe.

As I lay on the floor of our manor, bleeding out from a ruptured ectopic pregnancy, I used my last ounce of strength to call my husband, Cole. I begged him for help, my vision blurring. But the only thing I heard was the clinking of champagne glasses and his mistress's giggle in the background. "Stop the drama, June," Cole snapped, his voice cold. "We're about to go on stage. Don't call again." He hung up, leaving me to die alone on the Persian rug while he accepted an award with another woman on his arm. I woke up in the hospital days later. My baby was gone. They had removed my fallopian tube. Cole finally arrived, smelling of expensive scotch and his mistress's perfume. He didn't hug me. He didn't cry. Instead, he leaned over my hospital bed, pressing his knee into the mattress until my fresh stitches tore open and bled. "You embarrassed me by calling an ambulance," he hissed. "My mistress, Alycia, says you're faking it. Clean yourself up." He left me bleeding again to go announce a $10 million donation to Alycia's "groundbreaking" medical research. I stared at the TV screen, numb. The research Alycia was taking credit for? It was mine. I wrote that patent years ago under a pseudonym. They thought I was just a poor, orphan housewife who needed Cole's money to survive. They had no idea I was actually a billionaire scientist hiding my identity. I pulled the IV needle out of my arm. A drop of blood fell onto the divorce papers I had been hiding. I didn't wipe it off. I signed my name right over it. Then I walked into the bank, reactivated my dormant account with $128 million, and bought the penthouse directly overlooking Cole's house. The mourning widow is dead. The avenger is born.

For three years, Cali Sullivan abandoned her brilliant tech career to be the quiet, accommodating wife of billionaire Halsey Donovan. But on her thirtieth birthday, she returned to their London mansion only to find it empty. The housekeeper, looking at her with deep pity, revealed that Halsey had taken his female friend, Brittaney, out shopping to celebrate her birthday instead. He had even taken their young daughter, Lily, with them. When Cali called him, Halsey coldly dismissed her, his attention entirely on Brittaney's bright laughter in the background. The crushing blow came the next morning when Cali stood outside Lily's bedroom and overheard her own daughter's innocent wish. "I wish Auntie Brittaney could be my new mommy. I think Daddy would like that, too." Later that afternoon, Cali saw them through the window of a private club. Halsey was wiping a smudge from Lily's face with a tender focus he never showed his wife, while Brittaney casually fed him cake. They looked like the perfect, happy family. All of Cali's desperate love and sacrifices felt like a cruel joke. She had been entirely erased from her own family. In that moment, the agonizing pain just stopped, replaced by a cold, absolute clarity. Cali drafted a divorce agreement waiving every cent of his wealth, left her platinum wedding rings on the nightstand, and booked a one-way flight back to New York. She was no longer Mrs. Donovan; it was time to get her real name back.

I woke up on silk sheets that smelled of expensive cedar and cold sandalwood, a world away from my cramped apartment in Brooklyn. Beside me lay Ezra Gardner-my boss, the billionaire CEO of Gardner Holdings, and the man who could end my career with a snap of his fingers. He didn't offer an apology for the night before; instead, he looked at me with terrifying clarity and proposed a cold, calculated business arrangement. "Marriage. It stabilizes the board and solves the PR crisis before it begins." He dressed me in archival Chanel and sent me home in his Maybach, but my life was already falling apart. My boyfriend, Irving, claimed he had passed out early, yet his location data placed him at my best friend's apartment until three in the morning. When I tried to run, I realized Ezra was already ten steps ahead, tracking my movements and uncovering the secret I'd spent twenty years hiding: my connection to the powerful Senator Grimes. I was trapped between a CEO who treated me like a line item on a quarterly report and a boyfriend who had been using me while sleeping with my closest friend. I felt like a pawn in a game I didn't understand, wondering why a man like Ezra would walk up forty flights of stairs on a broken leg just to make sure I was safe. "Showtime, Mrs. Gardner." Standing on the red carpet in a gown that cost more than my life, I watched my cheating ex-boyfriend's face turn pale as Ezra claimed me in front of the world. I wasn't just an assistant anymore; I was a weapon, and it was time to burn their world down.

Ava had been married to Wall Street titan Damian Carlisle for three years, an orphan chosen by his late grandmother solely to provide an heir. But at the matriarch's funeral, Damian stood intimately before the flashing cameras with his childhood sweetheart, Isabelle. The entire elite family deliberately excluded Ava, leaving her standing alone in the shadows. The guests whispered about how perfect Damian and Isabelle looked together, completely ignoring the actual wife standing right there. To Damian, Ava was nothing more than a piece of inherited furniture he didn't know where to place. Realizing she was just a discarded placeholder, Ava quietly left the estate and sent him divorce papers. But Isabelle secretly intercepted the legal documents to keep Damian in the dark. Enraged when he finally discovered her escape, Damian tracked Ava down to her shabby Brooklyn rental. He smashed through her door, physically dragged her out in the middle of the night, and forced her back to the sprawling estate. He installed new locks on the reinforced windows, pinned her to the bed, and coldly commanded her to fulfill her biological duty. "You owe this family, Ava. You were given everything, and this is how you will repay that debt." Trapped in the dark, a chilling despair washed over her as she realized a piece of paper could never free her. Against his absolute wealth and power, her rights and her tears meant absolutely nothing. But as her gaze fell on the corporate financial reports she had been secretly analyzing, her fear vanished. If the law couldn't beat him, she would use the only language he understood. She would accept the executive position at his rival's firm, dismantle his empire piece by piece, and personally ruin him.

I woke up from a coma in the hospital, universally condemned as the vicious daughter who pushed the beloved fake heiress, Georgina, down the stairs. My ruthless billionaire brother, Angelo, stood over my bed with cold eyes, ready to destroy me for hurting his precious sister. But as I looked at him, a terrifying prophecy from my coma flooded my brain. Our entire family was doomed. In the original timeline, Georgina would team up with corporate rivals to bankrupt the company, frame Angelo, and send him to federal prison, while our parents would abandon me to die miserably. Lying there, I didn't dare speak. I just desperately cursed my idiot brother in my head. "This stupid brother is still yelling at me for that fake heiress. He doesn't even know he's going to be framed and sent to prison next month!" I just wanted to stay quiet, let them ruin themselves, and run away from this toxic family. But strangely, Angelo didn't strangle me. Instead, his attitude took a shocking turn. He abruptly fired the driver plotting to kill him, destroyed the abusive fiancé of a family ally, and publicly humiliated Georgina at a high-society gala. He even shielded me from our abusive parents, declaring to the world that I was the only sister he would ever protect. I was completely terrified and confused. Why was the tyrant brother suddenly acting like a protective beast? It wasn't until he flawlessly crushed a massive corporate attack using the exact financial secrets I had just complained about in my mind that a horrifying realization hit me. He could hear my inner thoughts!

On the night before her wedding, Navia Harrison discovers her fiancé in bed with her step-sister-and worse, the two of them are already planning how to get rid of her after the marriage. Humiliated and consumed by hatred, Navia exposes their affair during the wedding ceremony itself, destroying both families' reputations in a single move. Then, she meets him. Leonel Crawford - the cold and dangerously powerful head of the Crawford family. Untouchable. Ruthless. A man no woman has ever been able to keep close. He's also her ex-fiancé's uncle. One impulsive proposal changes everything. "If you need a wife... marry me instead." "Honestly... we'd make a pretty good match."

The sterile white of the operating room blurred, then sharpened, as Skye Sterling felt the cold clawing its way up her body. The heart monitor flatlined, a steady, high-pitched whine announcing her end. Her uterus had been removed, a desperate attempt to stop the bleeding, but the blood wouldn't clot. It just kept flowing, warm and sticky, pooling beneath her. Through heavy eyes, she saw a trembling nurse holding a phone on speaker. "Mr. Kensington," the nurse's voice cracked, "your wife... she's critical." A pause, then a sweet, poisonous giggle. Seraphina Miller. "Liam is in the shower," Seraphina's voice purred. "Stop calling, Skye. It's pathetic. Faking a medical emergency on our anniversary? Even for you, that's low." Then, Liam's bored voice: "If she dies, call the funeral home. I have a meeting in the morning." Click. The line went dead. A second later, so did Skye. The darkness that followed was absolute, suffocating, a black ocean crushing her lungs. She screamed into the void, a silent, agonizing wail of regret for loving a man who saw her as a nuisance, for dying without ever truly living. Until she died, she didn't understand. Why was her life so tragically wasted? Why did her husband, the man she loved, abandon her so cruelly? The injustice of it all burned hotter than the fever in her body. Then, the air rushed back in. Skye gasped, her body convulsing violently on the mattress. Her eyes flew open, wide and terrified, staring blindly into the darkness. Her trembling hand reached for her phone. May 12th. Five years ago. She was back.