Reborn To Marry The Untouchable Titan

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.

Daisy spent her birthday cooking a perfect dinner, waiting in their massive penthouse for her billionaire husband, Emmett. Instead of coming home, a breaking news alert flashed on her screen: Emmett was at the hospital, protectively shielding his old flame, Eryn. When Daisy rushed to the VIP ward, Emmett physically blocked her to comfort a crying Eryn, completely forgetting it was his wife's birthday. Heartbroken, Daisy demanded a divorce and fled. In response, Emmett ruthlessly froze all her bank accounts and trust funds, leaving her penniless in the freezing Manhattan rain. When she cornered him with divorce papers at a public funeral, a heavy metal cart slammed into her, tearing her calf wide open. Bleeding onto the marble floor, she begged him to sign. Instead, Emmett violently ripped the bloody papers to shreds. "Unless I am dead, you are my wife," he snarled, locking her inside a room. Daisy risked her life to escape through a window, dragging her bleeding leg to a dingy motel. But the real nightmare began when Eryn called. The tragic car crash that killed Daisy's adoptive parents ten years ago wasn't an accident—the brake lines were cut. And Emmett, the man she loved, had been using his vast corporate empire to protect the murderers all along. Why did Emmett bury the police report? What was the deadly secret behind her true identity and the antique "Venus" necklace? Staring at her blood-stained hands in the cracked mirror, the terrified wife died. Daisy grabbed her coat and limped out into the dark, heading straight for the Navy Yard to burn his empire to the ground.

I spent my whole life trying to escape my terrifying billionaire husband, Damian Blackwood, trusting the sweet lies of my stepsister and my secret lover, Chase. But on the night I finally eloped, Chase locked me inside an abandoned, burning warehouse. Through the deafening crackle of the fire, my stepsister's mocking laughter echoed, revealing I was nothing but a disposable key to my family's vault. As the blistering heat peeled the skin from my bones, a figure tore through the wall of fire. It was Damian. The man I had drugged, fought, and betrayed shoved burning steel aside with his bare, sizzling hands to reach me. When the ceiling groaned and collapsed, he threw his massive body over mine, taking the crushing weight of a flaming beam directly on his back. Hot, thick blood dripped from his mouth onto my cheek. "I will always protect you." He whispered his final vow as his lifeless weight collapsed against me. Crushing, absolute regret suffocated me in the dark. I had leaked his company secrets and treated him like a monster, yet he died a tragic, agonizing death just to shield me from my own foolish choices. Then, a violent rush of freezing air hit my lungs, and my eyes snapped open. I wasn't staring at a burning ceiling, but the familiar crystal chandelier of our penthouse, exactly three years in the past. My phone lit up with a text from Chase, urging me to hurry to the garden for our elopement. A cold, calculating smirk replaced my tears. I deleted the message, slipped into a fragile silk nightgown, and prepared to repay my husband's bloody sacrifice by utterly destroying our enemies.

When Karina opened her eyes, she had transmigrated from a blood-soaked war zone into the body of a despised, D-list Hollywood "vase." Before she could even process the glaring lights, the lead actress went entirely off-script, swinging a vicious slap right at her face. Karina's muscle memory took over, nearly crushing the woman's wrist in a steel grip, but a much harsher reality was waiting for her back home. The original owner had maxed out every credit card to buy a Ferrari and Rolexes for a scumbag idol named Kole, leaving Karina buried under a staggering three million dollar debt. To make matters worse, Kole and the lead actress were teaming up as the main couple on a hit wilderness dating show. Her agent told her she was contractually obligated to join the cast as their pathetic, obsessed ex-girlfriend, while millions of rabid fans spammed death threats online, waiting to watch her cry and break. To a warlord who had crawled out of mass graves, this cyberbullying was a joke, but the crushing capitalist debt was a real threat. "I'd like to see how hard the bones of these greenhouse flowers really are." Karina chopped off her cheap blonde hair, scrubbed off the hideous makeup to reveal a lethal, flawless face, and packed her tactical survival gear. If they wanted to use her as a stepping stone, she was going to show them what a real massacre looked like—while a certain untouchable A-list actor secretly listened to every bloodthirsty thought echoing in her mind.

For six years, I was the obedient, pathetic girlfriend of Arron, the adopted heir to the terrifying Mayer empire. But on the night of a major party, he abandoned me for another woman, leaving me humiliated and alone in a hotel penthouse. While I was crying in the bathtub, a splitting headache suddenly unlocked a terrifying truth. I wasn't just a discarded girlfriend; I was living inside a scripted corporate thriller. I was the disposable side character destined to be crushed by the Mayer family, driven to despair, and drowned in the freezing Hudson River so Arron and his new love could have their happy ending. My destined ending was nothing but a joke to them. "When he gets bored and throws you out, you'll be worse than a stray dog." Arron's cruel warning echoed in my mind, but the phantom feeling of freezing water closing over my head completely burned away my pathetic love for him. Why did I have to die just to be a stepping stone for the man who threw me away like trash? I refused to be a tragic victim. Looking at the broken gold watch chain I had just ripped from the coat of Cassius Mayer—Arron's ruthless, untouchable billionaire father—a cold calculation took over. Since Arron wanted to ruin me, I was going to use the most feared man on Wall Street to tear their empire down from the inside.

My husband, Craig, got the promotion. After three long years stuck in a small town, we were finally going home to corporate headquarters. But when I went to file our joint relocation paperwork, the HR administrator gave me a pitying look. Craig, she explained, had already filed a single-person relocation, listing a different spouse: his high-school sweetheart, Chanel Murphy. A single, numb phone call to the county clerk's office revealed the devastating truth. I had signed my own divorce papers two months ago, tricked by Craig, who claimed they were investment documents. He had remarried the very next day. He used my talent as a top software architect to secure his promotion, all while orchestrating this cruel deception. I had sacrificed my own career opportunities for our future, a future he was already building with someone else. The pain was suffocating, but then rage burned through my grief. I picked up my phone, my fingers steady. I called Elek Preston, the VP of Engineering, the man who had offered me a lead role on a high-stakes project. "Is the offer still open?" I asked, my voice clear and hard.