LOGINI died the night I caught my husband cheating—with my sister. My life ended with blood on my lips and a baby in my womb. But fate gave me a second chance. I woke up five years in the past, right before I married the wrong man. Now I won’t be sweet. I won’t be kind. I will protect my unborn baby, and I will destroy those who betrayed me. But I never expected him—the cold, rich, dangerous CEO who once ignored me—now he’s chasing me, touching me, claiming me like I belong to him. He says I’m his obsession. His future. His wife. But I have secrets, and I have revenge to serve. Will love ruin my plans… or save my soul?
View MoreSERENA
"Drink it, Serena. It will make you feel better." Julian’s voice was as soft as velvet, filled with the same sweet warmth that had made me fall hopelessly in love with him three years ago. I trusted him. I trusted him with my life, my heart, and every single piece of my family fortune. So when my loving husband handed me the delicate crystal glass filled with dark red wine, I didn't hesitate for even a second. I offered him a tired smile and drank every single drop. Three minutes later, my throat started to burn. It felt like swallowed fire, a sharp liquid flame sliding down my neck into my stomach. My hand jerked, and I dropped the glass. It shattered into a hundred jagged pieces against the cold white marble floor. Ruby wine splashed across the porcelain tiles, spreading out like a fresh pool of spilled blood. I clutched my neck, gasping desperately for air, but my lungs refused to expand. "Julian..." I choked out, reaching my trembling hand toward him. "Julian... help me. Please... I can't breathe." He didn't move. He didn't rush to my side. He didn't panic. He didn't call an ambulance or scream for help. He just stood there at the end of the bed, leaning casually against the edge of the heavy mahogany desk, watching me writhe on the floor in agony. His face was entirely void of worry. The gentle, loving eyes I had looked into every morning for three long years were gone, replaced by a cold, empty stare. In his place stood a stranger with a cruel, dark smile playing on his lips. "Julian?" My voice was barely a ragged whisper now. Tears of pain and horror filled my eyes as excruciating cramps tore through my gut. "Why... why aren't you helping me? What's happening to me?" "Because the poison in that wine is doing exactly what it was designed to do, my dear Serena," Julian said smoothly. He didn't even lower his voice. He casually adjusted the silver cufflinks on his expensive suit—a suit I had bought for him last week with my own money. A soft, familiar chuckle echoed from the shadows of the hallway outside our bedroom door. The heavy oak door swung open wider, and a woman stepped slowly into the room. She was wearing my favorite silk robe, the pink one Julian had bought me for my last birthday. Her long brown hair fell in loose, elegant waves over her shoulders, and her lips were painted in the exact shade of crimson lipstick I always wore. It was Ivy. Ivy, my half-sister. The girl I had rescued from poverty four years ago. The sister I had fed, clothed, bought luxury dresses for, and given a home to when our father abandoned her on the streets without a single cent to her name. "You took your time, Julian," Ivy purred, walking straight past my writhing body on the floor. She didn't even glance down at me. She threw her arms around Julian's neck and stood on her tiptoes to kiss his lips deeply. "I thought you were going to sit here and talk to her all night." Julian wrapped his arm around her slender waist, pulling her tightly against his body. He kissed her back without a shred of hesitation, his fingers digging into her hips right in front of my dying eyes. My heart shattered into a million sharp pieces, far smaller and more painful than the broken crystal glass on the marble floor. "I had to make sure she drank the whole glass, baby," Julian murmured against Ivy's lips, his voice dripping with a genuine affection he had never once shown me. "We can't afford any mistakes now, can we? Not when we're so close to having everything." "Julian... Ivy..." A wet, horrible choking sound came from my throat. I tried to push myself up on my elbows, but my arms felt like heavy blocks of lead. A sharp, unbearable wave of agony rushed up my throat, and I coughed violently. Warm, metallic liquid flooded my mouth. Blood. Thick, crimson blood trickled down my chin, dripping onto the pristine lace of my white nightgown. Ivy turned her head to look at me then. There was no pity in her dark eyes. There was no guilt, no remorse, and no fear. There was only pure, sickening triumph. She took a slow step closer, her high heels clicking loudly against the marble floor, stopping right beside my trembling head. "Look at you, Serena," Ivy sneered, crouching down so her face was just inches from mine. "You look so pathetic right now. Where is your famous pride now? Where is the grand, arrogant heiress of the Vance family?" "Why..." I managed to gasp out, my teeth stained red with blood. "Why are you doing this? I... I gave you everything, Ivy... Julian... I loved you both..." "You gave me your scraps!" Ivy snapped, her sweet voice turning into a venomous hiss. "You gave me the leftover crumbs of your rich, perfect life! You always acted like a generous saint, Serena, but every single time you looked at me, you reminded me that I was just the illegitimate bastard daughter! I hated you for it every single day of my life!" "And as for loving me?" Julian chimed in, walking over to stand right beside Ivy. He looked down at me as if I were a disgusting bug under his shoe. "Serena, did you really believe a man like me could ever love a boring, naive fool like you? You were nothing more than a stepping stone. A stupid girl who handed me her family's wealth on a silver platter." "The... the company..." I choked out, another heavy wave of blood spilling over my lips and pooling on the floor. "Is mine now," Julian said, pulling a folded stack of legal documents from his jacket. "You signed the full transfer of ownership yesterday afternoon, remember? You thought you were signing approval forms for our new charity foundation. You were so eager to please me, so desperate for my affection, that you didn't even bother to read the fine print." A terrible, sickening realization crashed over my dying mind. Yesterday... when he brought me those papers in bed with a tray of fresh breakfast and a sweet kiss on my forehead... it was all a trap. Every touch, every gentle word, every warm smile for the past three years had been nothing but a staged performance. They had been plotting my murder together under my own roof. "And there's one more beautiful surprise for you, dear sister," Ivy said, placing a gentle hand over her flat stomach. She looked up at Julian with a radiant smile. "I'm pregnant. Julian and I are going to have a baby. We're going to raise our child in your grand mansion, spending your billions, while your body rots six feet under the dirt." No. No! A scream of pure rage and agony burned in my chest, but all that came out was a horrific spray of blood across Ivy's polished designer shoes. "Ugh, disgusting!" Ivy shrieked, stepping back with a scowl. "Look what she did to my shoes!" I tried to reach out my hand, trying to grab Julian's pant leg, trying to leave a mark, trying to fight back with the last remaining drop of strength in my body. But Julian simply kicked my hand away with brutal disgust. His heavy boot struck my wrist, snapping the weak bone with an audible crack. "Don't touch me with your dirty, dying hands," Julian said coldly. "Die quietly, Serena. The doctors will arrive in an hour and declare that you suffered a sudden, tragic heart attack. Everyone in the city will mourn the poor, fragile Vance heiress, and then they will comfort your heartbroken widower." Ivy leaned down close to my ear, her voice dropping to a harsh whisper. "Thank you for the fortune, sister. Don't worry about Julian... I'll take wonderful care of your husband in your bed." They both began to laugh. It was a cruel, ringing sound that filled the grand room I had decorated for our future together. I couldn't move my arms or legs anymore. My vision was turning completely black around the edges, dark shadows eating away at the light. My heart was pounding slower and slower, each beat heavier and weaker than the last. Coldness spread from my fingers to my chest. I stared at Julian holding Ivy in his arms. I looked at the blood coating my trembling hands, the hot blood running down my chin and soaking my dress. *If there is a God... if there is an afterlife... hear my prayer,* I screamed inside my dying mind, tears of pure bitterness mixing with the fresh blood on my cheeks. *Give me another chance. If I ever open my eyes again, Julian... Ivy... I swear on my soul that I will make you pay. I will rip away everything you steal from me today. I will tear down your lives piece by piece, and I will drag both of you straight to hell!* My chest gave one last violently painful spasm. My lungs emptied. The blood on my lips went cold. Darkness swallowed me whole, and my heart stopped beating.The invitation came from Grandfather this time, not Margaret. That was why I went. "Vivian, come home for family dinner tonight, just family," Grandfather said on the phone, his voice tired but warm. "Margaret called, she cried, said she wants to apologize properly at home, no reporters, no cameras, just soup. She made your father's favorite fish soup, the one your mother taught her. She said she wants to cook for me one last time before... before she leaves the city. I said yes. I am old, Vivian, I don't want to die with hate in the house. Come, please. Bring Julian if he is free. Let’s eat one last time as family." One last time. Family. Fish soup. My mother's recipe that Margaret stole. My stomach twisted. Margaret never cooks. She has maids, she has allergies to fish, she says the smell makes her sick. And she never apologizes without cameras. I looked at Julian, who was reading a contract with his reading glasses — he looks so handsome in reading glasses, I almost forgot to b
I should have known the Lin mansion's security was useless. My stepmother Margaret had fired all of my father's old guards after he died and replaced them with cheap men who spent more time looking at their phones than at the cameras. In my past life, that was how Chloe was able to bring Arthur into my bedroom while I was still technically married. That was how they were able to take me away to the asylum without anyone stopping them. I made a mental note. The first thing I would do after I secured the Sterling name was fire every single one of them. Because at 11 PM, when I had just come back from Sterling Tower and was trying to take off this red dress that felt like armor, my bedroom door clicked open. I froze. "Vivian?" Arthur's voice. Hoarse. Broken. Like he had been crying. He slipped inside and closed the door behind him, locking it. He was still in his wrinkled tuxedo from this morning, his eyes red, his hair a mess. He looked like a man who had lost everything overnigh
The bidding for the Trans-Pacific Green Shipping Corridor was held at the Grand Hyatt, 9 AM, in a glass room that looked over the sea — my sea, my father's sea, the sea where I fell when I was 10 and a boy crushed his legs to save me. I arrived at 8:50 AM, white suit, hair up, no diamonds, only my father's old pen in my pocket and the photo of Little Fish in my inner pocket, because I needed her — that 10-year-old girl with missing tooth who promised to marry a lonely boy — to remind me who I was fighting for. With me: Leo with three laptops and a power bank taped to his leg like a weapon, Julian in black suit in wheelchair today because his legs hurt from walking at 2 AM to my study, Mark with the Norwegian tech certificate in a bulletproof briefcase, and Uncle Chen, Liu, Zhao, Huang, Wang — my father's five brothers — in matching Lin Enterprises blue ties, because I asked them to wear blue for luck. Across the table: Arthur Vance. New suit again, this time tailored, hair combed, b
I didn't sleep after the photograph. How could I? I sat on the floor of Julian's private study, barefoot, in his t-shirt, holding a yellowed photo of a 10-year-old me with a missing tooth and an ugly fish, and a 15-year-old Julian scowling while holding my ponytail so I wouldn't fall into the sea, with blue ink on the back: Little Fish — 2008 — She said she will marry me when she grows up so I don't have to be alone. I said okay. — J Julian sat with me, his bare back against his desk, his legs stretched out, shaking from walking without his cane, his head on my shoulder, his tears dry now, his hands holding mine, holding the photo, like if he let go, I would fall into the sea again and forget again. "I didn't want you to find it like this," he whispered at 3 AM, his voice hoarse. "I wanted to tell you after you became President. After you didn't need me. So you wouldn't think you owed me." "Owed you?" I whispered back, my voice broken, Goodnovel heroine voice, small but fierce. "Ju






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