How Does A Lady'S Guide To Fortune Hunting End?

She married him out of desperation, becoming the perfect docile wife while he treated her like dirt beneath his shoes. But everything shattered the night she overheard him mocking her with his friends-and discovered the necklace she'd cherished, her only link to the boy who once saved her life, didn't even belong to him. It was all a lie. No longer the doormat he married, she discards her fake identity and reclaims her birthright as the hidden heiress of Salvadore City. Now she's on a mission: find the necklace's true owner among his circle of friends, no matter how many hearts she has to break along the way. But her husband isn't ready to let go. Convinced she's playing games to make him jealous, he's blindsided when divorce papers land in his hands. By the time he realizes the woman he dismissed was never who he thought she was, she's already moved on-living her truth, chasing her destiny, and leaving him choking on regret. Some cages, once opened, can never be closed again.

It only took a moment to burn everything down. For five years, Isla Merrick played the part—soft-spoken wife, graceful hostess, quiet shadow to Callum Braxton’s powerful presence. She became what the world expected: dutiful, polished, harmless. Then came his cold declaration: “Let’s get divorced.” No emotion. No explanation. Just a clean cut—like a business deal. But Callum never knew she had been waiting for that moment. Planning for it. Beneath the composed surface, Isla had been sharpening the edges he once dulled. Because Isla Merrick had a past—and it wasn’t the scandal the tabloids spun. It was deeper. Sharper. Before she was Mrs. Braxton, she trained at Summerdell—an elite, off-the-record martial arts academy. Whispers of crime and prison blurred the truth, but Isla stayed silent. She had bigger plans. Three years later, she returns—not to reconcile, but to reintroduce herself. Isla Merrick now runs a luxury fashion empire, famous for turning scandal into power. And when she steps into the country’s most elite gala, draped in elegance and authority, Callum barely recognizes her. But she recognizes him. Before he can speak, a figure joins her—Dorian Kane. Ruthless investor. Public obsession. His hand rests on Isla’s waist like it belongs there. “Just so we’re clear, Braxton,” Dorian says coolly. “She’s not yours. Not anymore.” For Callum, it’s the beginning of a reckoning. For Isla, it’s the first breath of freedom. She isn’t the woman who once begged to be loved. She’s the woman who knows she never needed to be. And this time, she’s not just rewriting the story—she’s owning the ending.

The room falls silent when the butler of the Sherwoods places the DNA test results on the table. In my previous life, the real heiress, Phoebe Sherwood, is so greedy for wealth that she forces me to stay in the slums in her place. Later on, the Sherwood family is accused of money laundering. Their whole business empire collapses. Meanwhile, after news breaks that my poor parents and I win a lottery worth over 100 million dollars, someone targets and murders us. We die with hatred in our hearts. Now, in this life, Phoebe suddenly acts as if she's gone crazy. She throws her arms around our impoverished adoptive mother, whose clothes are covered in patches. She says, "I'm not leaving! Rosalyn is spoiled and delicate. She can't handle hardship. Let her stay with the wealthy family and enjoy a life of luxury. I want to stay with my parents and fulfill my duties as their daughter!" She cries pitifully, but when she turns around to sign a document severing ties with the Sherwoods, she can't suppress the smile tugging at her lips. My adoptive father is so moved that tears stream down his face. "Get out of here! The daughter we raised ourselves is the thoughtful one. We can't afford to associate with an ungrateful wretch like you!" The Sherwoods frown as they look at me. They open their mouths as if to say something but ultimately remain silent. My face devoid of any expression, I look at my adoptive family before turning and walking toward the luxury car. "Dad, Mom, let's go home." Phoebe is clueless. She doesn't know that in my previous life, I was the one who bought those winning lottery tickets.

Bad news: I died. Good news: I got transmigrated into a book. Bad news: I landed in the belly of a peasant woman and was about to be born as a fake heiress. Good news: I'd read this book cover to cover. I knew that when the real heiress came home, she'd use her parents' guilt against me. She'd even scheme to get me caught in bed with my own brother, so furious would our parents be that they'd throw me out of the house, and I'd die a miserable death in some back alley on a rainy night. So the year I turned five, I took every coin I'd ever been given and paid a street urchin to show up at the manor gates claiming to be the real heiress. When I turned eight, a second urchin took her place. At ten, a third. By the time I turned fifteen, the household already had eight "real heiresses" crammed into it. People back then didn't know about alum and water to distinguish family lines, so as far as anyone could tell, all eight girls shared blood with both the Marquis and his wife. As for why one daughter had become eight... The sage just smiled and said it wasn't meant to be spoken of. The year I turned sixteen, the real heiress finally came home.

I was known all throughout high society as the perfect, obedient daughter. Suitors lined up at my door in droves, yet I insisted on marrying Grayson Thatcher, whose family fortune had crumbled, all because of a promise we made when we were young. I thought we would be partners building a life together, but he fell deeply in love with his childhood sweetheart, a girl who spent her days running wild. The night before our wedding, he went street racing with her and they both got arrested, causing him to miss the ceremony entirely. The scandal made it everywhere. On New Year's Eve, he left me to organize the family banquet alone while he ran off with his childhood sweetheart to some crowded plaza. To see a different display of fireworks, they set fire to balloons people had released into the sky and triggered a massive blaze. Once again, I exhausted every connection I had to get him out of the mess. I cleaned up 999 of his reckless mistakes and kept the Thatcher family's business afloat, making sure he could live without a care in the world. I thought that eventually, he would at least remember some small part of what we meant to each other. Yet when I fell critically ill and needed a heart transplant, he took the only available donor heart and gave it to his childhood sweetheart instead. That was the first time I broke down and demanded answers. He stared at me, cold and unmoved. "You have the nerve to ask me that? If you hadn't forced yourself on me, I would've gotten together with Maeve years ago. You're as stiff as an old lady. How could you ever compare to someone like her? She's full of life. "I've let you play Mrs. Thatcher for over a decade. I was more than generous. Maeve is going to be my wife now. When she dies, we'll be buried together. You won't even get that much." I died consumed by bitterness and rage. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day of the matchmaking event. I picked up the marriage proposal the Thatchers had sent and tore it to pieces. Then, I reached for the one from the wealthiest family in the room and smiled. "Dad, if I have to get married anyway, I might as well marry the man with the most money and power."

Every witch awakened a gift when she came of age. Mine was simple. I could siphon my husband's fortune. On Christmas Eve, my husband spent 20,000,000 on a ring and proposed to his mistress as if he were buying a headline. The trending page exploded. Everyone waited to see how quickly I would be thrown out. The pathetic wife was finally swept out the door. When I stayed quiet, Jasper Prescott's tone turned playful, almost indulgent. "She's just a kid. She wanted the whole 'moment.' Your place isn't going anywhere." Then he added, as if assigning me a chore, "She's young. She can't handle things. Pay more attention to the engagement party's details." As though he feared I might cause trouble, he slid a black card across the table with casual ease. "Babe, you know what I value most," he said. "You being sensible." I pinched the cold card between my fingers, smiled, and nodded. No one knew the rule hidden inside our marriage. After we married, every time Jasper betrayed me, I took a piece of his fortune, stripping it from him one point at a time and adding it to my own. Once Christmas was over, I would take whatever he had left.