Contos sobre Reborn e Romances com Bias e Karma

After the night of the full moon, my daughter - Lily was declared lost to the Rampage—her mind shattered, her wolf consumed by madness. Pack law is clear: when a wolf-blood is deemed uncontrollable, their guardian must sign the Blood Pact. The moment the pact takes effect, their body belongs to the pack. My Alpha husband, Liam Blackwood, urged me to sign. He said it was an honor to serve the pack. He said our daughter would have wanted to save other pups. Holding our daughter's broken, wasted body, I wept until I had nothing left. But that night, at the end of the corridor, I heard her voice. Elena Vance. The pack's youngest Shaman Healer. And the woman Liam had loved before me—the one who got away. "Lily's marrow is a perfect match." "Once Sophie signs the Blood Pact, I can harvest the marrow and brew the antidote. It will save your daughter. Our daughter." Later, Elena's daughter walked out of that treatment center, healthy and whole. My daughter walked out in an urn. I stormed the Alpha Mansion to demand the truth. But before I could speak, Dark Magic ripped through my veins. My wolf surfaced against my will—violent, uncontrollable. The pack guards tore me apart. My last sight was Liam shielding Elena and her daughter from the bloodshed. "Don't look," he murmured, covering their eyes. "You'll have nightmares." I died clutching the wolf fang necklace my daughter left behind—burning with hatred, drowning in regret. Then I opened my eyes. I was back in the treatment center. Back in that sterile white room. Back before I signed my daughter's life away. I turned to the bed where my little girl thrashed against iron chains. This time, I swore it: They will pay. In blood.

Everyone called my sister Alessia a prodigy. I was the only one who knew she was a thief. From the day I moved back into the brownstone, she started taking from me. Quietly. Carefully. My designs. My sketches. My drafts. Everything I created would appear under her name before I even had time to finish it. The family stood behind her. Always. My father, Salvatore Lucchese, head of the family, his word law itself, said he believed Alessia. So I became the liar. The plagiarist. The disgrace. They threw me out of the outfit's front shop. Blacklisted me from the industry. Erased my name. Then one of her loyal admirers ran me down in the street. That was the end. Or it should have been. When I opened my eyes again, it was the day before the national jewelry competition. This time, I didn't draw a single line. Let's see what my darling sister delivers… when the well has run dry.

Accused of stealing recipes from my own sister, Cora, I was ruthlessly cast out from the healing center—by my own fated mate, the Alpha Kellan. So I came home to my grandma's herb farm. Riding my wild horse, Shadow, wherever the hell we want to go. But now the whole pack is scrambling to find me. In my past life, at the Alliance's Grand Potion Competition, my sister always managed to submit the exact same rare potion recipes as me, just a little bit earlier. They all called me a shameless thief, a plagiarist who stole my own sister's work. Even my own parents got on stage to vouch for her. And Kellan... he threw the exile order in my face. His eyes were ice. He stripped me of my title for "dishonoring the pack" and shattered our mate bond right in front of everyone. The agony tore my soul apart. I wanted to die. My family called me a disgrace and cast me out. The betrayal shattered my wolf. I lost my mind. In the end, one of her fanatics shot me dead in the street. A silver bullet laced with wolfsbane. As I died, I still couldn't understand how she could get inside my head and steal my recipes. Then I opened my eyes. I was back. The day before the competition. This time, my mind is filled with nothing but the wild. Let's see what kind of potion my 'genius' sister can come up with now.

My adopted Omega sister, Maya Bardolph, is known to be innocent and kindhearted. Before the practical admission assessment, I specifically tell her not to interfere in any way. But she secretly puts a prohibited performance booster into my water bottle. I am reported for cheating on the spot. My results are canceled, and I am permanently blacklisted. When I break down and demand an explanation, she bursts into tears, looking pitiful and wronged. She weeps, "Sierra, I just wanted you to get first place... I didn't know things would turn out like this." My boyfriend, Dale Ashshade, immediately pulls her into his arms and blames me instead. He scolds, "She is only trying to help. Why are you being so harsh to her?" My parents chastise me frostily as well. "Isn't it just one practical assessment? She's an Omega. She doesn't understand these things. Can't you be more patient with her?" To apologize, Maya smilingly brings me a cup of herbal tea later. "Sierra, I made this just for you. Promise you won't be mad at me anymore after you drink it, okay?" Without thinking much about it, I drink the tea. But what she uses to brew the tea is highly poisonous silver oleander. I die from the poisoning. Outside the emergency room, Maya cries hysterically, "I'm sorry! I didn't know silver oleander is poisonous... I just wanted to apologize to Sierra..." When questioned by the Enforcers, Dale calmly gives false testimony. "After Sierra was caught cheating, she became mentally unstable. She couldn't accept how things turned out and took silver oleander to kill herself..." When I open my eyes again, I return to the day before the assessment.

When my son suffered a heart attack in the middle of the night, I rushed him to the hospital where my wife worked. Instead of taking charge herself, she handed the operation to an intern. "New doctors need opportunities to learn. I'll be right there supervising. Nothing will happen." But before the surgery even began, a phone call pulled her away, leaving a trembling Marvin Vance alone in the operating room. My son never made it off the operating table. I collapsed in the hallway, sobbing in grief. Yet I overheard my wife gently comforting Marvin. "For your first surgery, you held on this long. You've done an amazing job, my little cinnamon roll." Awkwardly copying trendy slang younger people used online, she reassured him with endless patience. Then she turned to me with a cold expression and demanded that I sign a letter forgiving Marvin. "He has his whole future ahead of him. You can't destroy his life." I tore the document to pieces and threatened to call the police and expose what had happened. In response, she arranged for a medical donation and had my son's body dissected that very night. Driven insane by grief, I threw myself from a building while clutching my son's ashes. When I opened my eyes again, I found myself back on the day of my son's surgery. This time, I immediately contacted my parents and transferred him to another hospital. But that night, they still dissected a child.

Even though the prettiest girl in my class, Phoebe Jones, bombed her college entrance exams, she claimed she had gotten into the prestigious Pemberton University and was just waiting for orientation day. She even guaranteed she could get the whole class in, too. Everyone erupted in cheers, put her up on the class podium, and lined up to hand over their applications. Something did not sit right with me, so I asked a few questions. Her 'exclusive enrolment channel' turned out to just be an AI chatbot called Babble. Babble had promised her it had reserved exclusive spots at Pemberton and guaranteed she would be registered by the start of the term. I tried to warn everyone that it was just an AI telling her what she wanted to hear, but my childhood friend was the first to jump to her defense. "Maren, how could you think that about Phoebe? She's doing this for the whole class. What's your problem?" My best friend added, "Maren, AI is the way of the future. You can't just dismiss it because you don't get it." That was all it took to turn the whole class against me. They pushed me around until I tumbled down the stairs, cracked my head open, and died on the spot. When I opened my eyes, I was back at the moment Phoebe announced she had gotten into Pemberton. I could not save people who were hell-bent on their own destruction, so this time, I wished them nothing but the best.

A week before my parents' sixteenth wedding anniversary, my dad gave my mom a diamond necklace worth over two hundred thousand dollars. Instead, I immediately fastened it around the neck of my flamboyant classmate. Because in my previous life, three days after my mom put on that necklace, she became a completely different person. The way she looked at me turned cold and distant. She flew into rages over the smallest things, throwing objects and calling me a worthless burden. One day, I casually complained about her best friend, Vanessa Moore, and she slapped me hard across the face. Then, late one night, I passed my parents' bedroom on my way to the bathroom and overheard a conversation inside. That was when I learned the diamond necklace was cursed. It could swap my mother's soul with Vanessa's. I called the police immediately. Instead, they insisted I was mentally ill and forced me into a psychiatric hospital. I endured endless abuse and humiliation there before dying a miserable death. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day my dad gave my mom the necklace.

I made a deal with the Devil. My soul, in exchange for seven days on earth after I died. The eleventh hour after my death happened to fall on our third wedding anniversary. The moment I walked through the door, he had just come home from another woman's place. He had an anniversary gift waiting for me. A set of sapphires. But the card tucked beside them bore another woman's name. I spotted a pale lavender hair tie in his hand. Once, I would have fought him over a hair tie like that, all the way from the front hall to the study. This time, I said nothing. It was him who froze instead, staring at me like I was a stranger. "You didn't used to be like this. I almost miss the way you used to fall apart over everything." He was right. The old me would have thrown a fit over something as small as him forgetting to cut my steak. But ever since the miscarriage, my heart had been dying by slow degrees. When I found out I was pregnant, I was overjoyed. I wanted him to be the first to know. But I couldn't reach him, no matter how many times I called. I lost the baby. I hemorrhaged. That very afternoon, while I lay on the operating table, a photo of him and that woman hit the entertainment headlines. He never even knew I had carried a child. Now there was only one last thing I wanted from him. To drive me up to the northern coast, and bury me with his own hands. But when he realized I had truly vanished from this world, he came undone.

I come from an old-money family. My grandfather's will was ironclad: whoever gets an Ivy League acceptance letter unlocks 25% of a massive trust fund and a seat on the family board. Out of four siblings, I was the only one who stood a chance. Every night, my mother Victoria carefully made me a cup of "organic brain-boosting matcha." My twin sister Chloe and younger brother Mason never got that privilege. The night before the December SAT—the last chance for Regular Decision Ivy scores—Victoria handed me my green matcha as usual. The next day, my mind went completely blank during the test. I blacked out. I missed that application season. Meanwhile, Chloe—who spent her time at yacht parties and couldn't read an equation—miraculously got an offer from UPenn and sailed right onto the board. The second year, right before the test, my snobby cousin Brianna reached for my matcha. Victoria slapped her hand away and screamed: "Don't touch Ava's things!" That exam, I got severe stomach cramps and was rushed to the ER by ambulance. I had to drop out again. And Brianna—who only cared about designer bags—somehow got into Cornell and took her board seat. The whole family popped champagne in our Upper East Side penthouse. I became the laughingstock of Manhattan's elite, having missed two application seasons in a row. Why did my body crash like clockwork, right at the final, life-changing SAT? Prepping for the third time, I took no chances. For three days before the test, I ate only gluten-free detox meals controlled by a private nutritionist. But the night before the big test, Victoria smiled and brought me that familiar cup of green matcha.

In my past life, I was a top-tier criminal psychologist sent to the mountains to assist in an abduction case. I rescued a girl who was all chained up and fighting for food with wild dogs. She didn’t know how to talk and bit anyone who came close. To help her integrate into normal life, I taught her to walk on her two legs, dress herself, eat, talk, and read. Despite being bitten by her so badly that I had to get stitches, I continued staying by her side day and night. Five years later, I helped her find her biological parents, who turned out to be the richest family in the city. Yet, at her welcome banquet, she pulled the hem of her dress away, revealing old scars on her thighs and accusing me before hundreds of media partners and reporters. “Not only did Professor Lawson teach me the rules of society, but he even taught me how to please and serve others. He'd bully me and hit me if I were disobedient.” I was treated like a pariah overnight. The richest man in the city crippled me and hung me on the bridge over the sea as a warning to all. My sister, who had severe depression, had her privacy violated. She was driven to slit her wrists and commit suicide. In this life, the cellar door was kicked down once again. The girl, all covered in filth and dirt, climbed toward me once more, hugging my leather shoes and sobbing. I immediately took a step back and pulled out my body cam. “The suspect is extremely aggressive. Call for female cops and have them bring restraint straps with them. I refuse to come into contact with any underage persons of the opposite gender.”

The day Sofia died, I scattered her ashes into the sea myself. In my last life, I called her my stepmother for thirteen years. She pulled me from dead last at a school in the slums to the top ten in the whole city, gave me the first dress of my life, and taught me how to sit straight at the Moreno dinner table and never bow my head to anyone. On the late nights when my father Leon got drunk and smashed his bottles, it was always her who closed my bedroom door first, then walked alone into the living room to face the man that love and power had already driven mad. Seven days after she died of her illness, Leon finally lost his mind. He charged into the sea off the old docks, screaming, "Sofia, I was wrong! I'm coming down to be with you!" I clung to him with everything I had, and in the struggle I fell into the freezing water myself. When I opened my eyes again, I was five years old. Sofia was crouched on the floor, tying my shoelaces. Her fingers were warm, the pads still carrying the thin calluses left by years of holding a pen over the ledgers. I threw my arms around her neck and buried my face in the crook of her shoulder. "Mommy, this time I don't want anyone else. I only want you."

I was reborn on the day Alpha Cassian Draven inherited Raven Hollow Pack. My first decision in this life was simple: reject our mate bond, transfer to another pack, and never give him the chance to destroy me again. In my previous life, he despised me as the Omega mate the Moon Goddess forced on him and chose the noble-born Seraphina Voss instead. When she accused me of cursing her, Cassian locked me beneath the pack house and used a forbidden bond-breaking rite to tear apart the bond between me and my wolf. I died under wolfsbane and silver. This time, I will not beg him to love me. When he bars me from Alpha Hall, I turn away. When he says an Omega like me will not survive outside Raven Hollow, I file for a pack transfer and accept Ironwood Pack’s protection. The next time we meet, I am already under another Alpha’s protection. Cassian finally loses control. He demands that I leave Ironwood and return to him. I look at him and smile. “You used to hate that I was your fated mate.” “Now that I truly do not belong to you, why does it bother you so much?”

On the day of the Hunt Festival, I have the healer remove my corneas. In my past life, my fiance's adopted sister, Mandy Wells, steals my Crescent Moon Bow and sneaks three Omega wolves into the royal hunting grounds. Mandy spends the day showing off, right up until one of her arrows pierces the chest of the pregnant Luna. The Luna dies on the spot, along with the heir in her womb. Afterward, the three Omegas claim in unison that I was the one holding the bow. When the enforcers show up at my door with the Crescent Arrow, I desperately try to explain that Mandy fired the shot. Mandy cowers in Connor Parker's arms while weeping like a victim. "Aliya, it's fine if you hate me, but you can't frame me for murder." Connor pulls out a memory crystal right then and there. The person drawing the Crescent Bow in the image has my face. "The evidence is right here! How dare you try to frame someone else?" The enraged pack drags me onto the execution stand. They gouge out my eyes, snap my legs, and burn me alive in the sacred fire. When I open my eyes again, I've returned to the day before the Hunt Festival.

The year I became disabled, my own daughter Emily brought home the ex-husband who had abandoned me years earlier. With his new wife beside him, they strutted into my house as though they owned it. The three of them stared me down and announced a new house rule. "From now on, everyone pays their own eldercare costs." A caregiver had just changed my adult diaper. Emily pulled out a calculator and demanded I pay $150 on the spot for the nursing fee. I looked at the woman lounging on my couch and eating imported cherries, then forced myself to speak. "She lives here too. Why doesn't she have to pay?" Emily clenched her jaw. "Seriously! You think you can compare yourself to Aunt Camilla?" "You made me wear hand-me-downs and live on plain boiled vegetables. Life with you was cheap and miserable!" "Camilla takes me shopping for designer brands and out to fancy dinners. She gives me real love and freedom! They get a pass because I love them. You don't." I stared at the home cardiac monitor beside my bed. I had emptied my savings to buy it when she was sick. "You've always used my illness as an excuse to control me, to torment me. We share nothing but blood. Whatever feelings we had are long gone, and I have no obligation to take care of you for free." Day after day, they schemed and ground me down, until I finally died a miserable death in that hospital bed. Then I opened my eyes and found myself back, years in the past. It was the day I first discovered that my ex-husband Adam had been secretly taking Emily to Disneyland.

My sister Seraphina and I were inseparable growing up. She played the fierce protector. She called herself my guardian angel. Deep down, she was a snake. She wanted everything I had. She stole my man—Rocco, a Capo in the Philly mafia's Cianci family. Her excuse? She wanted to "test" his loyalty to me. She claimed she was shielding me from his dark world of shootouts, blood, and FBI wiretaps. She maxed out the black card he gave me. Then she told him I bought a Rolex for a boy toy. She skimmed money from the family's money-laundering business. She pinned it on me. She said I was a gambling addict with massive debts. She got pregnant. Yet she still messed around with Rocco's uncle at a lavish yacht party. She got high and partied until she started bleeding. But in the end, I took the fall for everything. She spun a lie. She said I locked her in the bathroom out of jealousy. She panicked. She fell. The baby died. To avenge her, my man threw me into a rundown underground casino in Atlantic City. There, his uncle's mistress sold me to a pimp. I got hooked on drugs. Then they tossed me out on the streets. I was passed around from one man to another in pure humiliation. Until my body completely broke down. I died a slow, dirty, and lonely death. When I opened my eyes again, I was back. Back to the very night my sister miscarried after that crazy yacht party.

To help my student, Stanley Johnson, win the chemistry competition, my fiancee, Yelena Quincy, replaces my experimental materials with a hazardous substance. She leaves me a note. "Hank, you've already won plenty of awards and honors. Stanley's mother only has a few days left, and this is his last chance to fulfill her dying wish. Just let him have this one. "Besides, you're Stanley's advisor. Helping your own student win the championship makes you look good, too. "Once he wins, I'll say yes to your marriage proposal right away, okay?" But she doesn't know that I no longer have a chance to marry her. The hazardous substance causes a massive explosion, and I burn to death along with the three thousand students and faculty in the building! She faces relentless demands for justice from the families of all three thousand victims.

The day a rat sold out our East Coast safe houses, the FBI got its hands on the addresses of every old base belonging to the Five Families. The Commission gave the order: every associate had to report to the neutral church and register within seventy-two hours. Only those who completed registration would make the evacuation list and be picked up by the convoys. Once the list was sealed, no one could be added. But Viola Romano claimed she was the daughter of the Commission's Chairman. She said her father had already saved a spot for everyone. They didn't need to register, and they could still leave on the priority convoy. My friends believed her and canceled their registrations, one after another. I begged them not to gamble with their lives and told them to register just in case. Viola immediately accused me of being jealous and trying to ruin things for everyone. My boyfriend, Matteo Russo, said I didn't understand power and that I belonged in line with the ordinary members. In my last life, I reported the whole thing to the Commission. Viola was exposed. Everyone managed to register before the deadline and secure a spot on the evacuation list. She was cast out of the Family for impersonating the Chairman's daughter and obstructing an emergency evacuation. In the end, she died in an FBI raid. Everyone said she got what she deserved. They thanked me for saving them. But after we moved into the new safe house, Matteo shot me from behind. The bullet went straight through my heart. The people I'd saved just stood there, watching coldly. "The worst that could've happened to us was getting arrested by the FBI. Viola lost her life!" When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day Viola promised to get everyone onto the evacuation list.

I was in the parking garage of my Beverly Hills high-rise. And I backed my car into my neighbor's Ferrari. On purpose. I got out, a half-empty bottle of tequila in my hand, right in front of her. "Are you blind? Do you know how much this car costs? Can you even afford to fix it?" She was furious, her face turning red as she whipped out her phone to call 911. I just smirked. "You should probably call them. Get the LAPD down here to arrest me. I'll wait." The first time around, I was the fall guy for my fiancé, Grant, and his sister, Blair. They got high at some Hollywood party, went joyriding, and killed an innocent valet. But the car was my Porsche. And they swore I was the one driving. I rotted in a California state prison for ten years. The shock killed my mom. A heart attack. When I got out, they weren't done. They forged offshore debts to drain my trust fund and drove me to suicide. I woke up 24 hours before it all happened again.

My little sister Vanessa was obsessed with werewolf lore, convinced she was destined to marry a powerful Alpha. When Rex, the Alpha of the Firwood Pack, saved her during a riot, she thought fate had finally set its gears in motion. What she didn't know was that Rex saved her simply because she resembled what his fated mate had looked like in her youth— Helena, the Luna of the Firwood Pack. Any sane woman would've walked away. Vanessa saw it as her golden ticket to the top. She secretly mapped out Helena's usual routes, hired outlaws to stage a brutal car crash, and sprinkled silver dust—lethal to wolves—across the wreckage. Her plan? Wait for the esteemed Luna to draw her last breath, then step in as the "first witness who risked her life to help," climbing over the body to claim her place. Vanessa was convinced that once Helena was gone, she'd be the next Luna. In my past life, I snatched the keys before she could move, locked her in her room, and begged her to come to her senses. Rex wasn't some lovestruck wolf from those cross-species romance novels—he was the iron-fisted Alpha who ruled the entire territory. A wolf's mate bond was carved into the soul. If he ever uncovered the truth, he wouldn't just tear her apart—he'd reduce our entire human family to ash. Vanessa nodded through her tears, swearing she'd let it go. But that night, she drove a silver blade straight through my heart. As I lay dying, she leaned in and whispered: "You ruined my chance to be Luna, Eileen. So you had to die." When I opened my eyes again, I was back in the moment she made her move.

After our pack lost the war, the survivors spent two years on the run. In the third year, the Wolf Council passed a decree allowing us to be absorbed into new packs. But there was a catch—we had to pass the Trials, a specialized test designed to test our physical fitness, reflexes, and overall abilities. Those who passed would be accepted. Those who didn't would be cast out as rogues for good. One month before the Trials, Vera Cross burst into the gathering, her voice trembling with excitement. "Everyone, stop preparing! I got a spell from a witch—just chant it in your head during the Trials, and you'll pass for sure!" She grinned and pulled out a record. "My friend Lily already took these exact Trials during her pack's routine check last month. She didn't prep at all—just chanted this spell in her head. And guess what? She passed." The record got passed around. Cheers erupted. Last life, I tried to warn them. Told them the official Trials would block all spellwork—that using it would flag them as anomalies, get their qualifications revoked on the spot, and dump them straight into rogue status. No one listened. So I reported the situation to the Council. Vera got her membership revoked. Died out in the wilds. Back then, every single pack member said she deserved it. Thanked me for saving them. But after we settled into the new pack, they cornered me. Doused me in gasoline. Burned me alive. "If you'd just kept your mouth shut, she'd still be alive!" When I opened my eyes again, I was back at the exact moment Vera was rallying everyone to give up on prep.