Reborn Short Stories & Independence Marriage Novels

My father-in-law tossed a credit card across the table and looked down at me, demanding that I divorce his daughter. In my past life, I had refused with everything I had. But this time, I picked up the pen and signed the divorce papers without a second thought. Because right then, I remembered what had happened last time. In that life, I found my wife after she had lost her memory. To support her, I worked myself to the bone, delivering 200 food orders a day. But when her memories came back, she realized she was actually the daughter of the wealthy Harretts. She saw our marriage as a stain on her perfect life. To get rid of me, she pretended to have amnesia again. She said, "Since you saved me once, I'll give you some money. But after this, don't ever show up in front of me again." I refused. I stayed by her side, enduring her insults and beatings. But in the end, she ordered our son to set the fire that killed me, just so she could marry her first love. Now that I had been given another chance, I wasn't about to make the same mistake twice.

On the first day of my rebirth, I turn straight into the bedroom of Don Raffaele Caruso and begin undoing my clothes. In my previous life, I was in a marriage of convenience with his son, Matteo Caruso, but there was no love between us. We were notorious in Liberty City's mafia circle. Matteo believed I was the reason he lost his first love. He thought I had deliberately gone into his room the night he was drugged with an aphrodisiac, trapping him in a marriage. Hence, for eight years after our wedding, he stayed out drunk every night and refused to come home. Even when I went into obstructed labor and was on the brink of death, he never asked about me even once. Then, the hurricane came. A storm surge swallowed Liberty City. The harbor collapsed under the waves, and there was only one seat left on the evacuation boat. Everyone thought Matteo would keep it for himself. Instead, he shoved me hard onto the boat. "Go! I'm giving you my chance to live, Chiara. If there's a next life, don't come saving me again. I just want to be with Lucia." The next second, his body was dragged into the pitch-black sea. I survived, only to be hacked to death by a rival family afterward. What Matteo never knew was that he wasn't the only one who was drugged that night. His father was too. This time around, I step into the room just as the effects of the aphrodisiac take hold. Raffaele is currently forcing himself to endure it, his control stretched to the limit. I walk over and say softly, "Let me be your antidote, Don Caruso."

In my third year of marriage, Victor Lyon, the most prominent man in Sagedale's elite circle as well as my husband, goes viral on the Internet once again. This time, it's because he has decided to throw a grand wedding to be with Carol Braun, the low-income student he has been sponsoring. I don't kick up a fuss, nor do I throw a tantrum. In fact, I even have someone send them my wishes. Because of that, the rich wives of Sagedale's elite circle view me as a complete joke. After the wedding, Victor explains to me, "Carol's grandpa is very ill. His death wish is to see her marry a good man. I was just acting with her the whole time, Lilian. Don't take it to heart." I just smile and nod. "Yeah, I believe you." In my previous life, I had demanded explanations from Victor hysterically. But in return, he screwed over my parents' company to the point that they were forced to jump off a building by debtors. I got my legs broken before I got thrown into a mental asylum that tortured me endlessly. Thank goodness God took pity on me, for He gave me another chance in life. This time, I no longer want Victor's love. I just want his wealth. When he's busy going on a honeymoon with Carol, I secretly have his assets transferred under my name. When Victor's attending prenatal checkups with Carol, I trick him into signing a share-transfer agreement. Whenever he betrays me, I'll take some of his assets away. Once Victor betrays me three more times, he won't have anything under his name.

When my Alpha mate, Xander, wanted to bring Sadie—the pregnant widow of his best friend—into our home, I let him. I even went before the Pack Elders myself and filed to sever our fated mate bond. I set him free to honor the guilt and devotion he felt for her. I did it all because of my last life. In that life, blinded by jealousy, I had coldly refused his request. That refusal led to tragedy. Sadie left our territory alone, miscarried on the road, and was left barren—never able to bear a cub again. And he blamed me for all of it. So when I was the one dying, bleeding out on the birthing bed and begging him to save me, he showed me the depths of his hatred. He coldly pulled the pack healers from my room, leaving our cub and me to die in a pool of our own blood. I can still hear his icy words. "Sadie lost her cub because of you. Now, you pay the price for your cruelty." So this time, I stepped aside. I let him keep his promise to the woman he cherished, and I gave him the bone-deep hatred for me that he so clearly craved. But I never imagined what would happen when I was finally, truly gone from his life. I never expected that the same Alpha who treated me with such cold cruelty would go mad searching for me. That he would tear the territories apart, only to fall to his knees before me, his eyes bloodshot, begging me to come back.

I had regressed ninety-nine times, and it all started because I brought home an injured man. Every time I came back, strange floating comments appeared in front of my eyes. I could also hear my baby brother's thoughts. The moment my brother saw Tristan Price, he screamed and refused to stop crying. "Send that man back! He's going to get our whole family killed!" I reached out hesitatingly toward Tristan, and the chat overlay flickered to life again. [The man lying in your bed is your future husband and the prince regent. He never forgets a kindness. Save him, and he will make you his princess consort. Your entire family will be protected and well provided for.] The first time, I followed my heart and did what the messages told me to do. I saved Tristan, and he used me as a human shield. The assassins hunting him found us, and my entire family was slaughtered. The second time, I listened to my brother instead and sent Tristan back where I found him. His men came to our door anyway, accused me of leaving him to die, and killed everyone. The third time, I found Tristan's closest aide before the assassins arrived and quietly handed Tristan over. Then Tristan went mad without warning and stabbed me himself. When my family tried to avenge me, they were killed too. I tried every approach I could think of to avoid my family's tragic fate, and every single one ended in failure. This time, I chose to wait for death. Then the comments appeared again, and something about them caught my eye.

After I get detained in the police station, my husband, Gavin Pratt, specifically comes over to bail me out. But I grip a policeman's arm without letting go. "I'm the one who did it! Hurry up and arrest me!" In my previous life, I was surrounded by the family members of a car crash victim. A bar owner and a saleswoman who sold cosmetics were there as well. They claimed that I had gone into a drunken frenzy and stole perfume from the store. On top of that, I even ran a red light and hit someone with my car. I kept explaining the truth to everyone, yet no one believed me. Instead, they all had me surrounded and beat me up till I died. When I wake up again, I've returned to the day I'm detained inside the police station.

After I was rescued from a staged kidnapping, my wife, Vanessa, moved out of our bedroom on her own. No matter how I explained, she insisted I had been attacked because I had cheated. Even when I tried to touch her, she screamed and threw up on me. Friends and relatives looked at me with more and more pity. Everyone told me, "Vanessa's a good woman. Stop tormenting her." Even my son snapped, "You're so filthy. Why do you have to force Mom?" From then on, I was branded a cheater and a lunatic. I spent the rest of my life in misery and despair, and in my old age, I ended that wretched life by throwing myself into a lake. Only after I died did I learn that the kidnapping had been staged by Vanessa herself. She used my guilt to make me take care of our son and her father. Meanwhile, she kept herself "pure" for the man she'd never gotten over and lived a carefree life with him. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the day I was rescued.

My mother suddenly suffered a brain hemorrhage, and I needed to pay $80,000 for surgery immediately. I called my wife right away. Before I could finish, she cut me off impatiently. "Gabriel Cole, didn't we agree when we got married that we'd keep our finances separate? Your mother being sick is your family's problem. Why should you touch my savings? Can't you have a little respect for the contract?" Then my stepson's sneering voice came through from her side. "Uncle Gabriel, can you stop morally blackmailing my mom? As a grown man, isn't it pathetic that you can't even pay your own mother's medical bills? Stop bothering us while we're eating sushi." Because I couldn't pay the fee in time, my mother missed the best window for surgery and died. It wasn't until noon the next day that my wife called me. Her first words were an accusation. "What's wrong with you? It's already noon. Why aren't you back to cook? Don't you know Mason has tutoring this afternoon?" "My mom died of a brain hemorrhage!" I roared through gritted teeth. My wife froze for a second. The first thing she blurted out was: "Well, don't expect me to pay for the funeral. That's a matter of principle. "And your mother dying is your mother dying. That's not a reason for you to skip cooking." In that instant, I knew the devotion I'd poured out for more than ten years meant nothing to her. Rage hit my heart. I suffered a heart attack and followed my mother into death. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day my wife proposed separate finances after marriage.

On the day I left for a business trip, my son, Billy Smith, livestreamed his suicide attempt from our home. While I took my time shopping at the mall, my younger sister, Lori Chaney, and my husband, Greg Smith, were beside themselves with panic. By the time I got the call from Lori, I dropped everything at work and rushed home. However, I reached home to see Billy sobbing into the camera. “Mom, whenever Dad isn’t home, you bring Mr. Scott into the house. After that, you’d force me to keep it a secret. When I refused to play along, you abused me in every way you could! I also found the medical report in your nightstand. You have AIDS, but you never told Dad. I’m ashamed to have a disgusting woman like you as my mother!” Billy then jumped from the building and landed on the rescue airbag without a scratch. I, however, became the target of public outrage. I tried to clear my name, but no one believed me. After all, who would risk his own life just to frame his mother? Greg even brought me a glass of poisoned milk and forced me to drink it. He then told everyone that I had committed suicide out of shame. When I opened my eyes again, I realized I had been sent back in time to the day Billy threatened to kill himself.

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.

When my cheating fiancé dropped to one knee and proposed in front of everyone at our engagement party, he thought I would burst into tears and say yes. What he didn't expect was for me to snatch the microphone right out of his hand. "Sorry, I’m not marrying you." The entire room fell silent. Jason Gordon froze, the smile still lingering on his lips, as though he hadn't yet processed what I'd just said. I looked at him without the slightest ripple of emotion. Three minutes earlier, I had awakened the memories of my past life. In that life, I nodded yes at this very party. Then I watched this man slowly hollow out the company my father left me before tossing me aside like something no longer useful. Still kneeling on the floor, his voice trembled. "Claire... what... what are you talking about?" I met his eyes and smiled. "I already said I'm not marrying you." I handed the microphone back to the emcee, lifted the hem of my gown, and walked out of the ballroom without looking back. Behind me, his panicked voice rang out. "Claire Sharp! Claire, stop!" I didn't turn around.

On my wedding anniversary, my three-year-old son gave me an alpaca as a gift. I turned right around and shipped it off to the circus, where I found it a strapping alpaca husband. All because I'd been reborn. In my last life, that alpaca was sweet and gentle with everyone—except me. Every single day, it spat on me. Determined not to disappoint my son, I tried everything to win it over, but nothing worked. My mind unraveled. I stopped sleeping. I started hearing things that weren't there, and every night I dreamed of that alpaca chasing me down to spit in my face. My husband called me vicious. My son called me petty. And the two of them only grew closer to that alpaca by the day. Worn down and broken, I swallowed an entire bottle of sleeping pills and ended it. Floating above my own body after death, I watched in shock as it stood back up on its own. My son ran sobbing into "my" arms. "Mom, you're finally not an alpaca anymore!" My husband smiled and pulled them both into an embrace. "Nadia, you've been through so much. If it weren't for needing a healthy body to move your soul into, you'd never have had to suffer inside that alpaca for two years." That was when I finally understood. That alpaca had been Nadia Salem all along—the sickly impostor who'd stolen my identity for over twenty years.

The day after our wedding, my wife claimed she didn’t know me. I’d spent years working myself to the bone and saving every penny before I could finally marry the woman I loved. Between the house, the car, and everything I’d paid toward the wedding, I’d spent three million dollars. But the very next day, my wife stared at me in terror and insisted she was single. Worse, the county clerk’s office had no record of us ever getting married. The house and car were both in her name. Half a lifetime of savings had vanished overnight. Furious, I tracked down her friends, certain they could prove the truth. Instead, every one of them claimed they’d never seen me before. I stormed into the county clerk’s office demanding answers. The staff thought I was delusional and called the police. “You’ve gone crazy from wanting a woman that badly, haven’t you? You probably got married in a dream. What bride refuses to recognize her husband the day after the wedding?” After trying to mediate, even the police decided there was something wrong with me. Desperate to recover my house and car, I fought to take back what was mine. Instead, my wife accused me of running a marriage scam and trying to steal her property. Whenever I showed up, the building’s security guards beat me and threw me out. My wife posted videos of my breakdowns online, and the entire internet mocked me. Everyone believed I was insane. In the end, exhausted and tormented beyond endurance, I wandered into traffic and was struck dead. But when I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day we were supposed to get our marriage certificate.

The Dempsey family has two adopted sons. I'm one of them, and the other is Julius Haysworth. On the day Elena Dempsey and Julius get engaged, a car accident leaves her crippled. Julius tearfully breaks off the engagement, while I marry Elena to repay the Dempseys for taking me in. For the next ten years, I wait on her hand and foot, support her rehabilitation, and help her walk again. I even give up my chance to attend college for her. Yet, on the very day Elena regains her mobility and takes over the family business, she announces that she wants to bring Julius home. A wealthy woman has scammed him out of every penny, and Elena now wants to divorce me for him. I confront her in fury, destroy everything in our home, and even beg her to reconsider, but Elena refuses to change her mind. Even my adoptive parents believe that a man without a college education is no longer good enough for the now-successful Elena. I'm so furious that I spit out a mouthful of blood and jump from the top floor of the Dempsey residence. When I open my eyes again, I'm back on the day Elena will choose between Julius and me as her future husband.