Mistress Reborn Short Stories & Novels

When I went to buy a new house, all I found was crumpled newspaper where my savings should've been. I almost called the cops—until I found out Tony Jarrett, my own husband, had blown seven years of my hard-earned cash on a shiny new motorcycle. For Pauline Schmidt. His ex. I asked why. He just shrugged. "She's a single mom. Life's tough. This way, she won't have to walk so much." I wanted to scream, but I swallowed it down. Made him at least get an IOU from her. While I was busy sourcing stuff for the factory, a flood warning hit our town. And Tony? Out buying toy cars with Pauline and her kid. Our son was home alone, trying to stay above water. I was back. Like life hit rewind and dropped me into that exact day. The day he gave her the motorcycle. I saw them—laughing, tight, like their own little picture-perfect family. But I didn't cry this time. Didn't beg. Just turned and walked off.

On my birthday, my boyfriend ditched his childhood friend's desperate call to be with me. Devastated by his rejection, she spiraled into depression and ended her life. Heartbroken, he proposed to me beside her body. "I've already lost Giselle. I can't lose you, too." I said yes, moved by his grief and sincerity. But on our wedding night, he turned on me, hacking me with a knife. "You vile woman! Giselle died because of you. Time to feel her pain!" As I bled out, the girl waltzed back, saying she'd faked her death to spook him. Overjoyed, he pointed at my corpse. "Thank God, you're alive. This wretched woman is gone, and we're free to be together." They looted my wealth for their lavish wedding and happy life. When my eyes snapped open again, I was back on that fateful birthday.

To save Hugh, I took the hit—literally. The kidnappers beat me so bad I ended up with a brain hemorrhage. My mind? Stuck at thirteen. Hugh, all guilt and promises, said, "Wenna, I'll protect you forever." And he did. He watched over me. When the house caught fire, he threw himself over me, took the burns, didn't flinch. Then came his oh-so-perfect foster sister. "Mia's not into... slow people. Maybe you should live next door," he said. And my son? The one I nearly died bringing into the world? "Stupid woman! You embarrass me and Dad. You're nothing like Aunt Mia—she's smart and pretty. If it weren't for you, she could've been my mom. You should just die!" To play hero for Mia, my son shoved me into the street. A truck did the rest. When I opened my eyes, I was back on the day Hugh proposed. This time? I wasn't here for his pity. And I sure as hell wasn't marrying him.

On the day of my husband, Ruben Castille's funeral, a grief-stricken woman shows up at the venue. After putting down the white lilies, she doesn't walk away. Instead, she chooses to approach me. "Honestly speaking, I've been envious of you for 30 years." I frown at her in confusion. Her lips just quirk into a small smile as her gaze falls onto Ruben's portrait. Soon, her eyes redden out of emotion. "Over the past 30 years, he's given me everything, be it love, time, and money. On top of that, he's very generous, too." The woman pauses for a moment. She then tilts her head to look at me, her voice now tinged with resentment. "But his only condition is that I'm not allowed to cause any trouble in front of you." My heart skips a beat. "What do you mean by that?" The woman laughs in return. "You two were married for 30 years. Similarly, Ruben and I were together for 30 years. Ashlee Drayton, he had already betrayed you a long time ago." After that, she turns on her heel and walks away, leaving me rooted to the spot while feeling my limbs going cold. My eyes go wide, and I begin breathing heavily. The betrayal and lies that have lasted for 30 years trigger me instantly, causing me to collapse at the venue. When I open my eyes again, I've returned to the day Ruben plans on proposing to me. "Ashlee, will you marry me?" I fall silent for a moment. Then, I accept the ring, only to throw it into a nearby drain without hesitation.

The hospital's latest intern, Lindsey Clark, is very pretty, but she's a total idiot as well. When my mom came to the hospital for a prescription, she swapped the vitamin C for potassium supplements, which were known to be very poisonous if misused. Mom, who was fresh out of surgery, suffered from heavy bleeding right after taking the medication. She died on the same night. Before I could hold Lindsey responsible for Mom's death, the latter quickly piped up with teary eyes, "I'm so sorry, Dr. Monroe! I just thought that potassium supplements can help your mother heal faster…" Even Michael Jones, my husband, who was the hospital director, took her side. "Your mom only had her idiocy to blame! She died because she took the wrong medication! How dare you drag Lindsey into this!" I was so furious that my cardiac arrest was triggered on the spot. Soon, I was sent into the operating room. Lindsey said she wanted to redeem herself by taking on the post as Michael's assistant in the surgery. But her hands kept trembling even when she tried to thread the suture needle. In the end, she took off her mask and picked up the suture with her teeth. Just like that, she used her saliva to wet the suture end. One day later, I died in the ICU due to a case of severe infection. When my spirit was about to fade away, I heard Lindsey crying sadly. "If it wasn't for my idiocy, Dr. Monroe wouldn't have died!" Michael just patted her dotingly on the head in return. "Having medical risks in a surgical operation is completely normal. You're still young, so stop blaming yourself already." Mom and I were cremated instantly, seeing as Michael intended to cover up our deaths. When I open my eyes again, I've returned to the day Lindsey has just gotten recruited by the hospital.

The day I found out I was pregnant, my husband, Julian Calloway, told me he had been reborn and wanted a divorce. “Three months from now, I’ll go bankrupt. You’ll work yourself to death helping me pay off my debts, and you’ll die young. “This time, I absolutely refuse to drag you down with me. Take this $9,000,000. We’ll get divorced—” Before he could finish, I picked up the pen and signed. “Fine. Just transfer the money to my account.” That evening, while I was gathering my things from the living room, I overheard Julian’s secretary, Naomi Foster, speaking smugly through his phone. “I can’t believe she’s actually that stupid. How did she ever get into Harvard? “You made up some ridiculous story about being reborn and going bankrupt, and she actually believed you.” Julian chuckled. “Who cares? If she leaves quietly with the money, isn’t that better than having her make a scene?” I raised an eyebrow. Of course I knew he was lying. Because I really had been reborn. And in one month, Julian Calloway really would go bankrupt.

After I came back to life, the first thing I did was hand that five-carat diamond ring—yes, the one my husband gave me—to his mother. The very woman who spent years picking me apart like it was her favorite pastime. In my last life, that ring was a custom New Year's gift. He paid a ridiculous amount for it. I actually thought it meant something. One afternoon, I was out shopping when I walked right into a bridal party taking pictures. The bride glanced at my hand, saw the ring, and her entire expression changed. She stormed over and slapped me, accusing me of being a shameless mistress trying to steal her man. I stood there, completely stunned. She was wearing the exact same ring. Before I could explain, her friends grabbed me. They dragged me aside, tore my clothes, hit me, and stomped on my hand until I couldn't move my fingers. They carved the word "mistress" into my face and paraded me through the street like some kind of public disgrace. I died there on the pavement. When my husband finally appeared, he didn't fight for me. He just signed off on a settlement, as if my life were nothing more than a piece of paperwork. Widowed that morning, married to the bride by nightfall. His mother instantly welcomed the new woman, all because she was pregnant. And then I opened my eyes again… back on the very day he first placed that diamond ring in my hand.

In the sixth year of my marriage with Zach Elroy, his workplace finally allocated us a small, two-room flat. I was overjoyed. I told our daughter she would finally have a bed of her own. But Zach said coldly, "This room is for Jennifer and her daughter. You and Kathy can keep sleeping on the floor." In my past life, we fought bitterly over it. He eventually gave in. But while I was away on a work trip, he went back on his word. He brought Jennifer Cross into our home and made our daughter, Kathy, sleep on the floor. That night, when Kathy came down with a high fever and cried out that she felt sick, he was reading Jennifer and her daughter a bedtime story. Our daughter passed away that night. Now, in this life, I calmly laid out the bedding on the floor and said, "Whatever."

At the celebration, the pampered heiress in Crownridge, Aveline Sage, confessed her love for me in front of the entire school. I turned her down flat. I was one of the Sage family's candidates—handpicked top students from every state—to improve their next generation's genes. In a few days, when the exam results came out, whoever earned the highest national score would become her fiance. For three years straight, I had been ranked first in the country. In my previous life, I achieved that top score. I got engaged to Aveline and became the envy of everyone—the son-in-law of Crownridge's most powerful family. But on the day of our engagement, her first love, Caspian Lorne, jumped off the top of the Sage Group building. His body was shattered beyond recognition. Aveline hired the best mortician to restore his face and placed him in a crystal coffin, where she slept beside him every night. During our honeymoon, she brought Caspian's body along, then kissed and clung to him right in front of me. When I confronted her, she looked at me with disgust. "The Sage family sponsored your education for twelve years. You knew Caspian and I were in love. Couldn't you let him win just once? You've been in first place for twelve years. What would it have cost you to lose? You ruined his future, ruined our love. You deserve to die." She drugged me, turned me into a fool with the mind of a three-year-old. I couldn't recognize my parents. I lost control of my own body. And I died in agony. … Then, I opened my eyes again, back on the morning of the exam. Last time, I beat Caspian by a single point. This time, I left an answer blank. Let him be the top scorer. Let him marry her. I hoped they grew old together, with plenty of children to match their love.

Adrian Quirrel, the heir to the Quirrel family, had been in poor health since childhood. Guided by the old superstition that marriage could restore his health, his family had taken in four young women, with only one to be chosen as his bride. On the selection day, they invited a renowned astrologer to read our birth charts. As soon as he said I carried a healing energy and could bear healthy heirs, the Quirrels decided on the spot that I would be Adrian's bride. Three months later, his health miraculously improved, and I soon found myself pregnant with twins—a boy and a girl. The family elders were ecstatic and even promised that my son would become the Quirrels' future heir. But on the night of the christening, Adrian locked me and the babies in the basement. I broke down and demanded an explanation. He sneered and replied, "If it weren't for your so-called 'healing energy,' Emily would've been my wife. "She wouldn't have jumped to her death at such a young age if she hadn't been pushed to that point. Tonight, I want you and your children to accompany her in death." He grabbed a nearby iron rod and savagely brought it down onto our babies. I threw myself over the babies, but Adrian kicked me aside. Blood splattered across the walls and floor, and my babies' breathing gradually weakened until it stopped. When I opened my eyes again, I found myself back on the day Adrian chose his bride.

At my wedding to a billionaire heir, Malcom Blair, I leaned down and kissed a filthy, ragged man begging by the entrance, right there in front of everyone. While the guests were still too stunned to react, I grabbed Christine Wagner, Malcom's cousin and my maid of honor, by the hair and slapped her across the face three dozen times in a row. Everyone thought I had lost my mind and tried to have me locked in a psychiatric hospital. Inside, I spent the whole night popping champagne and celebrating. In my last life, not long after the wedding, Christine, a pediatric nurse, set fire to a children's hospital. Many kids died on the spot. The police and the victims' families surrounded my house, screaming that I was the arsonist. I stood there, completely confused, while Malcom pulled out surveillance footage and pointed the finger at me. "You used to complain all the time that taking care of sick kids was worse than dealing with a dog, that it'd be better if they just died and got it over with. I never thought you'd actually be this cruel!" The families lost control. They doused me in gasoline and burned me alive…

The new reporter intern deliberately falsified the situation at the fire scene to secure a full-time position and create a headline. Because of her, firefighters who rushed in to fight the fire and nearly a thousand company employees were killed in an explosion. There were no bodies left to salvage. My husband, who was also my superior, gave false testimony for her sake and claimed I was the one who had made the decision. I lost my job, and everyone cursed me, telling me to die. On the day of the trial, a grieving family member of one of the victims threw a bottle of acid at me. I died in unbearable pain as the acid ate me alive. Meanwhile, my husband was busy comforting the intern. "Don't be afraid. She deserved this." When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day she made that false coverage.

I open my eyes, only to find Monica Shepherd lying beneath me. I'm just about to get up when a sudden ringing sound prompts Monica to shove me away. Monica's previously flushed face turns completely cold the moment she hangs up. She lights up a cigarette and says indifferently, "You shouldn't come around anymore since the new man I'm seeing gets incredibly jealous. He's quite a handful to deal with." I look into her eyes and readily agree. In my past life, I refuse to let go after she falls for someone else, shamelessly clinging to her like a desperate simp. She absolutely loathes me for that, though, to the point that when she sees a group of thugs break my leg and drag me into an alley, she doesn't hesitate for a second to grab her new man, Michael Harrison, turn her back, and walk away. In this lifetime, I'm the one who doesn't want Monica anymore.

Victoria Blackwood was a completely different person after being reborn. She no longer woke up before sunrise to make breakfast for Sebastian Blackwood and deliver it to his military unit so he could enjoy a home-cooked meal. She no longer picked up their son from daycare every evening, holding his little hand as he excitedly told her about the new songs he had learned that day. Even after their son, Ethan Blackwood, was injured in a car accident and rushed to the hospital, Victoria ignored Sebastian's repeated calls. It wasn't until his 38th call that she finally answered, taking her time as if nothing were wrong. Sebastian's voice was filled with worry, but he was clearly holding back his anger. "Do you even know Ethan was in a car accident?" Victoria held the phone to her ear while looking over the documents in front of her. She replied calmly, "I know. Haven't you already called me dozens of times?"

I spent decades taking care of my kid and the elderly. I ignored my stomach pain until it turned into cancer. By the end, it had eaten me alive. Before I died, I went back to my old family home to sort through my stuff. That's when I found Danny's diary. My dead husband's diary. Hidden for fifteen years. I carefully flipped through it until I reached the last page. [Some loves are worth dying for. Alicia, I'm coming with you.] The diary never mentioned me. Not once. Page after page, it was all Alicia. That was when I learned Danny hadn't died in an accident. He and Alicia Doyle—the woman he never got over—had chosen to die together. I sank onto a chair and stared at his framed photo. "Danny Caldwell, if you loved her that much, did you regret marrying me?" Blood filled my throat. I threw his picture to the floor. "Because I regret marrying you." When I opened my eyes again, I was back in the past. This time, I refused to rot in a loveless marriage. I walked out and never looked back. He smirked and told his friends, "She'll crawl back. Bet she won't last three hours." But three hours passed. Then three days. Then three months. I never came back. Later, he asked when I'd return to him. My answer was simple. "Never."

After my partner, Kael Arden, and I decided to hold our mating ceremony, his childhood sweetheart, Mira Frost, suddenly left on her own, heading to the dangerous border overrun with rogue wolves. On the very day our mating ceremony was to take place, news came that she had died in an accident. Kael showed no reaction. He still followed the steps of the ceremony and completed the mutual marking with me. However, on the day I was heavily pregnant and about to give birth, he forced an entire bottle of silver water down my throat and locked me in the basement. As I died in agony, I still heard his cold voice beside my ear. "Mira’s death was all because of you! You couldn’t stand her, so you deliberately forced her to the border! You have to pay the price!" When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to seven days before the mating ceremony... Since he loved Mira that much, I would choose to make them whole in this life.

100 days before the SAT, I drowned and woke up as a lowly maid in an ancient royal household. After I accidentally stained the head housekeeper's clothes, she crushed my right hand, the one I used for writing. For the whole 100 days, I did whatever it took to survive in this rigid old-world society. I ate dog food, slept in a woodshed, and was even forced to empty chamber pots for the entire household. While I was made to collect firewood from the rockery in the backyard, I overheard two armed guards chatting as they smoked. "She's in this situation because she's the biological daughter who was just brought back," one of the guards said. He continued, "To make sure the Steeles' other daughter gets the one chance that can secure her place at Arvona University, Mr. Locke spends tens of millions to rent out this entire film studio and keeps her trapped here as a maid. "Once the SAT ends at 5:00 pm tomorrow, it'll be too late to change anything, and this whole act will be over." The firewood in my arms fell to the ground, and I felt a chill ran through me. Ezra Locke, my childhood sweetheart and boyfriend, did all this just to give Rhea Steele that one chance at Arvona University. However, they still didn't know that I already had a guaranteed admission offer from Jeston University. The next night, as the entire household lined up to welcome the young lord and his cousin, I looked up for the first time and locked eyes with Ezra. He was dressed like royalty. My voice was hoarse as I called out, "Ezra, you spend millions hiring hundreds of actors to put on this act with me. Do you really think this is fun?"

After the 100th failed fertility treatment, my husband, who had been previously diagnosed with a low sperm count, spoke coldly. “Lucy is very fertile. She gets pregnant after our first time, unlike you. You just can’t conceive.” Lucy was my adoptive sister. While holding her hand, he laid out three options for me. I could either ignore their affair and retain my title as the CEO’s wife, take the ten million dollars and disappear, or walk away with nothing at all. The whole town knew how proud I was. They also knew how deeply I loved him. They surely expected me to be mad with jealousy and choose honor over compromise. But I neither cried nor made a scene. I calmly slid the check back across the table. “The child will call me Mom. I’ll stay and be Mrs. Carter.” After all, this was my third time to live such a life. The first time, I chose to leave with nothing but my dignity. The second time, I took the money, but had to live in shame. Both decisions ended in tragedy. For the third time, perhaps three of us could just... make it work.

During a thunderstorm on the border, my fiancee, Eleanor Ashby, covers my retreat and falls down a cliff. The search and rescue team spends three months searching through flash floods without finding a trace of her. Everyone concludes she's dead. I refuse to give up and spend another two years looking for her. Eventually, I find her at a small clinic in a remote mountain village. But she's become the wife of the clinic's caregiver, Dylan Foster. That's when I learn she's lost her memory and fallen in love with someone else. In my previous life, I ignore her wishes and force a renowned neurosurgeon to use a high-risk treatment to restore her memories. The day her memories return, the man who has cared for and protected her for the past two years throws himself into the river in despair. Later, during an earthquake rescue mission, Eleanor and I are trapped beneath a collapsed mountainside. There's only one narrow escape route wide enough for one person. She forcibly pushes me out. Moments later, a second collapse buries her beneath a massive boulder. With her dying breath, she reaches through a crack in the rocks and grips my hand. She says in a hoarse voice, "Callum Pierce, these ten years we've spent together is repayment for the debt I owed you from the ten years before. We're even now. Neither of us owes the other anything anymore. "If there's a next life, don't let me remember the past. Please... let me be with him." Tears blur my vision. When I open my eyes again, I'm back on the day I find Eleanor. This time, I choose to respect her decision and let go of the life she's forgotten.

I woke up in the past, on the eve of being traded by my family to that controlling mafia Don. Last life, his suffocating “love” and rigid rules strangled me to death. This time, watching my father’s eager face, I just smiled. “The engagement? Give it to your precious illegitimate daughter.” I walked away. Using the skills he forced me to learn, I secured my escape. On the day of his wedding to my replacement, I boarded a plane far from this gilded hell. Just before leaving, I pressed a button. The family mansion—the symbol of my old prison—erupted into a fireball behind me. Now, I’m thriving under the Mediterranean sun, free and wild. The once-untouchable Don is scouring the globe for me, unraveling. He found me at an airport, fell to his knees, his eyes desperate, begging me to come back. I lowered my sunglasses and looked at this stranger, my ex-fiancé, my voice utterly calm. “Do I know you?”