Mistress Reborn 短篇故事與小說

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?”

On our wedding night, my husband didn't stay long enough to toast with champagne. He left me alone at the reception and retreated to the chapel. Because from the very beginning, this stoic, untouchable man had only ever loved my younger sister. For three years of my marriage, I poured myself into thawing a heart of stone, only to be met with glacial silence. "Claire," he said coldly, "I'd rather take vows of celibacy than ever love you." But when the truck came barreling toward me, the man who had resented me his entire life used his own body to shield mine. Just before I lost consciousness, I saw him gripping the paramedic's sleeve, blood staining his lips. "Don't tell that crazy woman who saved her… And don't let my family… make things difficult for her." Tears welled in my eyes. Only then did I realize I wasn't the only one at fault in this marriage. After coming back to life, I chose to join the United Nations Peacekeeping Forces and head straight to the front lines. If we were never meant to grow old together in this life, then let my final wish for him be this: A lifetime of peace, and an eternity of never crossing paths with me again.

I was reborn. Opening my eyes on the sofa, the television flickered before me, broadcasting another financial news segment about my husband, Jasper Brolin. The Alpha of the Moonblood pack, a man who had sat at the top of the billionaire list for years, was speaking with his usual cool authority. Broad-shouldered and sharp-featured, he carried an air of cold command that made him untouchable. Whenever he stepped into the public eye, the crowd surged with screams and breathless admiration. My marriage to him was the envy of our entire circle, and every woman wished to step into my shoes. As I watched the screen, memories of my tragic death in my last life came rushing back, sending a quiet ache through my chest. My wolf rumbled low in my chest. "So we're back. Now what?" "Break the bond," I whispered. "I'm leaving him." "He'll never agree to that." "That's why I need her help," I replied, thinking of the woman I had always disliked—Halle. Halle walked into the café, a smug smirk was plastered on her face. Having grown up alongside Jasper, she was regarded as his inner circle, and people never failed to give her the highest courtesy. I slid a mate-bond dissolution document across the table. "I need your help, Halle. And of course, there's something in it for you too." She glanced through the papers, suspicion flashing in her eyes. "Are you leaving him?" she asked. My voice was calm, "Maybe you're the one he really wants by his side." In my last life, I was the perfect Mrs. Brolin, envied by all, yet never the one he held closest. This time, I would take my unborn pup and leave quietly.

The day the campus queen got caught shoplifting at the convenience store, I was reborn. This time, instead of pulling her into the back room for a private talk, I called the cops without a second thought. The cops locked up my childhood sweetheart, the campus goddess Samantha Creighton, for fifteen days. During those fifteen days, I cut every tie between us. After that, I dodged her completely. Whenever she organized a class gathering, I fell deathly ill. Whenever she traveled to the southern coast, I flew to the far northwest. When she went to a reunion, I got sick. When she went home, I went abroad. When she returned to school, I dropped out. I avoided every situation that might bring me near her. In my past life, I loved her for twenty years. But in all that time, she never once treated me with any real kindness. I finally found out why during a fire at our house. I held her and our daughter outside the window, shielding them until rescue came. They got out without a scratch. But my entire body was burned beyond recognition. Then my own daughter—the one I raised with everything I had—pulled her mother's one true love close and said, "He deserves this. Back then, he tore you and Mom apart. He should die for it." My wife stood beside them and sobbed uncontrollably. "I almost thought I'd never see you again." I died full of hatred. Now that I'd been given a second chance… since she loved her first love that much, I'd make sure they could stay together.

My husband constantly ignored my pleas in my previous life, giving his salary to his first love despite my objections. After giving birth, I couldn't produce any milk due to prolonged starvation. My son cried desperately from hunger. When I finally managed to buy formula and brought it home, my husband snatched it away to give to his first love. "Vicky's milk supply is low too, and she's a widow. Let's give it to her child first," he insisted. I fought to take it back, but my husband knocked me unconscious. I staggered to look for him when I regained consciousness, only to discover my husband at Victoria Langford's house, putting on diapers for someone else's child. My son had already starved to death then, and out of despair, I followed him in death. When I opened my eyes again, I found myself back to the moment I first learned of my pregnancy. This time, I chose to terminate the pregnancy and file for divorce.

I grew up alongside another vampire noble heir, Kael. Because of an important alliance between our families,we were betrothed when we were very young. For as long as I can remember, Kael was my protector. He was loyal to me. From childhood, he treated me as his future wife. I believed we would stay together forever. Until the day he brought a human blood servant before me. “Elena. I am calling off the engagement. The one I have always loved is Sylvia.” I refused to accept it. I would not believe he had stopped loving me. In the end, our parents resolved everything for us. Kael returned to my side. I never imagined the truth, that he married me only for revenge. The human blood servant who was said to be dead was secretly brought back to life, while my life was drained away to make it happen. She even bore him twins. As for the children I carried for him, he had already killed it. He replaced it with the half blood twins born of that human woman. He killed me with a cross. And watched as my life faded away. After my death, my family was framed by him. Every last one of them was slaughtered. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the day he asked to cancel our engagement. This time, I smiled. I agreed. And chose to walk out of his world. But when I came home to marry the man I truly loved, Kael appeared at my wedding. “Elena,” he asked, his voice breaking, “why don’t you love me anymore?”

Before my death, I repeatedly remind my son, Clark Sinclair, what to do after I pass away. I stress that my heart must be donated to my husband, Craig Sinclair. He has suffered from dilated cardiomyopathy for 30 years. This is the last thing I can do for him. Clark shakes me off impatiently and snaps, "Enough. Stop pretending to be kind. Dad was never sick." I think I must have misheard him. "What?" He lets out a cold laugh and continues, "If you hadn't refused to divorce him all these years, why would he have needed to fake an illness just to be with Vern in secret?" My whole body trembles as I demand proof. Clark hands me a marriage certificate. On it are the names Craig and Verna Bloom, my widowed sister-in-law. The two lean against each other intimately, smiling sweetly at the camera. In an instant, rage and grief overwhelm me. The family I spend half my life building turns out to be nothing more than a complete lie. Clark continues expressionlessly, "Actually, Vern is my real mother. Your child was drowned in a bathtub long ago. Back then, Dad and Vern couldn't resist each other. She went into premature labor and nearly bled to death. She gave birth to me on the same day you gave birth. "Dad was so frightened that he developed heart palpitations. He was afraid you'd never stop causing trouble if you found out, so he pretended to be sick for 30 years." Curled up on the floor, I cough up a mouthful of blood. "Why tell me now?" Clark looks at me with eyes full of nothing but hatred. "You stole Vern's place for 30 years. And now, even on your deathbed, you want my dad to owe you a favor. Why should he?" An inexplicably bitter taste fills my mouth. In the end, I die consumed by regret. When I open my eyes again, I find myself in the delivery room next to Verna's. A wave of excruciating pain surges through my lower body.

When my husband’s family was caught in a massive pileup on the highway, he was at the beach with his first love. I didn’t call and demand that he come back. I simply dialed 911. Because in my previous life, I’d stopped him from going to the beach with her. Instead, he came with me to rush his family to the hospital. While he was gone, his first love was swept out to sea and drowned. When I found out, I was overwhelmed with guilt. But my husband told me it wasn’t my fault. I thought he’d forgiven me. Then, on our wedding anniversary, he took me to the beach. Right in front of me, he killed our daughter and threw her into the ocean for the sharks to devour. Then he held me underwater and waited for them to tear me apart. “This is all your fault! She’d still be alive if it weren’t for you! “You can die with her!” When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day of the accident.

On the day the Crown Prince staged his coup, I threw myself between him and the old King without a second thought. In my past life, I'd sent word ahead about the Crown Prince's plot to my husband, the Second Prince, Cyrus Pattison. Cyrus arrived in time to save the King, and once the old King passed, he took the throne — and I became Queen alongside him. But the woman he'd truly loved had died that same winter. He said nothing about it to my face, but he never let it go. The resentment festered underneath, unspoken and unforgiven. Then, on the day I gave birth, he had the midwife take my baby away and made me watch, helpless, as my own child froze to death in the winter cold. I screamed at him, demanding to know why he'd done it. He only sneered. "If not for you, would Marilyn ever have died? This is simply a debt paid in blood. Consider it mercy — from your King." I went half-mad, clutching my dead baby's body, until the cold finally dragged me under. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day the Crown Prince staged his coup.

After taking care of my mother's ashes, I rushed overseas to attend my fiance's wedding to another woman. Preston Wallace had developed retrograde amnesia during a secret mission. He remembered everyone and everything—except me. His doctor said the most effective way to recover his lost memories was to continue the life he'd come to accept after losing them. In other words, he had to keep playing husband and wife with his female partner. So, for the sake of my unborn child, I personally handed Preston the wedding vows. That night, I came across a trending post online. "I feel awful about what I've put her through. For the past three years, whether she had a fever, caught a cold, or got into a car accident, she had to handle it all alone. How can I make up for what I owe her and still enjoy my life now without feeling guilty?" Someone replied in the comments, "You can't have it both ways. But you could switch from retrograde amnesia to situational amnesia—where you remember whoever you're with." Not long after, Preston messaged me. "Madeline, it's been three years. How have you and your mom been?" I stared at his message without replying. Preston had no idea that after what happened to him, his enemies came by our home, wanting to retaliate against my mother and me. My mother was stabbed 12 times while protecting me. After three years in a vegetative state, she finally regained consciousness. But when she heard that Preston had lost his memory and was going to marry another woman, she couldn't handle the news and died.

My husband, Kenneth Sterling, dies of a sudden heart attack while burning cash bundles at a grave. However, when I arrive to claim his body, I discover a bottle of emergency heart medication in his pocket. The cops offer their condolences, explaining that Kenneth must've been so overwhelmed by grief that he didn't have time to take his medication. I nod in agreement but freeze the moment I see the photo on the tombstone. The woman staring back at me is none other than Kenneth's deceased ex-wife, Roxana Clark. Just then, a recurring reminder pops up on his phone. "1. Withdraw 100 grand from the bank and burn it for Roxana." "2. I've taken a wife to care for my elderly parents. Now, I willingly give up my life to reunite with Roxana in God's embrace." I let out a self-deprecating chuckle. Day in and day out, I work hard and pinch pennies to cover Kenneth's parents' medical bills. Yet, he has been burning stacks of cash for a dead woman for more than a decade. As heartbreaking as it is absurd, my old illness flares up, and I die on the spot. When I open my eyes again, I'm back on the day Kenneth and I tie the knot.

On my twentieth birthday, I had to choose a husband from the six angel heirs. Everyone thought I would choose Adrian Seraphiel, the brightest golden-winged heir and the man I had loved for years. In my last life, I did. Because of me, he inherited eighty percent of House Seraphiel’s fortune and became the next ruler of the angel clan. But after our marriage, he got involved with Celeste, my adopted half-siren sister. When my dragon family cast her out of House Drakon, Adrian blamed me. From then on, he hated me. He surrounded himself with women who looked like her, humiliated me again and again, and finally replaced my life-saving medicine with slow poison. I died carrying his child, while the last of my dragon blood burned away. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on my twentieth birthday. This time, I decided to let them have each other. So in front of everyone, I chose Cassian Seraphiel, the sixth son of the angel family. Broken-winged. Mocked by everyone. No one believed he could ever inherit anything. The room burst into laughter. Adrian looked at me coldly and sneered. “Elena, are you choosing that useless cripple just to get my attention?” I ignored him. Because in my last life, after I died, this so-called useless cripple was the only one who collected my body, found the truth, and avenged me by stripping Adrian of his golden wings. But then Adrian stepped closer. His voice dropped to a whisper. “Funny,” he said. “That wasn’t who you chose in your last life.”

I was the legitimate firstborn daughter of the King of the North. After my mother’s death, my aunt married the King of the South and became his Queen Consort. She brought me to her court, raising me beside her own sons. The Southern King adored me—He would seat me upon his knee and gesture toward the princes, laughing lightly: “When Hazel comes of age, whichever prince she chooses as her husband shall inherit this throne of the South.” “Stay here, child. The South could be your home.” In my previous life, I chose the Crown Prince—Ethan. I stood beside him during the War of Succession. I funded his armies with Northern gold. I silenced rival lords. I secured the throne for him. And when he was crowned king—He repaid me with imprisonment in the White Tower. And an order signed in his own hand. The North burned.The court was purged. Before I was forced to take my own life, he came to watch. “If not for you,” he said coldly, “Ava would still be alive.” “She died alone while I could not even mourn her. You will suffer tenfold.” “The Nouth falls because of you. Their blood is your dowry.” Then I died. When I opened my eyes again, I was seated once more in the Great Hall. The King was smiling. “Hazel, today you will choose your husband.” The princes stood before me. This time, I did not look at Ethan. I pointed instead to the Queen’s third son. “I will marry Alexander.” And this time—I would decide who burns.

My in-laws-to-be are poisoned, but my fiancé insists on going fishing with his true love. I don't stop him. In fact, I lend him my car. In my past life, he chose to take his parents to the hospital after I stopped him. However, his true love died at sea and ended up being eaten by the sharks. My fiancé was normal after her death. However, when we were on our honeymoon, he stabbed me and pushed me into the ocean. "It's all your fault, Fiona! I failed to save Lauren because of you! Now that she's dead, you don't deserve to live, either!" The scent of my blood attracted the sharks. They ripped me to pieces before I could drown. When I open my eyes again, I find my in-laws-to-be lying in their bed. My fiancé runs off to save his true love. Ultimately, he still regrets his actions.

On our 40th wedding anniversary, I discovered that my beloved husband, Derrick, had been cheating on me. Even our marriage certificate had been forged. The woman he cheated with was his foster sister, Jasmine. I confronted Derrick with the evidence, but he only looked irritated. "I've already treated you well enough in this lifetime. Jasmine is my true love. I will marry her and have children with her." Even my son tried to convince me. "Just be grateful. My real parents never went public with their relationship all these years for your sake. You are old now. What else can you do?" That was when I learned the cruel truth. The Mafia heir I had raised with my own hands was not even my biological child. Back then, Jasmine and I gave birth on the same day. To make sure Jasmine's baby would inherit the Mafia family my father left to me, Derrick secretly switched our children. Because of their negligence, my biological child later died from a simple cold. The cruelest irony was that I had raised Jasmine's son as my own and helped him reach the top of the Mafia hierarchy. When the truth finally hit me, I coughed up blood and fainted. When I opened my eyes again, I had gone back in time to the very day I gave birth.

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.

Serena Sutton was my fiancee, but she wanted to marry my bodyguard, Evan Brooks. The man was a cheat. I didn't want her taken in, so I took her to see for herself what he really was. While the two of them were fighting, a car came through at speed and killed him. And Serena hated me for it with everything in her. In the third year of our marriage, she killed our son. I was in so much pain I was coughing up blood, and she put a knife in me. "Adrian, this is what you owe me for Evan." Only then did I learn that she had never forgotten him. When I opened my eyes again, I was back at the second before I meant to expose him. This time, I'm staying out of it.

On our third wedding anniversary, I went out of my way to host an anniversary party. But my husband and Alpha, Johnny, took his assistant Amy to the seaside for a vacation instead, leaving me alone at the party as the subject of everyone’s mockery. I called the resort and even thoughtfully booked out the entire area just for the two of them as I calmly faced the crowd. Then, I slipped the mate bond dissolution application in with the paperwork for Johnny to sign. In my previous life, I forced him to stay to save face for both Johnny and the pack. That led to Amy leaving alone and dying in a car accident. Johnny didn't blame me—until I carried his pup that he tied me in a car, telling me that he wanted me to feel the pain Amy went through. When the car exploded, I finally realized that Johnny had hated me all along. Now that I had been reborn, I would make sure he lost everything!

In the fifth year of my marriage, I died in my sleep. However, I was born with a strange ability. Every time I died, I would come back to life at the exact moment before my last death. When I opened my eyes again, I was back at 11:11 p.m. on the night I died. Unable to find the killer, I became trapped in an endless loop. The second time, I stayed up all night trying to catch whoever was behind it, but found nothing. The moment I let my guard down during the day and closed my eyes, I died instantly. The third time, I refused to believe it and had my husband, Emmett Berkeley, lock the bedroom and seal the windows. I still died the next day. The fourth time, I stayed alone in the bedroom, forcing myself to stay awake for three days straight to find the killer. By the third day, I couldn’t hold on any longer. My vision went black, and I died again. By the fifth time, I had gone insane. Right in front of Emmett, I grinned and hacked something to death. Blood splattered across the entire wall. Looking at Emmett trembling in the corner, I licked the blood from my lips and smiled faintly. "Honey, don’t you love me? Help me take the fall, okay?" The man who used to love me deeply pointed at me in horror, screaming, "Y-you found out… You knew, didn’t you…?"

After my crimes, I surrendered myself to the police. My fiance rushed over and questioned me, “You didn’t steal anything, so why’re you admitting it?!” I spread my hands. I decided to spend the rest of my life in prison. In my previous life, my fiance’s childhood sweetheart, Selene, had caused trouble everywhere after she returned to her home country. First, she stole things from a mall. Then, she dined and dashed. Finally, she ran a red light and killed someone. The mall manager, the restaurant owner, and the victim’s family all cornered me. I was puzzled. Why did they come after me for the things Selene did? Later, they accused me in front of the police of stealing, dining and dashing, and committing a hit-and-run. Apparently, they had mistaken me for Selene. But Selene and I looked nothing alike. I requested the surveillance footage as proof of their claims. The footage somehow showed that I was the one who had stolen things, dined and dashed, and committed a hit-and-run. My denial was useless without evidence. The footage, on the other hand, was foolproof. The victim’s family stabbed me to death out of rage. Even as I died, I could not understand why all the crimes Selene committed ended up becoming mine. When I opened my eyes again, I returned to the very day Selene stole things from the mall.