Perished

Most noble ladies at age 18 would fall in love, get engaged, marry the ones they love, and live happily ever after like a fairytale meant to have a happy ending. That’s what Isabella Ferringway had in mind, but instead, of a fairytale, her life became a tragedy when she met and fell in love with Charles Elmier. She then quickly perished at his hands but she never expected that time would revert before her tragedy, with this second chance she had in life, would she be able to exact the revenge she wanted or will she eventually regret being alive once more after finding the truth to her death? Formerly known as - A Guidebook for the Villainess in webnovel.

My beloved perished in my hands; driven by love, power, dominance, and hatred, I rose to become the Alpha Queen of the Darkwood Pack. Three hundred years later, because of my descendant's folly, I was rebirth. She was everything I was not: easily manipulated, abused by her chosen mate, and ultimately met her demise at his hands. The Moon Goddess seemed unwilling to let me rest. I must prevent my descendant’s tragedy to protect my territory! I am the Alpha Queen of the past, and I shall scorch all who oppose me. Oh, did I mention I was reborn in my descendant's body? As I fought to reclaim my territories, my beloved I lost three centuries ago reappeared, seeking to claim me once more—but that can never be... He is my greatest enemy, yet the one I loved with all my soul. He is the Lycan my pack despised. He is the mate I must reject, no matter how much it shatters me…

In the late stages of her pregnancy, my wife slipped away into the mountains with her childhood sweetheart, seeking some reckless thrill under the open sky. Fate, however, had other plans. She suffered a massive hemorrhage, and the two were rushed to the hospital. As a doctor, I took one glance at her condition and instructed the nurse to prepare for the cremation. In my previous life, I had risked everything to save her. On that very operating table, she and the child inside her perished together. Her childhood sweetheart, overcome with grief and fury, rallied others to accuse me of seeking personal revenge. Their rage was relentless, and they broke my hands. "A butcher like you, without medical ethics, deserves nothing less than eternal damnation!" they shouted, their words burning like brands on my soul. Yet I distinctly remembered—the surgery had been a success. Her vital signs had stabilized. Clinging to hope, I begged my in-laws to conduct an autopsy, to uncover the truth buried beneath the accusations. Instead, they called the police, who swiftly charged me with performing surgery under the influence of alcohol. Stripped of my rights, I was thrown into prison, where suffering became my only companion. Years later, upon release, I stumbled across a sight that tore what was left of my heart to shreds—my wife, alive and well, behind the wheel of a luxury car, accompanied by her childhood sweetheart and their child, living off the fortune I had worked tirelessly to build. Their betrayal didn't end there. Coldly and methodically, they lured me into a trap, casting me into a cement mixer to erase every trace of my existence. When I next opened my eyes, time had rewound itself. I was back on that fateful day, the one when her hemorrhage began.