Rebirth Plot Novels & Stories

My sister and I were both blessed with naturally fertile bodies. My sister married a poor farmer in our village and gave birth to five sons. Their family thrived and escaped poverty. I married the wealthy ranch foreman, but only had daughters. My husband resented me for embarrassing him and beat me and our girls to death. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day the matchmaker came. I watched coldly as the ranch foreman unexpectedly chose my sister with the limp, and I realized he had also been reborn. He thought marrying my sister would guarantee him sons, unaware that he had a genetic condition preventing him from having boys. I pointed to the quiet, thin educated youth in the corner and declared: "I will marry him!"

In my past life, I casually bought a lottery ticket at the corner store and won 80 million dollars. Three days later, my pregnant housekeeper, Lily Hall, jumped off a bridge and killed herself. Before she died, she left behind a suicide note and a video recording. She claimed I had verbally abused and beaten her for months, and that I had falsely accused her of trying to seduce my husband, Jayden Sanders. In the video, my voice rang out crystal clear as I hurled insults at her. "You little tramp, why are you using a mop? Get down on your hands and knees and scrub it inch by inch. If it's not spotless, don't even think about eating tonight." I called Jayden to vouch for me. However, he insisted I had always been arrogant and cruel, constantly screaming at people or hitting them. He even lifted his shirt to show off the purple bruises covering his body. I could not defend myself and ended up being the villain everyone wanted to see locked up. Eventually, the entire 80 million dollars went to Lily's younger sister, Emma Hall, as compensation. I spent the rest of my life rotting in prison, never understanding why sweet, gentle Lily would frame me and then take her own life. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day I won the lottery.

My sister, Bella, had a baby in a back-alley shithole. Then she disappeared. A midwife tracked me down using an address Bella left behind. She shoved the newborn at me like a sack of garbage. My parents fell to their knees. Crying. Begging me to take her bastard. Just like that, my future as a promising artist was gone. The neighbors, the priest, my landlord… they all called me a whore. A sinner who had disgraced God. They ran me out of the neighborhood . My life was over. Eighteen years later, Bella waltzed back into my life. A cheap thug with a fake Rolex dangled from her arm. She held my son, crocodile tears streaming down her face. She called me jealous. Accused me of stealing her flesh and blood. Of keeping a mother from her child. And my son? The one I bled myself dry for? The son I poured every last cent into, turning him into a brilliant painter? The son I starved for, so much that I ended up in a hospital bed? The moment he saw his "real" mother, he cast me aside without a second thought. "You pathetic, broke bitch!" he spat. "You stole everything from us! All the happiness that was supposed to be ours!" My parents threw me out like a dog. Bella's thug husband had his men corner me in the red-light district. They pinned me against a wall, their threats vile and clear: Never come back. I had no way out. I threw myself off the Brooklyn Bridge. Then, I opened my eyes. I was back. Eighteen years in the past. Then came the knock. Hell had found my door. I wasn’t going to be the fool who gave everything and got nothing. This time, I took control.

The seven Jennings sisters were all born unusually fertile, while I was born extremely virile. My grandmother wanted me to marry a woman with high fertility so we could have lots of kids and thrive as a family. In my previous life, I followed her wishes and chose Kara Jennings. But she joined forces with her six sisters to steal my family estate, locked me in a basement, and tortured me until I died. Now that I had come back to life on the day I had a banquet to announce my bride-to-be, I chose Michelle Cooper, the powerful CEO rumored to be sickly and infertile...

At my eighteenth birthday celebration, my cousin gave me a half-scratched lottery ticket as a coming-of-age gift. When he realized I'd won twenty dollars, he suddenly demanded to buy the ticket from me for two hundred thousand. Something about it felt wrong, and I refused. Then he snapped. Like a man gone mad, he cursed me, wishing me dead, and in front of all the guests, shoved me off the balcony. Dozens of people watched, including my own parents, silently condoning him—joining in, shouting that I deserved to die. And then I opened my eyes… and I was back half an hour earlier. My cousin sneered, tossing the lottery ticket toward me, speaking the same familiar words.

In the previous timeline, my younger brother was adopted by a wealthy family, while I was taken in by a scrap collector. Ten years later, he was cast out by the elite household, while I had built the most prominent steel company in Kingsport City. Given a second chance, my brother tried to walk the same path I once did. He begged the scrap collector to take him instead. Though what he never understood was that without me, the steel company that was renowned throughout Kingsport City would never have existed.

The first thing I do after coming back to life is swap out every single pair of my husband, Augustin Reed's boxers for those in black. In my past life, my sister-in-law, Sephine Fidel, cheats right under our roof on my brother, Jonah Merrick. And when I catch her and tell Jonah the truth, she turns it all on me. Then, two pairs of men's black boxers, not Augustin's, appear in my bedroom. I try to explain, but Augustin slaps me across the face and calls me a whore, while Jonah looks at me like I'm filth. "I know you hate Sephine. You've never shown her any warmth since she married me, but I didn't think you'd sink this low to cheat in your own house and frame her for it…" He disowns me while Augustin files for divorce. I remember stumbling onto the streets in a daze, only to get run over dead by a speeding truck. When my eyes snap open, I wake up to the day Sephine brings her lover into our home.

After dating Gabriel Lowe for three years, we finally saved up enough money to buy a villa for ourselves. I personally designed this villa. But what I didn't expect was that the gas line in my villa would explode on the day Gabriel and I were meant to receive the keys. Not only did the entire villa get reduced into ruins, but the explosion also killed the neighboring family of three. On top of that, the fire even destroyed their antique painting that was worth 500 million dollars. Since I took responsibility for the explosion, I faced massive compensation claims. My mother-in-law and Gabriel had tears streaking down their faces as they promised to help me tide over this crisis, even if it meant selling everything under their name. I was touched by their words, so I used all of my assets in compensating the victims. After that, I spent the next 20 years in prison, only to die of severe illness there. But when I was on the verge of dying, I saw Gabriel with his arm around his first love, Jasmine Wade. Apparently, they were here to visit me. They grinned maliciously at me outside the bars. "The truth is, the family didn't die at all. The painting was a cheap imitation, too. I bribed them so that they could fake their deaths and leave the country. That's how I successfully got my hands on all of your assets. "If I didn't do that, how would I be able to marry Jasmine and move her into the villa?" It turned out that my decades of atonement was nothing but a huge scam targeted at my wealth and life staged by others. When I open my eyes again, I've returned to the day I'm meant to receive my keys. This time, I've personally checked all the pipes, installed seven safety valves, and taken away all the blueprints. Let's see how the explosion will occur now that there aren't any leak points! But at 3:00 pm, the explosion in the villa still occurs…

My best friend loved playing 'jokes.' On my birthday, she projected my worst photos in front of everyone, saying she just wanted to 'liven up the mood.' When I was on my period, she deliberately gave me a defective pad. Even when she saw the stain on my clothes, she said nothing–claiming she was helping me 'get more attention.' After I started dating, she edited my photos into suggestive images and spread them across social media groups, pricing them like a product. When I finally snapped and confronted her, she just laughed. "I'm just helping you test your boyfriend," she said. "If he doubts you, then he doesn't really love you. How can you blame me?" Later, a man used the information from those posts to track me down and harm me. I did not survive what followed. However, when I opened my eyes again, I was back to the day she first shared those images.

On the heavy traffic road rushing my father to the hospital due to a cerebral hemorrhage, we ran into my husband, who was directing traffic as a police officer. My mother was about to wind the window down and beg him for help, but I immediately stopped her and decisively turned the steering wheel, taking a narrow side road instead. In my previous life, at this exact situation, after a brief moment of hesitation, my husband had chosen to clear a path for us and personally escorted my father to the hospital. That very night, his childhood sweetheart, out of spite because he hadn't answered her calls, turned on the gas and killed herself. He seemed utterly unaffected by her death. He even organized a welcome-home party for my father when he was discharged from the hospital. But on the day of the party, he poisoned every dish on the table. "It's because of you and your damn father! If it weren't for you, Rosalin wouldn't have killed herself! You're the ones who drove her to death! You should pay for her life!" When I opened my eyes once more, I had returned to the day my father collapsed. This time, my husband answered the phone. Without a second thought, he ran to his childhood sweetheart. Yet, why had he still come to regret it?