So True

I was the real heiress in a case of a mistaken identity. Three months after my return, the imposter heiress disappeared.   My brother, Caleb Carter, accused me of jealousy, believing I had driven the fake heiress away. The disappointed look on my parents’ faces revealed their true thoughts.   I was confined in the basement, subjected to daily torture.   Even after my death, my family donated my brain to a research institution.   Later, I watched from heaven as my family broke down upon watching my memories.

I'm one of the entertainment industry's most popular celebrities. One day, the Holmes family, the richest family in Hemmingville, comes to me and tells me I'm one of them. The day I return home, the city's paparazzi follow me to capture every second of my return. When I arrive at the Holmes residence, my adoptive sister stops me from entering. "We've looked into you and found out that you shot to fame after starring in an adult film. "The Holmes family has its rules—you have to change your clothes in public before you can step foot in here. Dad said that I'm the one who calls the shots when he and Jason aren't at home, so I hope you can understand me." In my past life, I would've acted cautiously and adopted a lowly stance for the sake of my image. But I've been reborn. I kick aside the things in my way and shove Nancy Holmes aside. "How ridiculous! You'd better stop and think whether you're worthy of telling me what to do. How dare you ask me to strip in public? "I'm insured from head to toe—you can't afford to pay me back if you even touch a hair on my head! And you call yourself the heiress of the family, huh? I'd like to see you grovel at my feet and beg me later!"

I was only ten years old when Timoteo Panno found me on the streets of Sirithi. He's the Don of the Panno family, the strongest mafia family in the country. He's also the one who taught me how to protect myself. When I turn 18 years old, I become his lover as well as the weapon he's most proud of. Timoteo isn't interested in other women. I'm the only one staying by his side for many years. We've been with each other for four years. Everyone thinks I'll eventually become the Madre of the Panno family. That is, until Nadia Bellucci accidentally kills her fiance and desperately needs a clean identity to wash herself of all suspicions. As she clutches her chest that houses her heart, which is now weakened from the time she has saved Timoteo's life, she whines coquettishly, "Timoteo, I don't want to go to prison…" With a smile on his face, Timoteo doesn't hesitate to push me out as the scapegoat to take the blame for Nadia. "You've always been a pawn who gets abandoned all the time, so you might as well do it one more time."

Four years after my death, the true heiress won the Best Actress award, but her sex tape was once again spread like wildfire. My Best Actor boyfriend, Nicholas Jennings, kicked open the rented house where I used to live, hoping to make me clarify once again that it was me in the video, but all he saw was a complete mess. The landlord happened to pass by and, upon his inquiry, scolded him, "You’re talking about Astrid Rhode? She died four years ago! A man saw the sex tape posted online and came here to have some fun with her, but she would rather die than comply. In a fit of rage, he killed her." Nicholas did not believe it at all. He kicked our couple's mugs. "Astrid made you say that, didn't she? She stole Maddie's life just because she looked like her. Did she think that helping Maddie once would atone for her sins? Tell her that none of the children in her orphanage will live if I don't see her clarification video in two days!" He strode away, and I shook my head with a wry smile. The orphanage had long since been reduced to ashes in the fire, and the children had already passed on to their next lives. I had made a deal with Death, wanting to come back and see him one last time. However, now, it seemed that the deal was better left undone.

My grandfather is a nationally renowned inheritor of an intangible cultural heritage. Today, I'm supposed to attend a grand ceremony as his rightful successor. However, when I arrive, I see my father's adoptive daughter already standing on the stage. She's dressed to the nines. She holds an award and is giving a thank-you speech, looking moved. In the past, I would've left without saying anything or speaking up for myself. Too bad for her that I'd been reborn. The discrepancy between our statuses is so large that we're basically from different worlds. Yet she has the nerve to claim to be my grandfather's successor and put on a show with what is supposed to be my family's.

Kayla’s perfect life begins to crumble when Lucius, the Alpha of the neighboring pack, chooses her to be his mate on the eve of her eighteenth birthday. How can she marry him when she’s sworn herself to her one true love, Sebastian?Despite her begging, Kayla’s father insists that she must marry Lucius. The pack is what matters, not her true love.But Kayla refuses to give in so easily. Can she run away and escape with Sebastian?Will Sebastian kill Lucius and save her from a doomed marriage?Or will Kayla never see her true love again?

On the day we were supposed to get our marriage license, the groom's name was swapped out. The woman my boyfriend was now promised to—the pampered mafia princess nestled in his arms—looked at me with a triumphant smile. "Isn't it perfect?" she sneered. "A fraud of a bride for a fake heir. What a match." I ignored her and turned to the man I loved. This was the man who endured three days of brutal punishment just for the right to marry me, when the Rossi family first acknowledged him as their true heir. Now, he just nodded along with her. "Don't be so dramatic. It's a joke. You're not actually mad, are you? It's just a piece of paper. Once Sienna's had her fun, you two get a divorce, and then it'll be our turn. I promise." I smiled. Then I turned and walked straight to the so-called "fake" heir. "The marriage license is filed, honey," I said. "Let's go plan our real wedding."

On the day of my wedding to Elliot Wendell, a fake heiress committed suicide. In the second year of our marriage, we ended up enemies. He hated me, the true heiress, for returning and causing Celeste Dent’s death. I hated him for loving the woman who had taken my place as an heiress for twenty years. During the ten years of our marriage, we fought each other with vicious words and wished for the other to die. Then, there was an earthquake, and he shielded me beneath him. He protected me with his back. The building collapsed, and he ended up a mangled and bloody corpse. As he lay dying, he whispered into my ear, “If I had known that she would die, I would’ve never taken you home.” “If we ever meet again, it would be better if I were your only family.” In the end, I still died in the secondary quakes. When I opened my eyes again, I found that I had gone back in time. It was the day when he brought me to the Dent family to regain my rightful place among them. Elliot suddenly changed his mind and said, “Samantha, I was wrong. You’re not the daughter the Dent family lost twenty years ago.”

My name is Elvira Rossi, daughter of Don Rossi, head of the Itavelle mafia family. Three months ago, my father was killed. Our operations were stripped bare, nothing left. The accounts were draining fast, and the family still had mouths to feed. Then a DNA report surfaced out of nowhere. According to it, I was the LaRosa family's long‑lost true heiress, missing for eighteen years. Money, at last, had found its way to me. For the sake of my people, I was willing to set aside my pride and play the part of a sheltered heiress. The car sent to escort me back to the estate broke down halfway up the mountain? I steadied it with one hand and carried it the rest of the way to the hilltop manor. The fake heiress dissolved into tears, accusing me of pushing her? I answered by striking the century-old tree in the courtyard, splitting it clean through. She went silent immediately. My fiancé sent bodyguards to "teach me self‑defense"? My two friends politely introduced them to the concept of being permanently embedded in a wall. As my so‑called "family" shook in fear, my knuckles cracked softly. After all, before inheriting the mafia, I inherited my father's favorite rule: "If violence can solve it, don't waste words."

I'm undressed and bound to a testing table when my family comes to pick me up. A thick, sharp needle pierces into my neck. A drug is administered into my blood, and the pain almost makes me lose consciousness. Behind me, I can feel a man's cold hands stroking my skin amorously. Before me, several people are staring at me. They point at me and treat me like an educational instrument. I tremble in fear and curl up on the testing table in pain. Three years ago, my brother sent me to Mykorra's war zone to stand up for Yvette Sanders. Those were the three most insulting and torturous years of my life. They burned away my hope for kinship but not my desire for survival. As the hands roam lower on my body, I bite my lip so hard that I almost draw blood. As the hands start to go overboard, someone knocks on the door. "Wendy Sanders, your brother is here for you."