Lydia's Living Doll

I woke up with a gasp, my head pounding, in Ethan Reed's opulent penthouse. Another one of his infamous parties, and he was slumped, reeking of alcohol, calling out someone else' s name. Then he mumbled, "Call… call my angel. Call Chloe." My blood ran cold. This was it. The exact moment. The one I' d lived and died to escape. In my first life, my stupid, desperate love for him – my guardian – led me to seize his drunken vulnerability. That night, I "comforted" him. It led to a scandalous pregnancy, a forced marriage, and his true love' s death in a car crash on our wedding day. Ethan blamed me for everything. He transformed into a monster, and when I went into labor, he watched me bleed out, whispering hateful words as I died. "This is for Chloe," he' d hissed. I spent my entire previous life trapped, tormented, and discarded for a love that was a lie. How could I have been so blind, so foolish? The injustice of it burned. But this time, I was lucid. This time, I had my memories. My hands were steady as I reached for my phone, found Chloe Vance's number, and pressed call. This time, I wouldn't seek his love. I would shatter his perfect life and gain my own freedom.

My life as Senator King' s cherished daughter was a meticulously crafted dream. My future seemed certain: marrying my devoted fiancé, Beau Carter, with my closest 'companion,' Daisy Mae, always by my side. But behind velvet curtains, a venomous plot brewed. My brother, Randy, consumed by petty jealousy, and Beau, blinded by ambition, fell under Daisy's insidious, manipulative spell. Their true, ugly intentions burst forth. They orchestrated my ruin, a horrifying act of "revenge." I was cast out, forcibly married to a brutal criminal, stripped of family, fortune, and hope. Trapped, I endured relentless abuse until I finally died, alone and utterly broken, in a desolate, forgotten place. In my agony, the truth, sharp as a blade, shattered my illusions. Randy and Beau, my own flesh and supposed love, engineered my downfall, all for her – for Daisy, the viper I foolishly called 'friend.' The unfathomable betrayal burned hotter than any physical pain. How could they? Why her? But destiny wasn't done. My eyes snapped open, a gasp catching, back in my childhood bed, morning sun streaming. Every horrifying memory of my agonizing future was brutally fresh. This time, I wouldn't just survive. This time, the Kings would have their vengeance. The game has already begun.

My Golden Retriever, Max, was the heart of my dog daycare, Pawsitive Vibes. My boyfriend, Mark, usually walked him in the mornings-a picture of our perfect life. But one morning, Mark came back alone, leash dangling. "Sarah," he flatly stated, "Max ran off. He nipped me." Max? Aggressive? My gentle dog who wouldn't hurt a fly? Before I could question him, my phone blazed: "The Feed." "Max didn't run. He's with her. Elm Street & 7th. Red light. Big rig. NOW." Panic clawed at me. Mark dismissed my terror: "He's gone. We' ll look later." His indifference infuriated me. I sped to the intersection, just as I saw her-Clara-pulling Max into a speeding semi' s path. Risking everything, I saved him. As he trembled against me, "The Feed" delivered a crushing blow: "He gave Max to her." Mark had given my dog away. "Gave him to her?" I choked, rage boiling. "The Feed" then showed Mark's manipulative plotting with Clara, discarding Max and me. He tried to gaslight me, calling me "emotional." The betrayal was immense. The old Sarah would have crumpled. But a cold fury solidified. Armed with truth, I faced him. "We're done, Mark. Get out." When he threatened, I showed him a photo from "The Feed": him kissing Clara in a hospital-a damning breach. His face went ashen. Trust shattered. This was war now, and I was ready.

The quarterly board meeting was standard, a high-stakes, productive morning for me, Scarlett King, CEO of King Global. My phone vibrated discreetly on the mahogany, a text from my oldest friend, Maria, flashing urgently across the screen. "Scarlett. Urgent. Check this link. I'm so sorry." The link opened an Instagram reel, and my blood ran ice cold. It was Desert Mirage, my champion Arabian stallion-a treasured legacy from my grandfather-terrified, his magnificent coat matted with cheap glitter. A woman, Tiffany Starr, brutally yanked his reins. Then, sickeningly, my husband Ethan's laugh echoed, encouraging her. The caption seared: "Ethan says I can handle anything! Even this rich bitch's pony." My hands clenched. When I called, Ethan sounded annoyed. "Scarlett? Tiffany was just having fun. He's just a horse." He hung up, dismissing me as "uptight" to someone nearby, the line going dead. "Just a horse." My horse. My legacy. He dismissed it. He dismissed me. He sided with her. This wasn't mere abuse; it was a public desecration of my soul's depth, my family's legacy. The humiliation was a raw, physical ache, hardening into cold, pure fury. This was more than betrayal; it was a declaration of war. I didn't scream, I didn't cry. My mind honed to laser focus. I buzzed Marcus, my head of security. "Tiffany Starr is at the Chateau Marmont. Remove her. Publicly. Serve a restraining order. Revoke all King Global studio access." They wanted a war. They would get one they'd regret.

I was eight months pregnant, my life with my charismatic tech mogul husband, Ethan, seemingly perfect. We were at a glittering gala, celebrating our success, our future family. Then, a sudden shove sent me tumbling down a flight of stairs, triggering premature labor. In the hospital's sterile hallway, I overheard Ethan's voice, cold and calm, making unimaginable arrangements: killing our seemingly "weak" newborn son, replacing him with his mistress Jessica's baby, and sterilizing me. He presented me with a healthy infant, claiming it was ours while secretly poisoning me to ensure I could never conceive again. Back at our ranch, Jessica, his mistress, openly flaunted her role as the "real" mother, nursing "our" child, showered with Ethan's attention while I was neglected and humiliated. She even showed me a video of Ethan by my baby's incubator, moments before his death. The man I loved, the father of my child, was a monster who planned it all-my fall, my baby's death, my sterilization. My perfect life was a cruel, calculated lie, and my heart shattered into fragments of disbelief and searing pain. But beneath the agony, a chilling resolve ignited. I would play along. I would gather every scrap of damning evidence. I would shatter his empire just as he shattered my life. My revenge would be cold, precise, and utterly devastating.

The crystal chandeliers sparkled, reflecting the perfect white dress I wore. My hand was tucked into Mark's arm; this was our engagement party. Then, his voice, smooth and charming just seconds before, twisted into a lie. "Sarah is not well," he announced to the silenced room, my mentee Chloe by his side. My world shattered. He branded me "unstable," a "liar," destroying my reputation, my life, right there on the ballroom floor. For five years, I struggled, the whispers haunting me. Five years later, at a high-profile gala, they found me. Mark Olsen, now a celebrated visionary, and Chloe, draped in diamonds. They dragged me, still in my plain catering uniform, back to the public eye. He called me a "deranged stalker," ridiculed my every claim, then put his foot down – on my hand – to silence me forever. The agony was blinding, the humiliation absolute. How could they be so cruel? Was this truly my fate, to be forever labeled, discarded, and broken? Then, just as the darkness swallowed me, a voice colder than ice cut through the stunned silence. "Get your foot off my wife."

Doing a part-time job in a speakeasy bar, Wendy got drunk unexpectedly. When she woke up, she found that she was regarded as a call girl and lost her virginity. After having a one-night stand with Charlie, an incredibly handsome man, Wendy threw out two hundred dollars to defend her own dignity. However, Wendy's arrogant actions annoyed Charlie, who grabbed Wendy back to bed repeatedly for revenge. "What do you want?" Wendy was annoyed. "Be responsible for what I did to you." Charlie smiled. "But how?" Wendy continued. "By keeping sleeping with you."

Scarlett was left betrayed and broken beyond repair when her best friend Megan set her up with the male escort who stole her virginity...Or at least, that's what she thought he was. There was something odd about the strong and strikingly beautiful man that she spent a night with. Despite the pure hatred she felt for him, the deals he ended up offering wasn't one she could refuse. Scarlett always thought she'd marry her soulmate but turns out, that won't be the case for her. But could her mysterious husband make his way through her broken heart and fix it? It's hard to imagine but love has funny ways to manifest in places where it's least expected....

After three secretive years of marriage, Eliana never met her enigmatic husband until she was served with divorce papers and learned of his extravagant pursuit of another. She snapped back to reality and secured a divorce. Thereafter, Eliana unveiled her various personas: an esteemed doctor, legendary secret agent, master hacker, celebrated designer, adept race car driver, and distinguished scientist. As her diverse talents became known, her ex-husband was consumed by remorse. Desperately, he pleaded, "Eliana, give me another chance! All my properties, even my life, are yours."

Maia grew up a pampered heiress-until the real daughter returned and framed her, sending Maia to prison with help from her fiancé and family. Four years later, free and married to Chris, a notorious outcast, everyone assumed Maia was finished. They soon discovered she was secretly a famed jeweler, elite hacker, celebrity chef, and top game designer. As her former family begged for help, Chris smiled calmly. "Honey, let's go home." Only then did Maia realize her "useless" husband was a legendary tycoon who'd adored her from the start.

Rachel used to think that her devotion would win Brian over one day, but she was proven wrong when his true love returned. Rachel had endured it all—from standing alone at the altar to dragging herself to the hospital for an emergency treatment. Everyone thought she was crazy to give up so much of herself for someone who didn’t return her feelings. But when Brian received news of Rachel’s terminal illness and realized she didn’t have long to live, he completely broke down. "I forbid you to die!" Rachel just smiled. She no longer needed him. "I will finally be free."

Darya spent three years loving Micah, worshipping the ground he walked on. Until his neglect and his family's abuse finally woke her up to the ugly truth-he doesn't love her. Never did, never will. To her, he is a hero, her knight in shining armour. To him, she is an opportunist, a gold digger who schemed her way into his life. Darya accepts the harsh reality, gathers the shattered pieces of her dignity, divorces him, takes back her real name, reclaims her title as the country's youngest billionaire heiress. Their paths cross again at a party. Micah watches his ex-wife sing like an angel, tear up the dance floor, then thwart a lecher with a roundhouse kick. He realises, belatedly, that she's exactly the kind of woman he'd want to marry, if only he had taken the trouble to get to know her. Micah acts promptly to win her back, but discovers she's now surrounded by eligible bachelors: high-powered CEO, genius biochemist, award-winning singer, reformed playboy. Worse, she makes it pretty clear that she's done with him. Micah gears up for an uphill battle. He must prove to her he's still worthy of her love before she falls for someone else. And time is running out.