Too Late, CEO: Meet Your Hacker Son

I lay broken in a hospital bed after a brutal car crash, but my family never came. My father and brother were too busy preparing for my manipulative half-sister Ainsley's wedding. The groom was my fiancé, Clayton. While I fought for my life, his last words to me over the phone were a cold command. "Go to hell for all I care." They abandoned me, told the world I was dead, and even carved my name on a tombstone. They buried me under a mountain of lies so Ainsley could steal the life that was mine. But I didn't die. I was reborn. Five years later, I returned as Ivy Richardson-a bestselling author, married to a tech CEO, and backed by a family with unimaginable power. I only came back to settle my mother's estate. But the first person I met was Clayton, standing in front of my grave, mourning the girl he helped kill.

Alina was the eldest daughter of the prestigious Padilla family, but everyone mocked her as a defective dud who couldn't cast a single spell. The moment she woke up, her father and younger sister Karina barged into her room, demanding she sign a transfer agreement to the Aethelgard Order-the most brutal faction on the continent. It wasn't just a transfer; it was a legal disownment. In her past life, Alina didn't realize Karina was also reborn. She had dropped to her knees and begged to stay. Her reward? Her magic was violently drained from her veins by her own family. Her fiancé drove a blade through her chest, and her sister stood over her bleeding body, smiling. She had ruined her hands making potions for them, only to be discarded like trash. The phantom pain of her chest being ripped open still burned behind her ribs. Looking at the hypocritical family waiting for her tears, she felt nothing but exhausting disgust. Why should she ever be their stepping stone again? "For the honor of the family, you leave today." Her father sneered as she calmly bit her thumb and pressed her bloody fingerprint onto the contract. This time, Alina didn't cry. She packed a single bag and walked out the door, heading straight for the deadly Aethelgard Order to show them what a true monster looked like.

Charlene was locked in a Swiss asylum by the wealthy Gay family, force-fed antipsychotics until her hands shook violently. Her adoptive brother, Columbus, dragged her out of the psych ward merely to parade her as a prop for the paparazzi. He had locked her up to get a psychiatric evaluation, ensuring she was declared legally insane and unable to claim her massive trust fund. The moment she returned to the estate, the torment worsened. Her other brother, Antwan, kicked her to the ground and shattered her wrist on the gravel. "You lost your legal rights, you stupid bitch," he sneered, while the staff blindly ignored her agony. Her childhood bedroom was completely gutted and given to a distant cousin. Worse, she discovered Columbus was secretly sleeping with Isabela—the fake heiress who had framed Charlene in the first place. Every trace of her existence in the family was being violently scrubbed away. She had lost her dignity, her health, and the baby the doctors claimed had died in the delivery room. She couldn't understand why the family she loved hated her so viciously, stripping away everything she had. That was until she saw a little boy in the hospital hallway, a perfect, miniature replica of her own face. Clutching the gold-crested cufflink he dropped, she realized the asylum's doctor had stolen him. Her baby was alive. With her heart turned to stone, Charlene made a silent vow to crawl out of hell and burn the Gay family to the ground.

I gripped the wheel of my Porsche through a Manhattan downpour, staring at the positive pregnancy test on the passenger seat. Haden's voicemail was my only answer. A semi swerved into my lane. Brakes failed. I slammed into the guardrail, airbags exploding, pain ripping through my gut. Headlights pierced the rain. My sister Corrie stepped out under an umbrella, smiling coldly. "Beauvais Fashion is liquidated. Dad's dying." Haden stood beside her, eyes dead, shoving equity papers through the window. "Sign, or no ambulance." I tore them up. Corrie lit a flare, tossed it onto the gas-soaked seats. Flames whooshed as they walked away. I woke strapped to an operating table, agony tearing me apart. "No heartbeat," the doctor said. Nurses pinned me down. Instruments invaded. Corrie dropped a death certificate on my chest, then set the room ablaze with alcohol and a cigarette flick. Smoke choked me. A cabinet blocked the door. I collapsed, burning. Then a man in black burst in, scent of cedar and tobacco, scooping me from the fire. Five years later, I'd rebuilt myself as Sloane, flawless and cold. I signed a sham marriage to Donavan Mason, nursing his dying grandfather in their estate—the house that swallowed my father's legacy. Betrayed by my lover and sister, child ripped away, identity erased—how could they do this? Who was the man who saved me? Now, I infiltrate their world, armed with secrets and scars, ready to burn them all down.

Eighteen months later, I would watch the man I loved sentenced to twelve years in federal prison. Fourteen counts. Fourteen times the word "guilty" echoed through a packed courtroom. But on Christmas Eve, I didn't know any of that was coming. On Christmas Eve, I was still the woman who believed in him. This is the story of how I stopped.

Hadley married into the Jacobson family, a ruthless Wall Street empire. Her prenuptial agreement was absolute: she wouldn't touch a penny of the family wealth until she produced an heir. But one rainy night, she used a copied keycard to enter a secret Tribeca penthouse, only to find her husband tangled in bed with a famous actress. When she slapped the divorce papers in front of him, Cleveland didn't apologize. "The party who files walks away with nothing. You will die in this position." He tore the documents to pieces. To protect his flawless public image, he forced Hadley to attend family galas, smirking coldly while his grandfather publicly humiliated her for her "barren" stomach. When Hadley finally fought back and confronted his mistress, Cleveland snapped. With a single phone call, he froze her bank accounts, revoked her access to their home, and left her stranded in a cold parking garage. She had given up her independence for a man who treated her like a useless breeding machine. He thought he could erase three years of her life in an instant, confident that his money made him invincible. But Cleveland didn't know she was holding the ultimate weapon to destroy his precious legacy. As he received a frantic call about his mistress and rushed to his SUV, Hadley finally screamed the agonizing secret she had hidden for years. "I can't give you an heir! It's over!" Watching his taillights disappear into the dark, Hadley prepared to burn his empire to the ground.