Jasmine Writes

I woke up married to a stranger. Not just any stranger. Garrick Sinclair-the cold, ruthless captain of the Chicago Mustangs, the man every woman in Chicago dreamed of and every sensible woman stayed away from. I didn't remember marrying him. I didn't even remember sleeping with him. Yet there was a diamond ring on my finger, a marriage certificate beside the bed, and Garrick looking at me like I was nothing more than another gold digger trying to get her hands on his money. He offered me cash to disappear. I wanted nothing from him except the truth. But then his adoptive father died, leaving behind a shocking condition for Garrick's inheritance: He had to be married. Suddenly, the marriage neither of us remembered became the only thing protecting his family's billion-dollar empire. Then my mother was murdered. I came home to find her dead among the roses she loved, only to wake up in a police station as the prime suspect. My home was a crime scene. My mother was gone. And I had nowhere left to turn. Except the husband who had once wanted me gone. Garrick got me out of jail and pulled me into his world. But the closer we became, the stranger everything felt. Whenever he touched me, he remembered things he had forgotten. A locked room. A terrified little boy. A girl in a pink dress. And a promise made in the dark. I thought my marriage to Garrick was the worst mistake of my life. Now I'm starting to wonder if it was the one thing that was never a mistake at all. Because I may not be a stranger to Garrick Sinclair. I may be the missing piece of his darkest memory. And someone has already killed once to make sure we never remember the truth.

I was born without an inner wolf, labeled a defective disgrace in a society where Alpha hierarchy is absolute law. My own father treated me like garbage, allowing his new Rogue wife to steal my late mother's ancient estate. To secure their stolen wealth, my stepmother faked a pregnancy and framed me for pushing her down a flight of marble stairs. Without a second thought, my father locked me in the pack's underground dungeon to rot, eagerly signing my expulsion decree to the wasteland. While I was shivering in torn prison scraps, my family was busy hosting a lavish Matriarch coronation at my mother's manor, completely writing me out of existence. The entire city mocked the wolfless cripple, believing I was just a powerless anomaly they could easily discard. They didn't know I secretly possessed a lethal sub-zero core. And they certainly didn't know I was the legendary underground master Healer that the world's elites desperately worshipped. Just as the guards raised their electric batons to beat me, the heavy iron cell door was suddenly torn off its hinges by sheer brutal force. Jonah Lynn, the ruthless Supreme Alpha and billionaire CEO, stepped through the broken metal with a cold, calculating gaze. "I need a Luna on paper. You need to walk out of this cell alive." I looked at the blood oath contract in his hand, a vicious smile touching my lips. I took his deal, put on his oversized suit jacket, and headed straight to my father's ceremony. It was time to deliver my wedding gift.

For six years, Elena Craig dedicated her life and her brilliant mind to her fiancé, Jory Black. She built his tech empire from the ground up, believing they were heading toward a perfect marriage. But her reward wasn't a wedding ring. It was a staged car crash and the suffocating, damp earth of a fresh grave. As her bones splintered under the crushing weight of the dirt, she heard the people she loved most standing over her casket. "Don't worry, sis. I'll take good care of Jory for you. And all your money." Her stepsister Carissa laughed like poison, while Jory coldly dismissed Elena as just a boring stepping stone. They had been sleeping together in her bed, plotting to bankrupt her mother's company, before burying her alive to silence her forever. The agonizing pain of suffocation was nothing compared to the raw, gaping wound of their betrayal. How could she have been so blind to the monsters living right beside her? Why did her unwavering loyalty only earn her a brutal, agonizing death? Then, her eyes flew open. She wasn't dead. She was sitting on Jory's plush sofa, reborn exactly two days before her family's ruin. Hearing her stepsister's suppressed moans coming from the master bedroom, Elena didn't shed a single tear. She calmly walked in, dropped her three-carat diamond ring into Jory's whiskey, and slapped him viciously across the face. "Our engagement is over." Leaving the cheating scum behind, she walked straight out into the midnight air to propose to the most ruthless billionaire in New York.

I was the President's Old Lady - and the only reason his MC was still breathing. For three years, I ran every legal business the Serpents of Redemption owned. While Craig chased road glory across state lines, I turned a failing auto shop and a tattoo parlor into the money that kept the brothers fed, the bikes fueled, and the clubhouse lights on. Then he rode home from a two-month run with a sweetbutt on the back of his Harley - and her son. Ginger, he said, had saved his life on the road. So he put her in the main residence, in the room directly across from our bed. He handed her my ledgers and called it repayment. When her son dumped a cup of scalding coffee over my hand, Craig never checked my burns. He scooped up the boy and blamed me. His grandmother - the club's Matriarch - stood before every patched brother and accused me of hurting "family." That night, Craig told me Ginger held a place in his heart I could never reach. A debt of blood he'd honor above me. Three years. My family's fortune. My scarred hand. All of it - worthless next to his roadside savior. So I did the one thing a President never expects his Old Lady to do. I gave back his patch. Now they can keep their empty ledgers. They can play happy family in a clubhouse I built. And when this motorcycle club burns - I'll be the one holding the match.

I was in the hospital, enduring the agonizing pain of labor, while my husband, a famous hockey captain, refused to show up. When I called him for the twelfth time, begging for him, he lost his patience. "Giving birth is a woman's job, don't bother me with this stuff." Then, I heard my stepsister's sweet voice offering him a drink, and he immediately softened before hanging up on me. I gave birth to twins all by myself. The nurses treated me with cold indifference, and the family in the next bed loudly mocked me as a pathetic "Puck Bunny" who was just an adopted orphan about to be dumped. They were right. A month ago, my husband had thrown divorce papers at me, demanding I make way because my stepsister was pregnant with his child. I thought my life was a joke. I was just a discarded prop he married to satisfy his grandfather, a fake daughter my adoptive parents only used to elevate my stepsister. I was completely alone, ready to sign the papers just to protect my two babies. But then, the head of the hospital rushed in, transferred me to the top-floor VIP suite, and handed me a DNA test. It turned out I wasn't an unwanted orphan, but the long-lost daughter of the ultra-wealthy Sinclair family who had been searching for me for twenty years. Looking at my billionaire parents and three powerful brothers who just flew in on their private jets to protect me, I picked up my phone to call my arrogant husband. This time, I was going to make him leave with nothing.

"Sign the contract, or lose everything." I stared at the papers that would seal my fate-a three-year marriage to Julian Blackwood, the ruthless billionaire they call the Ice King. My family didn't ask. They demanded. My father's company was drowning, my stepsister's engagement had exploded, and I was the replacement bride they could sacrifice. Just another transaction. Julian made it clear on our wedding day: "Don't expect affection. Don't expect companionship. Certainly don't expect love." He refused to kiss me at the altar. He gave me a bedroom down the hall and told me to stay out of his way. I was Mrs. Blackwood in name only-a contract, a convenience, a means to an end. I accepted it. I had survived twelve years of abuse in my own home. I could survive three years of indifference in his. But then Nate, Julian's best friend, showed me kindness, and suddenly my cold husband became possessive. When my sister attacked me, he became protective. Now the man who promised me nothing is fighting his own father to keep me. The marriage that was supposed to be fake is becoming terrifyingly real and the secrets about my mother's death are threatening to destroy everything. They said Julian Blackwood destroys everything he touches. What they didn't tell me... is that sometimes destruction is exactly what you need to be reborn. With a pregnancy involved, how was I going to end this three-year marriage peacefully?

Five years ago, I stood in the freezing rain at my mother's funeral, waiting for my husband. Blake Knight, the billionaire NHL superstar, was two hours late. When he finally showed up, he brought his rumored girlfriend, the woman he had just rented a hotel rooftop for to celebrate her birthday. Watching him defend her fake tears, my heart completely died. I took off my diamond wedding ring, placed it on my mother's headstone, and walked away from my marriage forever. I fled to London, changed my name to Ava, and secretly raised the triplets he never knew existed. I thought I was finally safe from him. But today, my kids vandalized a silver Aston Martin in our apartment's parking garage, and the owner caught my youngest daughter. My phone rang. The voice on the other end was Blake's. He had moved into my building, and he was holding my little girl in his penthouse, demanding her mother come get her immediately. Panic suffocated me. If I walked through that door, my five years of hiding would be instantly destroyed. He would recognize me, realize I didn't get rid of our child like everyone thought, and he would use all his power to take my babies away. I couldn't let him ruin my life again. "I'm just her nanny," I lied through my teeth. I frantically begged my best friend to go upstairs and rescue my daughter in my place. He bought the disguise, but now, the King of the Ice is dangerously obsessed with investigating my new identity.

Chloe had just given birth to twins, lying exhausted in a cramped, bustling hospital ward. When she called her husband, Julian, he was busy partying with his actress mistress. He coldly hung up on her, having already drafted a brutal divorce agreement that would leave her with a pittance. Strangers in the next bed loudly mocked her pitiful state, gossiping about how Julian was dumping her. For years, Chloe had erased her own identity to fit into his elite world, only to be thrown away like garbage. She was completely alone, clutching her helpless babies, bracing herself to sign the cruel papers just to survive. She couldn't understand why her absolute devotion was met with such chilling indifference. Why did she have to suffer this ultimate humiliation while he celebrated with the woman who ruined her life? But then, a senior doctor noticed a unique mole on her wrist and ran a secret DNA test. The results were staggering: Chloe was the long-lost daughter of the billionaire Beaumont family. With her fiercely protective parents and three powerful brothers suddenly forming an impenetrable fortress around her, Chloe picked up her phone and texted her arrogant husband. "City Hall tomorrow at 10 AM. If you don't show up, my lawyer will handle everything. And trust me, you won't like their terms."

After six years away, I returned to my hometown with a single suitcase and a picture of my fiancé tangled up with my stepsister. I thought it was just a simple, disgusting betrayal, but when I planted a bug in their private suite to get a confession, I heard a truth that froze my blood. My fiancé, Leo, laughed about how my own father had already signed over my mother's legacy-The Nightingale Ranch-as collateral to his powerful family. "Once this is all done, Claire will have nothing. And the woman you marry will be me," my stepsister Jenna cheered. Leo cooed back, calling me a stray dog he'd kick to the curb once he was bored, a worthless woman who couldn't even hold onto her family's land. My family had sold me out, and the man I loved was planning to leave me with absolutely nothing. I didn't cry. The pain burned away into a cold, hard hate. How could my own father conspire with them to destroy the only thing I had left of my mother? I crashed their prestigious charity auction and played their filthy recording over the speakers for the entire town to hear. But when Leo charged at me in a murderous rage, a wall of leather and muscle stepped in front of me. Kade "Chaos" Peterson, the terrifying President of the rival motorcycle club, crushed Leo's wrist and announced to the stunned room, "She's with me now."

For three years, Hilary played the perfect, devoted wife to billionaire Julian Carlisle to save her family from financial ruin. But her husband didn't love her; he was busy throwing a birthday party for the five-year-old son he secretly had with his college sweetheart. To keep up appearances, Julian bought Hilary a million-dollar Cartier bracelet, but she soon discovered the exact same jewelry on his mistress's wrist. During a heated confrontation about his lies, Julian accused her of being a hysterical madwoman and violently shoved her away. But he didn't care that her head smashed against the sharp edge of a nightstand, causing a life-threatening cranial hemorrhage. So she was left bleeding and unconscious on the cold floor, while he simply sneered at her. "Stop pretending. I don't have time for these pathetic games." He walked out the door, leaving her alone to die. After a brush with death, her years of unrequited love and hope were completely gone, and she finally gave up. Waking up in the ICU, she calmly looked at Julian's terrified, regretful face and made her final decision. "Mr. Hayes, please deliver the signed divorce papers to my husband immediately."

I was sweating on a stained cot in a rundown clinic, enduring agonizing labor to deliver my twins. My boyfriend, Viper, the President of the Raven MC, was right next door. But he wasn't there to support me. He was buying the whole clubhouse a round of drinks to celebrate his new girlfriend's birthday. Instead of coming to see his newborn children, he sent a thug with a loaded Glock and a legal contract. The prospect shoved the cold steel against my forehead, demanding I sign my parental rights over to the club and walk away with nothing. If I refused, he promised to dump our bodies in the swamp. In the hallway, the club girls laughed, calling me a worthless charity case. "Sign the paper, or I leave three corpses in this bed." I clutched my fragile babies to my chest, my heart turning to dead ash. I had given that man my youth and loyalty, only to be discarded like trash. I didn't understand how someone could be so ruthlessly cruel to his own flesh and blood. Before the hammer could drop, a mysterious man in a tailored suit calmly walked in and shattered the prospect's wrist. He took one look at the faded scar on my shoulder, ran a rapid blood test, and revealed a truth that shook my world. I wasn't an unpatched stray, but the long-lost daughter of the most feared motorcycle club president in the country. Now, with a two-hundred-bike army at my back, it was my turn to hunt.

For three years, Caddie gave up her aerospace engineering career to be Julien's secret girlfriend, quietly writing the core algorithms for his tech company. On their anniversary, she stood outside his apartment with a rare gift, only to hear his friends laughing inside about his "charity project." Julien's voice was ice-cold as he called her a stray puppy. He said she was only useful for debugging his code, and once her final algorithm was finished, she would have no value left. He was already planning to announce his engagement to the wealthy Kiersten Parrish. He bragged that he would just write Caddie a check and kick her out, mocking that without him, she couldn't even afford next month's rent. Caddie leaned against the cold wall, her world shattering. She had turned down top research fellowships and poured her soul into his work, only to be treated as a disposable tool. He actually believed she was just a helpless nobody who relied on his charity. She didn't scream or cry. She simply threw the expensive gift into the trash chute. Logging into his company's secure server, she permanently deleted every single line of code she had ever built for him. Then, she packed her single suitcase, walked out the door, and dialed a number she hadn't called in years. "I'm ready. I want to come home." It was time to reclaim her place as the true billionaire Kensington heiress.

For five years, I was the secret financial mastermind behind the Vipers MC, keeping my boyfriend Douglas and his greedy family afloat. But today, he suddenly dumped me and demoted me to a "Sweetbutt"—the lowest level of club property, available to any patched member. "You'll still be useful around the clubhouse," he said coldly, leaving me to the mercy of his mother Brenda, who immediately ordered me to scrub the toilets. The other girls mocked my fall from grace, expecting me to break down and beg for my old life back. But they didn't know I had just uncovered Douglas's ultimate betrayal: he had used the wealth I built to secretly fund a whole new life and a hidden son with another woman in Arizona. He actually thought I would quietly accept being stripped of my dignity and passed around the clubhouse, while he built his perfect legacy on my dime. Worse, his family tried to use my sudden vulnerability to feed me to Ardell Cameron, the ruthless president of a rival MC who had a decade-old blood vendetta against me. They thought they were throwing a helpless, discarded woman to the wolves to save their own skins. They had no idea they just handed a queen the perfect reason to burn their entire kingdom to the ground. I didn't shed a single tear. Instead, I smiled, opened my hidden ledgers, and began to call in every single debt they owed.