Mei Piaoxiang

Yet, he still shoved a necklace into my hand, demanding I wear it at the Mating Ceremony. He thought I was so weak that I would gratefully accept being his backup. When I refused, he used his crushing Alpha Command to force me to my knees. I stared at the boy I had trusted my whole life, my childhood affection crumbling to dust. Why did I ever think he cared about me when all he wanted was absolute power? But as his suffocating pressure tried to break my bones, the ancient power sleeping in my blood finally answered the call. An ice-cold energy surged up my spine, shattering his command like glass. I wasn't a broken Omega. I was the legendary White Wolf. At the Mating Ceremony, I wouldn't choose him. I would choose the low-born Warrior he had maliciously pushed off a cliff, and together, we would tear his treacherous family down to the dirt.

My family's business was on the brink of collapse, and our only lifeline was my forced marriage to Alaric Roy, the city's most ruthless billionaire heir. I tried to sabotage the arrangement by acting like a vulgar gold digger in front of his grandfather, but the old man saw through my act and forced the wedding anyway. On our wedding night, I expected cold indifference, but instead, I got a warden. Alaric threw a fabricated background check at my feet, his eyes full of absolute disgust. He accused me of being a manipulative predator who conspired with his grandfather to trap him. To teach me a lesson, he called his assistant right in front of me and ordered the immediate, hostile takeover of my family's company. "Now do you understand your place?" he sneered. I was humiliated and terrified. I didn't want this marriage any more than he did, yet I was the one paying the price. He abandoned me that night, and the next morning, his past lover crashed the family breakfast. She waved a cufflink around, crying that Alaric had spent the night with her, waiting for me to break down in tears in front of his smirking relatives. Instead of crying, I took a calm sip of my black coffee and turned to the furious family patriarch. "Grandfather, your guest appears to be unwell. The family breakfast table is not the place for a psychiatric evaluation." If they thought I was just going to be a victim in their twisted family drama, they were dead wrong.

For six years, I traded my life as the Syndicate's top cryptographer to be a devoted wife to Victor, a powerful Mafia Capo, and a loving mother to our son. But today, outside his elite academy, my six-year-old son looked me in the eye and called me a "useless pig" in flawless Russian. It was the exact curse his father used for his enemies. When I demanded answers, Victor merely rolled his eyes, calling me a hysterical, unappealing housewife who did nothing but sit at home. My mother-in-law openly mocked my weakness, encouraging my son to treat me like a maid. And Victor's mistress boldly texted me, bragging that he had promised her my place the moment I gave birth to my second child. They had poisoned my own blood against me, treating my years of silent sacrifice as an invitation to completely erase me. They truly believed I was just a helpless, pregnant civilian who would swallow their abuse to keep a roof over my head. They forgot that before my world shrank to the size of a drawing-room, I was the one who built the foundations of Victor's empire in the shadows. Looking at the digital evidence of Victor skimming millions from the Syndicate Boss—evidence his foolish mistress had accidentally sent me to taunt me—the last thread of my devotion snapped. I calmly packed my tactical bag, secured the encrypted ledgers, and dialed the ruling Consigliere. "I want a legally binding Severance, and in exchange, I am giving you Victor's head on a platter."

For ten years, Ada loved August Moss, paying back the debt of him saving her life with three years of a cold, miserable marriage. But while she endured daily humiliation from his arrogant family, August was busy spending his nights whispering to his new lover on the phone. When Ada finally packed her meager belongings, his mother blocked the door, threatening to cut off her allowance so she would starve on the streets of New York. Ada simply slapped a zero-alimony divorce agreement against the older woman's chest and walked out. But when she dropped the signed papers directly on August's desk, he just let out a harsh laugh. "Is this because I did not come home last night? Do not bring your childish house games to my office, Ada." He actually thought her genuine pain was just an annoyance. He truly believed the pathetic girl who worshipped him would always endure his neglect, absolutely confident she would be crying at his gates in three days begging for his money. He was wrong. Ada blocked his number, put on a blood-red designer dress, and stepped into the flashing paparazzi cameras with Hollywood's biggest A-list actor on her arm. The obedient wife who waited for him is dead.

Camelia Drake had only four months left on her prenuptial agreement with billionaire Duke Morrow, living as a glorified maid for his wealthy family. The nightmare escalated when Duke's mistress, Christabel, intentionally threw herself down the marble stairs and later slashed her own arm with a fruit knife, screaming in fake terror that Camelia was trying to kill her. Duke didn't even glance at Camelia's bleeding knee or her bruised spine. He rammed into his wife, cradled the sobbing mistress against his chest, and pointed a furious finger at Camelia's face. "Apologize right now, or I will ruin your career and make sure you leave this marriage with absolutely nothing." The entire family mocked her. When Duke's grandmother secretly drugged his wine to force them together, Duke pinned Camelia to the wall, violently accusing her of being a desperate gold-digger. The second the mistress called with a fake ache, Duke shoved Camelia to the floor and sprinted out into the night. Sitting alone on the freezing floor, Camelia's heart finally shattered and turned to ice. She couldn't understand how a man could be so ruthlessly blind, treating his legal wife worse than a stray dog while worshipping a manipulative liar. The next morning, the mistress texted a victorious selfie from Duke's bed. Camelia didn't shed a single tear. She calmly called back, telling the mistress to make sure Duke got a full STD test. Then, she pulled out her suitcase, looked at her furious, hickey-covered husband with dead eyes, and prepared to walk away from this toxic prison forever.

My husband, a ruthless mafia Capo, brought his pregnant mistress to our anniversary party. He then ordered me to give her a blood transfusion, knowing my heart condition could kill me. As my life drained away, I knew my nine-year marriage was finally over. It was my ninth wedding anniversary, and I stood in an expensive gown, watching Dominick Reyes, a feared mafia Capo, celebrate with our guests. But the celebration wasn't for us; Dominick had brought Chastity, his pregnant mistress, and then publicly ordered me out of our master suite. Chastity, who had faked her pregnancy, then framed me for an attack. Dominick forced me to give a blood transfusion to Chastity, knowing my heart condition made it potentially fatal. As my blood drained from my veins, sustaining the woman who had stolen my life, I felt my consciousness fading, hoping I would not wake up. When I woke, Dominick had already paraded Chastity to a gala. He had drained me, used me, and then abandoned me in a hospital bed, breaking his promise of a divorce. I was nothing more than a debt payment, a pawn in his brutal game. Knowing he would never truly let me go, I calmly called a trusted contact. I would disappear from his world, become someone new, and this time, Dominick Reyes would pay.

I was eight months pregnant with triplets, waiting for my husband in his private office. Instead, his "childhood friend" Jaida walked in and threw divorce papers at my pregnant belly. "He doesn't need you anymore. I'm the one who gave him a kidney five years ago, and now he's giving me his family." But I was the one who secretly gave him my kidney. Before I could expose her lie, she pushed me hard against a glass table. I went into premature labor. In the blood-soaked operating room, I heard Jaida give a cold order to the corrupt doctor. "Secure the heirs, whatever the cost to the incubator." They told me my two sons died, leaving only my frail daughter. I barely escaped the burning hospital with her, faking our deaths to survive. Four years later, I took my daughter to a top cardiologist for her rare heart defect, only to run into my ex-husband and Jaida. They had a four-year-old son with them. His name was Jacob—the exact name I had chosen for my "dead" baby. What completely shattered my world was the doctor's secret revelation: their son and my daughter shared an impossible, one-in-ten-million genetic mutation. My sons didn't die in that operating room. Jaida had stolen my baby and my life. I immediately ordered a secret DNA test. This time, I wouldn't just run; I would make them pay for everything they took from me.

I stood before the heavy oak door with a positive pregnancy test burning a hole in my pocket, ready to tell the Underboss, Anthony Holden, that his legacy was secured. But before I could turn the handle, I heard his twin brother laughing from inside. "She screams your name, not mine. It is a little insulting, brother," Emmanuel mocked. "Three years of celibacy for the alliance while you play with my toy," Anthony sighed. "I deserve a medal." My world shattered. For three years, I thought I was the exception to their violence, but I had been sleeping with a monster in the dark. When I kicked the door open, Bianca House—my high school tormentor—was sitting there like a queen. "Happy anniversary, Erica," she sneered. "You were just a placeholder for the territory deal." They didn't stop there. They took my dignity, and then they took my life. At a dinner intended to show unity, they watched me choke on peanuts. Anthony looked me in the eye and used my EpiPen on Bianca’s fake faint while I suffocated on the floor. They threw my grandmother’s ashes off a balcony just to watch me scream. They pushed me into traffic to ensure I’d be a compliant prop for their wedding. They killed the baby in my womb. They thought they had broken me. They thought I was just a nurse, a civilian, a loose end. But on the day of the wedding, I wasn't in the pews. I was on a bus out of state, hacking the church's livestream. As the priest began to speak, I replaced the image of the cross with the video of their confession. I watched their empire crumble from a cracked phone screen, leaving the monsters behind to find a man who would actually burn the world for me.

The text message from Mark, "Trip extended. Don' t wait up. Love you," was the first crack in the facade of my four-year marriage, a hollow echo of affection on our anniversary. Then, discovering him with his assistant, Olivia Stone, in his office, their intimacy a brutal slap, confirmed my deepest fears. But his words cut deeper than the sight: "Ever since she got pregnant, she' s become… unbearable. Clingy. Emotional. It' s not the woman I married." In that instant, a searing pain shot through my abdomen, and a choked gasp escaped me, a prelude to the nightmare that followed. He pushed me down the stairs. My body hit the cold steps over and over. I lay in a heap, bleeding, losing our baby. Yet, he rushed past me to comfort Olivia, asking, "Are you okay? Did she scare you?" He chose her, leaving me broken and bleeding on the floor. At the hospital, he confirmed the devastating loss and then blamed me, twisting reality. As if summoned, Olivia appeared, feigning sorrow, while he comforted her, bringing her to my room where our child's life had just ended. He pushed me back onto the bed, furious at my screams, and then escorted her out, murmuring soothing words, leaving me utterly alone with the ghost of our child. His cruelty knew no bounds. He threw my beloved dog, Buddy, out into a raging storm, then forced me to apologize to Olivia for upsetting HER, threatening Buddy's life if I refused. I knelt, humiliating myself, whispering apologies I didn't mean, all for Buddy. How could he be so monstrous? He remembered nothing of the man I loved, only this cruel stranger. Yet, the question of what he truly remembered, what he was capable of, hung heavy in the air. That night, alone after my performative apology, I called my lawyer. My decision was solid, unchangeable. The marriage was a festering wound, and the only way to survive was to cut it out completely.

My team lead looked at my termination letter, unable to meet my eyes. He said it came from the top, nothing he could do. I was the scapegoat for a supposed error, fired from the company because Chloe Davis, Nathan Hayes' s high school sweetheart and co-founder, was back. Suddenly, I saw Nathan get out of his car, holding the door for Chloe with a tenderness he hadn't shown me in ages. Our eyes met, a flicker of something in his expression before it was gone, and he walked right past me without a word, leaving a sharp pain in my chest. I hailed a cab and went to his penthouse, the place I called home, for now. I cooked his favorite meal, sent him a picture, and waited, but he never replied. Days passed. Nathan didn't contact me. I'd been to the hospital three times, my doctor pressing for treatment options, but I kept them hidden. He finally came home, his tension easing when I told him I just had a cold. He pulled my hand to his face, a familiar, intimate gesture, reminding me how easily I mistook habit for affection. After a night of desperate passion, he whispered, "Ava, you're not mad I fired you, are you?" I wasn't. Three years ago, he paid off my mother's gambling debts, turning me into his "kept woman." I was dutiful, obedient, supportive, asking for nothing. He called me his "beautiful bird in a golden cage," the one who could never leave him. Then, Chloe's best friend, Brenda Smith, confronted me, throwing my desperate texts to Nathan in my face. "You're a pathetic homewrecker," she sneered, slapping me hard across the cheek. I ended up in the hospital with a concussion. Nathan came back, but his main concern was Chloe's reputation. "Ava, Chloe is different from you to me," he said, touching my bruised cheek. "Just be good, okay?" The pain was suffocating. I didn't understand how he could be so cruelly indifferent. I closed my eyes, and a single tear escaped. He didn't wipe it away. Our three years together meant nothing. It was all a ghost compared to his "white knight." "Let's break up, Nathan." His jaw tightened. "Ava, break up? Haven't you forgotten our agreement? Unless one of us dies, I am the one who decides when we part ways." I finally understood. To be free, I had to die for him to let me go.

The blinding white of the hospital ceiling. My ears registered the monotonous beep of a machine, my body a dull ache radiating from my chest, but my mind was replaying a lifetime. A lifetime I didn't swerve, didn't fight, a life where I gave everything for her, for Sarah Miller. I saw myself hollowed out, unfulfilled, alone, a footnote in her brilliant biography, my own child a ghost. Then the blinding clarity: this wasn't just a brush with death, it was a preview of the life I was about to lose myself in. My gaze drifted-Sarah, impeccable as always, on her phone, brow furrowed. And next to her, Alex, murmuring, his hand on her arm, a gesture far too familiar. They were a perfect, closed circuit. I was the outsider. A cold certainty settled in my chest, more real than the pain from my injuries: I would not let that life happen. My hands trembled, not from weakness, but from a newfound resolve. I called my boss. "Mike! I heard about the accident. Are you okay? Do you need anything?" "I'm okay, Mark," I said, my voice raspy. "But I'm calling to resign." "Resign? Mike, what are you talking about? You're our top young talent. We were just about to put you on the downtown high-rise project." "I don't want the high-rise," I said, with surprising strength. "I want the sustainable community project. The one in Oak Creek. I know it's a pay cut. I know it's in the middle of nowhere. I'll take it. I need to do it." A weight I hadn't realized I was carrying lifted from my shoulders. It felt incredible. This was my second chance. My life wasn't going to be a footnote in Sarah Miller's biography. It was going to be my own story. Starting now.

My record label was a empire, built on grit and an uncanny ear for talent. But that morning, standing in my sanctuary, Studio A, the controlled chaos I expected was replaced by a scene that froze my blood: a girl I didn't know, holding "The Nightingale," Liam's one-of-a-kind microphone. It wasn't just any mic. It was our mic, a silver emblem of our shared career, engraved with "E+L"-a symbol of a sacred promise he made years ago, that only his voice would ever touch it. And this girl, Ava, with her sickly sweet smile, was singing into it, her cheap perfume clinging to the pop filter, her fingers wrapped right over our initials. My sound engineer paled and cut the audio. "Hi, Ms. Reed. I'm Ava. Liam said I could warm up with this one." Her voice was pure saccharine. Liam, the man of principles, who preached loyalty and integrity, had let her use it, had broken his promise for her. He walked in later, carefree, carrying coffees, asking, "Where's Ava?" as if it were nothing. Blithely admitting he told her she could use his mic. Why did he dismiss our vow so easily? Why was this girl, a stranger, allowed to hold something so intimate, so symbolic of us? And why did Liam act like my feelings were an overreaction, just something he needed to manage? I sent her home, but the real fight had just begun.

Three months pregnant, my life with Mark, a rising tech CEO, in our beautiful Charleston home, felt truly perfect. We were college sweethearts, five years married-a fairy tale come true. Then Mark arrived holding a cheap, wilted rose. Above his head, impossible words flickered like captions only I could see: `"The 'side piece' got the fresh bouquet, the 'starter wife' gets a pity rose?"` More chillingly: `"Only 4 more months until the 'first wife' is written off. Classic tragic exit."` My perfect world shattered. The comments exposed his long-term affair with his intern, Brit, and my role as a disposable "plot device." When I confronted them, Brit shoved me. I fell. I woke with an agonizing void-my baby gone. Mark, feigning remorse, still used our funds to protect his mistress. His hypocrisy infuriated me. The comments confirmed his manipulative strategy. Then, the ultimate blow: Mark declared Brit was pregnant, calling it "our second chance." He even offered to make her abort that baby if I'd take him back, proving him utterly depraved. I refused to be written off. My baby was gone, but I was still here. The tragic script they wrote for me was now totally ablaze. I chose to fight. "No mercy," I told my lawyer. I would dismantle his empire, reclaim my life, and write my own powerful, uncompromised ending.

I woke up nineteen again, in my familiar 80s room, recalling a seventy-year marriage with Mark. He was my soulmate, my golden love story, and I believed this time, we could make it even more perfect. But this new, young Mark was shockingly different. He was ambitious, driven, and then, at the Fourth of July picnic, he publicly asked Tiffany Anderson, the town' s popular golden girl, to be his girlfriend. My seventy-year love story, my perfect reunion dream, shattered into a million pieces. I watched my past, present, and future fall apart before my eyes. Every shared milestone, every tender moment, was now seen through a horrifying lens of betrayal. He' d never been truly with me; he was always just chasing her. Mark himself confirmed my deepest fears, treating me with open disdain, trying to sabotage my music. How could the man I loved for a lifetime treat me like this? My heart screamed, "Did you ever, in all those seventy years, actually love me?" His answer was a cold, brutal laugh: "Love you? Don't be stupid. It was convenient. It was always Tiffany." My entire past life, a carefully constructed illusion, imploded. But in that moment of utter devastation, a fierce, new resolve ignited within me. The very sabotage meant to break me instead opened an unexpected door. A city music promoter, impressed by my raw performance, offered me a way out-a chance to become truly myself, finally free from his shadow.

I was just Ethan Miller, the quiet coder, dreaming of a tech internship and a shot with Brittany Hayes. Then the internship list dropped. Her boyfriend Chad made it, I didn't. Hours later, the school' s social media lit up: a "Loser List" poll, and I was "Biggest Nerd," number one. My private DMs, every awkward, hopeful word asking Brittany to prom, were instantly plastered school-wide. Laughter and pointed fingers followed me, the burning humiliation a public execution of my dignity. Brittany had orchestrated it all. She' d played me for a fool, then falsely accused me of hacking, costing me my dream CS program and a suspension. The "Future Innovator" scholarship I was promised went to Chad. Why did she hate me so much, actively ruining my life and now targeting Sarah Jenkins, an innocent outcast I' d tried to help? But at prom, as Brittany "accidentally" spilled a drink on Sarah' s dress, something inside me snapped. The chauffeur opened the Maybach' s door; I stepped out in a custom Tom Ford tuxedo, my family' s security detail and stylist flanking me. "I'm Mark Miller's son," I whispered to a stunned Sarah. "NovaCorp. Time for an upgrade."

Ava Miller, terminally ill with ALS, fled a brutal five-year imprisonment in a mental health facility. Her desperate wish was a final act of control: a pre-arranged full-body donation for complete disintegration, leaving no trace behind. But her carefully planned escape shattered when she collided with Liam Donovan, her former fiancé and the man who believed she was responsible for his beloved sister' s tragic death. Liam, consumed by grief and rage, dragged Ava into a new nightmare, intent on making her pay for Chloe' s loss. Despite her rapidly worsening illness and broken body, Ava shielded a secret that would exonerate her but destroy Chloe' s memory, embracing Liam' s abuse as penance. She endured public degradation, horrific assaults, and even a forced bone marrow donation that left her paralyzed, all to uphold her silent promise. How could the man she still desperately loved be so cruelly blind to her innocence and suffering, allowing his hatred to consume her? Why did she choose to sacrifice every shred of dignity for a truth she couldn't speak, leaving her stripped of everything but oblivion? Her final agonizing moments came in a fire he implicitly condoned, prompting Liam to slowly unravel her devastating sacrifice through hidden clues long after she was gone. Now, haunted by the profound truth of Ava's unwavering love and innocent torment, Liam is forced to confront the monstrous depths of his own actions, embarking on a brutal journey for redemption, only to discover some truths come too late for forgiveness.

My blood was a rare gift, able to heal any wound and mend broken bodies. In my first wretched life, it bound me to Ethan Vanderbilt, who saw my power as his sole property. But my gift couldn't bring back the dead, a truth Ethan refused to accept when his "true love," Veronica, lay lifeless before him. Consumed by a twisted grief not for me, he cruelly watched as my own life bled out from a wound he inflicted. I died a slow, agonizing death, powerless against his vengeful madness. As darkness claimed me, a maid's faint whisper revealed a chilling secret: Veronica wasn’t where they claimed; her death wasn't an accident. "Another man… his wife found out." My entire torment, my very death, was built on a monstrous lie. The utter injustice of it burned, even as I faded. Then, I gasped, whole and alive, in a hospital room. The calendar date confirmed it: I was back to the very day Ethan first summoned me. This time, I wouldn't be his victim. This time, I had a choice. This was my second chance.

I poured my life, my health, into Vicky Sterling's startup. Now she's a celebrated CEO, and I’m just a recovering patient, battling Crohn’s. Her "conceptual artist" lover, Julian, fills our home with his presence. One evening, Julian, knowing my strict diet, offered me a rich, forbidden pasta. Under his watchful smirk, I took a bite. Within the hour, internal fire consumed me. I crawled to Vicky, begging for the hospital, but she dismissed my agony. She called me "dramatic," prioritized Julian's fake illness, and brutally kicked my surgical scars. Her assistant Brenda then locked me in my room, where Julian's venomous brown recluse bit me. When paramedics arrived, Vicky blocked the ambulance, chillingly stating, "If he dies, he dies!" How could the woman I loved, the one I sacrificed everything for, actively ensure my agonizing death? Was I just a burden to be eliminated, a mere inconvenience? As darkness encroached, I used my last ounce of strength, not to call 911 again, but the one man who could truly help: Uncle Frank. My story wasn't ending; it was just beginning.

Four years ago, a car accident took away all of John's memories, but Linda, his beloved wife, hoped that he would never remember the past. Although their life was had been peaceful on the surface, a surging storm was brewing. What she worried most finally happened when she saw James’s business card in her husband’s pocket. In the past four years, she had never been so scared like now. It was like a huge stone hanging over her head. She didn't know when the stone would fall, but she could see that the stone was moving. When the truth was unveiled, the beast inside John was also released.

Accidentally murdered the bride? Check. Forced to marry the cursed Alpha who's lost six wives? Check. Now wearing her dress, dragged to his bed, while the pack waits outside for proof he's fucked me raw? Double check. Remi was just trying to catch her cheating boyfriend in the act. Instead, she tripped, ripped lace, and cracked a skull. Now Alpha Nero Blackwater owns her. "Bride for bride," he growls. "You owe me a wedding... and a womb." The curse kills his mates before dawn. Unless he plants an heir fast. But something's wrong. What if there was never a curse at all? One night to survive. One claiming to break everything. One Alpha who'll fuck her senseless... even if it's the last thing she feels.

I was the wolfless disgrace of the pack, traded like cattle to a dying monster. When a royal decree stripped away my engagement, my own father gave my fiancé to my cruel sister, Charly. My punishment for being born without a wolf? A forced marriage to Demetri Contreras—the crippled, disgraced Alpha left to rot from silver poison. They threw me into a frozen, forgotten estate, waiting for my new husband to die so I could be buried as a silent widow. Charly laughed as she stole my life, my mate, and my future. My family discarded me, just like they murdered my mother years ago. They thought this exile would break me. They thought I was a helpless pawn. They didn't know that inside this fragile body lived the soul of the top interstellar miracle surgeon. Looking at the ruined, festering Alpha bleeding on my wedding bed, I didn't see a corpse. I saw the deadliest weapon in the realm. The fallen Alpha needs a miracle to survive. Lucky for him, I am the miracle. I will drag this monster back from the gates of hell—and together, we will burn my enemies to ash.

I was waiting at the Registry Hall to formalize my mate bond with Gabe, my childhood sweetheart and the Alpha of our pack. He was thirty-two minutes late. When I finally found him in a private VIP lounge, his hands were buried in my cousin's hair, their lips locked together. Hailee was supposed to be my maid of honor. Instead of apologizing, Gabe looked me dead in the eye and used his Alpha authority to publicly reject me. The severing of our ten-year bond tore my soul apart, but the nightmare didn't stop there. My grandfather immediately called, demanding I clean up a mess Hailee had made. When I refused, he disowned me on the spot, froze every single one of my bank accounts, and stripped me of my family name. Within hours, my entire pack erased my existence, gleefully announcing Hailee as their new Luna. I had given my entire life to a family and a man who discarded me like worthless trash the second I became inconvenient. I was left broken, humiliated, and utterly penniless in the blink of an eye. But as I stumbled out of that sterile hall, a terrifyingly beautiful stranger stepped out of the shadows, radiating a primal power that made my knees weak. He was Caden Sinclair, the ruthless Lycan King, and he was dodging a forced political union of his own. "You need a shield. I need a wife. Marry me." Without hesitation, I signed the Eternal Vow.

I was three months pregnant when the car hit me. Lying there, barely hanging on, I called my husband-Alpha Ethan-over and over. No answer. When I finally woke up from the pain, I saw a post from his first love, Ivy. "Thank you, Alpha, for knowing how scared I am of the dark and staying with me all night. He even cleared his whole schedule today to take me to the auction, just to give me the best gift in the world. I'm so happy!" Right then, it hit me. While I was fighting to protect our child, he was with another she-wolf. I calmly liked her post and put my phone away. Since he chose his first love, I chose to let go. Seven days from now, I'd leave his world for good-with our child.

Emilia Taylor was the most unwanted daughter of the Frostridge Pack. She had no wolf, no status, and no one who truly loved her. After failing to awaken at the age of twenty-two, she was betrayed by her lover, abandoned by her family, and finally sent by her father to the Silver Moon Pack-to become Sebastian Simons' seventh bride. Sebastian was the Alpha everyone feared. Rumor had it that none of his first six wives had met a good end, and every woman who married him eventually became another name on the list of the dead. Everyone was waiting for Emilia to die. But they did not know that her failed awakening had not left her with nothing. Instead, she had gained the ability to read minds. She could hear the malice and lies hidden behind every smile. Everyone's thoughts were open to her. Except Sebastian's. She could not hear his mind, nor could she see through his secrets. When a wolfless girl abandoned by everyone meets a cold-blooded Alpha haunted by the mystery of six dead wives, will she become his next victim-or the only one who can break the curse?

After four years of playing the perfect girlfriend, my wealthy boyfriend publicly humiliated me for a rich heiress. He sneered that I was just a poor Omega who couldn't survive without his money. "You're not going anywhere without my permission." I didn't cry or beg. I simply packed my single suitcase, blocked his number, and walked out into the night to reclaim my life. That same evening, I ended up saving a dangerously handsome stranger bleeding out in a dive bar restroom. I thought I had finally escaped that toxic world to focus on my career as a top heart surgeon. But a week later, my ex's grandmother suffered a massive heart attack, and his desperate family dragged me back to the hospital to save her. After the grueling surgery, my ex's mother tried to force us back together, while my ex glared at me with pure contempt. I was about to reject them all when the terrifying Alpha King-my ex's ruthless uncle-stepped out of the shadows. My blood ran cold. His piercing blue eyes were unmistakable. He was the bleeding stranger from the bar. I thought he would simply thank me and let me walk away. "From this moment on, Dr. Freeman will reside at the Manor." He didn't ask. He commanded it in front of the entire family, completely ignoring my ex's shock. Before I could even protest, his men were already at my new apartment, packing up my life. I had just escaped my ex's gilded cage, only to be trapped by the King himself.

For three years, I poured my blood, sweat, and tears into building Blackwood Group for Alec, my Alpha and the man I thought was my mate. But on the day of our work anniversary, I stood outside his office door and heard him talking with his Beta, shattering my entire world. "Kay is just a wolfless Omega, useful for paperwork," Alec sneered coldly. "The bonding ceremony is just a show for the elders. The real Luna, the one who carries the bloodline that matters, is Breanne. I'm transferring all of Kay's core project files to Breanne tomorrow. Let her take the credit." He even texted me later, telling me to wear a blue dress to the upcoming gala because it made me look "obedient." I had turned down a Wharton scholarship for this man. I had spent countless nights fixing his mistakes, building his empire, and giving him my youth. Yet to him, I was nothing but a disposable placeholder, expected to smile and bow while another woman stole my life's work and my place by his side. The agonizing pain in my chest didn't break me; it forged me into ice. I didn't cry, and I certainly didn't beg. Instead, I wiped his servers clean of every strategy I had ever created, left a wax-sealed resignation on his desk, and accepted a job offer from his most ruthless rival.

"This is Virella, my wife." Three years. And that was all Alpha Kaelen gave me. No welcome. No touch. No recognition. Just another woman at his side, carrying his child. While I ruled in his absence, I was nothing more than a placeholder. A Luna he never chose. So I gave up. And I left. One rejection was all it took to break the bond. When I returned, I wasn't the Luna he abandoned. I was untouchable, respected, and feared. And no longer his to claim. Now he watches me like a man drowning... Because the woman he discarded came back as something far beyond his reach. And this time, I didn't come alone. The Alpha of Ebonmoon stands beside me, his presence crushing, and his hand firm on my waist... "Careful, Kaelen," his voice drops, dark with warning. "Rowena isn't yours anymore." His lips brush my temple, possessively. "She's mine. If you try to take her, I'll end you."

"She is exhausted from taking care of a sick child! What's the big deal if she wears a piece of your clothing?! When did you become such a vicious shrew?!" My Alpha mate protectively cradled his weeping mistress in his arms, unleashing his crushing aura to force me to my knees to apologize to her. And all of this was simply because I slapped the woman who had hijacked my bridal suite and put on my clothes. But that bridal suite was painstakingly decorated by me, and that piece of clothing was the sexy lingerie he gifted me for our one-year anniversary! When I refused to yield, he ordered his guards to drag me into the freezing psychiatric isolation ward. "Lock her up for five days! Let her starve in the dark until she crawls out begging for forgiveness!" He didn't know that in my past life, I died in that exact cell. I was forcefully injected with hallucinogens and chained to a bed. When a roaring fire engulfed the building, he kicked open the door, ignored my desperate screams, and scooped up his fake-crying mistress before rushing out. I was left to burn alive, smelling my own roasting flesh. Reborn on the exact day I was locked away, I didn't struggle. Five days later, he and his mistress stood outside the door, waiting for me to grovel. Instead, I smashed a flawless mental health evaluation and a signed "Mate Rejection Form" right into his hypocritical face! "Keep the house, and keep the trash." I coldly watched him drop to his knees, gasping in agony as our soul bond violently severed, and then tossed three thousand dollars at his feet. "That's for the lingerie. Consider it charity." He scoffed, certain that an abandoned she-wolf would eventually starve on the streets. He had no idea that I already held the deadly secrets of his corrupt officials and used them to extort my first pot of gold. Next, I will build my own business empire, monopolize the pack's supply chain, and buy the absolute loyalty of his entire army. When his proud Alpha throne is completely hollowed out by me, I can't wait to see how he protects his precious little parasite!

Contract Marriage+Kickass Heroine+Hidden Identity+Regret For two long years, Aria Smith devoted everything to Ethan Holt, convinced she was his beloved Luna and his fated mate. Until a trip to replace her lost marriage certificate shattered every lie. Ethan had never loved her. Her closest best friend Clara was his real destined mate. The adopted son Aria had raised with all her love for two years was actually their biological child. Before she could process the brutal truth, a sudden call overturned her whole life. She was not a lonely, powerless human orphan as she had always believed. She was the sole legitimate heir to Vincent Smith's staggering cross-realm fortune, inheriting his massive business empire that dominated both human and werewolf worlds. Her heart completely broken, Aria made her choice without hesitation. "I am single. Legally, I have never been anyone's wife." She cut off all ties with the Silver Creek Pack and stepped into her rightful identity as a billionaire heiress overnight. Ethan and Clara mocked her relentlessly. They believed the helpless human orphan could never survive outside the pack, and she would soon come crawling back begging for forgiveness. They never foresaw the day they met again. When Aria returned, she was no longer the humble, gentle human Luna who lived for Ethan. She stood powerful, wealthy, and untouchable, holding unmatched commercial power that shook the entire werewolf realm. And right by her side stood a dominant, peerless Alpha King-someone far more powerful than Ethan could ever dare to rival, ready to burn the whole world down for her revenge.