Waldo Friesinger

For seven years, I endured agonizing egg retrieval surgeries just to give my Alpha mate, Kael, a strong heir. But one day, he coldly announced he had impregnated a high-ranking Beta female instead. He told me I would raise her pup as my own to satisfy the pack Elders. When the pregnant Beta faked a fall at the pack banquet, Kael slapped me to the ground in front of everyone to protect his authority. Desperate to escape his suffocating control, I caused a car crash and ended up in the pack hospital. That was when I overheard the High Healer confronting him. The "fertility vitamins" Kael had personally fed me every single night for the past seven years were actually Wolfsbane. He had been intentionally destroying my ability to bear pups all along. I stared at the mate who had wiped my tears when I cried on the bathroom floor over every negative pregnancy test. He had held my hand through every agonizing surgery, watching me bleed and beg the Moon Goddess for a child, all while secretly feeding me poison. "I did it to protect our pups from the pack's cruelty!" Kael sobbed on his knees, begging for my understanding. But my heart was already dead. I forced our Mind-link wide open, stared into his terrified eyes, and spoke the sacred words of Rejection. This time, I chose to sever our soul bond, take my freedom, and let him rot.

For three years, I played the role of the submissive, boring fiancée to pay off a blood debt. My mother gave her kidney to save the Moretti Matriarch, and in return, I was promised to Dante, the heir. A life for a life. I cleaned his estate and wore his ring while he treated me like furniture. But my silence only bought me humiliation. Dante didn't just cheat; he brought his mistress, Roxy, into our home for dinner. He called me a "glorified housekeeper" on a recording and then broke our engagement via an Instagram post, tagging me to ensure the entire underworld saw my shame. When I went to return the family crest, they wanted a show. Roxy mocked me in front of Dante’s soldiers, snatched my mother’s antique jade pendant—the only thing I had left of her—and shattered it on the dirty club floor. Dante laughed, thinking I was helpless. They thought I was a hothouse flower who would faint at the smell of exhaust. They didn't know the "boring" girl had a racing license hidden under the floorboards. They didn't know I was "Ghost," the legendary underground racer they all bet on. Roxy handed me a spectator ticket to the Death Race, telling me to watch how the big boys play. I took the ticket, but I didn't go to the stands. I walked to the starting line, put on my helmet, and decimated the track record. When I took off that helmet in the winner's circle, Dante’s face went pale. And when Lorenzo Falcone, the most dangerous man in the city, stepped out of the shadows to wipe the blood from my hand and claim me as his own, Dante realized the truth. He hadn't just lost a fiancée. He had signed his own death warrant.

After two years of being missing, Scarlett Sinclair returned to her wealthy family's estate in a beat-up cab. But instead of a tearful reunion, her biological mother stood in the foyer, glaring at her with cold fury. "I thought you'd died in some ditch." Her mother sneered, turning to lovingly hold the hand of the adopted daughter, Ashley. During dinner, her mother relentlessly mocked Scarlett's manners and disastrous past grades. Ashley played the sweet sister while secretly waiting for Scarlett to humiliate herself. They all thought Scarlett was a worthless disappointment who had come crawling back because she had nothing. They had absolutely no idea who she really was. How could they know that in those missing years, Scarlett had become the legendary "Miss M" and "The Surgeon"? While her family fought over petty allowances, she was controlling a life-saving serum coveted by Wall Street titans and treating dying billionaires. The disconnect was so vast it was comical. Why would she care about the approval of a family that treated her like garbage? So, when her perfect-score acceptance letter to the country's most elite academy arrived and shattered their illusions, Scarlett didn't stay. "I'm moving out." Ignoring her mother's hysterical threats to cut her off financially, Scarlett packed her single bag and walked out to her own luxury penthouse. The ties were severed, and her real life was just beginning.

Alexia Vaughan sold her freedom to Manhattan billionaire Holmes Fowler to keep her family from starving. But after a passionate night, his housekeeper handed her a single Plan B pill on a silver tray, treating her like disposable trash. The humiliation shattered her when she saw the front-page newspaper headline: Holmes was officially marrying wealthy heiress Brandon Dalton. While her brother was beaten bloody in the streets over rumors of her being a billionaire's "Sugar Baby," Holmes was busy solidifying his dynasty. Desperate to escape the suffocating reality, Alexia turned off her phone and fled into the city. But she didn't know the phone contained a military-grade GPS tracker. Holmes hunted her down like prey, violently dragged her back to his penthouse, and locked the heavy double doors of his master bedroom. "From now on, you sleep in this bed. Where I can see you," he ordered. Trapped in the pitch-black room, held tightly against his chest, his phone suddenly lit up. It was a 2:00 AM missed call from his fiancée. Tears soaked Alexia's pillow as the agonizing truth set in. She was just a dirty secret locked away in the dark, while his real life happened outside. The next morning, after he violently kissed her to assert his psychotic ownership, Alexia stood trembling on the sidewalk. She looked at his departing Maybach, her eyes hardening with a cold, desperate fire. She would no longer be his captive whore; it was time to plan her escape.

I was the real daughter of the Montgomery family, finally brought back from a Texas farm. But my parents treated me like a savage, giving all their love to my adopted sister, Heidi. On the night I ran away from my arranged wedding, I almost died. A razor-thin steel wire was strung across a blind curve, positioned perfectly to sever my head at ninety miles an hour. I managed to brake in time and pulled the dashcam footage, which clearly showed Heidi setting the trap and wanting the "farm trash" dead. But when I played the video for my family in the hospital, their reaction chilled me to the bone. My father didn't ask if I was hurt, only yelling at me for causing a scandal. My mother immediately shielded the crying Heidi, begging me to let it go because we were family. My eldest brother even threw a fifty-million-dollar contract in my face, demanding I sign an NDA to cover up Heidi's crime. In my past life, their blind favoritism allowed Heidi to lock me on a burning yacht, killing me and the only man who ever tried to save me. I never understood why my own blood would protect a fake, murderous daughter over me. Opening my eyes again, I was back on the night of the orchestrated crash. I looked at the hush money, and then at the ruthless Wall Street billionaire standing protectively by my side. "I'm not just going to ruin her reputation." "I'm going to take back the entire Montgomery Group."

Gemma expected the tearing agony of the bullet wound that had just ended her life. Instead, her trembling fingers met the cool, smooth friction of heavy silk. She stared into the mirror. Her face was flawless, completely devoid of the jagged scar that had marred her cheek for the last five years. It was exactly ten years ago. The day of her engagement party to the ruthless billionaire, Brion Hubbard. In her past life, her "best friend" Katelyn convinced her to run away with a scheming scumbag. Katelyn claimed Brion was a heartless tyrant who would ruin her. Gemma had foolishly believed those fake tears. That choice led to her family's bankruptcy, her brutal disfigurement, and ultimately, a fatal bomb explosion. The only person who tried to save her was Brion, his blood-soaked body shielding hers from the blast. She even realized too late that the strawberry cream cakes she always made for him were full of dairy. He wasn't leaving to cheat on her. He was locking himself in a medical bay, fighting fatal allergic shock, just to accept a tiny scrap of her affection. Gemma had been so incredibly blind. Why did she trust the venomous snakes who destroyed her, while hating the man who died for her? Hearing Katelyn frantically knocking on the dressing room door, urging her to run away again, a towering hatred surged through Gemma's veins. This time, she wasn't going to run. She was going to expose the traitors, take back her family's wealth, and claim the tyrant for herself.

Today was my father's grand second wedding, but for me, it was the anniversary of my mother's death. My new stepmother, Marley, who was only four years older than me, cornered me. To establish her dominance as the new Luna, she ordered her servants to force me to my knees and violently ripped my late mother's necklace from my neck. It was the only memento my mother had left me. Marley sneered, threw it to the ground, and shattered the gems. When I scrambled to pick up the broken pieces, she dug her high-heeled shoe into the back of my hand, mocking me as dirty trash. No one stepped in to help. My father was too busy celebrating his new marriage under the dazzling lights, completely erasing my mother's memory and leaving me to be abused in my own pack. My heart was full of grievance and despair. Why did my mother's lifelong devotion end with her grave desolate and her daughter humiliated? I swore I would never become a weak, discarded she-wolf whose life depended on a man. Desperate to escape the suffocating wedding, I ran outside and stumbled right into the chest of a terrifying stranger. "No one should ever touch what is precious to you." His golden eyes blazed with fury as sparks instantly shot through my veins. He was Kade Blackwood, the ruthless Alpha of the feared Blood Moon Pack—and my fated mate.

I stood at the edge of the ballroom, a black blot on my husband’s perfect canvas. While Jensen Carlson stood under the crystal chandeliers as the master of his universe, the guests whispered that his "friend" Aubree was a much better match for him than I ever could be. My stomach was twisting in sharp, jagged cramps from what I knew was acute appendicitis, but to the Carlson family, I wasn't a wife—I was a utility. My mother-in-law called me a "drill bit" and ordered me to drive Jensen home like a servant because his "optics" mattered more than my internal organs. When I arrived, Jensen didn't ask why I was shaking; he just snapped that my black coat was "depressing" and told me to stop "fidgeting" with my medication. He spent the night whispering to Aubree, then came home and fed my divorce papers into a shredder, mocking me for thinking I could survive a week without the Carlson name. The next day, he humiliated me in front of my entire department, accusing me of flirting with staff just as I was about to collapse from the pain. I had given up my PhD for this man and secretly written the code that built his billion-dollar empire, yet he viewed me as nothing more than a "depreciating asset." Even as I lay shivering on the hardwood floor because his mother locked the guest rooms to force me into his bed, he only sneered, asking if he was "that repulsive" when the pain made me vomit. "If you're not in the car by seven, I'll cut off your grandfather's medical funding." That was the final thread. I didn't go to the gala. Instead, I reclaimed my original patents, wiped my server access, and met him on the curb with a cardboard box and a resignation letter. "I'm not your wife anymore, Jensen. And I'm not your employee." As my Uber pulled away, leaving him clutching a revoked patent and a divorce petition, I realized I wasn't losing everything—I was finally starting to breathe.

For nearly a decade, I was the perfect wife to Grant Sloan, sacrificing my own dreams to support his meteoric rise. But when I saw a photo of him at a company gala with his young intern, Kylee, his hand on her back and a smile I hadn't seen in years, I knew my marriage was over. My world shattered further when my younger sister, Aubrie, was assaulted by her boss. I begged Grant, a top lawyer, to help her. He coldly refused, claiming his caseload was full, only to later stand in court as the defense attorney for my sister's attacker-who turned out to be Kylee's brother. The betrayal was absolute. Fueled by Kylee's vicious online campaign, Aubrie was driven to suicide, jumping from the courthouse roof as Grant and I watched. The final, sickening blow came when Kylee desecrated Aubrie's grave, grinding her ashes into the dirt over a plot she wanted for her dead puppy. Grant, finally seeing Kylee's monstrous nature, brutally punished her and her brother. He came back to me, broken and begging for forgiveness, even staging a grand public proposal. He thought his remorse could erase the blood on his hands and the ashes on the ground. I looked at the man who had destroyed my life and offered him a single word. "No."

My life was perfect for ten years, filled with love from my husband, Mark, and our son, Liam, as I created beautiful jewelry. Then, a horrific car accident shattered everything, leaving Liam severely injured. Doctors said Liam needed extensive skin grafts, recommending I, his mother, sacrifice my own skin to avoid scarring. Despite my sensitivity to pain medication, I endured excruciating procedures, my body becoming a patchwork of healing wounds, all for my son. I overheard Liam and Mark: the "skin grafts" were a lie. My pain, my sacrifice, was for my twin sister, Scarlett, to fix a botched cosmetic surgery. My husband and sister had been having a decade-long affair, meticulously orchestrating a grand deceit. My perfect life was a calculated cage of betrayal, the love I felt a one-way street ending in humiliation. The scars on my body burned with a different pain now, a mark of their monstrous deceit. Rage, cold and pure, replaced my despair. I wouldn't just be heartbroken. I would burn their world to the ground.

Dr. Evelyn Reed, one of the city' s most respected veterinarians, always put her animal patients first, a dedication that had earned her a quiet but fierce reputation. But her professional world was about to shatter around the deathbed of her difficult client, Mr. Harrison, a wealthy man whose golden retriever, Champ, was her true patient. In his final breaths, Mr. Harrison shockingly accused Evelyn of being his abandoned wife, claiming she' d taken his money and left him to die. Her ex-boyfriend and supervisor, Dr. Mark Johnson, cruelly presented fabricated texts as "evidence," publicly humiliating her, while young interns, whom she' d mentored, turned on her, their faces filled with judgment. The nightmare intensified as Mr. Harrison' s cousin, Brenda, and a disgruntled ex-employee, Todd, burst in, physically attacking Evelyn, destroying her phone, and further painting her as a monster, all while Mark stood by, then shoved her, demanding she kneel and apologize, cementing her isolation and despair. How could a life built on integrity unravel so quickly and viciously, by the lies of a dying man and the betrayal of those closest to her? With her career, reputation, and dignity in ashes, Evelyn, cornered and with nothing left to lose, knew she had to fight back.

After losing my family and fortune, I became Ethan Hayes's prisoner, trapped in his opulent mansion, relentlessly forced to repay a debt I didn't truly owe. My only value to him was my kidney, a perfect match for his ailing sister, Chloe, the one he held above all else. Ethan controlled every aspect of my existence, subjecting me to relentless humiliation. Yet, in a cruel twist of fate, I found myself pregnant with his child—a child he believed he could never father. I swallowed a bitter cocktail of abortion pills, vowing that this child would never serve as another pawn in his twisted game of revenge. At Chloe's lavish birthday gala, Ethan didn't just publicly broadcast a humiliating video of my most vulnerable past; he later stood by as Chloe cruelly orchestrated the death of Buddy, my beloved Golden Retriever, my last shred of solace. Their combined malice shattered me, pushing me to an unbearable breaking point. How could I endure such pervasive evil, constantly reminded of a debt that wasn't solely mine, subjected to such calculated torture and public disgrace? My despair transformed into a burning, unyielding resolve to defy him one final time. I secretly held one devastating card: a severe anesthesia allergy, a fact conveniently absent from his records. On that sterile operating table, as he prepared to claim my kidney, I would not just die; I would ensure his hard-won victory, his twisted revenge, and his very definition of control crumbled to ash in his hands. My death would be my ultimate act of rebellion, unraveling his carefully constructed lies and finally granting me release.

Sarah Miller was the golden child of the Culinary Institute of America Prime, her perfect knife cuts and innovative dishes earning her an easy path to culinary stardom. Then, out of nowhere, Brittany, the clumsy, struggling student, presented a dish that was not just extraordinary, but impossibly perfect, far beyond her capabilities. My own critically acclaimed duck was overshadowed, then my skills mysteriously vanished, causing me to fumble even the simplest techniques. Dean Antoine, my mentor, publicly accused me of fraud, expelling me from the prestigious CIAP in front of baffled critics. I was left broken, my career ruined, cleaning grease traps in a rundown diner, while Brittany became a national sensation. How could her sudden genius be so flawless, so familiar, borrowing my very ideas before I could even develop them? Was I going crazy, or was this calculated? Then I remembered the tiny, almost invisible blinking device Brittany wore. A cold realization hit me: her "genius" wasn't her own; it was stolen. Whatever it was, it was also actively draining me. They wanted me gone, but they had awakened something far more dangerous: a chef who understood true skill wasn't about flashy tricks, it was about rock-solid fundamentals, and I would master every single one to expose the truth and reclaim my name.

Summer Hayes, a quiet scholarship kid, poured her heart and savings into a magical promposal for her secret crush, Kingston Academy's golden boy, Ethan Prescott. He was the only one who saw her, even defending her once, making her believe he was different. But just as she waited, her phone buzzed. Her glitchy "ghost channel" app, a live stream of the elite, showed her decorated gazebo. The chat exploded with cruel comments, then Ethan' s best friend outlined the "plan": Ethan's identical twin, Caleb, would pretend to accept, then publicly humiliate her, all while Ethan watched for sport. Her carefully crafted dream shattered. The boy she admired was a predator, turning her vulnerability into perverse entertainment. As Caleb arrived, feigning surprise, the depth of Ethan's betrayal burned, searing cold. How could someone so seemingly kind be so utterly cruel? The initial shock dissolved into a chilling, furious resolve. They wanted a show? They' d get one, but not the one they planned. As Caleb approached, Summer took a shaky breath, tears stinging. "Oh, Ethan," she began, correcting herself with a tearful sigh. "I mean, Caleb. This looks like it' s for Ethan, but it' s not. It' s for you." The game was on, and Summer was ready to play to win.

My six-year-old son, Danny, was vibrant and healthy, until my estranged wife, Sarah, demanded he donate his liver to her ex-lover, a washed-up football star. As a paramedic, I knew the devastating risks, but Sarah, blinded by her obsession with this "hero" figure, forced the surgery through. Soon after, in the pediatric ICU, Danny hemorrhaged and urgently needed blood - O-negative, Sarah's blood type. But Sarah was at the "hero's" lavish "welcome home" party, celebrating, utterly dismissing my frantic calls as "drama." My son died that day, his tiny hand growing cold in mine, while his mother reveled in the reflected glory of a man she idolized. Then came the crushing truth: Sarah had pushed the surgeons for a riskier, expedited procedure, declaring Ace Henderson's life the absolute priority. Still, the final, unforgivable horror was yet to come. At Danny' s treasured Little League field, where I went to scatter his ashes, Sarah and Ace showed up for a live PR stunt. Ace' s nephew, egged on by them, snatched Danny' s baseball urn, spilled his ashes onto the pitcher' s mound, and then stomped on them, gleefully shouting, "Strike three, you' re out!" I was held back, screaming, watching my son's last remains obliterated by the very people he died for, by a mother's monstrous indifference. How could such calculated cruelty be unleashed upon a child's memory, by those who should have protected him? A part of my soul died on that dusty field, leaving only a vast, echoing void. I vanished, abandoning my old life, certain peace was forever beyond my grasp. But a discovery, a fragile legacy left by Danny, might just offer a path through the darkness.

For nine years, my life was a gilded cage, controlled by Wall Street titan Mark. My photography dreams withered under his shadow, and ten forced abortions left me a hollow shell, each ending with his manipulative charm or self-pitying tears. The latest procedure, just yesterday, left me weak, but I still had to pick him up. I found him at the awards dinner, his arm around Jessica, his intern. Then he kissed her, publicly, and announced her pregnancy. “Sarah, darling,” he slurred, “Jessica’s pregnant. And who better to mentor her than you? You’re practically an expert, aren’t you?” The humiliation burned. He mocked my pain, then tore my dress, doused me in champagne, and snarled about his iron-clad cohabitation agreement. Rescued by my childhood best friend, Alex, I ended up in the hospital, my fertility gone. Mark then falsely accused me of sabotaging his company with Alex, slapped me, and forced me to sign a chilling "consent form," threatening Alex's ruin. Soon, I was drugged and barely clothed, shivering in a glass enclosure. It was a depraved auction, with men bidding on me. Mark’s taunts echoed: "Alex couldn't be bothered." Was I truly abandoned? My heart sank, consumed by despair. How could this be my life? Just as all hope seemed lost, a calm voice cut through the noise: "I bid all of it." It was Mr. Harrison, Alex’s trusted lawyer. A sudden, unbelievable turning point. My rescue had begun.

I was Elara Vance, a Juilliard violinist living my dream, with a scholarship and the loving support of my charming boyfriend, Julian Thorne. When he urgently needed my O-negative blood after a supposed sailing accident, I rushed to give it, only to find him perfectly healthy days later, laughing with friends, my half-empty blood bag casually discarded. My "loving Julian" was a monster, boasting about his "masterpieces of revenge" – a cold, cruel game he orchestrated for his jealous friend Seraphina. He'd sabotaged my career, fed me sugar pills after a staged pool accident, framed me for shoplifting, and even publicly humiliated me while declaring his love for another woman. Then, I overheard his final plan: to set fire to my guesthouse during our "romantic getaway", trapping me in his apartment like a prisoner. His every affectionate word, every grand gesture, was a lie designed to break me, turning my love into a searing humiliation and soul-deep betrayal. But I wouldn't be his victim. I fabricated my own fiery demise and escaped to London, reinventing myself as "Nightingale," a celebrated violinist. When Julian, consumed by a disturbing obsession, dragged me back to New York, announcing our forced marriage, I knew the lavish wedding would be the perfect stage for my ultimate counterattack.

The night after the SAT ended, my sister sent me a wish list. "iPhone for 10,000 yuan, tablet for 5,000 yuan, computer for 8,000 yuan, clothes for 3,000 yuan, cosmetics for 2,000 yuan... totaling 50,000 yuan." I am just a working person with a monthly salary of 3,000 yuan, and my parents are both laborers. How can I come up with so much money for her all at once? Our family scraped together and could only give her 20,000 yuan. But she not only didn't appreciate it, but also threatened to jump off a building. My parents and I had no choice but to borrow money from everywhere, working multiple jobs a day to repay the debts. When my parents died in a car accident due to overwork, my sister and her boyfriend were still indulging in luxury at a five-star hotel. I also succumbed to the overwhelming pressure and depression and ended up committing suicide. After being reborn, I personally sent her to work at a corrupt factory, and she became obedient.

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.

For years, Elara Park endured being called "half-breed" and "weak blood" at pack meetings. Because she was a hybrid wolf, she trusted Zack Blackwood's sweet promises. Then he rejected their fated mate bond moments after claiming her body. Before she could even breathe through the soul-crushing agony, the news was already celebrating his engagement to her vindictive stepsister, Selina. The headlines gushed about their "perfect pureblooded union." Her mother's call came like a final blow: "Elara, you're twenty-three now. It's time you contributed to the family." Marry the worthless second son of a prominent Alpha family or lose her father's empire forever. They had her trapped, ready to steal her birthright and leave her powerless. But as the heartbreak bled out, ice-cold determination took its place. Elara went to the arranged meeting at the city's most exclusive club, determined to turn her mother's matchmaking scheme to her advantage. She would agree to marriage-but on her own terms. When she found who she believed was Damian Sterling in the private suite, she cut straight to business: a contract marriage with clear boundaries, separate lives, and a guaranteed escape route. What she didn't know? The devastatingly dangerous man who'd just signed her contract with a predator's smile wasn't the pathetic playboy she expected. He was Dominic Wolfe-the Alpha King who'd been relentlessly hunting her for years. And now, she'd just signed herself over to him completely.

"I reject you," Alpha Damon sneered, looking down at the shivering Omega. "I need a Queen, not a servant." Aria bowed her head and accepted her fate, but she took a secret with her when she fled into the night: the Alpha's heir growing in her womb. Five years later, Aria returns to the city, no longer the weak girl who scrubbed floors. She is powerful, wealthy, and stunning. She thought she could hide from her past, but fate has a cruel sense of humor. Her new business partner is none other than Alpha Damon. When Damon sees her, he realizes the mistake he made. He wants his mate back. But then he sees the little boy with his same grey eyes hiding behind her legs. "Who is the child, Aria?" Damon growls, his possessiveness flaring. Aria smiles coldly. "Someone you rejected."

For years, I belonged to him. Not his mate. Not his love. But his bedmate. His Gamma. His shadow in the night. Alpha Calhoun made sure no man dared touch me, no wolf dared look at me. I was his possession, his secret, his sin wrapped in skin. And I endured it all-his rough hands, his dark devotion, his kisses that tasted like fire and chains because at least, for a while, he was mine. Until she returned. His destined mate. His so-called true love. And suddenly, I was nothing. Cast aside, silenced, left to wither in the shadows of a love that had never been mine to claim. But the thing about being claimed by a man like Calhoun. is that he never truly lets you go. "Try to leave me, Elodie," his voice had been a snarl against my throat, his grip bruising my waist. "I'll burn down every border, tear apart every wolf that stands in my way, until you crawl back to me. You're mine, even if the Moon Goddess herself wants to rip you away." He didn't know then that I already had one foot out the door. And when I finally left his pack. I took more than just my broken heart with me.

Zarelle Feymere-heiress to the most powerful werewolf dynasty in the world-made one mistake: she fell for an Alpha who saw her as nothing more than a rare blood bag. For three years, she endured the humiliation of a loveless mating, her veins tapped like a commodity to sustain the woman Calden Ashmoor truly loved, Thessaly. His fated mate, who rejected him to marry his brother. When a web of lies and betrayal is uncovered, Zarelle does the unthinkable: she walks away. Now, stripped of her disguise as a docile omega, the true daughter of the Missatian Pack returns to claim her birthright-and her revenge. Calden always thought he'd married a nobody. He never expected his discarded mate to come back as a queen.

They don't know I'm a girl. They all look at me and see a boy. A prince. Their kind purchase humans like me for their lustful desires. And, when they stormed into our kingdom to buy my sister, I intervened to protect her. I made them take me too. The plan was to escape with my sister whenever we found a chance. How was I to know our prison would be the most fortified place in their kingdom? I was supposed to be on the sidelines. The one they had no real use for. The one they never meant to buy. But then, the most important person in their savage land-their ruthless beast king-took an interest in the "pretty little prince." How do we survive in this brutal kingdom, where everyone hates our kind and shows us no mercy? And how does someone, with a secret like mine, become a lust slave? . AUTHOR'S NOTE. This is a dark romance-dark, mature content. Highly rated 18+ Expect triggers, expect hardcore. If you're a seasoned reader of this genre, looking for something different, prepared to go in blindly not knowing what to expect at every turn, but eager to know more anyway, then dive in! . From the author of the international bestselling book: "The Alpha King's Hated Slave."

For two years, I was Alpha Jase Davenport's loyal assistant and secret bed-warmer. Because I was a wolfless Omega, I trusted his empty promises instead of instincts I didn't possess. Then, a push notification from a notorious gossip blog shattered my world. Jase was pictured in Paris, his hand intimately resting on the waist of my cruel stepsister, Kira. The headline screamed that he was finally claiming his fated Luna. Before I could even process the betrayal, Jase texted me a cold command to update his schedule, treating me like a soulless employee. Immediately after, my mother called to gloat. "Did you honestly believe an Alpha like Jase would settle for a defective creature like you?" She threatened to freeze my late father's Pack trust fund unless I agreed to marry an abusive, elderly Alpha to be his breeding mare. If I refused, I would be cast out as a penniless stray, easy prey for any Rogue. I was nothing but a convenient placeholder to Jase, and a piece of livestock to my own family. They thought they had me completely cornered, ready to steal my inheritance and leave me to die. But as the panic subsided, a cold clarity took its place. My father's will only required a legal mating bond to unlock my millions; it never said my family had to approve of the groom. I wiped my tears, opened my laptop, and searched for a disgraced, debt-ridden Rogue named Babe Vincent. If I needed a husband on paper to secure my freedom, I was going to buy one.

As a wolfless charity case at the Hyde Pack's celebration, my world shattered when Braydon, my supposed protector, publicly announced Katherine Parrish as his Luna, erasing me. Heartbroken, I fled into a terrifying contract marriage with Alpha King Dallas Marshall for protection. Braydon's public assault and threats forced me to reveal my secret marriage, challenging the King. My "protection" felt like a prison. Braydon revealed I was a "key" to power, not a mate, confirming my fears. Enraged by my attempt to take a morning-after pill, Dallas forced me to swallow it, then branded my lips with a furious kiss. His chilling silence hardened my resolve. I immediately drafted an addendum to our contract, setting strict boundaries to reclaim control.

For eight years, Cecilia Moore was the perfect Luna, loyal, and unmarked. Until the day she found her Alpha mate with a younger, purebred she-wolf in his bed. In a world ruled by bloodlines and mating bonds, Cecilia was always the outsider. But now, she's done playing by wolf rules. She smiles as she hands Xavier the quarterly financials-divorce papers clipped neatly beneath the final page. "You're angry?" he growls. "Angry enough to commit murder," she replies, voice cold as frost. A silent war brews under the roof they once called home. Xavier thinks he still holds the power-but Cecilia has already begun her quiet rebellion. With every cold glance and calculated step, she's preparing to disappear from his world-as the mate he never deserved. And when he finally understands the strength of the heart he broke... It may be far too late to win it back.

On the night of their third wedding anniversary, Ashley was ready to reveal a secret to her husband- She was pregnant. But moments after their passionate intimacy, her Alpha coldly delivered the blow-he wanted a divorce. His fated mate had returned. Stripped of her wolf spirit, abandoned by the pack, and carrying his child, Ashley was cast aside like a disposable Omega. Just as she prepared to leave alone- The boy she had once rejected had now risen as the most formidable Alpha King. The possessive hunger in his gaze sent shivers through her-did she dare face him? Was this vengeance, or something more? But did she even have a choice?