Xiao Zhaoling

My baby daughter died in the cold hospital, and I agreed to donate her heart to save another pup. I brought her ashes home in a small wooden box, seeking comfort from my mate. But when I returned to the packhouse, I found a massive celebration. My Alpha mate wasn't away on patrol; he was throwing a grand Naming Ceremony for his sister's newborn. He didn't even know our daughter was dead. "Give Lyra the gift. Now." He impatiently demanded I hand over the box in my arms. When his sister's son tried to snatch it, I pushed him away to protect my baby's ashes. His sister immediately screamed, accusing me of trying to hurt her children out of jealousy. Without asking a single question, my mate grabbed my wrist, ready to smash the box to teach me a lesson. To save my daughter's remains, I had to drop to the floor, bare my neck in ultimate submission, and lie that it was just my late father's relics. He was disgusted by my tears. Later, when I tried to jump off the balcony to end my pain, he pulled me back—not out of love, but because my suicide would ruin his perfect party. He locked me in my room and ordered the maids to force me into a bright red dress for the evening feast. Looking at the red silk that mocked my bleeding heart, my despair finally died, replaced by a cold, venomous hatred. I tucked a white funeral flower into my hair and walked out the door. This time, I was going to turn their joyous celebration into a living hell.

I finally stepped onto American soil after four years of exile, clutching my suitcase with white-knuckled desperation. My plan was simple: get to Manhattan, start my job, and stay as far away from the Newton family as possible. But the moment I turned on my phone, Sterling Newton’s voice cut through the air like a blade. He had already sent a car; he didn't care about my plans, my apartment, or my freedom. He wanted me back in that suffocating mansion, and he expected me to obey. When I arrived, the house felt like a mausoleum. My adoptive mother smothered me in a desperate, suffocating embrace, while my father and sister acted as if my departure had never happened. Then, the heavy front door thudded shut. Barron Newton had arrived. He didn't greet me with warmth; he looked at me like a piece of furniture that had been moved out of place. He spent the entire dinner dismantling my resolve, using my deepest guilt as a weapon to force me to stay, making it clear that I was merely a prisoner in his gilded cage. I felt like I was suffocating. How could he have so much power over my life? Why was he so determined to keep me trapped in this house, and what was he truly waiting for in the shadows of the night? I retreated to my room, feeling the invisible chains tightening around my throat. Just as I thought I had found a way to fight back, a message from Fernando flashed on my screen, warning me that our original plan was in ruins. I realized then that I wasn't just fighting the Newtons—I was fighting a war on two fronts, and the countdown to my destruction had already begun.

I am just a low-ranking administrative drone in the Thorne Dominion, firmly at the bottom of the pack. But during the full moon's Pack Run, I was unexpectedly claimed by a colossal, terrifyingly powerful black wolf. He gave me the key to a luxurious private den, sealing our fated mate bond. The next day, at the Pack Assembly, my world completely shattered. The mysterious wolf standing on the dais, draped in royal regalia, was Alaric-our new, ruthless Alpha King. The power gap between us wasn't just a gap; it was an ocean. If anyone found out an Omega like me was secretly bonded to the supreme ruler, I would instantly have a target on my back. Ambitious high-born she-wolves were already watching my every move with calculating, jealous eyes. Why would the Moon Goddess pair a king who rules over thousands with a nobody whose family is drowning in shame? A lifetime of being invisible made me terrified of this bond. I desperately wanted to hide, to keep my distance so I wouldn't undermine his reign or get myself killed. But as I tried to shrink into the background of the Great Hall, his possessive voice echoed directly in my mind. "I know everything that is mine. Tonight. Our den. Wait for me." The Alpha King had no intention of letting me hide, and our dangerous double life had just begun.

Karley thought marrying billionaire architect Kevon Mcconnell was a fairy tale come true. But at their wedding reception, a heavy crystal chandelier collapsed. Kevon abandoned her in the falling glass to shield his sister, Devora. At the hospital, he dropped to his knees, begging Karley to save Devora's life with a direct blood transfusion. That was when Karley discovered the horrifying truth. Kevon hadn't married her for love. He had meticulously selected her because she possessed the exact same rare Rh-null golden blood as his chronically ill sister. Drained and feverish from the massive transfusion, Karley was locked inside his remote, high-tech mansion. Kevon's mother slapped her and forced foul medicine down her throat to replenish her blood supply. Even Devora called to mock her. "You're just a temporary solution. A medical resource until something better comes along." Karley lay bruised and infected on the floor of her gilded cage. The realization crushed her: the whirlwind romance, the pre-marital medical checks, even the secret GPS tracker he used to stop her from running away—it was all a calculated trap. She had lost her job, her friends, and her freedom to a man who only saw her as a walking blood bank. When Kevon finally returned, he cut off her contact with the outside world and locked the bedroom door with a cold, perfect smile. "Don't try to leave. You're my wife, and I always know where you are." But as the smart home dimmed the lights to keep her docile, Karley closed her eyes in the dark and began to plan her escape.

I spent six years as a "shadow asset" for the Holmes family, a brilliant scholar living in a cramped Queens apartment on a secret scholarship. I was their silent investment, a ghost in their machine, until the day a fluorescent orange eviction notice appeared on my door. The legal documents from Holmes Holdings were brutal. They were terminating my sponsorship and demanding immediate repayment of every cent of my tuition. The reason was buried in the fine print: a moral turpitude clause. I was pregnant with a Holmes heir, and in their world, that made me a liability that needed to be erased. Ingram Holmes, the family’s cold-blooded CEO, didn't see a woman; he saw a line item on a balance sheet. He offered me a million dollars to disappear, abort the child, and sign away my existence. He had me escorted to a private clinic like a criminal, ready to finalize my erasure. But the plan shattered when his grandmother, the matriarch of the family, collapsed in a sudden cardiac arrest. As the doctors failed, I stepped out of the shadows. I diagnosed the toxicity they couldn't see and brought her back from the brink of death. I wasn't the helpless charity case they expected. I was a genius who knew their medical secrets better than their own surgeons. "Who are you?" Ingram growled, pinning me against a desk in his frozen office. I didn't blink. I had just secured the family's ancient signet ring and a seat at their table. Now, I’m living in his manor, sharing his bed, and holding the keys to the vault that contains their darkest sins. "I'm the problem you can't afford to solve," I whispered. The game has changed. I’m no longer the asset—I’m the hunter.

For three years, my Alpha husband forced me to take inhibitors, claiming my bloodline was too "weak" to bear his heir without dying. I believed him, swallowing the pills and the lies to be his perfect, submissive Luna. But during the rogue attack at the Victory Gala, the truth finally shattered me. A feral wolf lunged for my throat. I screamed Bennett's name, frozen in fear without my wolf to protect me. He looked at me. Then he looked at his mistress, Aria, who was cowering behind a table with her wolf fully accessible. He turned his back on me. He tackled the rogue attacking her, leaving me exposed to be torn apart. If his Beta hadn't stepped in at the last second, I would have died right there on the ballroom floor. When the fighting stopped, Bennett didn't even look my way. He was too busy cooing over Aria’s minor scratch, ignoring his wife who had nearly been slaughtered. I realized then that the pills weren't for my safety. He was keeping me sterile and docile until he could replace me with her. I walked upstairs, past the wreckage of my marriage, and flushed the inhibitors down the toilet. Then, I took out a piece of pack stationery and wrote the words that would destroy his world. "I, Kelsey Jensen, reject you, Bennett Randolph, as my mate." I left the note on the nightstand, packed my passport, and walked out into the night, never looking back.

I was a celebrated architect engaged to Carter Hart, the city' s golden boy politician. I designed our perfect life, and he was on the verge of becoming mayor. Then I found a video on a shared cloud drive. It was of him marrying his pregnant campaign manager three months ago. I was just a prop for his image, a "fake girlfriend" he planned to discard after the election. To keep me compliant, he secretly drugged my daily smoothies, making me feel foggy and unstable. He staged a fire at my award-winning building to ruin my reputation, then tried to have me locked away in a mental institution, claiming I' d had a breakdown. But the final blow came from my godfather. He discovered Carter' s manipulation began seven years ago, when he paid someone to sabotage my college thesis, shattering my confidence just so he could swoop in and be my savior. My entire relationship wasn't just a lie; it was a cage he had designed from the very beginning. So I flew to London and spent six months with my godfather' s production team. We created a ninety-minute documentary to expose every crime, every lie. And we planned to air it live, hijacking the broadcast of his final election night rally. We called it "The Architect of Lies."

I was Lot 734. A living, breathing mermaid, displayed in a massive tank, waiting to be sold to the highest bidder. In the front row, watching it all, was Dr. Aris Thorne, the man who had promised me forever on a hidden beach, the man I had loved with my whole being. His colleagues had surrounded my secret cove with nets the day after he discovered my tail; he stood by, silently allowing my capture. He called me a "scientific anomaly," a "new species," transforming me from his beloved Lyra into a specimen for his research facility, where I was poked, prodded, and drained. His fiancée, Isabelle, delighted in tormenting me, kicking away my food, tapping on my tank, her laughter echoing his betrayal as he stood by, silent and complicit. I tried to tell him that she had sabotaged my tank, almost suffocating me, but he simply believed her tears over my frantic gasps. When he ripped my precious scales from my bleeding palm, claiming it was to "prevent contamination," I knew the man I loved was truly gone. My pain was just data points on his tablet as he watched Isabelle douse me in burning sterilization agents. He then sedated me, turning me into a docile object for auction, a car ready to be sold. I tried to fight back, unleashing a burst of raw power, shattering Isabelle's glass. He reacted by electrocuting me, then draining my tank, letting me suffocate on the dry concrete. Loathing in his eyes, he hissed, "If you try anything like that again, I will make sure you arrive at your new owner's home in pieces." Then, through my pain, a sharp voice cut through the haze: "Let's see the merchandise." The buyer's representative dismissed my "damaged" scales, demanding one more spectacle: "He wants to see her cry pearls. Make it happen." My last flicker of hope died when Aris, his voice flat, agreed.

My life as Jocelyn Fuller, the oil heiress, ended the day my father went to prison and my sister Molly fell gravely ill, leaving me desperate. My ex-fiancé, Ethan Scott, a DC power player, promised Molly the best medical care money could buy if I agreed to a "deal." That deal turned into a nightmare: I was sold to Caleb Duncan, a ruthless West Texas rancher, becoming his captive and plaything, suffering unimaginable abuse and even a miscarriage. After three years, Ethan reappeared, claiming Molly was alive and well, offering me freedom and a new life. But I knew his game. I was done being a pawn in their brutal power struggles. So, I jumped off a cliff, faked my death, and became Stella, a ghost hidden away in a small Colorado mountain town, vowing to live free. Then, one by one, they showed up; first Caleb, then Ethan, both determined to drag me back into their twisted worlds. But I wasn't Jocelyn anymore. I was Stella, and this time, I was fighting back.

The Thanksgiving call from my adoptive mother was laced with a forced cheerfulness that immediately put me on guard. Maria and Anthony never just wanted me home; it was always a preamble to a demand, a lecture, or a guilt trip. This time, it was worse. I arrived to find our small, worn-out house packed with church members, their eyes filled with pious expectation. My adoptive parents, Maria and Anthony, proudly presented a newborn baby, Caleb, demanding I shoulder his entire upbringing and hand over my paramedic salary as my "Christian duty." My refusal unleashed a nightmare. They disowned me, threw out my belongings, and publicly shamed me at my workplace, jeopardizing my hard-earned career. But the lowest blow came when they tried to marry me off to my violent cousin, Rufus, hoping to gain legal control over my life and income. When Rufus used a spare key to break into my apartment, trying to force himself on me, my boyfriend Ethan saved me. Yet, at the police station, my adoptive parents' theatrics and lies allowed them to walk free, while I was left reeling from their venomous threat: a civil lawsuit for "elder abandonment" and demanding every penny I had. How could these people, who claimed to be my family, relentlessly try to destroy me, all in the name of God? Was there no end to their depravity, no escape from their manipulative grasp? But as their twisted words echoed in my mind, a forgotten memory-a snatch of a phrase about a "fire"-ignited a terrifying new question.

Six years, four rounds of IVF, and a mountain of debt were the price for two pink lines, a baby Andrew proudly proclaimed was our heir. He even bought out an entire floor of Manhattan's most exclusive maternity hospital to celebrate, cementing his image as the perfect #HusbandGoals. But a knot of dread formed as anonymous emails arrived, hinting at "designer babies" and asking, "Is it really your baby, Molly?" A secret prenatal test confirmed the worst: the baby I carried wasn't biologically mine. My body, a battlefield of hormones and needles for six years, had been reduced to a mere vessel for a child conceived with another woman. The final blow came with an audio file of Andrew's voice, clear and cold: "She's just the vessel. Our perfect heir. Her genes are a dead end. Yours, Sabrina... they' re perfect." My world didn't just shatter; it revealed itself to be a meticulously crafted lie where I was nothing more than an incubator for my husband's twisted legacy and his mistress's genes. I gave birth to a child that wasn't mine, then watched my husband publicly dedicate his life and career to his true "partner" in a humiliating display. With a fierce, cold resolve, I walked out of that gilded cage, leaving my old life behind and determined to reclaim my own identity and future.

My ten-year relationship with Liam, born in a UT Austin dorm, was slowly dying in our Zilker apartment. He' d been distant, but the real alarm rang when he slapped a privacy screen on his phone. Then I saw the text, shining briefly on his kitchen counter: "Thinking of you" from a woman named Chloe. My heart hammered, a bitter sense of betrayal rising until I discovered a chilling Venmo payment to her: "$200 for your acting skills 😉". It wasn't paranoia; it was a setup, orchestrated to make me look insane while he planned his exit. As I scrolled through months of their flirty DMs, I realized he hadn' t just cheated; he had stolen our future, even swapping Chloe's name onto the ACL festival tickets I' d bought him. The man I loved weaponized my deepest pain against me, twisting my infertility – a consequence of the accident that took my parents – into his excuse to leave, claiming I was "selfish" and only caring about my "tragedy." Lying heartbroken on the living room floor next to his passed-out form, something inside me ignited. I was not a victim, not anymore. My old life disappeared piece by piece: I cut my hair, quit my dead-end job, and moved into a new apartment. Now, the only question was how publicly I would dismantle the calculating man who had pretended to be my anchor while plotting my demise.

June 14th. The date burned into my mind like a brand. I woke in my bed, David still asleep beside me, and saw the familiar sunlight pouring through the window. This was the day. The day everything began to unravel in my last life. In that life, my sorority sister, my supposed best friend Brittany, systematically destroyed me. She poisoned David's mind against me, tried to steal him, and when he rejected her, she drove us straight into a deadly accident. I died. My life, my love, extinguished by her venomous jealousy. The betrayal was a cold, constant ache. To be eliminated by the person you confided in, the one you loved like a sister, simply because she couldn't have what was yours. It wasn't just a car crash; it was an assassination engineered by a twisted mind. I died feeling utterly helpless, unjustly robbed of my future. But this time, I wouldn't be a victim. This time, I had a second chance, a do-over. I sat bolt upright, heart thumping not with fear, but with fierce determination. "David," I whispered, shaking him awake. "We need to get married. Today. Right now." I was back, and this time, I would rewrite my fate, starting by securing my future.

The key turning in the lock was a sound I hadn't heard in two years, not since my wife Chloe left for her "research fellowship." Suddenly, she was in our kitchen, not alone, but holding two baby carriers. "Ethan," she said, her voice cool, "Meet our children." My jaw dropped, the half-made sandwich forgotten – children? We explicitly agreed to be child-free due to her crippling anxiety about pregnancy. Then she announced, with chilling casualness, "They're biologically mine and Liam's." Liam, her high school sweetheart, the one she told me was dying of a rare cancer, the reason she needed the "fellowship" to be near him – or so she claimed. A sickening dread coiled in my stomach as her demand to become a stay-at-home dad solidified the nightmare. Later, hidden men's designer underwear and used condoms in her suitcase screamed "no physical intimacy," while a tax bill proved our co-owned cabin was now solely Liam's. Eight years of sacrificing my dreams for her anxieties, now revealed as a meticulously planned deception, a cruel, bitter joke. The final blow came when I found Chloe laughing, openly intimate with a perfectly healthy Liam, mocking me, the "chump" and "ATM," at a local restaurant. My world shattered, filled with a cold fury I' d never known. "No, Chloe," I stated, the first time in years I' d defied her, as she demanded I rescue her family yet again. I handed her the divorce papers; the Berlin job offer, long-deferred, was calling my name, and this time, I would answer. She slapped me, screamed accusations, her mother joined in, but their venom had no power over my newfound resolve. I called Professor Albright, securing my escape: "Is that job offer in Berlin still a possibility?" "Soon," I promised, booking a one-way ticket, ready to leave the toxic wasteland behind forever.

Ella married Raymond two years ago, but her husband disappeared. The first thing when he came back was to force her to divorce. More strangely, she suddenly got pregnant. He accused her of having another man’s child and she had to divorce! Little did she know that she was falling into his trap and ended up signing her name on the divorce agreement in a daze. To her surprise, she got to know about an unknown will with a huge sum of money. She tried very hard to find out the truth behind it all but the only thing she found was that she had never known the real Raymond. The man who was the CEO of his company, turned out to be the leader of a mysterious organization.

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.

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.

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.

I was a wolfless Omega, sold to the powerful Blackwood Pack to save my bankrupt family from ruin. But on my wedding day, as I walked down the aisle alone, my groom didn't show up. Braden, the Alpha heir, had abandoned me at the altar. He boarded a private jet with his scentless human mistress, leaving me to face the cruel mockery of the most powerful Alphas in North America. To clean up his mess, the Dowager Luna offered me two humiliating replacements to fulfill our sacred marriage treaty: a brute who despised me, or a trembling coward who couldn't even look me in the eye. The pack members sneered, publicly screaming that I was nothing but "leftovers" and a rejected stray. They expected me to lower my head, accept their scraps, and remain a pathetic pawn in their political games. They thought a fragile, wolfless girl would just break down and cry. But a white-hot pride ignited in my soul. I refused to be their victim. I rejected both of their pathetic options and pointed directly at the most terrifying man in the room—the Lycan King himself. "I demand a replacement. I choose him." I didn't just escape humiliation; I forced the ruthless King to make me his Queen. Now, I am the Luna of the entire pack, wielding the power to control their fate, and stepmother to the coward who threw me away. It's time to teach these beasts exactly who they are dealing with.

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.

I thought nothing could hurt more than being betrayed by my mate, until I found out he married my friend behind my back! One night. One mistake. One unforgettable encounter with the one wolf I was never meant to touch: The cold, dangerous Alpha. My ex's sexy older brother. It was supposed to be meaningless. Then I woke up marked. and very much not alone. Turns out, the real danger wasn't sleeping with the wrong brother... It's that he never planned to let me go.

When I woke up with a hangover, I found a handsome and naked stranger sleeping beside me. --- I'm Tanya, a surrogate's daughter, an omega with no wolf and no scent. On my 18th birthday, when I planned to give my virginity to my boyfriend, I found him sleeping with my sister. I went to the bar to get drunk, and accidentally had a one-night stand with the handsome stranger. I thought he was just an ordinary werewolf, but they said he was Marco, the alpha prince and the most powerful Lycan in our kingdom. 'You slut, you're pregnant! Fortunately, Rick is kind enough to let you be his mistress and save you from shame.' my stepmother said, tossing a pregnancy strip on the table. Rick was an old pervert. No she-wolf could keep up with his sexual demand. No she-wolf could survive with him more than 1 year. When I was in despair, Marco came to my rescue. He got down on one knee, took out a ring and said he would marry me. --- I thought Marco married me because he loved me, but later I found that was not the truth...

In a world where weakness could cost someone their life, Ava Grey had been born without a wolf, and all she had ever faced was rejection and suffering. Her own kind had cast her aside, and a strange scar marked her with a secret she still didn't understand. More than anything, she had wanted to break free from it all. Then, on the night of the Lunar Gala, everything changed. It started with a single glance. One brief encounter. A bond formed against all reason and tied her to Lucas Westwood, the Alpha of the rival pack, the very man she should've stayed away from. Surrounded by hatred, rising conflict, and a fate she couldn't escape, Ava came to realize that what made her different wasn't a curse at all. It was a power others both craved and feared. As tensions grew, the packs moved closer to war. Alliances began to fall apart. In the middle of it all, one truth slowly revealed itself. The real danger wasn't the monster they thought they were fighting.

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.

I am the Fated Mate of Alpha Damien Blackwood, but because I was born a wolfless Omega, I was kept as his dirty little secret. The constant rejection from my mate was literally killing me. The Pack Healer handed me my death sentence: Terminal Soul Wither. My life was ticking down to its final months. While I sat in the dark, dying and gasping for air, Damien threw a twenty-million-dollar fireworks festival for his chosen future Luna, Isabelle. When he finally came home, reeking of her perfume, he only looked at me with eyes as cold as winter ice. "It's your ovulation window. Let's get this over with." He only wanted to use me to breed a powerful heir. He threatened to exile my only remaining family if I didn't comply, and even ordered me to draft a legal petition to invalidate my own existence so Isabelle could take my place. Even my adopted brother Jax, whom I suffered for years to protect, publicly threw me to the dirt just to ally with a powerful Pack. I sacrificed my brilliant future as a top strategist to marry Damien, enduring three years of abuse and isolation. Why did I have to rot away in agony while they celebrated my replacement on glossy magazines? I wouldn't let them watch me die in their golden cage. I signed the ancient Rejection petition, dropped the manor keys, and walked out into the freezing night. This time, I chose to sever the bond myself.