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My fated mate, Richard, and I were preparing for our sacred Mating Ceremony, a vow before the Moon Goddess meant to bind our souls for eternity. But a psychic message slammed into my mind—a weaponized memory sent by his adopted sister, Eva. In it, she was wrapped in Richard's arms while his parents, the Alpha and Luna, beamed with approval. For the next two weeks, I was forced to play the part of the adoring Omega bride. He would lie about "pack emergencies" to run to her, leaving me alone in a gown shop while she sent me visions of their trysts. His parents stripped me of the project I had poured my soul into for two years, handing it to Eva as a gift. They called me a weak-blooded Omega, unworthy of their son. Meanwhile, Eva sent me an audio clip of Richard promising her she would be the one to carry his strong heir, not me. They all thought I was a pathetic, disposable pawn in their twisted game. They were waiting for me to break. They had no idea I was secretly the heir to the most powerful pack on the continent. And I had already arranged for our Mating Ceremony to be broadcast globally, turning their sacred day into the stage for their ultimate humiliation.

I was still bleeding into the mesh underwear the hospital gave me when the photos hit the internet: my husband, the Don, forcing his tongue down his mistress's throat. Three days ago, that very mistress had shoved me off a yacht. I lost the baby. I lost my uterus. I was left completely barren. Yet, when my husband finally called, it wasn't to ask if I was alive. "The press is eating us alive," Dante barked through the phone. "Send a gift basket to Sofia. Fix this mess." To make matters worse, his grandmother stood at the foot of my bed, holding the hand of the daughter they had stolen from me at birth. "Mommy looks like a ghost," my daughter said, her voice devoid of love. That was the moment the last ember of affection died. I realized I wasn't a wife to them; I was just a broken vessel. So, when they sneered that I was useless, I didn't cry. I pulled a black USB drive from under my pillow and threw it on the bed. "Divorce papers," I said calmly. "And the complete security blueprints of the Moretti Fortress. Every blind spot. Every tunnel I designed." "Sign the papers and let me go, or I sell this drive to your enemies for one dollar." I left the country with nothing but the clothes on my back, vanishing into a freezing attic in Paris. I thought I was finally free. But three weeks later, Dante kicked down my door, looking at my poverty with horror. "Come home," he begged, tossing a box of diamonds onto my drafting table. "We can be a family." I looked at the man who had destroyed me and opened the window. "You're looking for the girl who loved you," I whispered, throwing the diamonds into the trash alley below. "But you killed her."

The heavy steel door of the industrial meat locker slammed shut, sealing me in at four degrees below zero. Ten minutes ago, I was the woman Dante Moretti promised to burn the world for. Now, I was the rat accused of poisoning his heir. Dante didn’t just lock me in. He looked at me with eyes devoid of warmth and said, "Evidence says otherwise." He chose the lie of his arranged wife, Sofia, over my truth. For months, I endured the price of loving the Underboss. I watched him marry Sofia in a grand ceremony to secure a family alliance. I let him force me onto a table to drain my blood to save her life when she was injured. I took twenty lashes from his family’s enforcers, all while he stood by and watched, claiming it was necessary to "protect" me. He told me to wait. He told me the marriage was a sham. But when I finally escaped and he came chasing after me, revealing that Sofia was a fraud and he wanted me back, I didn't feel relief. I felt nothing. Even after he threw his body over mine to save me from a collapsing building, taking a jagged shard of timber through his chest, I couldn't forgive him. In the hospital, his mother handed me his journal. It was filled with entries about his undying love for me, written on the very same days he allowed me to be tortured. "Tell him the debt is paid," I told his mother as I handed the book back. "He saved my life. I saved his child. We are even." I turned my back on the ICU and walked out into the rain. Dante Moretti might have been willing to die for me, but he never knew how to live for me.

My husband ordered me to turn around and face the altar. He unbuckled his heavy leather belt, his eyes cold and devoid of mercy. "You need to learn respect," Dante spat. He whipped me in the family chapel until my back was a bloody mess. All because his mistress, Sofia, had framed me for breaking his grandfather's urn. He didn't ask for the truth. He didn't hesitate. He just wanted to punish the wife he considered a burden. As the belt tore into my skin, I didn't scream. I just counted the memories dying. He didn't know I was the one who dove into the frozen lake to save him in high school. He didn't know I was the one who took a knife for him during the ambush. He believed Sofia's lies that she was his savior. I had loved him for ten years. I had bled for him. And in return, he scarred me permanently for a crime I didn't commit. That night, I didn't tend to my wounds. I packed my bags, signed the divorce papers, and swore on the Code of Omertà to never love him again. Three years later, Dante found my old diary hidden under the floorboards. He read the truth about who really saved him, and realized he had tortured his guardian angel. He found me in Paris, fell to his knees in a crowded hotel lobby, and begged for forgiveness with tears in his eyes. I looked at the man who broke me and smiled. "Lie down and die, Dante," I said softly. "Because I have a life to live."

I thought my arranged marriage to the ruthless tycoon Axel Flynn was a love story when he risked his life to save mine. But when his fragile childhood friend, Alicia, arrived, I saw the truth. He would panic if she got a paper cut, but he didn't bat an eye when I jumped out of planes. With his blessing, she stole my company, my life' s work. At my own birthday party, he announced her as the new director. When I screamed the truth, he had me drugged. He threw me into a dark isolation room in the basement for three days, with no food or water, because Alicia claimed I was "unstable." He dragged me out, weak and broken, and demanded I get on my knees to apologize to the woman who had destroyed me. I finally understood. His "love" was never love. It was apathy. He simply didn't care if I lived or died. So, after he believed her final, vicious lie and left me for dead, I took the divorce papers he'd carelessly signed and walked away. This time, for good.

In the third year of their marriage, Liam became infatuated with his new secretary, Lindsay Price. She was open and bold. Her personal motto was "Fortune favors the bold." In bed, she knew countless different positions, and outside of it, she accompanied Liam in various thrilling activities. While he went out with Lindsay, he maintained the facade of a devoted husband by fabricating where he had been to Lillian Walsh. "I'm not coming home tonight. I was drunk, so I'm sleeping at the office." Lindsay chuckled beside him. She said with a hint of teasing provocation, "When are you going to divorce that boring old woman?" The call ended abruptly. Unbeknownst to them, Lillian was sitting in the Obstetrics and Gynecology department and staring at the pregnancy report at her fingertips. She had been pregnant for six weeks. After she left the hospital, she called her brother, Ricky Walsh, who was a lawyer. "Ricky, I need you to make a divorce agreement for me." Ricky paused briefly and then asked, "Are you sure about this?" Lillian replied calmly, "Yes. I'm pregnant. I plan to keep the baby myself."

As Dylan Andrews' kept companion, Elaine Willis was the epitome of perfection. To be readily available for her benefactor, she took on work for only three months each year, filming low-budget movies and maintaining a lukewarm career. Fully aware that Dylan saw her merely as a stand-in for his true love, she accepted it calmly, even deliberately mimicking the style of his beloved. Everyone mocked her as a fragile vine, unable to survive without a man, destined to be chained to Dylan's side forever. Yet, behind his back, she got two male escorts.

After a week in a coma caused by a car accident, Grace Miller's boyfriend, Leonard Stone, suddenly regained his memory. He remembered the girl he longed for but could never have. So, the first thing Leonard did upon waking was to break up with Grace. "Anything that happened during my memory loss wasn't really my choice. From today, let's go our separate ways. Our relationship doesn't hold anymore." Grace didn't try to hold him back. Coincidentally, the new drug research in the lab had just succeeded, and Grace volunteered to participate in the trial. "Once you take this pill, these memories will be permanently erased. Grace, are you sure about your decision?"

I stayed with Ethan Hudson for seven years. He grew bored of me. He found a younger werewolf girl in the clan. I didn't plead for him to stay this time. I discarded the mate-bond stone, burned the protection bracelet I crafted, and left the clan that night. His friends ridiculed me, wagering how soon I'd beg for reconciliation. Ethan, arm around his new girl, laughed and said, "Three days tops. She'll come back crying." Three days passed, then another three, and I never returned. Ethan couldn't wait any longer and contacted me first. "Sylvie, enough with the tantrum..." Victor Wilson, his rival, cut in on the phone. "Ethan, you've got to move fast to win someone back. Too late, and a good girl's gone." Ethan's howl nearly broke the receiver. "Get Sylvie on the phone!" Victor kissed me softly and said, "She can't. She's worn out from last night and just fell asleep."

On the night of her twenty-sixth birthday, Eliana Walker pushed her wheelchair through bar after bar, scouring every club in sight. It wasn't until she received a call from the police station that her search for Lucien Lane came to an end. "Is this Ms. Walker? Mr. Lane got drunk and started a fight. We need you to come down here." After hanging up, Eliana rubbed warmth into her stiff fingers, unsure whether to feel relief or sorrow. Before dawn, she finally reached the police station, just in time to see Lucien erupting in fury, "Who the hell told you to call her? Sure, she saved my life-but those useless crippled legs have shackled me for ten damn years! If she weren't Ethan's sister, I would've thrown a few million at her to be done with it long ago!" Shards from the shattered bottle sprayed through the air, one slashing across Eliana's face. Her face was slick with wetness-she couldn't tell if it was blood or tears. With trembling hands, Eliana dialed a number. She drew in a deep breath, her voice resolute, "Send out the message worldwide, the Anonymous hacker alliance will no longer offer any support to Lucien Lane's company. If any hackers want to test the strength of Lane Corporation's firewall, be my guest."

Kylee Brooks knelt between Kenney Walsh's legs as she had done countless times before and awkwardly tried to satisfy him. At the moment of passion, Kenney abruptly pushed her away and wheeled himself into the bathroom. He murmured, "Ruth..." Kylee was long used to this and turned to fetch his medicine. She had pursued Kenney for nine years and knew well that he was aloof. When she went to deliver the medicine, she found the bedroom door slightly ajar. Kenney's wheelchair was parked at the door, empty. Kenney pinned Ruth in front of him, and his eyes were blurred as he whispered in her ear, "Ruth, you are mine. You should have been my woman long ago. We depend on each other to become who we are today. I've stayed in a wheelchair to avoid having sex with Kylee. Can't you see how much I love you?" Kylee was stunned and then suddenly realized something. Ruth was Kenney's sister-in-law. She was two years older than Kenney, with a voluptuous figure, yet he never touched her.

The call came on a sunny Tuesday, a day promising peace, as I reviewed blueprints in my home office. Then, my phone vibrated with his name: Ethan Carter, my husband. "Chloe," he said, his voice cold and distant, "We need to get a divorce." He wanted to give "her" legitimate status; he' d met someone. I simply leaned back, my voice flat, "Okay. Then we should do that." He hung up, without a proper goodbye, after arranging for his lawyer to draft the generous settlement papers. My best friend, Maya, on the other hand, exploded, "That son of a bitch! After everything you' ve done for him!" Her fury was a storm I couldn't feel, my own emotions a placid lake. "He wants to give 'the other woman' legitimate status," I recited, the words foreign on my tongue. Maya vowed to burn his suits and sue him for every penny, insisting I was in shock. "It' s okay," I told her, a tired smile touching my lips. "I also had an affair." A different kind of silence fell. "And another thing," I added, looking at my perfect blueprints, "His affair? I arranged it."

The acrid smell of burning plastic filled my lungs, a scent that brought back chilling memories. I was trapped, a massive server rack crushing my leg, as sparks flew and a hellish glow illuminated the terrified face of Tiffany, my boyfriend Liam's "friend." This was it, the moment everything went wrong. Again. Just like in my last life, Liam burst in, scanned the chaotic scene, and without hesitation, rushed to Tiffany, who was barely coughing, leaving me shattered and bleeding under the rack. He looked back, his eyes cold, muttering that Tiffany's family were key investors, and saving her was "for the greater good." He dismissed my crushed leg, promising to come back, then turned his back and vanished with Tiffany, leaving me for dead in a room about to explode. I stared at the man who had murdered me in my previous life, making the exact same choice, offering the exact same excuse. But this time, I wouldn't beg. This time, I was alive, miraculously saved by my brave friend, Maya. And this time, I was done. Dead bodies don' t get a second chance at revenge-but I did.

I poured my life, my inheritance, and my soul into Redwood Creek Brewery. As a gesture of love and trust, I made Olivia, my fiancée of seven years, CEO, gifting her 51% of the shares. Or so I thought. Then the news hit: Olivia was pregnant. With Mark' s baby. Mark, her college ex, who I'd just hired as COO. Suddenly, my fiancée was marrying my COO, and I was just the guy who made the beer. They turned my office into a humiliating nursery. Olivia demoted me to Mark' s assistant. They gleefully watched as Mark 'accidentally' ruined a crucial hops contract I' d just secured. Olivia's condescending calls about me "keeping the money flowing for them" felt like a constant knife twist. They even used company funds-my company' s funds!-to buy my childhood home, only to trash it immediately. Every humiliation, every snide remark, fueled a cold, silent rage within me. They thought I was shattered, easy to discard. They believed I was just the pathetic founder no one remembered, too weak to fight back. But they had no idea. Absolutely no idea what was coming. For months, I' d held a secret: a notarized share transfer agreement, signed by Olivia herself, making me the 91% owner. They thought it was a formality for a phony loan. I called it their eviction notice. Next Monday, I walked in, not as the loyal Head Brewer, but as the indisputable owner. Their nightmare began.

I hovered, a restless spirit, above the opulent ballroom of the Fairmont Copley Plaza. This grand wedding, shimmering with laughter and clinking champagne flutes, celebrated Ethan Astor and Olivia Miller. It should have been my wedding to Ethan. But I was dead, reduced to a convenient scandal weeks ago, my tragic "overdose" a footnote in their perfect lives. Below, society whispered, calling me "difficult" and "ungrateful," while my adoptive parents, the Millers, who once tossed my few possessions like trash, warmly embraced their "true" daughter. They believed Ethan' s carefully doctored photos and the lies that framed my fall from grace. No one among these glittering guests knew about the Lupus eating me alive, the relentless pain, or the crushing exhaustion that ultimately consumed me. They simply saw Sarah, the troubled heiress, a messy problem conveniently gone. The injustice, the quiet suffering they willfully ignored, burned colder than my ghostly form. Then, during what should have been Ethan' s charming speech, Olivia, the new bride, stood. She held up a small, sleek USB drive, her eyes firm. "I have something to share," she announced, her voice echoing. "A final message. From Sarah." My breath, if I had one, would have hitched. My most private journal, my very words, were about to silence their celebration, with the police already waiting outside.

My parents' murder left me an empty shell, and my fiancée's abandonment poured salt on the wound. I was drowning. Then, at their funeral, a lifeline appeared: my ex-fiancée's sister, Detective Sarah Davis, publicly proposed, vowing to bring their killers to justice. I said yes, desperately clutching onto her promise. Five years passed. The case grew cold. My world crumbled again when I overheard Sarah, my wife, deliberately stonewalling leads. The killer? Michael Vance, my ex's new husband. My blood ran cold as I heard Sarah pledge to do "anything to protect him," revealing a sickening loyalty that twisted my insides. The truth hit me like a physical blow: my marriage was a calculated performance, every comforting word a lie. She wasn't just covering up; she was protecting my parents' killer, actively erasing me from their family's narrative. How could the woman I trusted betray me so utterly for the man who destroyed my life? After she physically attacked me to shield Michael during a Thanksgiving blow-up – publicly choosing him over me – I knew what I had to do. I systematically gathered irrefutable evidence of their conspiracy, faked my own death, and set the wheels of justice in motion from the shadows. Now, 'Ethan Miller' is dead, but the man he was lives to see justice served, on his own terms.

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.

Narine never expected to survive. Not after what was done to her body, mind, and soul. But fate had other plans. Rescued by Supreme Alpha Sargis, the kingdom's most feared ruler, she finds herself under the protection of a man she doesn't know... and a bond she doesn't understand. Sargis is no stranger to sacrifice. Ruthless, ambitious, and loyal to the sacred matebond, he's spent years searching for the soul fate promised him, never imagining she would come to him broken, on the brink of death, and afraid of her own shadow. He never meant to fall for her... but he does. Hard and fast. And he'll burn the world before letting anyone hurt her again. What begins in silence between two fractured souls slowly grows into something intimate and real. But healing is never linear. With the court whispering, the past clawing at their heels, and the future hanging by a thread, their bond is tested again and again. Because falling in love is one thing. Surviving it? That's a war of its own. Narine must decide, can she survive being loved by a man who burns like fire, when all she's ever known is how not to feel? Will she shrink for the sake of peace, or rise as Queen for the sake of his soul? For readers who believe even the most fractured souls can be whole again, and that true love doesn't save you. It stands beside you while you save yourself.

My Luna became an alpha after I rejected her : she was my Luna. I rejected her. Now she's stronger than ever and she has my son. Amelia's world shattered the day her daughter died-and her mate, Alpha Aiden of the Red Moon Pack, divorced her to reunite with his ex-girlfriend. Cast out, disgraced, and accused of poisoning her own child, Amelia was stripped of her title and driven from her pack. The next morning, her lifeless body was found at the border.They all believed she was dead.But she wasn't. Far from the ashes of betrayal, Amelia rebuilt herself-rising from rejection and ruin to become the first female Alpha of Velaris, the most powerful and respected pack in the realm. She also carried a secret Aiden never discovered:She was pregnant-with his son.Years later, fate brings them face to face once more. A deadly disease is spreading through the packs, and the only one who can stop it is the renowned doctor they thought had died. When Aiden sees the boy at her side-his eyes, his blood-he realizes the truth.He didn't just lose his Luna. He destroyed the mother of his child.And now, she's everything he's not-stronger, wiser, untouchable. Will she heal the pack that betrayed her?Will she ever let him near her heart again?Or is his punishment simply living with the consequences?

"Anya, a 'wolfless' in a world of powerful werewolves, was invisible, drowning her sorrows and desperately lonely. One drunken text, a desperate cry for attention, accidentally reached the Alpha, pulling her into his terrifying orbit. Now, she's trapped, a pawn in his game, forced to warm his bed while he waits for his true mate, her heart breaking with every stolen moment. As a 'wolfless' in the Blackwood Pack, Anya felt like an outsider, always yearning for a connection. One night, in a drunken haze, a misdirected text meant for her best friend landed in Alpha Declan Blackwood's inbox: ""Send me something hot."" Minutes later, the most powerful, terrifying man in the Pack stood at her door, claiming her with a possessive kiss that ignited a dangerous, unwanted fire. The next morning, his cold indifference shattered her world. Publicly humiliated and instantly fired, Anya became a pariah. Her dying mother's urgent need for a million-dollar heart transplant left her with an impossible choice: accept the Alpha's cold, transactional marriage proposal or watch her mother die. She became his ""placeholder"" wife, a contract, not a partner, all while battling a confusing attraction to the man who treated her as property. Why did he demand her, only to remind her constantly of her worthlessness, especially when everyone knew he waited for his true mate? Her world crumbled when she overheard Declan tell his returning ""true mate,"" Kristin Larsen, that Anya was ""just a substitute."" Despite the crushing betrayal and a strange, unyielding pull, Anya, fueled by her mother's desperate need, vowed to survive this gilded cage and reclaim her life before she lost herself completely."

Luna has tried her best to make her forced marriage to Xen work for the sake of their child. But with Riley and Sophia- Xen's ex-girlfriend and her son in the picture. She fights a losing battle. Ollie, Xen's son is neglected by his father for a very long time and he is also suffering from a mysterious sickness that's draining his life force. When his last wish to have his dad come to his 5th birthday party is dashed by his failure to show up, Ollie dies in an accident after seeing his father celebrate Riley's birthday with Sophia and it's displayed on the big advertising boards that fill the city. Ollie dies and Luna follows after, unable to bear the grief, dying in her mate's hands cursing him and begging for a second chance to save her son. Luna gets the opportunity and is woken up in the past, exactly one year to the day Sophia and Riley show up. But this time around, Luna is willing to get rid of everyone and anyone even her mate if he steps in her way to save her son.

Silvia lost everything in one night-her parents,her trust,and her mate. Coming home from their funeral,she found her "fated"partner,Zack,tangled with another she-wolf. "You'll always be my Luna... even if I need variety,"he said,smirking. Heartbroken but fierce,she rejected him-and turned to someone far more dangerous. "I need help,"she whispered. Sherman leaned closer,his voice like silk over steel. "I offer more than help,little wolf. I offer everything he couldn't give you." Now married to Zack's powerful half-brother,Silvia plays a deadly game of loyalty,vengeance,and survival. But Sherman Carter doesn't help for free-and as their bond deepens,truths unravel. Is Silvia just a pawn in Sherman's war? Or is she becoming the Queen who'll burn the whole pack down? When love,betrayal,and bloodlines collide,how far will one omega go to save her family-and destroy the mate who broke her soul?

Lyric had spent her life being hated. Bullied for her scarred face and hated by everyone-including her own mate-she was always told she was ugly. Her mate only kept her around to gain territory, and the moment he got what he wanted, he rejected her, leaving her broken and alone. Then, she met him. The first man to call her beautiful. The first man to show her what it felt like to be loved. It was only one night, but it changed everything. For Lyric, he was a saint, a savior. For him, she was the only woman that had ever made him cum in bed-a problem he had been battling for years. Lyric thought her life would finally be different, but like everyone else in her life, he lied. And when she found out who he really was, she realized he wasn't just dangerous-he was the kind of man you don't escape from. Lyric wanted to run. She wanted freedom. But she desired to navigate her way and take back her respect, to rise above the ashes. Eventually, she was forced into a dark world she didn't wish to get involved with.

For two years, I was the Alpha's secret wife, a duty he resented. But the positive pregnancy test in my hand was a miracle, a blessing from the Moon Goddess. This baby, our heir, was supposed to be the bridge that finally mended our broken mate bond. That night, he left without a word. I saw on a gossip site that he'd gone to pick up his ex-lover, Isadora. Reaching for him through our bond, I wasn't met with his usual coldness, but with her emotions bleeding through him-triumph and smug possession. The next morning, I went to his office, ready to tell him about our baby, believing our child could fix us. But I stopped when I heard him talking to our Pack Healer about me. The healer said I looked fragile, that he should care for his mate. My husband laughed. "You seem to care for her more than I do," Demetri said, his voice dripping with ice. "Do you want me to give her to you? Take her. She's of no use to me." My world shattered. I wasn't just unloved; I was a thing to be discarded. I looked down at the pregnancy report, the proof of the life inside me, and made a vow. He would never know about our child, and I would sever our bond myself.

I was dying at the banquet, coughing up black blood while the pack celebrated my step-sister Lydia’s promotion. Across the room, Caleb, the Alpha and my Fated Mate, didn't look concerned. He looked annoyed. "Stop it, Elena," his voice boomed in my head. "Don't ruin this night with your attention-seeking lies." I begged him, telling him it was poison, but he just ordered me to leave his Pack House so I wouldn't dirty the floor. Heartbroken, I publicly demanded the Severing Ceremony to break our bond and left to die alone in a cheap motel. Only after I took my last breath did the truth come out. I sent Caleb the medical records proving Lydia had been poisoning my tea with wolfsbane for ten years. He went mad with grief, realizing he had protected the murderer and rejected his true mate. He tortured Lydia, but his regret couldn't bring me back. Or so he thought. In the afterlife, the Moon Goddess showed me my reflection. I wasn't a wolfless weakling. I was a White Wolf, the rarest and most powerful of all, suppressed by poison. "You can stay here in peace," the Goddess said. "Or you can go back." I looked at the life they stole from me. I looked at the power I never got to use. "I want to go back," I said. "Not for his love. But for revenge." I opened my eyes, and for the first time in my life, my wolf roared.

She was a diamond covered by ashes.... King Dakota was known as the most Powerful Alpha King of all times - more powerful than any other King that had ruled from his lineage. He was cold hearted, introverted and dangerous in anger. Cursed by the Moon goddess, King Dakota had to get married to three wives all in search of a male child that would become his heir, but it was impossible as the curse would only let his wives bear she -wolves. But on a different day, the King meets a lady who offends him and as a punishment, he took her home as his fourth wife. Her name was Shilah. Shilah was a powerless wolf and as a result, was disregarded and intimidated by all. But, when she begins to do things that the King had never felt for years, he began to wonder who she really was. Slowly, she crawled her way into his icy heart and turned out to be something nobody ever expected - a storm.