My Ruthless Ex Demands Me Back

The Moon Goddess decreed the Gamma warrior Braxton as my fated mate, but he treated me like a lowly servant while doting on a human woman named Bree. In my past life, I endured his coldness and Bree's endless framing, thinking my submissive love would eventually win his heart. But he completely abandoned our sacred bond. Whenever Bree faked a minor scratch, he would force me to apologize, letting the whole pack humiliate me. Ultimately, I was pushed aside, my flesh brutally torn by claws, while he stood there protecting a triumphant Bree in his arms. I died a pathetic, rejected Omega, drowning in my own tears and the bone-deep chill of his betrayal. Until my last breath, I didn't understand. I had cleaned his home spotless, waited on him, and loved him with all my soul. Why did my fated mate choose a manipulative human over our sacred bond? Why did my endless devotion only earn me a tragic, bloody end? Opening my eyes again, I was back to the exact moment Braxton was forcing me to apologize for a fake burn on Bree's wrist. "Elinor, apologize. You weren't watching where you were going!" This time, I didn't cry or beg. I walked over to the stove, grabbed the boiling kettle, and poured the scalding water directly onto her hand. Since she wanted to play the victim, I would make her injury real. Then, I would force him to accept my Rejection.

For two years, I endured hell in an underground brothel, bleeding to earn the bribe money to save my Mafia Don husband from the electric chair. But when Cassio finally returned, he didn't come to rescue me. He marched in with thirty armed enforcers, threw annulment papers on my chest, and announced his new mistress was pregnant with his heir. The mistress was Camilla, a low-level associate who stole the credit for my sacrifice. Cassio believed every lie she told, looking at my degrading uniform with pure disgust. "Sign the papers. You have disgraced the Moretti name enough." He ignored the whip marks and burn scars covering my ruined body, tossing a stack of cash at my feet like I was trash. When I tried to buy my freedom with the ten million dollars I had agonizingly earned, he ruthlessly blocked my bid. He demanded I kneel and pledge loyalty to Camilla, trapping me as their property. I couldn't understand how the man who once promised to burn the world down for me could be so blind. I had destroyed my body and my ability to ever carry a child just to secure his freedom. Yet he was standing here, publicly humiliating me for the woman who secretly orchestrated my torture. Staring into his cold, unforgiving eyes, my dead heart finally turned to ash. I calmly invoked the ancient, fatal 'Angel's Drop' trial. I wrapped the sheer red silk around my wrists and ascended into the dark sky, choosing a shattered death in the freezing harbor over a life with him.

I thought I had found my savior in Alpha Camron after my adoptive family was brutally slaughtered. But as I lay chained to the damp dungeon wall, my inner wolf silenced by silver poison, he sneered and rejected me. "Did you really think I loved you? You were just a dumb, loyal dog." He confessed that he had orchestrated my family's murder to frame Lycan King Asher. Blinded by his lies, I had plunged a silver blade into Asher's heart—the only man standing in Camron's way to the throne. My step-sister Erica then arrived to deliver the final, crushing blows. "He was your true fated mate, Ella," she whispered with sadistic glee. "He loved you so much he retracted his aura, leaving himself defenseless so you wouldn't get hurt killing him." Worse, she laughed at my swollen belly, revealing the baby I carried wasn't Camron's. He had paid a filthy Rogue to defile me in the dark. The man I murdered was the other half of my soul, and the monster I trusted had destroyed everything I loved. My heart simply gave out, drowning in an abyss of pure agony and hatred. Opening my eyes again, the stench of burning flesh was gone. I was back in my attic bedroom on my fifteenth birthday. Today was the day my evil stepmother would start her deadly plot. This time, I would tear them all apart.

Brooke was supposed to marry her fiancé, Gaven, in less than twenty-four hours to secure her sick mother's corporate legacy. But the night before the wedding, she followed a mysterious text to a hotel suite, only to find Gaven pressing her half-sister against a sofa. Through the crack in the door, she recorded their sickening moans and their cold conspiracy to drain her mother's company the moment the marriage papers were signed. At the altar the next day, Brooke didn't say "I do." Instead, she hijacked the church's projector, broadcasting their sex tape and offshore fraud documents to hundreds of wealthy guests. But instead of supporting her, her own father stormed the altar and slapped her across the face with brutal force. He cared more about the corporate merger than his daughter, threatening to blacklist her from the industry, while Gaven vowed to completely destroy her. Bleeding and stripped of her family ties, Brooke walked out into a freezing downpour, completely isolated against a powerful family ready to ruin her sick mother's life's work. She had no money, no allies, and nowhere to go. Just as a furious Gaven chased her into the street, a massive black Maybach sliced through the rain and pulled up in front of her. Inside sat Foster Pruitt, the ruthless, terrifying billionaire whose life she had accidentally saved from a car wreck the night before. Knowing he desperately needed a wife to secure his own empire, Brooke climbed into his car and looked at the most dangerous man in the city. "Marry me."

I lay paralyzed in a luxury Swiss clinic, my body a heavy sack of meat I no longer controlled. The heart monitor’s rhythmic beep was the only thing louder than the silence, a mocking countdown to my inevitable end. My fiancé, Jordan, walked in looking impeccable in the custom suit I had bought him for his birthday. He wasn't alone; my best friend, Chloe, followed him into the room, wearing the vintage Givenchy dress I had saved for our anniversary gala. Jordan didn't look like a grieving man; he looked bored as he held up a blue folder confirming that my family's offshore trust had finally cleared. Chloe giggled, leaning over me to ask if I finally realized it was the engagement wine she had spiked seven days ago. Jordan brushed a cold hand over my forehead, calling me a "perfect little asset" before pulling Chloe into a hungry kiss right over my dying body. To ensure there was no turning back, he pulled out a silver lighter and set my living will on fire, watching the only document that could have saved me turn to ash. I tried to scream, to curse them both to hell for stealing my life and my legacy, but all that came out was a wet, rattling wheeze. My own father, I would later learn, had known about the takeover and chose the profit over his own daughter's life. As the darkness swallowed me whole, I made a silent, desperate promise: if there was anything after this, I would come back and destroy every single one of them. I gasped, my body jerking upright as air rushed into my lungs like liquid fire. I wasn't in Switzerland, and there was no poison in my veins. I was back in my Manhattan bedroom, staring at a phone that read June 12—the morning of the wedding, the day I was supposed to die, and the day I decided to burn their world to the ground.

My ex-boyfriend, Gabriel, the man who once promised me forever, looked at me as if I were a stain on his expensive suit. He was here to finish the job of destroying my life. To save my brother from jail, he demanded an impossible six-figure settlement and a humiliating, live-streamed public apology. Three years ago, his now-fiancée, my rival Aspen Watkins, framed me for cyberbullying. Gabriel believed her lies, publicly denounced me, and shattered my world. The scandal led to my expulsion, my parents' fatal car crash, and the loss of our family fortune. He was ready to humiliate me all over again for a crime I never committed, his eyes cold and unyielding. The punishment wasn't just for my brother; it was for me. But as I prepared for my public execution, a mysterious billionaire made me an offer. He knew the truth and gave me the means to fight back. Aspen wanted a spectacle. I decided to give her one.