Cascade

For eighteen years, I served the Hicks family with all my heart, believing they were my true family. But the moment I turned eighteen, my adoptive mother threw a termination agreement in my face. She sneered and told me the only reason they adopted me was because a psychic said I was a "spiritual shield." "Now that Brenda's fortune is stable, your usefulness has ended. Sign the agreement and get out." They kicked me out penniless, keeping everything, even the emerald necklace left by my biological grandmother. My adoptive sister hid behind her mother, clutching my necklace with a smirk, while they mocked my destitution and waited for me to crawl back and beg. I walked out into the freezing wind, my heart turning to ice. Eighteen years of love and obedience were nothing but a carefully calculated scam, a cage where I was just a disposable tool. But before they could even finish laughing, a deafening roar filled the sky. A dozen black helicopters descended upon their manicured lawn, and a billionaire CEO stepped out, walking straight toward me. "My name is Jaxson Beaumont. I'm your brother, and it's time to go home." It turns out, I am the long-lost true daughter of the country's most powerful werewolf pack. I turned back to look at my pale, trembling adoptive family, and smiled. It's time to calculate the cost of those eighteen years, and I will make them pay it back in full.

Mia woke up in a stranger's luxurious hotel bed with a splitting headache and a blank memory. The only clue to her ruined night was a sleek black business card left on the nightstand: Julian Carlisle. But before she could process the betrayal, a frantic call from her mother dragged her back to a living nightmare. When she rushed home, a vicious loan shark was sitting in her living room. Her brother had gambled away half a million dollars. The loan shark looked Mia up and down like a piece of meat and offered a sick deal. "Marry me, and the debt is cleared." Mia expected her family to fight for her. Instead, her mother's eyes lit up with greed, and her brother begged her to agree. They were perfectly willing to sell her to a monster just to save their own skins. As if that wasn't enough, her phone rang again. It was the preschool director. Her best friend Audrey—the one who kept pushing drinks on her last night—had lied, stolen her promotion, and taken her job. In less than twenty-four hours, her best friend had drugged and replaced her, and her own flesh and blood had put a price tag on her life. Looking at the greedy, expectant faces of her family, Mia's heart turned to ice. She pulled out the black business card from her pocket and dialed the stranger's number. "I need half a million dollars." She gripped the phone, ready to make a deal with the devil.

I had just gotten the sonogram of our long-awaited baby, ready to give my billionaire husband, Blake, the surprise of his life. But that night, a woman answered his phone. The next morning, he handed me a divorce agreement. He coldly stated our three-year marriage was just a business arrangement and he only ever saw me as a sister. His college sweetheart, Estella, had returned. To pave the way for his true love, Blake didn't just kick me out of our home. He destroyed my career. He abruptly cancelled my multi-million dollar campaign to make Estella the new face of our luxury brand. When a colleague publicly mocked me as a discarded stray dog, Blake protected her and ordered me to apologize. He even forced me to personally manage Estella's launch, letting her publicly humiliate me in the boardroom by revealing that the parting gift I cherished from him was actually bought by her. "You must take good care of it. I hope you don't mind that I had Blake pass it along." I was stripped of my husband, my dignity, and my hard work, reduced to a pathetic charity case. I touched my flat stomach, realizing the tiny life inside me would only be a liability to him. My three years of devotion were nothing but a cruel joke. Looking at the two people who had shattered my world, my heart finally turned to ash. I wiped my tears, calmly walked out of that boardroom, and prepared my counterattack. I would take my dignity back, piece by painful piece.

After enduring brutal IVF injections entirely alone to protect her husband's fragile ego about his infertility, Evelyn finally received a positive pregnancy test. But when she rushed to his Wall Street office to share the news, she found him kneeling on the floor, tenderly icing a microscopic scratch on his ex-girlfriend Gigi's ankle. Gigi had snooped through Evelyn's bathroom, found her old fertility drugs, and casually left them on his desk. Chadwick threw the pill bottle at Evelyn's feet, mocking her for being a barren liar and accusing her of faking a pregnancy just to guilt-trip him. When Gigi deliberately threw herself onto the lobby floor, he roared at Evelyn in front of fifty employees, calling his own wife a vicious monster. He even used her dying mother's cancer treatment to blackmail Evelyn into dropping the divorce for the sake of his corporate image. That night, just as Evelyn prepared a candlelit dinner to show him the official lab report, he abandoned her to rush to the ER because Gigi claimed she was in a horrific car accident. Evelyn followed him, only to watch him fiercely holding Gigi over a tiny paper cut, treating his ex like fragile glass. She finally realized that her years of silent sacrifice and the tiny life growing inside her meant absolutely nothing to him. As paparazzi swarmed the hospital to broadcast his affair, Chadwick's billionaire rival stepped up and shielded Evelyn from the cameras. "Are you finally ready to dissolve the prenuptial agreement?" This time, Evelyn didn't hesitate. She was ready to destroy them both.

I woke up in a freezing, desolate wasteland, my body weak and covered in sores. A mechanical voice in my head informed me that I was a defective rabbit-mutant, and if I didn't conceive within twenty-four hours, I would die permanently. The terror was suffocating, but the system left me no choice. To survive the brutal cold and the decay of my own heartbeat, I had to force a pregnancy with a stranger. I stumbled through the snow, my fingers turning blue, until I found a massive, wounded Arctic Fox-mutant in a dark cave. He was a Tier-9 predator, dying and radiating the exact heat I needed to stay alive. I threw away my dignity, crawling into his fur to merge our energies, desperate to trigger the life-reset protocol before my time ran out. I felt like a monster, forcing myself onto a man who didn't even know I existed, just to keep my own heart beating. How could I ever face him if he woke up? Why did I have to be the one to pay the price for this twisted, mechanical ultimatum? The fusion was a success, but when I woke up the next morning, the apex predator had me pinned under his massive claws, his fangs inches from my throat. I didn't beg for mercy. I stared into his feral, ice-blue eyes and made a deal that would change everything: I would be his anchor, and he would be my protector. But then I dropped the final, terrifying truth: I was pregnant, and he was the only one who could save us.

I was the Mafia Queen of the Castillo family, but I died like a dog in the damp underground interrogation room. My sweet, fragile sister Chiara lured me into the cells, only to wrap a garrote wire tightly around my throat. As the wire sliced into my windpipe and I choked on my own blood, a small figure stepped out of the shadows. It was my ten-year-old son, Leo. He watched his mother being strangled to death with cold, dead eyes, his past words echoing in my dying mind. "I don't want a weak commoner for a mother! I wish Aunt Chiara gave birth to me!" Chiara pulled the wire tighter, her mask of innocence melting into a grotesque, triumphant sneer. "You never deserved him, Siena. You never deserved the crown." I died in pure, suffocating agony, my soul screaming into the dark that if there was a next life, I would carve the flesh from their bones. Then, I jolted awake, my lungs gasping for air against expensive silk sheets. I wasn't in the bloody cells. I was in the luxurious Master Suite, and hovering over me was my ruthless husband, the Dark Don, Dante Castillo. I had been reborn. Leo was only a five-month-old baby sleeping down the hall, and tomorrow, my treacherous sister would arrive at the estate begging for sanctuary. This time, I won't play the weak, forgiving sister. I will make them beg for death.

Alayna was working a grueling catering shift in worn-out heels to support her broke college boyfriend, Caiden, who claimed to be studying at the library. But through the crack of a VIP suite door, she saw him wearing a bespoke suit and a Patek Philippe watch, sipping expensive liquor. "It's a little poverty role-play. Keeps things interesting." He was laughing with his rich friends, mocking her as his clueless "charity case." To make matters worse, she was forced into a humiliating mascot costume just in time to watch him passionately kiss his wealthy ex-girlfriend. That same night, Alayna's mother collapsed with gastric cancer, requiring a half-million-dollar surgery. When a desperate Alayna begged Caiden for help, he refused. "Why don't you just apply for Medicaid? That's the path for people like you." For two years, she had starved herself to buy his textbooks, his tickets, and his shoes. He had stolen her sweat and her sacrifices, all for a cruel game. The sheer audacity of his betrayal made her blood run cold. When a billionaire stranger stepped in to pay her mother's medical bills in exchange for a one-year fake marriage, Alayna didn't hesitate to sign the contract. She slipped the flawless diamond ring onto her finger, opened a spreadsheet, and sent Caiden an invoice for every single cent. This time, she was going to dismantle his entire life.

Seraphina was the greatest mage of her generation. Then she saw her future: betrayed, broken, and left for dead. She woke up with a new plan: do absolutely nothing. Trip on flat floors. Cry magical floods. Tell professors her only goal is "three meals and eight hours of sleep." Let Elara steal her glory. Let the system target someone else. She just wants to nap. But no one will let her fail. The strictest professor calls her breakdown "enlightenment." The potion genius turns her scribbles into "divine wisdom." The more she acts like trash, the more they worship her. She didn't choose to be a legend. She chose to be useless. Why is that so hard?

I was the internet's most feared vigilante, famous for exposing toxic men to millions of live viewers. With one click, I was supposed to take down a local scammer, but the screen glitched. Instead of a petty liar, the face of Kristopher Schaefer-the most powerful billionaire in New York-appeared on the broadcast, branded with a massive red stamp that read: SCUMBAG. The internet went into a frenzy as I called the city's richest man a "leech" who had no spine. Within minutes, my studio was breached and my network was hacked. I fled into the rain, only to be cornered by a fleet of black SUVs. The man I had just publicly humiliated stepped out of the shadows, his eyes burning with a terrifying, cold fury. He didn't just want an apology; he wanted me. Because legally, on a piece of paper buried in a safe three years ago, this "scumbag" was actually my husband. He dragged me back to his sprawling estate, stripping me of my secrets and forcing me into a life of luxury that felt more like a prison. He threatened to ruin me for the billions in stock value I'd wiped out, yet he refused to let me go. I didn't understand why he was protecting me from my own treacherous family or why he looked at me with such starving intensity. I was a forensic accountant who had just declared war on his empire, so why was he putting his mother's priceless emeralds around my neck? Was he trying to silence me, or was there a deeper game at play within his crumbling company? When he finally found the encrypted drive containing his company's darkest financial secrets, the deal changed. "Play the perfect wife," he commanded, pinning me against the wall. "Save my merger, and I might just forget you tried to destroy me." Now, I have to decide if I'm going to finish the takedown, or if I'm the only woman who can save the man I'm supposed to hate.

To help my fiancé's tech startup, I poured my entire inheritance into his dream and even underwent ninety-nine humiliating hymen reconstruction surgeries to satisfy his bizarre fetish. But just one procedure away from our wedding, I overheard the truth. He called me his "cash cow" and the surgeries were just "pure theater" to lure in investors with a virgin fetish. He never loved me. He never even touched me. Instead, he drugged me with "protein shakes" to keep me compliant and paraded me in front of old perverts. His plan was to publicly humiliate me at the altar, expose my most private medical secrets, and then marry his childhood sweetheart, Kimberli. He was going to destroy me, dance on the ashes of my dignity, and leave me with nothing. But if he wanted a show, he was going to get one. Just not the one he planned. I picked up my phone and texted the one man I had blacklisted, the ruthless East Coast magnate Constantine Russell: "Crash my wedding. I need you."

My five-year marriage to Dallas Fischer, a tech billionaire, was a blur of high-society parties and fake smiles, until the fifth year ended with the death of our first child. The official story was a miscarriage, a tragedy, but then I overheard Dallas confessing to his mistress, Alanna, that he had paid a doctor to induce an abortion and dispose of our son's ashes. He revealed his plan to humiliate me by leaking an intimate video on our anniversary, claiming I was responsible for his ex-fiancée Hannah's suicide five years ago. He had orchestrated our entire relationship as an elaborate revenge plot. My world shattered. The man I loved, the life we built, was a lie. He hated me, had murdered our child, and was now going to destroy me. But I wouldn't let him. The game had just begun.

My husband, Craig, got the promotion. After three long years stuck in a small town, we were finally going home to corporate headquarters. But when I went to file our joint relocation paperwork, the HR administrator gave me a pitying look. Craig, she explained, had already filed a single-person relocation, listing a different spouse: his high-school sweetheart, Chanel Murphy. A single, numb phone call to the county clerk's office revealed the devastating truth. I had signed my own divorce papers two months ago, tricked by Craig, who claimed they were investment documents. He had remarried the very next day. He used my talent as a top software architect to secure his promotion, all while orchestrating this cruel deception. I had sacrificed my own career opportunities for our future, a future he was already building with someone else. The pain was suffocating, but then rage burned through my grief. I picked up my phone, my fingers steady. I called Elek Preston, the VP of Engineering, the man who had offered me a lead role on a high-stakes project. "Is the offer still open?" I asked, my voice clear and hard.

Alex Carter was supposed to be my protector, my ex-boyfriend whose job it was to keep me safe. But his heart, his entire world, orbited Chloe Davis, his childhood sweetheart and a rising social media influencer. Then came Chloe's fiancé's yacht party, a night I' d lived through eight times before, where masked men stormed the deck and dragged us both below. The kidnapper's satellite phone rang, and Alex' s voice, frantic and raw, filled the small cabin. "What do you want?" he demanded. The voice on the other end was gravelly. "A choice, Mr. Carter. We only have room for one return passenger. Your call. The influencer or the other one." There was no hesitation, not a single agonizing second. "Let Chloe go. Take the money, just let her go." The words hit me harder than any bullet, crushing me with the weight of my own worthlessness as I was untied, dragged to the edge of the yacht, and pushed into the icy water. I had died eight times before, each "favor" Alex cashed in to rewind time, always for Chloe. But the ninth time, as darkness consumed me, a cold, sterile light bloomed behind my eyelids. `...DESPERATE PLEA FOR SELF-RELIANCE DETECTED...` `...OVERRIDING OPERATIVE CARTER'S AUTHORITY...` `...ACTIVATING HIDDEN PROTOCOL...` `[SELF-RESCUE PROTOCOL: ENGAGED]` I wasn't just being revived; I was being granted administrative access to my own mission file, my own life. This time, I' d save myself.

The sterile hum of the hospital room was my last lullaby. I was Alex Miller, a game developer, fading away after a hit-and-run crash. My wife, Sarah, had spent three years turning my life into a living hell, her words sharper than any blade, all to push me away. Divorce papers, a constant reminder of my failures, sat untouched on our counter. I believed her staged betrayals and cruel jabs until the very end, telling the nurse to ensure Sarah knew I was finally gone, free from my burden. But death offered no escape, only a spectral front-row seat to my own funeral. I watched Sarah, her face a mask, her eyes raw, remain long after everyone left. Then, a terrifying truth unfolded: she hunted down my killer with relentless fury, breaking his limbs before calling the police. A week later, at my grave, under a full moon, she whispered words that tore through the veil of death. "Alex, I'm here to stay. I'm so sorry. I just wanted you to live, to be happy, without me." She revealed a medical diagnosis: Glioblastoma. Terminal. Then, she climbed into my casket, swallowing pills, choosing to die with me. The world fractured, then slammed back together. I gasped, sitting at our kitchen table, the scent of coffee and Sarah's perfume filling the air. She slid divorce papers across the table, her voice flat. "I've found someone else, Alex. He's successful. He can give me what you can't." It was the day it all started, her cruel, self-sacrificing performance beginning anew. But this time, I knew the script. With trembling hands, I ripped the papers to shreds, then pulled my terrified, lying wife into my arms. "Are you crazy?" I whispered, tears welling. "Hiding a terminal illness? Do you think that's cool?"

The cheap cotton sheets felt real, too real for a man who' d just died a brutal death in a remote facility. My eyes snapped open to my familiar apartment, the one I shared with Sarah, a place I hadn' t seen in over a year. Then I saw my reflection: unmarred, clear-eyed, not the skeletal, scarred figure I' d become. It was the day. The day my life was systematically dismantled by the two people I trusted most: my cousin, Liam White, and my ex-fiancée, Chloe Davis. Liam, my supposed brother, had twisted Chloe' s love for me into hate, then moved into her mansion, living the life that was supposed to be mine. He fabricated lies about my gambling debts and mistresses, even selling Chloe' s prized vintage Porsche and blaming me. Her wealth and influence became the weapons she used to destroy me. The final blow came with Olivia Reed, Chloe' s best friend, pregnant with Liam' s child. They faked a fall, blamed me for her miscarriage, and used Chloe' s power to have me locked away in a hellish facility. I remembered the sharp pain, my own blood pooling on concrete, and then… nothing. Until now. My phone rang, cutting through the silence. Chloe Davis. In my past life, I' d pleaded, begged, and been ruined. "Ethan Miller, you piece of trash! Where is my husband?" she shrieked, venom dripping from her voice. But the man who feared her was dead. With a newfound calm, I ended the call. The silence that followed was a declaration of war, and this time, I knew all the moves.

My name is Gabrielle Fuller, and I died today. It wasn't an accident, or a tragic twist of fate. It was a cold-blooded murder, staged to look like a suicide by the two people I trusted most: my fiancé, Caleb, and the girl I called my little sister, Molly. The same Molly who "saved" me from a mugging just a week ago, charming her way into my life, setting the stage for their systematic destruction of everything I held dear. When I woke up this morning, gasping for breath in my Pacific Heights condo, the vivid memory of their hands on me, the icy shock of betrayal, was so visceral it made me sick. The date on my phone confirmed it: I was back. Back to the very day they started picking apart my life, piece by sickening piece. The girl who' d spent her first life unknowingly thanking her killers, showering them with gifts, had been a fool. But this time, when my phone buzzed with Molly' s syrupy voice, my veins ran with ice, not naivety. They thought they' d won. They thought I was a puppet. They had no idea I already held the strings.

My eyes opened in a Beacon Hill mansion, a rich prison of silk and scorn. They called me "Hope," but I was Gabrielle Johns, a witch hanged in Salem, reborn into this timid girl's body. Their daughter, Molly, staged a dramatic fall down the stairs, shrieked "She pushed me!" and directed her theatrical terror right at me. Immediately, Molly's parents and fiancé rushed to her side, their faces masks of disgust, calling me a "trailer park animal" and a "disgrace." They slapped me, starved me, and locked me inside the dark mansion, expecting me to break, groveling for their forgiveness. But their cruelty didn't just fuel my ancient rage; it ignited the deep, quiet misery of Hope, a girl bullied and dismissed her whole life. How could they be so brazenly wicked, believing they had untouchable power over me? They thought locking me away was their control, but they just handed me the key to my vengeance.

I grew up spoiled, flying first class and dreaming of million-dollar handbags. But for once, I wanted a "real American experience," something my elite family would scoff at. So, I booked a Greyhound bus ticket, planning to save a fortune and prove I wasn't just a pampered rich kid. Then the nightmare jolted me awake, cold sweat gripping my back. It wasn't a dream; it was a memory. A grim, horrifying memory of that other life where my simple act of kindness on this very bus led to unspeakable horrors. I saw her again, "Mama" Darlene, with her sickeningly sweet smile and homemade cookies. I remembered the darkness that followed, waking up in a filthy room, my money gone. I remembered Cletus, Darlene' s son, dragging me into the mountains, bringing me to a shack. The things he did to me, the pain, before they left me for dead in a ditch. To be here again, reliving the beginning of that hell, felt like a cruel joke. Why was I given this second chance, only to endure the terror of knowing what was coming? My stomach clenched as I saw Mama Darlene, already beside my seat, her repulsive grandson pawing at my backpack. Was this nightmare destined to repeat, or could I break free? My hands trembled, but my mind was crystal clear. This time, I was awake. And this time, I was ready to turn their game into my personal battlefield. I grabbed my phone, and with a cold resolve, started calling in favors that would turn their Appalachian nightmare into theirs.

My 18-year-old step-sister got pregnant before getting married. To cover up the scandal, my father set a trap for me and made me sleep with my step-sister. Then he forced me to wear the green hat (a Chinese idiom meaning to be cuckolded). I wanted to find out the truth, but my father pushed me into the river and I died a miserable death. After being reborn, I no longer resist. When faced with my father's unreasonable demands again, I smiled and said, "Dad, of course I'm willing to marry her. Why let others enjoy the benefits of our hard work?"

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

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

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

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

"No wolf. No family. Harmless. Useful. The second I am done with her, the Luna title is yours." Eira Crawford heard those words through her husband's office door. For four years, she had been Sebastian Vale's hidden mate. She managed his household, entertained his relatives, cleaned up his messes, and lived on the three thousand dollars he gave her each month like charity. Even buying a new coat required an explanation. But for his first love, he casually prepared three hundred thousand dollars in research funding. To Sebastian, Eira was nothing more than a wolfless Omega from an orphanage. A quiet, obedient wife with no pack, no power, and no value beyond being useful. He had never introduced her publicly as his Luna. His family treated her like a servant. His sweetheart mocked her as a woman who could only survive by clinging to an Alpha. So Eira stopped crying. She recorded the affair, filed for mate dissolution, and placed the divorce papers in front of Sebastian. Even then, he thought she was throwing a tantrum. He signed without hesitation, certain she would come crawling back once she realized no one else would want a discarded, wolfless Omega. He was wrong. The woman he left at home washing dishes was a Stanford-trained electrical engineer. The "useless" wife he ignored was the hidden chief engineer behind a national self-developed chip project. Her movements were classified. Her disappearance could alert the federal authorities. Her name, once revealed, was enough to shake the entire scientific community. And Sebastian knew nothing. After walking out of his house with nothing but her freedom, Eira crossed paths with Killian Sterling, the coldest and most powerful Alpha in the north. He did not know her name yet, but his wolf recognized something in her that everyone else had missed. Meanwhile, Sebastian finally realized that Eira was not bluffing. He searched the entire city like a madman. For the first time in four years, he publicly called her his wife. He demanded she return. He begged for another chance. But by then, Eira was no longer waiting in his house. She was seated at the Sterling Pack's dinner table, dressed with quiet confidence, while the most feared Alpha in North America stood beside her. In front of everyone, Killian Sterling placed his hand at her back and said coldly, "Eira is not anyone's discarded Omega." "She is my Luna."

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.

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

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

I was lying in the cold delivery room, enduring the agonizing contractions of giving birth to twins. When I desperately called my fated mate, Alpha Dixon, to tell him the babies were coming, his voice was like ice. "Let my assistant handle it. Don't call me again." He hung up, abandoning me for another woman's laughter in the background. He left me to give birth completely alone, treating me like a pathetic, disposable Omega. He had even threatened that if I didn't sign the mate rejection papers, he would take my children away forever. I thought my life was shattered by the man who was supposed to protect me. But a routine blood test by the hospital's Healer revealed a shocking truth. I wasn't an orphaned nobody. I was the long-lost pureblood White Wolf heir of the legendary Beaumont Pack. Within hours, my true family—a powerful Alpha father, a Luna mother, and three fiercely protective brothers—rushed to my side, wrapping me in the absolute authority and wealth of the world's strongest Pack. Backed by my new family, I summoned Dixon to the Pack Council to formally complete our rejection. I watched his arrogant face as the clerk asked if I accepted his rejection. But just as I opened my mouth to sever our bond forever, Dixon froze. He was hit by an urgent mind-link, and his cold confidence instantly shattered into pure, unadulterated panic. "We're not done!" he snarled, fleeing the hall before the ceremony could end. I stood there, staring at the door. What on earth did that mind-link say?

I had been courting the Alpha heir for two years, waiting for the day he would finally propose and make me his Luna. But instead of a ring, he calmly informed me that he was using my family's massive financial donation to buy a noble title for my cousin, Carson. "Carson needs this title to be a suitable match for my future mate," he said, expecting me to gratefully accept being relegated to the shadows as a secondary mate. When I returned home, my own father and grandmother didn't defend me. They praised Carson and demanded I accept the humiliation, claiming my mother's vast merchant wealth belonged entirely to their Pack. When my mother and I refused to yield, my father threatened to sever their mate bond and exile my brother and me as hunted, Packless Rogues. For eighteen years, my family's consortium had funded their lavish lifestyle, yet they treated us like nothing more than a vault to be plundered. The man I loved and the family I trusted were willing to destroy my life and my mother's dignity just to feed their own greed and arrogant pride. I didn't shed a single tear. I immediately initiated the liquidation protocol, recalling every asset we had ever loaned them and stripping their grand manor bare to the walls. Then, I packed a priceless mythril sword and sent a letter to the one man who could help me crush them all: the ruthless Wolf of the North.