Cornelia

My grandmother, my only family in this world, died of sudden cardiac failure. But I knew it wasn't natural causes. Carina, the woman my fated mate Kole swore to protect, had deliberately taunted her weak heart to death. When I begged Kole for justice, the powerful Alpha didn't even flinch. He used his wealth to erase the evidence and bribed the only nurse who knew the truth. He threw my belongings out of his estate like garbage and let the murderer move in. When Carina faked a fall down the stairs, he cradled her in his arms and forced me, the actual victim, to apologize. "You are just a joke the Moon Goddess played." With those cruel words, he publicly rejected me in front of the city's elites, brutally severing our sacred mate-bond because I was born "wolfless." The agonizing pain of the severed bond tore my soul apart, leaving me humiliated and completely abandoned in the cold streets. I couldn't understand why destiny would pair me with a man who treated my family's blood like trash. Why did my lack of an inner wolf mean I deserved to be trampled on and replaced by a killer? Just as my despair turned into a suffocating darkness, my phone rang. It was Braden Beaumont, the dangerous Gamma of a rival pack, offering me his absolute protection and an alliance. I wiped my tears and pinned his pack's silver medallion to my chest. I no longer needed a fated mate; I was going to make them pay.

After three agonizing years in prison, Eloise Knight finally walked out of the heavy iron gates. Waiting for her was her billionaire husband, Carter James. He didn't come to welcome her, but to see if prison had finally broken her into an obedient wife. Three years ago, he stood in court and presented the very evidence that condemned her for murdering her best friend—a vintage letter opener he knew was a gift from her late father. When Eloise turned her back on his luxury car and walked away, Carter's ruthless nature was unleashed. "Freeze every single one of her accounts. I don't want one cent flowing to her." He cut off her credit cards, her bank accounts, and even the trust fund left by her mother. He wanted to leave her penniless and starving on the cold streets of New York, absolutely certain she would soon come crawling back to beg for his mercy. In the freezing night, clutching only an old suitcase, Eloise felt a bitter clarity. She remembered her murdered best friend's secretive smile, boasting about a way to steal Carter's heart just days before her death. She realized she had been framed by the two people she trusted most. Why did Carter hate her so much? How could they destroy her life so easily without a second thought? But she was no longer the naive Mrs. James. Eloise signed the divorce papers, left them on his pristine coffee table, and vanished into the night. She disguised herself as a mute cleaner at the exclusive Elysian Club, stepping right into his playground to find the truth and clear her name.

Alia was trapped in a burning warehouse, the thick smoke tearing at her throat. Outside the heavy iron door, her stepsister Cherri laughed. "Gaylen never loved you. He spent two years playing the devoted boyfriend just to get the security codes to the Vanderbilt family vault. You were nothing but a convenient, stupid key." Cherri even revealed that Alia's stepfather had deliberately cut the brake lines on her mother's car. The betrayal tore through Alia's nervous system. As the burning roof collapsed, the iron door burst open. Ansel Vanderbilt, the ruthless Wall Street king she had feared her entire life, charged through the flames. His custom suit charred instantly as he shielded her small body with his own. He cried into her neck, choosing to burn to ashes right by her side. Until her last agonizing breath, Alia didn't understand. Why did her family hate her so much? And why was this terrifying man the only one willing to embrace death with her? Opening her eyes again, Alia wasn't dead. She was lying in the penthouse suite of the Waldorf Astoria, staring at Ansel's sleeping face. She had returned to exactly five years ago—the day her stepsister and boyfriend drugged her and set her up for a ruinous sex scandal. Hearing the chaotic footsteps of paparazzi approaching the door, a murderous hatred flooded her chest. This time, the real reckoning had just begun.

My husband, Kahlil, despised me, while his "sister" Cassandra lived in our home, playing the role of a fragile, wheelchair-bound victim. To get rid of me, she orchestrated a trap, taking a misleading photo to frame me for having an affair. When Kahlil saw the photo, he didn't even give me a chance to explain. He believed Cassandra's fake tears instantly and violently shoved me away. I crashed hard into a heavy glass table, the impact sending agonizing spasms through my stomach that dropped me to the floor in a cold sweat. While I writhed in excruciating pain, he stood there shielding the very woman who was destroying my life. "Stop playing the victim," he roared, looking at me with pure disgust. "You are my wife in name, and you will not make a fool of me!" My heart completely shattered as I lay on the cold hardwood floor. I had never been unfaithful, yet he treated me like property, blindly protecting a snake who wore sheer tops to seduce him at midnight. Why was I enduring this suffocating farce of a marriage just to be trampled on? But when Cassandra pushed her luck and hired a sleazy playboy to assault me in the dark garden, her perfect mask finally shattered. As Kahlil rushed in to save me, a terrified Cassandra forgot her own lie and stood up from her wheelchair on two perfectly healthy legs. Looking at their shocked faces, I realized it was finally time to crush the snake and walk away for good.

After an exhausting fourteen-hour flight, Katia returned to her Upper East Side penthouse, expecting the quiet comfort of the life she had built. Instead, she found a pair of familiar red stilettos in the foyer and her fiancé, Caleb, tangled in their bedsheets with his twenty-two-year-old assistant. She didn't scream or cry. She simply took off her three-carat engagement ring, threw it at his bare chest, and demanded he buy out her half of the penthouse by Friday. Seeking to numb the sickening disgust, she got blackout drunk and crashed at a luxury hotel, accidentally stumbling into the wrong suite. Thinking the imposing man inside was a high-end escort hired by her friend, she threw him over her shoulder and spent a wild night with him. The next morning, she left five thousand dollars on his nightstand with a lipstick-stained note. "Good Job." For six years, she had funded Caleb's dreams and built his startup from the ground up, only to be treated like a lifeless ATM. With ruthless precision, she spent the next two months systematically bankrupting his company, cutting off his venture capital, and erasing his life's work. She felt no heartbreak, only a cold, calculating need to cleanse herself of his betrayal. But when Katia finally returned to corporate headquarters to co-lead a massive merger, she literally crashed into the new Vice President. Strong arms caught her waist, and the sharp scent of cedarwood and whiskey hit her like a freight train. "You came back," Jackson whispered, his eyes burning as he stared at the woman who had treated him like a cheap gigolo.

Clara's husband of three years walked into their penthouse with two lawyers. He threw a divorce agreement on the table, demanding she sign away all her assets. If she refused, he would bankrupt her family and send her mother to federal prison. He did it all for his new girlfriend, Corinne. After stripping Clara of everything, Kane stood by while Corinne publicly humiliated her, stepping on her fingers and mocking her misery. When Kane suspected Clara might be pregnant, he dragged her to a private clinic. He forced her onto an examination table and ordered a deeply invasive medical check-up, treating her like absolute garbage just to ensure she wasn't carrying his heir. Lying on the cold medical bed in a thin paper gown, Clara's heart completely shattered. She didn't understand how the man who once promised her forever could turn into such a ruthless monster. She was indeed pregnant, but she knew if he found out, he would steal her baby and destroy her completely. With the help of a tech-genius friend, Clara faked a negative test result and escaped his clutches. The next day, she walked into their company, threw a bold "I QUIT" note right in the mistress's face, and walked away. Touching her belly, Clara swore she would return to make them pay for every single thing they had done.

#Chapter1 Chapter I watched my husband sign the papers that would end our marriage while he was busy texting the woman he actually loved. He didn't even glance at the header. He just scribbled the sharp, jagged signature that had signed death warrants for half of New York, tossed the file onto the passenger seat, and tapped his screen again. "Done," he said, his voice devoid of emotion. That was Dante Moretti. The Underboss. A man who could smell a lie from a mile away but couldn't see that his wife had just handed him an annulment decree disguised beneath a stack of mundane logistics reports. For three years, I scrubbed his blood out of his shirts. I saved his family's alliance when his ex, Sofia, ran off with a civilian. In return, he treated me like furniture. He left me in the rain to save Sofia from a broken nail. He left me alone on my birthday to drink champagne on a yacht with her. He even handed me a glass of whiskey—her favorite drink—forgetting that I despised the taste. I was merely a placeholder. A ghost in my own home. So, I stopped waiting. I burned our wedding portrait in the fireplace, left my platinum ring in the ashes, and boarded a one-way flight to San Francisco. I thought I was finally free. I thought I had escaped the cage. But I underestimated Dante. When he finally opened that file weeks later and realized he had signed away his wife without looking, the Reaper didn't accept defeat. He burned down the world to find me, obsessed with reclaiming the woman he had already thrown away.

I sat on the edge of the examination table, the crinkle of the sanitary paper sounding like thunder in the sterile room. The doctor didn't even look at me as he confirmed the news: the pregnancy was over. My husband, Keyon, didn't answer my call. He just sent an automated text: "In a meeting." When I returned to our cold mansion, I found his iPad glowing with a message from his "muse," Katina. He was throwing her a secret gala tonight-on our third wedding anniversary. He told her he couldn't wait to escape the "boring" and "draining" atmosphere I created at home. Keyon didn't stumble in until 3 AM, smelling of Katina's perfume with a smear of red on his collar. When I handed him the divorce papers, he laughed in my face. He called me a "glorified housekeeper" with no skills and no future, promising I'd be back in three days begging for a subway ticket. He even bet his friends ten thousand dollars that I wouldn't survive a week without his name. He had his assistant cancel my credit cards and block my gate access before I even reached the end of the driveway. He wanted me to starve. He wanted me to crawl. He sat in his office, mocking the "desperate" woman who pawned her three-million-dollar wedding ring for scrap metal just to pay for a meal. I stood on the rainy curb, watching the man I had protected for three years treat my life like trash. He didn't know about the ultrasound I just threw in the bin. He didn't know that while he was calling me "dull," I was the one secretly writing the code that kept his billion-dollar empire from collapsing. As I slid into a cheap Uber, I opened a hidden, encrypted app on my phone. The screen refreshed to a dashboard for an account Keyon didn't know existed. The balance was ten figures long-the accumulated wealth of "Solaris," the world's most elusive tech genius. Keyon thinks he just evicted a parasite, but he's about to find out he just declared war on the only person who can hit "delete" on his entire life.

My husband, Clark, gave me a choice: save the mother of the woman who killed my own, or he would destroy my sister's life. He held a fabricated video over my sister Anissa's head, a cruel lie that would ruin her future. I performed the surgery, saving the life of my enemy's mother, but the blackmail drove Anissa to take her own life. When I confronted him, he didn't just break my heart. He had his Dobermans maul my hands, the ten-million-dollar hands that had saved countless lives, shattering the bones and ending my career forever. He then threw me out, leaving me for dead on a deserted road after I was brutally attacked. I had lost my mother, my sister, and my life's work, all at the hands of the man who swore to love and protect me, the man I once saved on the operating table. But as I lay in a hospital bed for the last time, a cold, calculated resolve settled deep in my bones. I made a single phone call to a man from my past. "Apollo," I whispered, my voice raw but steady. "I'm ready. I want him destroyed. Every last piece of him."

When I was eight, Dante Moretti pulled me from the fire that killed my family. For ten years, the powerful crime boss was my protector and my god. Then, he announced his engagement to another woman to unite two criminal empires. He brought her home and named her the future mistress of the Moretti family. In front of everyone, his fiancée forced a cheap metal collar around my neck, calling me their pet. Dante knew I was allergic. He just watched, his eyes cold, and ordered me to take it. That night, I listened through the walls as he took her to his bed. I finally understood the promise he’d made me as a child was a lie. I wasn't his family. I was his property. After a decade of devotion, my love for him finally turned to ash. So on his birthday, the day he celebrated his new future, I walked out of his gilded cage for good. A private jet was waiting to take me to my real father—his greatest enemy.

I was a foster kid with a talent for art. My benefactor, Declan, gave me everything: an education, a home, and a future. I loved him, and I agreed to be his wife. Then his adopted sister, Faye, decided she wanted my brother. When my brother rejected her, Declan had his hands broken, destroying his future as a musician. Faye framed me for kidnapping her, and Declan believed every word. He had me thrown into an abandoned mine pit filled with snakes as punishment. Then, to teach me a "permanent lesson," he had his men drag me to a clinic. They took one of my kidneys. The man who promised to protect me, who I thought was my savior, carved a piece of me out for a crime I didn't commit. The love I felt for him died on that operating table. When I woke up, he sat by my bed and told me our wedding was still on. He thought he had broken me. He was wrong. He doesn't know I have a plan. He doesn't know I'm leaving. And he'll never see me again.

The warning chimed at noon, not from a guest or the wedding planner, but a sterile blue pop-up in my vision: [System Warning: Marriage to Mark Turner not detected. Seven days remaining until digital erasure.] My phone buzzed. A trending story: "Tech Mogul Mark Turner Weds Socialite Olivia Crest in Surprise Ceremony!" My Mark, in his custom-tailored suit, was slipping a ring onto Olivia Crest' s finger – his mentor' s daughter, who he' d called a "business acquaintance." My world went silent-the wilting roses, the empty chairs, the mocking blue notification. His call came. "Ava? Where are you? The press is going crazy." He sighed. "Olivia and I... it just happened. It's better for the company this way. Be reasonable." "Reasonable?" The word shattered in my mouth. He told me he' d wire money, then dismissed me like a fired employee as Olivia' s sweet voice called, "Honey, come cut the cake!" I stood in my heavy white dress, a joke in a room of dead flowers. The hollow echo of his words-"be reasonable"-bounced around the empty hall. My hand found cigarettes, something I' d quit for him ten years ago. It took three tries to light one, my hands shaking. I watched the smoke curl. Comments on the livestream jabbed: "She deserves a man like Mark, not some behind-the-scenes nobody." "I heard his ex was some clingy programmer." They didn't know I wrote the code for their app, that my AI patent was their fortune' s foundation. Then Mark pulled Olivia close, eyes gleaming into the camera: "She walked in and brought the color. She is my life's greatest acquisition." He never said things like that to me. Digital erasure. Seven days. A bizarre, romantic pact I had coded into my AI – a digital soul-bond to a legal marriage with Mark. My ultimate proof of devotion. Now, a death sentence. I crushed the cigarette under my satin shoe. Fine. If I was going to be erased, I wasn't going quietly. I wasn't going home to cry. I was going to his wedding reception.

I spent hours preparing Thanksgiving dinner, the turkey golden and perfect, a silent testament to the quiet life in our upscale suburban home. My wife, Izzy, was supposed to be home, but her booming lifestyle brand, Elysian Living, always came first. I was the unacknowledged foundation, the silent partner in a world she claimed to have built alone. Then I saw it—an Instagram story from Kev, her slick "Brand Strategist." He was grinning next to a brand-new Aston Martin, with Izzy by his side, her ring finger conspicuously bare. His caption, "Izzy knows how to treat her MVP," twisted the familiar knot in my stomach tighter. Moments later, Izzy called, not with an apology, but a sharp accusation about company gossip, hanging up before I could even defend myself. My phone buzzed again, this time a direct message from Kev, a taunting video tour of the car's interior. His voice smugly called me "old man." While her calls relentlessly flooded my screen, I thought of every late night. I thought of every bit of seed money, every crucial contact I leveraged to build "her" empire. None of which she ever acknowledged. The weight of her ingratitude, the blatant affair I was too "stupid" to notice, and the constant disrespect finally hit me with a chilling clarity. I was tired of being her silent safety net, her unappreciated fool. Something inside me snapped. I recorded an audio message for Kev, cold and precise. It exposed him as the parasite he was. Then I blocked him and turned off my phone. A new, definitive strategy for my own life was finally forming.

I'm Sarah Miller, a highly-paid "Soul Weaver" specializing in unique and often unconventional final rituals to bring closure to grieving families. My latest lucrative assignment, an $80,000 overnight "final companionship" at an isolated upstate New York estate, was meant to be purely symbolic for a wealthy young man named Ethan. As I prepared for the intimate ritual, ensuring his body stayed suitably pliable with electric blankets, I noticed something profoundly unsettling. My "deceased" client, Ethan, was alive, his chest rising with a faint, steady breath. The truth unfurled in terrifying whispers: he was Marcus Thorne, the scion of a tech empire, kidnapped by the seemingly grief-stricken Jenkinses, who were now my captors. Their monstrous plot was far beyond ransom; they intended for me to conceive a child with Marcus, then brutally murder us both to secure his family' s immense fortune. Trapped and utterly isolated in the dimly lit viewing room, my cell phone mysteriously ruined and the heavy doors locked from the outside, I realized my professional expertise in the ceremonies of death had become a meticulously crafted trap for the living. The sickening realization struck me: I, the pragmatic Soul Weaver who navigated grief for a fee, was now a pawn in a cold-blooded scheme, facing a fate far worse than any ritual I had ever performed. I was no longer an impartial professional but a direct participant in a nightmare, facing murderous criminals rather than mourning loved ones. But as terror threatened to paralyze me, a new resolve ignited, fueled by deception and an urgent need for survival. With Marcus, my "client," by my horrified side, we formulated a desperate, insane plan to turn my unique skills against them. We would harness the very superstitions that led them to hire a Soul Weaver, conjuring a terrifying 'ghostly' haunting within their own mansion to fight for our escape.

My life was always a supporting role to my brother, Caleb – a "spare part" for his childhood illness, my parents' love a finite resource entirely consumed by him. As "E," I finally felt seen, connecting deeply with Olivia after her accident-induced blindness. But my world shattered when Caleb, orchestrated by our parents, impersonated "E," stealing Olivia's trust and leading to their engagement. They humiliated me, twisting my gentle attempts at truth into jealous sabotages. The final blow came after a brutal car crash: bleeding and near death, I heard my parents and Olivia explicitly prioritize Caleb, caring only for his minor scrapes, not my life. Lying there, abandoned, a chilling clarity washed over me. This wasn't just neglect; it was active erasure. How could they be so utterly cruel? How could Olivia choose the lie so easily? In that moment, a quiet resolve ignited. Enough. This was my second chance – not to fight, but to finally cut the rotten cord. I would walk away, but not before delivering one final, devastating wedding gift that would shatter their perfect facade and set me free.

Ethan Hayes, a Manhattan billionaire, meticulously adjusted his silk tie before the floor-to-ceiling window of his penthouse. For four years, he’d poured his wealth into Maya Rodriguez, funding her lavish life, her family’s endless medical bills, and her brother's elite schooling. He saw her as the living echo of Olivia, his beloved fiancée tragically lost years ago, and tonight, he planned to propose. But hidden by a structural support on a windswept rooftop, he overheard a conversation that tore his carefully curated reality apart. Maya, her family, and her childhood friend Leo Maxwell. “You can’t marry him, Maya. He stole you,” Leo sobbed, his voice cracking. “If you go through with this, I’ll jump!” To Ethan's horror, Maya whispered, "Okay, Leo. I'll leave Ethan at the altar. We'll run away." The illusion, meticulously constructed over four years, shattered into a million pieces. He wasn't just a benefactor; he was a pawn, a source of endless funds, destined for public humiliation. Maya was not only using him but callously planning to jilt him, her family complicit in the cruel charade. A strange, cold calm settled over him, replacing the crushing weight of betrayal. How could he have been so blind, so desperate to resuscitate a ghost, that he fell for such a calculated deception? The woman he'd placed on a pedestal was nothing but a manipulative fraud, willing to exploit his grief. He turned and walked away unseen, pulling out his phone. The wedding, Maya, his entire life in New York – it was all over. He was leaving. He was done chasing echoes; it was time to finally build a life that was truly his own.

The moment she witnessed her fiance’s betrayal, Leah’s heart shattered into a million pieces. She never would have thought that Luciam, the charming CEO of the top company in the world, would propose to her on the spot. She was the girl he had spent all those years missing and looking for, the only one who could bring warmth back to his cold heart. But there was one problem: she didn’t know who he was anymore. Now that he had found her and she was back in his arms, he would never let her run away from him ever again.

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.

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 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.

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.

"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."

At the grand Moonwise Festival, my fiancé, Archon Elliott, decided to publicly humiliate me in front of the entire court. He commanded me to kneel and beg for his betrothal flower, treating me like a broken slave rather than the heir to House Leon. When I refused, he brought his mistress, Corliss Schneider, into my study to deliver his ultimate punishment. "Our marriage will be in name only. I will not share your bed, and I will certainly never give you a child." He wanted to make me a barren laughingstock, while forcing me to publicly request Corliss be made his Junior Consort. To make things worse, Corliss pulled out a jeweled dagger-the exact kind her cousin had used to cripple my brother's leg. "On your wedding day, you will take this dagger, and you will slice open your own arm." She demanded I bleed at the threshold of the Underwood estate as "payment" for offending her. Elliott didn't stop her. Instead, a dark flicker of pleasure crossed his eyes. He wanted to see me mutilated. I had wasted years loving a man who blindly protected the woman who ruined my family, believing he could force my submission. But I didn't cry or beg. I simply laughed at their sheer stupidity.

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?