Dashing Wave Rider

I woke up to a symphony of agony, only to realize I was trapped in the body of a girl who had just been pushed down a flight of stairs. I was once a top-tier operative who died in a fiery explosion, but now I was "Ariel," a despised, wolfless pariah in a primitive werewolf pack. The Alpha, Alphonso West, stood over my broken body, radiating hostility and disgust for the mate he was politically forced to marry. Instead of treating me, he banished me to a dilapidated cottage, fully expecting me to die from my severe, infected chest wound. The pack's servants, led by a cruel girl named Trina, immediately came to humiliate and starve me. They thought I was still the pathetic, lovesick fool they used to beat up for fun. They waited for me to cry, to beg for the Alpha's attention, or to just quietly bleed out in the dirt. The original Ariel had given her entire life for this man's affection, only to be casually murdered by him. How could they treat a human life like worthless garbage? Did they honestly believe I would just lay down and accept this miserable fate? They had no idea the soul inside this shattered body had been replaced. "I think you have the wrong person." I stitched my own torn flesh with a rusted pin, paralyzed the servant who dared to attack me, and openly challenged the Alpha's authority in his own throne room. I didn't need a wolf to survive. I was going to teach this pack what a true apex predator looks like.

I was married to Dante Rossi, the ruthless Don of the New York Mafia. For four years, I believed his terrifying power would protect me, especially after his ex-lover pushed me down the stairs, causing our daughter Serafina to be born dead. But during our annual mourning trip to Iceland, his encrypted phone lit up with a text from the woman who murdered our baby. "Angelo is making his birthday wish. He wants his Papa to come home to us." Inside his pocket, his St. Jude locket didn't hold a picture of our dead daughter, but a photo of a four-year-old boy with Dante's eyes. The truth shattered me. Our winter trips to see the aurora weren't to mourn Serafina; they were to celebrate his hidden bastard's birthday. When I tried to flee, Dante intercepted me at the airport with his armed guards. He froze my accounts, relocated my paralyzed mother to a secret facility, and even held my dead daughter's urn hostage to force me back into my gilded cage. I later discovered he had even split Serafina's ashes, burying half in a church wall to build karma for his mistress's son in the violent underworld. How could the man who held me through my nightmares use my dead baby as a superstitious shield for his bastard? Staring at the man who had lied to me for four years, the last shred of my love died. I picked up the phone and called my lawyer. "Signal the FBI strike team. I am tearing down the Syndicate."

I was the fiancée of the Chicago Outfit's heir, a bond sealed by blood and eighteen years of history. But when his mistress pushed me into the freezing pool at our engagement gala, Jax didn't swim toward me. He swam past me. He scooped up the girl who pushed me, cradling her like fragile glass, while I struggled against the weight of my gown in the murky water. When I finally dragged myself out, shivering and humiliated before the entire underworld, Jax didn't offer a hand. He offered a scowl. "You're making a scene, Eliana. Go home." Later, when that same mistress shoved me down the stairs, shattering my knee and my dance career, Jax stepped over my broken body to comfort her. I overheard him telling his friends, "I'm just breaking her spirit. She needs to learn she's property, not a partner. Once she's desperate enough, she'll be the perfect obedient wife." He thought I was a dog that would always return to its master. He thought he could starve me of affection until I begged for scraps. He was wrong. While he was busy playing protector to his mistress, I wasn't crying in my room. I was packing his ring into a cardboard box. I cancelled my transfer to UCLA and enrolled at NYU instead. By the time Jax realized his "property" was missing, I was already in New York, standing next to a man who looked at me like a queen, not a possession.

For two years, Chloe lived as a ghost in her own life, trapped in a cold, loveless contract marriage with billionaire Alistair Sinclair. When she saw the news of his romantic Roman holiday with a Hollywood starlet, the humiliation finally broke her. She got drunk at a dive bar and slept with a nameless male escort just to feel something. But days later, a private clinic handed her a death sentence: she was pregnant. If Alistair found out the child wasn't his, the infidelity clause in their pre-nup would strip her of her trust fund and leave her with nothing. But Alistair unexpectedly intercepted the medical report. Instead of exposing her, his eyes gleamed with a cruel, predatory amusement. He forced her to move into his master suite, claiming it was his duty to care for his "pregnant wife." He locked her in a golden cage, isolating her from the world while his starlet mistress publicly flaunted their affair. At night, he would wrap his arms around her trembling body in the dark. "For the sake of the child, it's time we started fulfilling our marital obligations." He whispered the threat, knowing the physical marks on her skin would instantly expose her secret. Chloe was suffocating in fear and anger. Why should he get to parade his mistress around the world while locking her away to be tormented? Looking at the twenty percent corporate share payout for the non-liable party in their pre-nup, her fear turned into cold calculation. She decided to play his game. She would act the part of the perfect, submissive wife, secretly gather undeniable proof of his affair, and then destroy him.

Genevieve Harding stood in the VIP fitting room, wearing a six-figure custom wedding gown, waiting for her fiancé of ten years. But when a sudden, agonizing pain ripped through her abdomen, Charle impatiently dismissed her call. "Take an Uber to the hospital. Don't be so dramatic." Before the line went dead, Genevieve clearly heard the voice of Keshia, the woman he had been secretly seeing. Diagnosed with acute appendicitis, Genevieve underwent emergency surgery completely alone. Dragging her post-op body down the hospital corridor in the dead of night, she saw Charle in a nearby room, tenderly tucking a blanket around Keshia. When her aunt found out about the rift, she didn't care about Genevieve's health, only demanding she apologize to Charle so her cousin could get a job at his company. "Think about our family's reputation! You owe us!" For ten years, Genevieve had been the compliant fiancé, believing in their childhood sweetheart fairy tale. She didn't understand why her loyalty was rewarded with such cold betrayal, or why her own family only saw her as a disposable pawn for wealth. This time, she didn't cry or make a scene. Genevieve left the diamond ring on the coffee table, blocked her toxic relatives, and moved out of the penthouse. She was going to the most exclusive high-society gala in New York, completely on her own.

Carissa's son was dying in the ICU, and the bone marrow match had just failed. The billionaire father, Guilford Gates, cornered her with a cruel ultimatum: naturally conceive a "savior sibling" to save their son. But what shocked Carissa more was his family's sudden accusation that she had heartlessly sold her baby to them three years ago. "You sold your own flesh and blood to us for five million dollars, so your body belongs to the Gates family." She was dragged into their gilded estate, treated like a filthy, rented womb. Guilford's new fiancée mocked her, the matriarch humiliated her, and Guilford looked at her with pure disgust. When she desperately tried to feed her sick son and accidentally made him vomit, Guilford violently shoved her away and banned her from the room. Carissa was devastated and entirely confused. She had never seen a single cent of that five million. Driven by a desperate need for the truth, she investigated and uncovered a horrifying reality: her own father and stepmother had secretly trafficked her baby to the billionaire behind her back, leaving her to bear the ultimate blame. Looking at the bank transfer record bought with her son's life, the last shred of Carissa's vulnerability died. She signed the conception contract without asking for a single penny. She was going to use the Gates family's immense power to destroy the blood relatives who sold her, and she would survive this hell to take back her son.

After months of tearing the continent apart, I finally found her. Covered in mud and blood, raw from the river, I was a monster, a ghost. Across the street, June looked peaceful, utterly unaware. Then, a man stepped out, shielding her with an umbrella, his arm a casual, possessive claim. My heart stopped. I unleashed my Alpha aura; June shivered, thinking it a cold snap. Frankie turned, a mocking smile in his eyes. He knew. Marcus broke ribs restraining my rage as June and Frankie drove away, taking the only light in my miserable world. The 'Tabula Rasa' spell hadn't just erased her memory; it rewired her soul, making her immune to our mate bond. She saw an ordinary stranger. Her scent gone, preferences changed. Agony shredded my mind; my power useless. My magic failed, but I had other weapons. "Buy the street. Buy the shop. Buy every property within five miles. Suffocate them with cash," I commanded. Tomorrow, I'd be Bren, a bankrupt man seeking solace, ready to reclaim what was mine.

It's common knowledge that Ethan married me only because I look like his first love. Three years of marriage, and he never once slept with me, because he thought it would be a desecration of his first love. On the surface, I was madly in love with him. In reality, I was blowing through his money like crazy and keeping a man on the side. But now there's a problem. The man I've been keeping… how does he look exactly like the richest man in New York? And even have the same name?

In my previous life, I poured my family's savings into Diego Torres. He was a scholarship student I mistook for a tech prodigy, and I helped him become a billionaire. His way of thanking me was conspiring with his first love, Kiana, to kill me in an explosion. My mistake cost me everything. But when I opened my eyes again, I found myself back in the campus cafe, years before my murder. There was still time to fix every mistake. Diego sat across from me, demanding a thirty-thousand-dollar monthly allowance for Kiana, or else he would refuse my funding. In that instant, I knew he had been reborn too.

For ten years, I disguised myself as my dead twin brother, fighting bloody mob wars to build the Falcone family's bootlegging empire. When the war ended, I thought I could finally take off the men's suits and be Anya again. Instead, my parents stole my victories to secure my father's power, demanding I disappear forever. When I tried to expose the truth, my family dragged me into a soundproof basement. My younger brother forced a metal funnel past my teeth and poured corrosive chemicals down my throat, dissolving my vocal cords into a blistered ruin. They chained me to a freezing pier, whipped me bloody, and let the men I used to lead spit on me as a jealous traitor. Then, under the guise of a family reconciliation dinner, my mother drugged my wine. While I lay paralyzed but fully conscious on my bed, my brother took heavy iron pliers and crushed all ten of my fingers, bone by bone. They wanted to ensure I could never hold a gun or write the truth again. I had slaughtered for them, bled for them, and craved only their love. In return, they pulverized my body and painted me as a hysterical madwoman just to keep the crown I had won for them. The foolish girl who wanted a family died in that agonizing pain, leaving behind only a ghost. Dragging my mangled, bandaged body into the rival Romano family's charity gala, I collapsed at the feet of their ruthless matriarch. "I invoke the sacred code," I rasped through my chemically burned throat. "I demand a Vendetta."

My husband, Alpha Kaeden, once looked at me with adoration. But after he brought Clemmie home, his eyes turned cold, glazed over by the "herbal tea" she fed him. Now, I lay chained to a steel table in the dungeon, the smell of my own burning flesh filling the air. Kaeden stood over me, indifferent to my screams. He ordered the guards to electrocute me through silver cuffs—the poison of our kind—even though he knew I was carrying his pup. But torture wasn't the end goal. I froze when I heard the doctor’s question. "The transplant carries risks, Alpha. Taking a heart from a living donor..." Clemmie didn't just want my husband; she wanted my heart to cure her "sickness" and steal my White Wolf power. I waited for Kaeden to refuse. Instead, he rubbed his temples and delivered my death sentence. "Harvest the heart. Dispose of the rest." "And the fetus?" the doctor asked. "Incinerate it." Those words killed me faster than the silver. I died on the operating table that night, my heart flatlining for three minutes to stage my death. Kaeden thinks I am ash in a jar. He thinks he saved his mistress. But when I opened my eyes in the safe house, they weren't brown anymore. They were glowing silver. Beside me, my daughter slept, alive and radiating ancient power. The weak Luna is dead. The White Wolf has risen. And I am going home to take back my pack.

My family framed me for corporate espionage, and my uncle told me I was dead to them. So I obliged. I faked my own death and built a new life as Elia Parker, a successful architect married to a tech mogul. But after five years, my past refused to stay buried. My cousin found me at my own grave and dragged me to a public event, parading me around like a ghost. My uncle, who left me to rot in a hospital, feigned shock. My aunt shrieked that I was a monster for faking my death. Then she lunged, her nails raking across my cheek and drawing blood. "You ungrateful bitch!" she screamed. As I stood there bleeding, my so-called family just watched, not one of them moving to help. It was the same cold indifference that had destroyed me five years ago. Just as I was about to break, a voice cut through the chaos, quiet but radiating power. "Is everything alright here, Elia?" It was my husband, Javier Bates. And the look on his face told me their world was about to burn.

I was the fiancée of the Chicago Outfit’s heir, a bond sealed by blood and eighteen years of history. But when his mistress pushed me into the freezing pool at our engagement gala, Jax didn’t swim toward me. He swam past me. He scooped up the girl who pushed me, cradling her like fragile glass, while I struggled against the weight of my gown in the murky water. When I finally dragged myself out, shivering and humiliated before the entire underworld, Jax didn’t offer a hand. He offered a scowl. "You’re making a scene, Eliana. Go home." Later, when that same mistress shoved me down the stairs, shattering my knee and my dance career, Jax stepped over my broken body to comfort her. I overheard him telling his friends, "I’m just breaking her spirit. She needs to learn she’s property, not a partner. Once she’s desperate enough, she’ll be the perfect obedient wife." He thought I was a dog that would always return to its master. He thought he could starve me of affection until I begged for scraps. He was wrong. While he was busy playing protector to his mistress, I wasn't crying in my room. I was packing his ring into a cardboard box. I cancelled my transfer to UCLA and enrolled at NYU instead. By the time Jax realized his "property" was missing, I was already in New York, standing next to a man who looked at me like a queen, not a possession.

My fiancé, Drew, had a crippling germ phobia. Our wedding was a merger in disguise-a deal where my fortune would save his family's failing company. But at the altar, in front of the world, he left me for his intern. He declared he was choosing "love over money," painting me as the cold-hearted villain who tried to buy a husband. He wasn't done. He staged a suicide attempt from my office building, live-streaming to the world how my "cruelty" had pushed him to the edge. Then, he and his new love came to my office with their final demand: twenty percent of my company and my late mother's priceless necklace. "Cassidy is quite fond of it," he sneered. The next day, during the emergency board meeting called to fire me, he called, gloating. "It's checkmate, Jaeda. Just accept that you've lost." I put him on speakerphone for the entire board to hear. "Actually, Drew," I said, as federal agents walked into the room, "I own the entire board."

I woke up gasping, the memory of my first life still fresh: my fiancé, Elliott, watching coldly as I drowned, his mind poisoned by a woman named Katarina after an accident gave him amnesia. This time, I had a plan to escape before his fateful yacht trip. But the doorbell rang. It was Elliott, home early. And holding his arm was Katarina. He claimed he'd had a "small incident" on the yacht, but his eyes were clear. He remembered me. He had no amnesia. He brought her into our home anyway, moving her into my deceased mother's studio. He ordered my parents' priceless mementos thrown in the trash. When I protested, he threw me against the wall. When Katarina "accidentally" shattered a photo of my family, he slapped me and locked me out of the house in the pouring rain. In my first life, I could blame his cruelty on his memory loss. I told myself he was a victim, too. But now, he remembered everything—our childhood, our love, our promises. This wasn't a man being manipulated. This was a monster, deliberately choosing to torture me. When Katarina smashed the last gift from my mother, I finally snapped and attacked her. Elliott's response was swift. He had his guards drag me to a soundproofed room in the basement and strap me to a chair. As the electricity seared through my body, I understood. My second chance wasn't an escape. It was a new level of hell, and this time, my torturer was fully aware of what he was doing.

At my company' s anniversary party, my husband Mark, beaming, played a game with his assistant, Lily, a cookie balanced on his forehead. As the room erupted in applause when he succeeded, I cheered, "Go, Mark!" The room fell silent. Lily' s smile vanished, her eyes welling with tears as she whimpered, "Oh, Mark." Mark, furious, snapped at me, "What' s wrong with you, Olivia? You always have to ruin everything. You're such a killjoy. So boring." Then, in front of everyone-our colleagues and friends-he bent down and kissed Lily, deeply and passionately. On our tenth wedding anniversary, watching Mark kiss another woman, I felt absolutely nothing. Later, Lily, riding comfortably in the passenger seat of our car, flashed a sickeningly sweet smile and called me "Sis-in-law." I remembered Mark once scoffing at my handmade charm, saying it didn' t match his car' s style, yet he found a custom pink paint job acceptable. The next morning, Lily posted a photo of red roses on Instagram: "This big silly man always remembers my birthday." In the corner, my wedding ring rested on a man' s hand. When Mark returned, he joked, "What' s the occasion? You even made a cake?" He then smeared frosting on my cheek, remarking on the cake' s poor presentation. If this had happened any other year, I would have screamed and cried. Instead, I calmly dumped the cake in the trash. He tried to appease me with expensive jewelry, a routine apology after every fight. But when I saw Lily' s text on his phone-"Mark, I had so much fun tonight, see you tomorrow~"-he erupted in a rage. He shoved me, throwing me off balance. My arm sliced on the coffee table, and my ankle twisted. He simply muttered, "For God' s sake, Olivia," before rushing to Lily' s side after she called him, leaving me injured and alone. Why did he care more about her fake sickness than my real injury? I was numb. I was utterly done. What else could I do but finally set myself free? That night, for the first time in a decade, I slept soundly, knowing I had made the right decision. My life had to change.

My eyes snapped open. I was five years old again, held in my father's strong arms, his face etched with worry as he sighed, "Alright, Ava, I'll marry her." The words struck me cold: Chloe Raine, my art tutor, my future stepmother, my murderer. In my last life, that exact sentence sealed my grim fate. I, a naive child, had cried for him to marry her, desperate for a mother. Chloe used my innocent longing to infiltrate the Hamilton name and wealth, only to end my life years later, once she was pregnant with her own child, by exploiting my severe peanut allergy. I remembered the chilling staged kidnapping, the car trunk, and her cold voice arranging to dump my body, every detail of the darkness, fear, and ultimate betrayal. Now, I was inexplicably back, reborn at this precise, fateful moment. My five-year-old body sobbed in my father's embrace, but inside, a cold, adult rage simmered, burning away any trace of childish innocence. This time, things would be profoundly different. Chloe, standing nearby with a barely hidden triumphant smirk, believed she had won. She wanted into the Hamilton family, but I would ensure she regretted that wish for the rest of her miserable life, turning my doting father, my powerful grandmother Eleanor, and our fiercely loyal staff into my unsuspecting instruments of a long, agonizing vengeance.

I gave him a kidney, built his empire beside him, even risked my life for our son. My world revolved around my family, and for years, it felt perfect. Then, Michael' s old flame, Jessica, reappeared, infecting our home with venom. My own son, Ethan, twisted by her influence, turned hostile, wishing me dead and abusing our pet. Michael' s words confirmed my worst fears: "She needs me. She wouldn't know how to survive without me." They left me injured on a dark, rain-soaked street after my son pulled me from the car. I found my beloved cat, Buddy, brutalized by Ethan. Then came the final photo: Michael and Jessica, naked, mocking me. My life, my sacrifices, were meticulously shredded, leaving me utterly annihilated. Emotionally, I was already gone, my spirit extinguished by their calculated cruelty. How could the very people I cherished betray me so utterly? It was then I whispered to the interface, "Confirm activation of Protocol Chimera. Simulated demise. New identity. Complete severance." The Sarah they brutalized was dead. It was time to make it official.

I was Isabella "Izzy" Montoya, sole heiress to a fortune that swayed nations, groomed to choose a husband who would secure my family's legacy. In my first life, that man was Ethan Ashford, my charming, long-standing crush. I poured the Montoya empire into his rise, gifted him power beyond measure. Then he soared, destroyed everything I held dear, seized our assets, and left me with nothing but ash and a shattered heart. He blamed me publicly, left me utterly ruined. I died, heartbroken, and Marc Vance, the good man who quietly loved me, died trying to expose Ethan, trying to save *me*. Our dynasty was decimated. The memories of his betrayal, the destruction of my family, and the quiet heroism of Marc Vance were vivid, cruel. How could I have been so blind? How could one man cause so much devastation? Then, I woke up. It was the day of the Legacy Gala, the day I was to announce my choice – the man who would receive the "Montoya Midas Touch." This time, Ethan Ashford would not win. This time, I would choose wisely, and the Midas Touch would not turn to dust in my hands.

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.

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 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.

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.

Fear follows Alpha Samson wherever he goes. As the ruthless leader of the Blackthorn pack, he and his beast, Savage, bow to no one. But when a haunting scent leads him to a neighboring pack's dungeon, he finds his fated mate-bloody, broken, and chained to the wall. Alora is a half-wolf, half-witch hybrid falsely accused and left to die. But her abusers made one fatal mistake: they touched the mate of a monster. Rescued by the fierce Alpha, Alora begins a journey of healing that uncovers a lifetime of lies. She isn't just a survivor; she's a weapon. Together, Samson and Alora will unleash hell on those who wronged her, unearthing dark family secrets and claiming the crown that was stolen from her birth.

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?

Today was my thirtieth birthday. I left work early, secretly hoping my husband, Braxton, would finally remember and celebrate with me. But when I unlocked the door, the house was dark and silent. Through the terrace window, I saw him and our five-year-old daughter, Bonnie, sitting happily on a picnic blanket. Sitting across from them was Danika, holding the exact chocolate lavender cake I had wanted. "Make a wish, Auntie Danika! Daddy said all your wishes will come true!" Bonnie cheered. Braxton looked at Danika with a profound tenderness he had never, not once, shown me. My hands went numb, and my water glass slipped, shattering loudly on the marble floor. The laughter outside stopped. Braxton stepped inside, frowned at the broken glass, and pulled out his phone. "Mrs. Sullivan, there's a mess in the living room. Have it cleaned up tomorrow." He didn't call my name. He didn't even consider that his wife might be home. He just walked back out to his perfect family. Standing in the shadows, I realized I was just a ghost in my own house. My husband didn't love me, and my daughter wished another woman was her mother. The last flicker of hope in my heart completely died. I didn't scream or cry. I packed a single suitcase, signed a divorce agreement waiving all assets and custody, and walked out to build my own tech empire. They wanted a life without me. I was going to give it to them.

"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."

Contract Marriage+Kickass Heroine+Hidden Identity+Regret For two long years, Aria Smith devoted everything to Ethan Holt, convinced she was his beloved Luna and his fated mate. Until a trip to replace her lost marriage certificate shattered every lie. Ethan had never loved her. Her closest best friend Clara was his real destined mate. The adopted son Aria had raised with all her love for two years was actually their biological child. Before she could process the brutal truth, a sudden call overturned her whole life. She was not a lonely, powerless human orphan as she had always believed. She was the sole legitimate heir to Vincent Smith's staggering cross-realm fortune, inheriting his massive business empire that dominated both human and werewolf worlds. Her heart completely broken, Aria made her choice without hesitation. "I am single. Legally, I have never been anyone's wife." She cut off all ties with the Silver Creek Pack and stepped into her rightful identity as a billionaire heiress overnight. Ethan and Clara mocked her relentlessly. They believed the helpless human orphan could never survive outside the pack, and she would soon come crawling back begging for forgiveness. They never foresaw the day they met again. When Aria returned, she was no longer the humble, gentle human Luna who lived for Ethan. She stood powerful, wealthy, and untouchable, holding unmatched commercial power that shook the entire werewolf realm. And right by her side stood a dominant, peerless Alpha King-someone far more powerful than Ethan could ever dare to rival, ready to burn the whole world down for her revenge.

After four years of playing the perfect girlfriend, my wealthy boyfriend publicly humiliated me for a rich heiress. He sneered that I was just a poor Omega who couldn't survive without his money. "You're not going anywhere without my permission." I didn't cry or beg. I simply packed my single suitcase, blocked his number, and walked out into the night to reclaim my life. That same evening, I ended up saving a dangerously handsome stranger bleeding out in a dive bar restroom. I thought I had finally escaped that toxic world to focus on my career as a top heart surgeon. But a week later, my ex's grandmother suffered a massive heart attack, and his desperate family dragged me back to the hospital to save her. After the grueling surgery, my ex's mother tried to force us back together, while my ex glared at me with pure contempt. I was about to reject them all when the terrifying Alpha King-my ex's ruthless uncle-stepped out of the shadows. My blood ran cold. His piercing blue eyes were unmistakable. He was the bleeding stranger from the bar. I thought he would simply thank me and let me walk away. "From this moment on, Dr. Freeman will reside at the Manor." He didn't ask. He commanded it in front of the entire family, completely ignoring my ex's shock. Before I could even protest, his men were already at my new apartment, packing up my life. I had just escaped my ex's gilded cage, only to be trapped by the King himself.