Maverick

They call me the "invisible wife," the domestic servant with a title. For eighteen years, I played the role of the weak, submissive Luna to my Alpha husband, Anthony. But the scent of overripe peaches and another wolf's musk on his custom suit shattered my illusion. He wasn't just cheating; he was popping illegal Bond-Blockers to numb our sacred connection, hiding his betrayal while I catered to his every whim. Desperate for the truth, I tracked him to the Moonlight Hotel. I expected to find him in bed with his mistress, Katia. I didn't expect to hear my own teenage son, Jacob, laughing with them. "Mom is just a human in a wolf's skin," he sneered through the door. "I'm ashamed she's my mother. Katia is what a real Luna looks like." His words cut deeper than any blade. They mocked my lack of scent. They called me a defect. They didn't know the jagged scar on my chest exists because I poured my entire essence into Jacob's dying lungs the night he was born. I became "weak" solely to keep him alive. And this is how they repay me? By plotting to replace me with the woman spending my inheritance? They want a powerful Luna? They're about to get one. I wiped my tears and looked in the mirror, my hazel eyes flashing a blinding, predatory silver. The White Wolf has been dormant for sixteen years, but tonight, at the Pack Gala, she wakes up to hunt.

I woke up in my husband's office to a chilling discovery. Stamped across my face in bold, red letters was "USDA PRIME"-a cruel joke from his intern, Karma. But my husband, Josiah, the man whose tech empire I helped build, didn't defend me. He called it a harmless prank and shielded his mistress from my rage. The humiliation was broadcast for the world to see. He then gave her my custom anniversary gown and took her to a charity gala. As if that wasn't enough, she announced she was pregnant with his child. He chose her. He chose their new "family" over our seven years of marriage, over the memory of the child we lost together. The look he gave her, full of a tenderness I hadn't seen in years, shattered the last piece of my heart. So as he walked out the door with her, my lawyers walked in. At the next board meeting, I watched the color drain from his face as I froze every asset to his name. "Sign the divorce papers, Josiah," I said, pushing a pen across the table. "My responsibility now is to clean house."

For nine years, I was the perfect mafia wife. I laundered Marcus Thorne’s money through my design firm, smiled at his dinners, and ignored the lipstick stains on his collars. I believed in the Omertà of our marriage. I thought my loyalty was my armor. I was wrong. On the night of our anniversary gala, a car lost control and barreled straight toward us in the parking lot. Marcus didn't look at me. Not once. He lunged for his mistress, Izzy, tackling her to safety behind a concrete pillar. I was left standing in the open. The impact threw me like a ragdoll. I lay bleeding on the cold asphalt, my body broken, watching through the haze as my husband frantically checked his mistress for scratches. "My ankle," she whimpered. Without a backward glance, he picked her up and carried her to his limousine, leaving me to bleed out on the pavement. He didn't leave me because he panicked. He left me because I was just a shield he used to protect what he actually loved. As darkness crept in, a shadow fell over me. It wasn't Marcus. It was Julian Croft, his sworn rival. I looked at the empty spot where my husband should have been and made a choice. "Get me to the hospital," I rasped, staring into the eyes of the enemy. "And then help me burn his empire to the ground."

For ten years, my world had revolved around Mark. I went to his lavish engagement party to finally cauterize the wound, to watch him promise his life to another woman and force myself to move on. Then the music stopped. The massive crystal chandelier above us wasn't just glittering anymore; it was groaning, its supports severed, plummeting directly towards the center of the room. It was aimed at Mark and his fiancée. In that last, heart-stopping second, Mark's survival instincts kicked in. He shoved her, his future wife, hard. She stumbled sideways, out of the path of destruction. He didn't even look at me. He left me standing alone, rooted to the spot, staring up at my own glittering death. But I wasn't crushed. An arm like iron wrapped around my waist, yanking me back as the world exploded in a crash of metal and glass. My savior was a stranger, a man with eyes like a storm. He looked down at me in the wreckage and said, "That was an attempt on my life. You were just collateral damage." Before I could even process his words, my phone rang. It was my father, his voice choked with despair. Our family's small business, our entire livelihood, had just been financially ruined. My savior, the man who'd just saved my life, looked at my stricken face. "That was also me," he said, his voice devoid of emotion. "I control your family's debt. Marry me, and I will save them."

"I have two requests." My voice was steadier than I expected, the phone heavy in my hand. Liam' s impatient sigh cut through the line. "Chloe, what the hell is this? We' re not anything anymore." I told him I was dying, a brain tumor. "I' ve chosen to end things on my own terms. Medically assisted." His response chilled me. "You' re lying. You' re doing this to ruin things for me. You always had a flair for the dramatic." The name Liam, once whispered in my sleep, now tasted like ash. My parents were gone, leaving me truly alone. Then, there they were: Liam and Bethany, my ex-fiancé and my former best friend, at our old restaurant. His smile vanished when he saw me, replaced by pure disgust. Bethany clung to him, her diamond sparkling. "We finally set the date!" she gushed. "October twenty-fifth!" My birthday. The day I was scheduled to die. I discovered the bitter truth in a dark cinema: Liam and Bethany' s affair began months before our breakup, a brutal betrayal hidden beneath his carefully crafted lies. He had not just left me; he had cheated, then let me blame myself. I confronted him, wounded by his callous admission: "It was easier that way. Less messy." He saw me as a drama queen, not a dying woman. He brought me to a hospital, still oblivious, convinced my collapse was hysterics. His final humiliation: demanding I pick songs for their wedding, his attempt to buy my silence for a thousand dollars. He hung up before I could refuse. He had left me no choice. I had to witness the depths of their betrayal, the audacity of Bethany' s wedding gift-a game console inspired by my intellectual property, inscribed with their wedding date, October 25th. It was a final, cruel twist of the knife, designed to erase me. But I had one final play. I would ensure Liam, the man who destroyed my life, would be there for its end. And I would deliver my final message, not in words, but in ashes, on his wedding day.

My boyfriend Jax and I were San Francisco's golden couple, our futures perfectly intertwined. Then his long-lost half-sister, Cinda, arrived, and he began choosing her endless, manufactured crises over me. The night my restaurant caught fire, he abandoned me in the smoke to comfort a whimpering Cinda. "Can't you handle your own drama for once?" he sneered, as my life's work burned. He left me to nearly drown, accused me of faking a concussion after Cinda pushed me down the stairs, and called my pain a pathetic game for attention. I couldn't understand how the man I had loved since high school could become so monstrous. I thought I had lost him to her. But then I overheard his confession. Cinda was just a pawn, a tool he was using to "teach me a lesson" and ensure I'd come crawling back. In that moment, my heartbreak turned to ice. He hadn't just betrayed me; he had proven our entire love story was a lie.

The silence in our house was heavy, broken only by the sound of my husband' s brother being lowered into the ground. A month later, the silence was replaced by something worse. My brother-in-law' s widow, Falon, was pregnant, and my husband, Cyrus, decided she was moving in with us. "It' s for the baby, Kelsey," he said, his voice flat. He didn't look at me. He was looking at Falon, who stood by the door with her single suitcase, looking pale and fragile. "She needs support. It' s my brother' s child." I watched as Falon slowly, subtly, began to take over my life. She' d wait outside the bathroom with a fresh towel for Cyrus, claiming it was habit. She' d knock on our bedroom door late at night, feigning nightmares, pulling Cyrus away for hours of "comfort." The breaking point came when I heard Cyrus massaging her swollen feet, just as her late husband used to. I dropped the knife I was holding. It clattered against the counter. I wanted to hear Cyrus say no. I wanted him to tell her that was inappropriate, that I was his wife. Instead, I heard his low, soothing voice. "Of course, Falon. Just put them up here." I had given up everything for him, becoming a "pick-me" girl, constantly seeking his approval. Now, watching him cater to her every whim, I realized I didn't even recognize the woman staring back at me in the mirror. That night, I called my father. "Dad," I said, my voice shaking. "I want a divorce."

The sterile hospital smell was the last thing I remembered. I was Ava, a successful architect, and I was dying. Through a morphine haze, I heard my husband, Liam, and his identical twin brother, Ethan. "Is she gone yet?" Ethan asked coldly. "Almost," Liam replied, his voice devoid of love. Then Chloe' s voice, sharp and satisfied: "She heard us talking about the miscarriage." My heart seized. My baby. The baby they called a tragic accident. "It was for the best," Liam said. "She was never meant to be the mother of my child. You are, Chloe." A wave of nausea and horror washed over me. "And the hysterectomy?" Ethan asked. "Are you sure it' s done?" Dr. Anderson confirmed it, Liam said. Complications. I' d never carry a child again. My world dissolved. They' d not only betrayed me but orchestrated the death of my child and the end of my womanhood. All for Chloe. Then, nothing. Until I opened my eyes again. I was in my wedding gown, in my wedding bed. Liam walked out of the bathroom, that devastating smile now making my stomach turn. He was an actor, and I had been his most captive audience. I remembered the whispers from my deathbed: the cold, calculated cruelty. This beautiful monster had shared me with his brother. I had died and come back, armed with the terrible truth. The man who had pledged his life to me had been orchestrating my destruction. My baby, my womanhood, my very life-all sacrificed for a twisted game. How could this be real? Why was I back? A new resolve settled in my soul. I wouldn't just survive this wedding night; I would be the architect of their destruction.

The pre-IPO party buzzed with champagne and a decade of my unwavering devotion to Sarah Jenkins and Nexus AI. Tomorrow, everything would change. I saw Sarah across the room, radiant, untouchable, the woman who had promised, "Once the company goes public, Alex, we'll get married." Then I heard her voice, casual, dismissive: "Alex? He's been with me for ten years. I'll definitely take care of him." My world shattered when her tone softened, almost reverent, as she whispered another name: "Ethan Thorne... I want to marry him." Ethan Thorne. Not me. Not the man who' d poured his soul into her dreams, selling his own passion projects to fund her first seed money, holding her while she cried, believing it was "us against the world." The pain was a physical weight. She called me "tarnished," "not pure," because I'd fought by her side in the trenches. I was a "tool to be discarded" now that she was at the top. In a desperate, broken rage, I smashed her laptop, the screen reflecting her chilling calm, her utter disinterest in my anguish. "You're scaring Ethan," she said, her voice sharp, as if my agony was an inconvenience. Then, a grainy video arrived on my phone: Sarah, tied to a chair, a distorted voice threatening, "Your girl for your loyalty, Alex Miller. Come to the old shipyard. Alone." Despite the betrayal, the pain, the disgust she' d shown, my instincts screamed. I had to go. One last time, I would save her.

Five years ago, I had it all – a loving family, a bright future as an architect, and a secret husband, Ryan Stone, who promised me the world. Our wedding day was supposed to be perfect, but it became my living nightmare when his assistant, Sarah, walked down the aisle instead, announcing she had married Ryan yesterday. Sarah publicly branded me a mistress, even as I stood there, eight months pregnant, and then she turned on my parents, respected marriage counselors, callously calling my mother a hypocrite and me a slut. Ryan, my supposed husband, stood in the shadows, watching, his face a mask of cold indifference, as my entire world shattered. The truth later exposed Ryan' s cruel revenge: his family believed my lawyer mother had driven Sarah' s mother to suicide, and he meticulously planned to destroy my family as a twisted retaliation. He succeeded beyond his wildest dreams: my mother died from a heart attack, reading hateful online comments that called her a whore; my father, finding her, fell and became a quadriplegic. Ryan wasn' t done; he ensured my master' s degree and university diploma were revoked, labeling me a manipulative homewrecker and leaving me with nothing but my premature son, Ethan. Now, five years later, Ryan Stone is back, claiming he wants to fix what he broke, but for me, some things can only be survived, not fixed. To keep my father alive and Ethan' s heart condition managed, I' ve become Mr. Davis' s "sugar daddy" accessory, enduring humiliation for their survival. Tonight, at the club, Ryan saw me, and just when I thought I could escape his gaze, an old acquaintance, Mark Henderson, cornered me, mocking my fall from grace. Ryan intervened, asking, "Is this the life you chose, Chloe?", then watched as Mr. Davis, asserting his ownership, forced me to drink an entire glass of whiskey as a public display of submission. Then, at the hospital, when Ethan' s condition worsened and my funds ran out, Ryan offered hope, money for Ethan' s life-saving treatment, but at a price: I had to leave Davis and marry him. He confessed his twisted revenge, but my heart remained cold, especially after his actions led directly to my father' s death, triggering Ethan' s heart transplant. After Ethan' s successful surgery, the monster Ryan had become, now also my protector, prepared a second wedding, a new beginning for us, but it was on this day that Ethan' s body catastrophically rejected the new heart. He died in my arms, and my world ended, not with a bang, but a chilling silence, leaving me with a hatred so profound, it promised a new, solitary freedom.

For three years, I painted by day and worked dead-end jobs by night, all to fund my brilliant musician husband, David, battling a rare illness. My latest sacrifice was night shifts at the Sterling Art Gallery-dangerous, but it paid for his experimental treatments. Then, a laugh drifted from a private room, strong and vibrant, just like David's, but not the weak one I knew. "You should have seen her face, Em," he chuckled, "She actually believes I need that new 'serum' from Switzerland. Another fifty grand, just like that." My world shattered as Emily, his childhood friend, replied, "Three years of this, and she still thinks you're a poor, dying musician." He gloated about this "brilliant plan" to exploit me, calling marrying me his "biggest mistake," all while planning to use our unborn child as his "ticket out." Before I could process the monstrous truth, the gallery was raided; my mother, bringing me soup, was brutally thrown, her head striking a pedestal. David and Emily, seeing everything from their sleek black car, simply drove away, leaving me and my dying mother. He arrived at the hospital later, weaving a masterful performance of a worried husband. As he reached for my hand, the nurse delivered the fatal blow: my mother was gone. Then Emily waltzed in, lilies in hand, cooing fake sympathy before flaunting a photo of her and David, with a caption solidifying their "true love." A rich male friend tossed hundreds onto my blanket, "For your trouble. Should be enough to cover a funeral for whatever working-class family you came from." My grief calcified into icy rage. "Assault, robbery, and accessory to murder," I stated calmly, "And you know, it's amazing what a security camera in a high-end gallery can pick up. Even the sound. I'm sure the police will be very interested in the recording of my husband and his mistress discussing three years of felony fraud just before the 'robbery' happened." Silence fell. He had underestimated me. I lost everything-my mother, my husband, my baby that would never be. But in losing everything, I had nothing left to fear. "You want me to sell my grandmother's apartment? Fine. But not for us. For me. You will transfer five hundred thousand dollars into my personal bank account. Today." I hung up, laying a trap.

The sterile beep of the heart monitor was the last sound Olivia heard as her 20-year-old son, Michael, stood by her hospital bed, relaying her husband Daniel' s chilling message: it was time to let her go. Then, with a barely perceptible tremor, Michael' s hand reached for the life support plug, while Daniel and his mistress, Sophia, were already celebrating her impending demise. She watched, a disembodied consciousness, as Daniel entered her hospital room, not with grief, but with a flicker of relief, before he called Sophia, his voice warm and affectionate, planning to "celebrate" Olivia' s death. The betrayal was an icy vise around what remained of her spectral heart; her husband and son had conspired to murder her, turning her entire life into a hollow lie, and an intense, primal rage left her silently screaming for another chance, for justice. Suddenly, Olivia' s eyes snapped open to the sunlight of her own apartment, 25 years younger, her mother' s cheerful voice on the phone reminding her of Daniel and their wedding, now just one month away.

Pregnant again, my belly fluttering with tiny hope, I poured every spare penny into Mark’s dream – a cozy bookstore. This wasn't just a business; it was our stable future, a safe haven for our child. My world shattered at a charity auction, tucked away behind velvet curtains. "She's so naive," Jessica Albright's sharp laugh cut through the air, revealing Mark's twisted "poverty test." The "Ashton millions" meant his struggling entrepreneur act was a meticulously crafted lie, and I was merely a pawn in his cruel charade. My fervent sacrifice, my grueling extra shifts, my deepest hopes – all a calculated game. He watched me give him my last dollar, then casually lied about a new expensive jacket. He demanded I cook for Jessica, even when morning sickness wracked my body, completely disregarding my pain. She deliberately stained my cherished, hand-knitted baby sweater, calling it "cheap" with a contemptuous smirk. He prioritized his "friend" over my well-being, barely glancing up when I ran to vomit. The final, suffocating proof came when I saw him switch from a sleek luxury car to his old "beater" just before picking me up. Every single part of my life with him was a lie. I was a clown, a devoted fool in his elaborate, poisonous deception. How could I have been so blind? My precious baby, my body, ensnared in this vile web of deceit. My heart felt like a stone, the warmth I once held for him replaced by chilling emptiness, a gnawing sense of betrayal. This child couldn't be born into such toxicity. Lying in a hospital bed after collapsing from the sheer stress, I overheard him confessing to Jessica that he only felt "a bit bad" about what he’d done. That pathetic admission was enough. The last thread holding my shattered world together snapped with icy finality. I looked at his feigned concern, my eyes empty, and spoke: "I want a divorce, Mark."

Sarah Jenkins, a baker with cinnamon-scented hands, was deeply in love with Ethan Montgomery, the heir to an opulent empire. He filled her world with promises, passion, and the unwavering belief they would build their own life, far from his family's suffocating expectations. But the Montgomery family had an unbreakable rule: their heir must marry for power and wealth, not love. Suddenly, Ethan was forced into an engagement with the sophisticated Victoria Davenport, leaving Sarah with only one plea: "Wait for me." That word became a relentless torment as Victoria, Ethan's vengeful fiancée, systematically sought to destroy Sarah. She staged cruel public humiliations, shattered Sarah’s most cherished heirloom, and skillfully framed her with false accusations. Ethan, trapped in an escalating web of family pressure and Victoria's schemes, repeatedly chose complacency, allowing his family to mock and even imprison Sarah. He stood by, a silent, complicit witness, even pushing Sarah himself when Victoria feigned a dramatic "accident." How could the man who promised to move mountains betray her so completely, reducing her to a hidden secret, constantly asked to just "wait"? Each forced "wait" chipped away at Sarah's soul, leaving her heartbroken and utterly alone in their gilded cage. But Sarah wasn't waiting anymore; shattered yet resolute, she quietly vanished, reclaiming her life and building a new one far from his toxic world. Years later, a broken Ethan, his family in ruins and Victoria’s deceptions exposed, finally came searching, begging for forgiveness and a second chance. He even nearly died saving her during a devastating flood. Yet, Sarah, now a strong woman forged by pain, firmly looked him in the eye. She refused his desperate plea, choosing an authentic, peaceful future over the never-ending charade of his world. She left Ethan to drown in the consequences of his own choices, forever haunted by the love he destroyed.

I was just a struggling artist in Brooklyn, and he was the amnesiac I found beaten in an alley – just "Alex." We fell deeply in love, building a life on whispered dreams and cheap coffee, a bond that felt truly unbreakable. But then his memory returned, and my gentle Alex vanished, replaced by Alexander Sterling III, a cold, ruthless heir. He discarded me like trash, his mother paid me off to disappear, and his cruel world, with his chillingly silent consent, shattered my artist's hand. I watched the man I loved stand by as they destroyed me, wondering how a heart could turn so utterly indifferent. Broken but not defeated, I used the 'hush money' to rebuild myself in Paris, emerging five years later as a renowned sculptor, alongside a man who truly cherished me. My renewed happiness, however, ignited a terrifying obsession in Alex, unleashing a horrifying wave of vengeance on everyone he perceived to have wronged me-or so he twistedly claimed. He thought this brutal "justice" would finally win me back, but all it revealed was the true, monstrous stranger the man I loved had become.

In the year Bryan loved me the most, I hooked up with a wealthy man and dumped him. He swore he would make me regret it. When we met again, he had become a powerful business tycoon. Everyone knew he had an ex-girlfriend he despised. He said, "She should just die; a woman like her doesn't deserve to live in this world!" He didn't know that I had a terminal illness. I didn't have long to live.

For eight years, Cecilia Moore was the perfect Luna, loyal, and unmarked. Until the day she found her Alpha mate with a younger, purebred she-wolf in his bed. In a world ruled by bloodlines and mating bonds, Cecilia was always the outsider. But now, she's done playing by wolf rules. She smiles as she hands Xavier the quarterly financials-divorce papers clipped neatly beneath the final page. "You're angry?" he growls. "Angry enough to commit murder," she replies, voice cold as frost. A silent war brews under the roof they once called home. Xavier thinks he still holds the power-but Cecilia has already begun her quiet rebellion. With every cold glance and calculated step, she's preparing to disappear from his world-as the mate he never deserved. And when he finally understands the strength of the heart he broke... It may be far too late to win it back.

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

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

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

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

I gave him three years of silent devotion behind a mask I never wanted to wear. I made a wager for our bond-he paid me off like a mistress. "Chloe's back," Zane said coldly. "It's over." I laughed, poured wine on his face, and walked away from the only love I'd ever known. "What now?" my best friend asked. I smiled. "The real me returns." But fate wasn't finished yet. That same night, Caesar Conrad-the Alpha every wolf feared-opened his car door and whispered, "Get in." Our gazes collided. The bond awakened. No games. No pretending. Just raw, unstoppable power. "Don't regret this," he warned, lips brushing mine. But I didn't. Because the mate I'd been chasing never saw me. And the one who did? He's ready to burn the world for me.

For three years, I was the perfect, invisible wife. My husband, Jaden, called the songs I poured my soul into "trash," then secretly fed them to his pop-star mistress to make her famous. Then one night, after being drugged at a gala, I woke up in a stranger's bed. It wasn't just the betrayal that shattered me; it was the soul-deep certainty that this powerful, dangerous man was my true fated mate. I fled home in a panic, only to find a message on Jaden's phone confirming my worst fears. His mistress, the woman singing my songs on the radio, was pregnant with the baby he'd always told me I was too weak to carry. The nightmare deepened when I learned the identity of the man from the hotel. He was Carter Mcclain, the ruthless Alpha King-and my husband's older brother. He looked at me with eyes that knew my secret, his cruel smirk promising that my life was now a game for his amusement. Jaden had stolen my music, my dream of a family, and my future, leaving me trapped between his betrayal and his terrifying brother. He thought he had broken me, leaving me with nothing. He forgot he left me with the rage that wrote the songs. And I was about to write their final, brutal verse.

The night I discovered my husband's whore was carrying his heir, I smiled for the cameras-and plotted his ruin. Scarlett was born a queen-heir to a powerful legacy, Luna of the Dark Moon Pack by blood and by sacrifice. She gave everything to Alexander: her love, her loyalty, her life. In return, he paraded his mistress before their pack... and dared to call it duty. But Scarlett won't be another broken woman weeping in the shadows. She'll wear her crown of thorns with pride, tear down every lie built around her, and when she strikes, it will be glorious. The Alpha forgot that the woman he betrayed is far more dangerous than the girl who once loved him.

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

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