Rabbit

As a wolfless charity case at the Hyde Pack's celebration, my world shattered when Braydon, my supposed protector, publicly announced Katherine Parrish as his Luna, erasing me. Heartbroken, I fled into a terrifying contract marriage with Alpha King Dallas Marshall for protection. Braydon's public assault and threats forced me to reveal my secret marriage, challenging the King. My "protection" felt like a prison. Braydon revealed I was a "key" to power, not a mate, confirming my fears. Enraged by my attempt to take a morning-after pill, Dallas forced me to swallow it, then branded my lips with a furious kiss. His chilling silence hardened my resolve. I immediately drafted an addendum to our contract, setting strict boundaries to reclaim control.

On my wedding day, my father sold me to the Chicago Outfit to pay his debts. I was supposed to marry Alex Moreno, the heir to the city's most powerful crime family. But he couldn't even be bothered to show up. As I stood alone at the altar, humiliated, my best friend delivered the final blow. Alex hadn't just stood me up; he had run off to California with his mistress. The whispers in the cathedral turned me into a joke. I was damaged goods, the rejected bride. His family knew the whole time and let me take the public fall, offering me his cousins as pathetic replacements-a brute who hated me or a coward who couldn't protect me. The humiliation burned away my fear, leaving only cold rage. My life was already over, so I decided to set the whole game on fire myself. The marriage pact only said a Carlson had to marry a Moreno; it never said which one. With nothing left to lose, I looked past the pathetic boys they offered. I chose the one man they never expected. I chose his father, the Don himself.

My wealthy husband, Nathaniel, stormed in, demanding a divorce to be with his "dying" first love, Julia. He expected tears, pleas, even hysteria. Instead, I calmly reached for a pen, ready to sign away our life for a fortune. For two years, I played the devoted wife in our sterile penthouse. That night, Nathaniel shattered the facade, tossing divorce papers. "Julia's back," he stated, "she needs me." He expected me to crumble. But my calm "Okay" shocked him. I coolly demanded his penthouse, shares, and a doubled stipend, letting him believe I was a greedy gold digger. He watched, disgusted, convinced I was a monster. He couldn't fathom my indifference or ruthless demands. He saw avarice, not a carefully constructed facade. His betrayal had awakened something far more dangerous. The second the door closed, the dutiful wife vanished. I retrieved a burner phone and a Glock, ready to expose the elaborate lie he and Julia had built.

My marriage to Joshua Caldwell was a prison sentence. I was a Hartman trophy, sold to the powerful family who had destroyed mine. Then I discovered he was cheating. His mistress was pregnant with the child he denied me, and he was stealing my secret song lyrics to build her career. When I confronted him, he called me a spineless liability and threatened to destroy what was left of my family. To make matters worse, a one-night stand with a stranger turned out to be with my husband's brother, Anthony Caldwell-the Don of the city. He knew all of Joshua's secrets and used them to trap me in a twisted game, seeing me as nothing more than an asset. They both thought I was a broken doll they could control. I wrote a song for his mistress, a beautiful execution with a single, impossible note I knew would destroy her voice. She sang it, and now her career is over. Now the Don has summoned me to Chicago, not knowing the woman he thinks is his asset is the one who just burned his brother's world to the ground.

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.

I was kidnapped alongside Cecilia Montoya, the new fiancée of the man who destroyed my life. Her fiancé, Damond Crane, was my ex-mate-the one who framed my father for treason just so he could marry her. He arrived with a duffel bag full of cash, his face a mask of heroic worry for Cecilia. The Rogues took the money and shoved her into his arms. But then their leader pointed at me, tied to a pipe in the corner. "What about the spare?" he sneered. "A little extra for the pretty Omega you left behind?" Damond didn't even hesitate. He looked right at me, his eyes as cold and empty as a winter sky. "She's nothing," he announced, his voice echoing in the silent warehouse. "A worthless Omega not worth a single coin. Do what you want with her." He turned his back on me. He walked out the door with his new love, leaving me to be torn apart by monsters. In that moment, my soul didn't just break; it shattered into dust. Just as the Rogues unbuckled their belts, a shadow dropped from the rafters. It was Waylen Montoya, Cecilia's brother, the most feared Alpha in the region. He landed between me and them, his power a crushing weight. He knelt before me, his voice a low, dangerous promise. "Did you really think I'd let them have what's mine?"

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.

Andrew Hebert, the man who promised to protect me, stood on a stage and announced his engagement to my tormentor. It wasn't just heartbreak; it was a business deal. He was selling me to a creditor to cover his gambling debts. The applause of the powerful families was a death sentence, each clap sealing my fate as collateral. Andrew had paraded me here just to show everyone I was an asset to be liquidated, while his new fiancée smirked at me from the stage. I was trapped, with no money and no one to turn to. The man I loved was leading me to the slaughter. But as I fled into the library, a voice emerged from the shadows, deep and dangerous. Damien Maddox. The Dark Don. The only man Andrew feared. He offered me a different kind of cage, one with the power to burn Andrew's world to the ground. With nothing left to lose, I looked the devil in the eyes. "Take me with you."

My husband, Rodger Hayes, was a renowned chief negotiator, famous for his integrity and firmness within the circle. When my son and I were kidnapped, with three hostages at the scene, the kidnappers agreed to release only one. Among the women and the boy, Rodger should have chosen to save the boy first. Yet, I heard him saying in Spanish fluently, "Release the woman in white." His first love, Jolene Chapman, was freed, while my son, Jacob Hayes, died from a gunfire. Later, Rodger explained the situation flatly. "The kidnappers chose to release Jolene." I cradled Jacob's ashes and smiled sadly. Rodger didn't know that I was fluent in Spanish, as I had been a special forces member. His lies crumbled before me. My phone vibrated, and I confirmed the encrypted message. "Falcon returns to base."

"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."

“Drive this woman out!” "Throw this woman into the sea!” When he doesn’t know Debbie Nelson’s true identity, Carlos Hilton cold-shoulders her. “Mr. Hilton, she is your wife,” Carlos’ secretary reminded him. Hearing that, Carlos gives him a cold stare and complained, “why didn’t you tell me earlier?” From then on, Carlos spoils her rotten. Little did everyone expect that they would get a divorce.

My husband, Ethan Vance, made me his trophy wife. My best friend, Susanna Thorne, helped me pick out my wedding dress. Together, they made me a fool. For three years, I was Mrs. Ethan Vance, a decorative silence in his billion-dollar world, living a quiet routine until a forgotten phone charger led me to his office. The low, feminine laugh from behind his door was a gut-punch; inside, I found Ethan and Susanna, my "best friend" and his CMO, tangled on his sofa, his only reaction irritation. My divorce declaration brought immediate scorn and threats. I was fired, my accounts frozen, and publicly smeared as an unstable gold-digger. Even my own family disowned me for my last cent, only for me to be framed for assault and served a restraining order. Broke, injured, and utterly demonized, they believed I was broken, too ashamed to fight. But their audacious betrayal and relentless cruelty only forged a cold, unyielding resolve. Slumped alone, a restraining order in hand, I remembered my hidden journal: a log of Ethan's insider trading secrets. They wanted a monster? I would show them one.

The acrid smell of smoke still clung to Evelyn in the ambulance, her lungs raw from the penthouse fire. She was alive, but the world around her felt utterly destroyed, a feeling deepened by the small TV flickering to life. On it, her husband, Julian Vance, thousands of miles away, publicly comforted his mistress, Serena Holloway, shielding her from paparazzi after *her* "panic attack." Julian's phone went straight to voicemail. Alone in the hospital with second-degree burns, Evelyn watched news replays, her heart rate spiking. He protected Serena from camera flashes while Evelyn burned. When he finally called, he demanded she handle insurance, dismissing the fire; Serena's voice faintly heard. The shallow family ties and pretense of marriage evaporated. A searing injustice and cold anger replaced pain; Evelyn knew Julian had chosen to let her burn. "Evelyn Vance died in that fire," she declared, ripping out her IV. Armed with a secret fortune as "The Architect," Hollywood's top ghostwriter, she walked out. She would divorce Julian, reclaim her name, and finally step into the spotlight as an actress.

The rain assaulted the glass, mirroring the storm inside me. For three years, I, Vivian Sterling, played the perfect wife to Julian Kensington, draining my life. The antique clock ticked, a reminder of time lost. Then, I found it: a blonde hair on Julian's suit, reeking of Midnight Rose, and a text, ""Candy: You left your cufflinks on my nightstand. I'm already missing you."" My world shattered, revealing his betrayal. This was just the beginning. I exposed Julian's fraud and his family's violent plots, surviving assassination. But their malice stole my past. Then Alexander Vance, my protector, uncovered a terrifying truth: my birth mother was alive, held captive by a shadowy order. My life was a lie, built to shield me from my dangerous bloodline. I found strength and love with Alexander, the man who walked into fire for me. Yet, as I prepared to rescue my mother, a new life stirred within me, a secret threatening to complicate the impending war.

My life with Liam Goldstein was a fairytale, a perfect love story plastered across every magazine and TV screen in Manhattan. He'd even unveiled the "Maya's Horizon" necklace, a multi-million-dollar cascade of sapphires, celebrating our perfect devotion. But fairytales are just that – tales. Then came the burner phone, the hushed calls, the screenshots, and hotel receipts that screamed 'affair'. I watched him live-stream gifts to his young mistress, Ava Sinclair, calling her his "queen," only to later find her visibly pregnant in a hospital, flaunting our engagement necklace and talking about a "situation" with me. His friends, the same ones who toasted our "perfect love," smirked as he publicly kissed Ava and joked about his "side action," assuring her I'd "never find out." Every grand gesture he'd made, from donating a kidney to cultivating a white rose garden, flashed before my eyes, revealing themselves as calculated performances. How could the man who saved my life, the one I vowed to, betray me with such grotesque audacity, in front of the world and his complicit inner circle? It felt like a sick cosmic joke, a public humiliation disguised as love. But I had given him a warning on our wedding day: "If you ever lie to me, truly lie, I will vanish from your life as if I never existed." Now, it was time to activate the Phoenix Initiative, erase Maya Goldstein, and leave Liam with nothing but ghost of a promise he had shattered.

My fated mate, Alpha Kaden, watched me die slowly for three years while he groomed his mistress. When our pup withered and died inside me due to his neglect, he publicly accused me of murder. That was the day I stopped dying for him and started living to defy him. The Pack Healer confirmed our pup's soul returned to the Goddess; Kaden's weakened bond was literally killing me, forcing a procedure to remove the last physical tether. Immediately after, Kaden returned with Cori Mullins, his 'true love', and found me. He snarled accusations I'd destroyed his heir-a lie Cori eagerly reinforced. He dismissed my cries that he killed our baby, believing their narrative. My inner wolf gave a final gurgling howl as necrosis spread, and he swallowed Cori's lie that she, not me, saved him from rogues. I looked into his eyes and saw only disgust; he deemed my pain a performance, blind to the bond rotting me. Realizing he would never believe me, I formally rejected him as my Mate. He laughed, dismissed it as a tantrum, and refused to accept. But as he walked away, leaving me to die, I vowed to reclaim my life. I vanished into the night, determined to live for myself, whatever the deadly cost.

The thunder cracked over the Hamptons, but it was nothing compared to Elena Sharp's scream. She lay twisted on the marble foyer, accusing me of trying to kill her baby. My husband, Julian, walked in, saw the scene, and his eyes froze me out of his life forever. He didn't listen, shoving a separation agreement across the desk, accusing me of murder. Stripped of my name and home, I was thrown out, left with nothing but my clothes and a terrifying secret growing inside me. My accounts frozen, I ended up in a crumbling Philadelphia row house, forced to pawn heirlooms. During a fire, my water broke, and I delivered our premature daughter, June, whose lungs were damaged. I stole formula to feed her, facing massive medical bills. Accused of destroying an heir, I was exiled while carrying his true legacy, fighting for every breath. The injustice burned, but June's life was my only fight. Three years later, June needed life-saving surgery. Julian's dying grandmother called me back with the funds, forcing a cruel charade with the man who hated me, a man still oblivious to his daughter.

Serena Vance, an unloved wife, clutched a custom-made red velvet cake to her chest, enduring the cold rain outside an exclusive Upper East Side club. She hoped this small gesture for her husband, Julian, would bridge the growing chasm between them on their third anniversary. But as she neared the VIP suite, her world shattered. Julian's cold, detached voice sliced through the laughter, revealing he considered her nothing more than a "signature on a piece of paper" for a trust fund, mocking her changed appearance and respecting only another woman, Elena. The indifference in his tone was a physical blow, a brutal severance, not heartbreak. She gently placed the forgotten cake on the floor, leaving her wedding ring and a diamond necklace as she prepared to abandon a marriage built on lies. Her old life, once a prison of quiet suffering and constant humiliation, now lay in ruins around her. Three years of trying to be seen, to be loved, were erased by a few cruel words. Why had she clung to a man who saw her as a clause in a will, a "creature," not a wife? The shame and rage hardened her heart, freezing her tears. Returning to an empty penthouse, she packed a single battered suitcase, leaving behind every symbol of her failed marriage. With a burner phone, she dialed a number she hadn't touched in a decade, whispering, "Godfather, I'm ready to come home."

My grandmother died in a car accident. Ethan Griffin forced me to operate on his mistress, Tessa Langley's dog. At the family banquet, he looked down on me like a king. "Kneel and apologize to Tessa," Ethan said coldly. "Then I might forgive you." I, Nina Sterling, said nothing. In front of everyone, I lit the engagement contract and dropped the burning paper into a champagne glass, watching it curl into ashes. Then I turned and walked toward the man sitting in the corner in a wheelchair, Adrian Griffin, the one the Griffin family treated like their greatest disgrace. "Adrian," I said, bending slightly to meet his eyes. "Do you have the guts to gamble on this with me?" Ethan exploded in rage and lunged toward me. With a sharp click, the lighter in Adrian's hand snapped shut. He caught Ethan's wrist in a firm grip. Adrian lifted those dark, brooding eyes and spoke to Ethan in a voice that cut through the room. "Watch your manners. She's my wife."

During a snow-mountain expedition, an avalanche buried me alive. By the time they dug me out, the cold had already drained every last trace of warmth and life from my body. Julian Crowe dug through the snow with his bare hands for ten straight hours. His fingers were torn and bleeding by the time he finally pulled me out. Then he chartered a private jet and rushed me to the most elite private hospital for emergency treatment. Inside the thermal recovery chamber, a faint thread of consciousness returned to me. Through the haze, I heard Julian arguing with the doctor. "Weren't we supposed to amputate just to save her life? Why are you draining all of her hematopoietic stem cells too? Mr. Crowe, you're personally destroying her last chance of survival!" Julian's voice, usually so controlled, carried a chilling cruelty. "Letting her live safely and comfortably until today is already the greatest mercy I've ever shown her. The only woman who will grow old with me is Serena Vale. And the only thing that can save Serena is her life. She owes Serena that much, and now it's time to repay it." So the promise to live and die together had only been my own foolish fantasy. Julian had married me, Stella Hart, for one reason only. To turn me into a walking blood bank for his precious mistress. If that was the truth, then I would give them exactly what they wanted.

At the proposal ceremony, my husband, Ethan Carrington's so-called true love, Chloe Langley, showed up uninvited, her pregnant belly on full display as she crashed the event. I, Nora Whitmore, didn't argue. I didn't make a scene. I simply took off the engagement ring and returned it in silence. In my previous life, I had desperately forced him to drive Chloe away, which led to her getting into a car accident and losing the baby. Five years into our marriage, I finally became pregnant. But when I was about to give birth, Ethan personally pulled the life-support equipment from my bedside. With a cold laugh, he told me the child in my womb was nothing more than a bastard he had arranged with some street thug, just to get revenge on me. "You owe her this. Today you'll pay it back, along with that bastard child." I fought back with the last strength I had left and drove a shard of broken glass straight into his throat. When I opened my eyes again, I was back at the proposal ceremony. To hell with love. This time, I would take control of the company myself and make sure they lost everything.

My husband, Ethan Vance, glanced at the wrong intake report and thought I was the one dying of late-stage brain cancer. He instinctively stepped back. "The company's about to go public. Cash flow is tight. For the sake of the business, we should stop treatment." I clenched the real diagnosis in my coat pocket, the one with Ethan's name on it, and swallowed the impulse to save him. To force me out with nothing, he cut off my medical payments, transferred 50 million dollars in assets, and even sent our daughter to the Silverpeak Republic as leverage. A month later, at the Meridian Exchange celebration gala, he wrapped an arm around Bella Carrow, his mistress, and sneered at me. "How are you still alive?" The next second, blood gushed from his nose, splattering across Bella's white dress. As he convulsed and collapsed, I curved my lips into a cold smile. "Because the one who's terminally ill is you."

On Christmas Eve, the snow fell in relentless sheets. My grandmother and I were cast out into the snow as if we were nothing by my uncle. My aunt cursed me as a bad luck charm, while my uncle's boot landed fiercely in my chest. I knelt in the freezing snow, clutching my grandmother's body as it grew cold, my nails digging into my flesh, convinced that death awaited us tonight. Suddenly, the blinding headlights cut through the night. A convoy of Rolls-Royce cars, bearing diplomatic plates, silently blocked the entrance to the rundown neighborhood. The elderly butler strode directly to my grandmother, who had been "blind" for forty years, and knelt on one knee, "Your Highness, forgive us for arriving so late."

When the boy I had loved in silence for five years dropped to one knee and proposed to the very girl who had bullied me, the entire room burst into laughter at my expense. "That fat, ugly Lydia Prescott actually thinks she has a shot with a mafia boss?" In a single night, I became the city's favorite punchline. I fled in humiliation. The next time I appeared, I had transformed. The weight was gone, and so was the ridicule. I stunned everyone into silence. Miles Calloway begged through tears for another chance, but I simply slipped my arm through the arm of the mafia godfather beside me and smiled. "Sorry. I'm married." The man rumored to be cold-blooded and untouchable pulled me closer and declared with chilling certainty, "Lydia is my wife." The room erupted. Only my best friend, Annie Sinclair, gasped, "Lydia, you seriously locked down my dad?"

When they remarried for the fourth time, Blaire Bennett told Evan Everett it was their last chance. If he betrayed her again, she would leave him for good. Evan had sworn absolute loyalty, hand over heart-then turned around and wrapped another woman in his arms. Caught red-handed, he delivered his excuse with practiced ease. "I can't control the split personality. You can't punish me for something the other me did." It was a pathetic lie, and Blaire had believed it three times. Only moments ago, she had heard him admit with her own ears that the so-called split personality was nothing but an act-a convenient cover for cheating. That was when the truth finally tore through her. The pain had carved into Blaire like a blade. She filed for divorce without hesitation. This time, she would not look back.

"Drink this, and I'll ensure your mother's safety." Five months pregnant, Cynthia was forced by her Alpha, Killian, to down an entire bottle of strong liquor and dress up as a clown to entertain his so-called "savior." She endured the humiliation, clinging to a sliver of hope. It wasn't until the banquet that she discovered her mother had been disposed of in an unmarked grave by him three months prior! That night, her heart shattered. In front of everyone, she cut all ties with him and escaped through the window with the child in her womb. Killian went mad, coughing up blood and scouring the world for her for five whole years. Five years later, she returned, a master potion maker, with a quick-witted child by her side. Upon their reunion, the once arrogant pack leader humbly knelt in the rain, begging her to come back. But the little one coldly blocked him, "Sir, stop pretending. Mommy said good exes should vanish themselves."

On the third anniversary of our marriage, Adrian Griffin had a new face in his passenger seat. This time, I, Audrey Lawson, didn't storm over to tear them apart. I didn't scream or demand explanations. I simply went home and poured the dinner I had spent the entire afternoon preparing into the trash. The housekeeper tried to stop me. "Mrs. Griffin, you worked all afternoon on those dishes..." I wiped my hands, my voice flat. "It's cold. I don't want it anymore." Not the food. Not the man I had once given up my career to marry. I took out the divorce papers I had prepared long ago. Without hesitation, I signed my name-slowly, carefully, stroke by stroke. Then I began packing my things. Clothes. Jewelry. And the honors that were rightfully mine. Adrian had no idea that every award-winning design Griffin Group had received in the past five years had come from my hand. He had built his reputation in the industry on my work. I dialed a number that had lain dormant for three years. "Professor, I'm back." From this day forward, I would reclaim everything that belonged to me.

After three years together, the man who had once promised to marry me, Babur Caldwell, threw me out the moment he got into Redmont University. "Valeria, a pretty little fool who only knows how to dress up, how could you ever be worthy of someone like me, a future elite of Gilded Row?" Later, when I, Valerie Quinn, became the Financial Queen admired by thousands, he knelt in front of me, sobbing, begging for another chance. Holding the bouquet Kearney Smith had sent me, I answered in the same tone he had once used. "Sorry, Babur, someone as short-sighted as you isn't worthy of an elite like me."

To save on the outrageous wages of hired movers, I, Jade Lawson, bought a werewolf who had been returned three times from a secondhand trading site. The seller warned me he was vicious, wild, and prone to biting. What caught my eye wasn't his temperament. It was his build. Six foot three, solid muscle, the kind of body that looked like it could haul six hundred pounds of packages without breaking a sweat. When he arrived, he was indeed vicious. He kept sneaking into my room at night, pressing his scorching body against mine and grinding his teeth against the back of my neck. I thought he was teething. Or worse, developing rabies. I contacted the seller immediately to request a return. After hearing my description, the seller went quiet for a long time. "We don't recommend returning him." "He's not teething. Werewolves only feel the urge to bite the back of their mate's neck during their rut phase. It's a mate-marking instinct." "He wants you. He's trying to get you to bear his pups."

After her eleventh miscarriage, Clara Fulton became pregnant again. To protect the pregnancy, she lay in a hospital bed day after day, enduring injection after injection, waiting for the special drug meant to save her child. Then she discovered the truth. Her husband of eight years, Ethan Grayson, had already given that one dose of the special drug to his newly pregnant mistress. Clara wiped the tears from her face and made a ruthless decision, ending the pregnancy she had fought so desperately to keep. She no longer wanted a man who wavered between women. But anyone who betrayed sincerity would have to pay a price. She took out a phone she had never once used and dialed the only number saved on it. "You wanted me to acknowledge you as my father, didn't you? Come pick me up in a week. I'll take your seat." She had no idea that after she left, Ethan would kneel before every god he could think of, praying for nothing but her return.

Natalie Harrington never expected that less than a year after remarrying, Adrian Brown would cheat on her again. As the design director of Brown Group, she had worked late into the night once again. When she returned home, she saw the servants standing in a row at the foot of the stairs, blocking the way. The moment they spotted her, their faces turned deathly ashen. "Mrs. Brown... why are you back? Didn't Mr. Brown say you'd be working through the night and wouldn't be coming home? I... I'll go upstairs and ask him to come down." As the servant turned and went upstairs, Natalie heard the sounds coming from above. "Ah... that feels so good! Adrian, slow down, I can't take it..." "Go on. Louder. Natalie isn't home anyway. You can scream all you want." "You're so bad... ah!" Seeing Natalie's expressionless face, the servant asked nervously, "Mrs. Brown, I'll go tell Mr. Brown right away that you're back." "No need." Natalie turned and walked toward the dining room, her voice calm. "I'm hungry. Prepare a late-night meal for me." The servants were utterly shocked, not expecting her to remain so composed, unaware that she had already decided to divorce.

In the third year after my heart failure diagnosis, I, Aria Green, watched my Alpha, Luke Perry, generously give away my heart source to his mistress's father. Layla Vale, the mistress, flaunted how perfectly they fit together in bed, how well-behaved their pups were. My heart shattered. Since Luke had betrayed me, I would no longer accept him as my mate. But the heart source that belonged to me, I would take it back. I dialed a communication code that had been sealed away for five years. "I'll return to the Green Pack for the surgery. Come pick me up in a week." But when I truly left, Luke was the one who regretted it.

In the fifth year of Irene Shaw's marriage to Ethan Hart, he was involved in a car accident and lost his memory. No matter how she tried to prove that they had once loved each other, Ethan still insisted on a divorce. His reasoning was hard to refute. "If I really loved you as much as you claim, how could I forget you?" The childhood sweetheart who had once cut him off without hesitation had now become his sole emotional anchor. He looked at Irene coldly. "Since you know this is a mistake, why not end it cleanly?" The hands that had once refused to let her go now recoiled from even her lightest touch. Disheartened and exhausted, Irene signed her name and pushed him completely out of her life. Not long after, Ethan stopped her in the rain, his eyes red from crying. "Irene, don't leave me. You said I'd never lose you." As the car window slid shut, the arm around her waist tightened instinctively, and someone spoke before she could. "Drive on. Irene said she doesn't know him." She lowered her gaze, feeling a serene detachment, "I really don't know him."

On New Year's Eve, Aria Hart watched Julian Lawson come home with an eighteen-year-old model on his arm. Her fingers tightened around the late-stage stomach cancer diagnosis, while he mocked her without even blinking. "If I'm not marrying her, what, you think I should marry you?" Aria had given him ten full years, only to be repaid with the news that Julian was going to marry someone else. This time, she neither argued nor fought. After calling the hospital and agreeing to go abroad for treatment, she quietly disappeared. She thought it would end cleanly there, but after Aria left, Julian completely lost his mind. He ran from his wedding in front of everyone, put all his work on hold, and searched for her across the world. Eventually, he found information about Aria at the hospital. The nurse frowned. "Are you her family member?" Julian nodded urgently. "I'm her husband!" The nurse shook her head. "That's impossible. She said she has no family member. And she isn't here anymore."

Damien Hayes was a workaholic, and as an illegitimate son who had clawed his way to the top, he seemed to care about nothing but Hayes Realty. For three years of marriage, Lydia Carter had always been waiting for him. She waited during dates, waited on anniversaries, waited for prenatal checkups, and even waited for the surgical abortion. What she finally received was a livestream of Damien throwing an extravagant birthday celebration for another woman. Devastated, she was caught in a chain car accident, convincing Damien that she had died with the wreck. Yet Lydia survived against all odds and unexpectedly became the sole heir of the world's richest man. The moment she set foot back on her homeland, she swore she would make Damien taste a pain sharp enough to pierce the heart.

She was a world-famous biologist of extraordinary genius, while he was the privileged heir to an elite family, renowned for his unmatched intellect and headline-making achievements. She deliberately pursued him, treating their union as a calculated, high-stakes gamble to bear a child inheriting his brilliant mind and superior genes. With her objective fulfilled, she planned to vanish without a trace, severing every tie. But he met her with a cold, mocking smile. "Leave whenever you like. But the child stays with me." He initially dismissed her as a penniless opportunist-until he learned she was no ordinary woman, but a rare, coveted treasure chased by the world's elite. In reality, she ruled a billion-dollar empire as its mysterious CEO, wielded mysterious healing powers, and stood as an acclaimed global researcher whose work inspired awe. Amid all her hidden layers, he was well aware of one thing-he would never agree to a divorce.

Before the engagement ceremony began, Bowen Green was nowhere to be found. He merely left me a message. "Rosie had a heart attack. I must go and stay with her. Let Bowen handle today's wedding ceremony for me. It's just a formality anyway." Dressed in my wedding gown, I stared at the photo of him and Rosie Price embracing tenderly in the hospital. My fingernails dug into my palm. At that moment, I didn't show my anger. The door opened, and Brice stepped in, clad in a black suit. He was tall and imposing, with a suppressed darkness swirling in his eyes. I looked up at him, rumored to be cruel, and suddenly smiled. "Brice, do you dare to marry me?" Brice's eyes deepened, locking onto me like a wolf. "Leyla Yates, you're asking for it."

Faith Neal had vanished, burying her powerful past under layers of anonymity as an ER doctor. She was secretly dismantling the empire of the man she'd left behind, brick by costly brick, from the shadows. Until he walked into her trauma room, bleeding from a bullet wound, shattering her carefully built world with a single, dangerous glance. Her heart hammered: Earl Hampton, the ruthless CEO she abandoned, was on the gurney, demanding only "Faith." His presence shattered her new life. He accused her of running, his touch a possessive reminder. Soon after, old rivals Chad Miller and Tiffany Vance ambushed her, humiliating her, sparking a fight. Panic and anger flared as Chad mocked her, calling her a "bitch." Shame burned, but a deeper fear gripped her – the architect of her revenge was bleeding in her ER, and he knew. Before Chad could inflict more harm, Earl reappeared, violently intervening. "I'm the man who's going to reclaim his assets," he rumbled. "I found you. I'm not losing you again."

After seven years of scrubbing floors to escape my past, my doctor fiancé convinced me to attend the Met Gala. It was supposed to be a one-night trip back to a world I hated. But then the doors crashed open, and the monster I.d left for dead rolled in on a wheelchair. Within twenty-four hours, Fielding Hancock.s shadow had poisoned everything. My fiancé, Nathan, saw a photo of Fielding touching my arm and completely shattered. He got me fired, drained our joint bank account of my life savings, and left me homeless on a sidewalk in Queens. I thought I had hit rock bottom, but then the hospital called. My mother had suffered a stroke, triggered by an envelope Fielding sent her. The insurance Nathan had just reported as fraudulent wouldn.t cover the ICU, and I was broke. With my mother.s life on the line and two hours to find five thousand dollars, I was out of options. He had systematically destroyed every piece of my new life, cornering me until there was nowhere left to run. I made the only call I could. Fielding picked up on the first ring. "You win," I said, my voice dead. "I'm yours."

On the eve of the wedding, I accidentally touched the dashcam in the car of my fiancé, Tobias Ford. I heard his heavy breathing, and His bare back dominated the screen. I blushed instantly. He and I both enjoyed the thrill and often had sex in the car, so I felt a bit embarrassed to watch the replay. But the next moment, I froze. A female voice, not mine, rang out. "Honey, how much longer do we have to put up with that silly woman? I'm pregnant now." Tobias said with a chuckle, "As soon as the wedding is over and I trick her into handing over her family's assets, I will divorce her. I've already transferred her apartment to me. She plans to live there with me after we get married. It'll be our home from now on." As the scene intensified, the woman hidden in his embrace finally showed her face. It was my best friend, Stacey Sanderson. They were holding hands and wearing the matching rings I'd picked out. The timestamp in the corner showed it was the evening of two days ago.