Her Secret Identity: The Tycoon's Unplanned Wife

My husband Julian celebrated our five-year anniversary by sleeping with his mistress. He thought I was a clueless trophy wife, too dim to notice the vanilla and tuberose scent on his expensive suits. He was wrong. For years, I played Mrs. Vance, hiding my brilliance while Julian claimed my patents. An anonymous email confirmed his ultimate betrayal: photos of him and Scarlett Kensington in ecstasy. My heart didn't break; it solidified into ice at five years wasted. I activated "The Protocol" for a new identity and escape countdown. Playing the doting wife, I plotted his downfall, catching him with his mistress selling my work, and publicly snapping his credit card. His betrayals and stolen work ignited a cold, calculated fury. He had no idea the monster he'd created. I was dismantling his empire. I shredded his patent papers, stripping him of his ill-gotten gains. With a final tap, I initiated "Identity Erasure." Mrs. Vance was dead. Dr. Evelyn Thorne had just begun her counterattack.

My son Kevin' s scholarship was his one chance, his only way out of this dead-end town and into a brighter future. Then, they stole it. Chad Smith, the new girlfriend' s spoiled son, got it instead. My ex-husband Mike, the local "National Guard hero," used every dirty trick to ensure his stepson won, flaunting his influence. I lived this nightmare once. My first life was a disaster. I remembered the public humiliation: Mike' s charming lies at the town hall, painting me as the crazy ex-wife, Brenda dabbing fake tears. Kevin' s shame, the injustice. It broke him. He spiraled into darkness. He died. Suicide. My world ended. But I woke up. It was that same morning, weeks before the worst happened. A second chance. I swore I wouldn't let it happen again. Yet, I walked right back into their trap. At Mike' s house, I watched him dismiss Kevin' s pain, saw his petty new family destroy my son' s cherished memories. Then Brenda spilled coffee on herself, shrieked, and Mike' s accusations rained down: "You' re unhinged! Chad does deserve it more! Kevin doesn't deserve anything with you as a mother!" The words hit Kevin like a punch, and I saw the last bit of hope die in his eyes. He looked at me, "Mom, I get it now. He doesn't care." My heart shattered. No. Not this time. My father' s medals, the commendation from Colonel Peterson-a spark of defiance ignited. I had a new path.

I took a silver bullet for my fated mate, Derek, and fell into a coma for five years. When I finally opened my eyes, I wasn't greeted as a hero. I was handed a deportation order. Because I had burned out my wolf spirit to save his life, I was now "human" and useless to the pack. My marriage had been annulled years ago without my consent. I dragged my atrophied body to our home, only to find Derek with Anjelica, a woman I once called a friend. She was wearing my jewelry and carrying his heir. But the knife in my heart wasn't seeing them together. It was my son. My five-year-old boy, Errol, didn't run to me. He screamed in terror and sprayed me with a bottle of liquid he had been hiding. It hissed against my skin. Wolfsbane. "Go away, monster!" he sobbed, pointing the bottle at me like a weapon. "Mommy Anjelica said this burns the bad things!" I had lost my wolf, my husband, and my child. But they weren't done taking from me. When Anjelica faked a medical emergency, Derek signed a general proxy form. I was dragged into surgery, not as a patient, but as a harvest. I heard the doctor whisper, "She wants her dry." They thought draining my blood would kill me. They didn't know that my "human" shell was just a cocoon for something ancient. I escaped the hospital that night. Standing by the ocean, I threw my wedding ring into the waves. "I, Catherine, reject the bond." Miles away, Derek fell to his knees, vomiting blood as the connection snapped. He thought I was dead. He didn't know the White Wolf had just awakened.

I returned to the manor after four years, handing Marcus Thorne an invitation to my wedding. He looked at me with cold eyes, his arm around his fiancée, Chloe—the woman I was molded to look like. But the real blow came at lunch. A waiter tripped, sending three mugs of scalding coffee flying toward us. Marcus didn't move to protect me. He lunged to grab his phone from the table because Chloe’s face was on the screen. The boiling liquid splashed across my chest, burning my skin instantly. While I screamed in agony, Marcus simply checked his notifications. "I have to go," he said, stepping over me as my fiancé, David, desperately poured ice water on my burns. "Chloe broke a nail. She's hysterical." He walked out of the restaurant without looking back, leaving me writhing in pain. At the hospital, the doctor dropped another bombshell: I was pregnant. Marcus didn't know. He didn't know I was carrying another man's child. Just like he didn't know about the baby of his I had lost three years ago—the one I miscarried while he ignored my calls to close a business deal. I wiped my tears and looked at David. "Get the plane ready," I whispered. "We leave tonight." When Marcus finally came looking for me, all he found was a medical report of the child he killed with his neglect, and a note saying I was gone forever.

The bomb strapped to my chest had less than a minute on the timer. I called my husband, begging him to save me. "Kevin, please. This is real. I'm going to die." But Kevin just sighed, his voice dripping with annoyance. "Stop the drama, Michelle. Violet is having a panic attack because her cat is stuck in a tree. I don't have time for your jealousy games." He hung up. Moments later, the warehouse exploded, and I was gone. But I didn't cross over. My spirit was tethered to Kevin, an invisible spectator to his life. I watched him roll his eyes at my mother’s frantic calls. I watched him perform the autopsy on my charred body, convinced I was actually hiding in a hotel to punish him. It wasn't until he returned to the blast site and found my wedding ring in the ash that he finally broke. He fell to his knees, screaming my name. I thought his remorse would free me. But then he discovered the truth: Violet had orchestrated my murder. He cornered her, his grief mutating into a violent, obsidian hatred. I tried to drift away, but the invisible chain binding me to him suddenly tightened, crushing my soul. I realized with absolute horror that the truth hadn't set me free. His hatred was an anchor, heavier than his love ever was. I wasn't just a ghost anymore. I was his haunting, and I was never leaving.

I was trapped in a cage made of pure silver, my skin sizzling against the bars, while my Fated Mate stood outside checking his watch. "Not yet, Elena," Damien said coldly. "Victoria's son must be born first to secure the prophecy." I was in active labor, but he pressed a button on a remote. A magical collar clamped around my neck, seizing my muscles and forcing my unborn baby to stay inside, suspending the birth in agonizing tension. I screamed through our Mind-Link, begging him to save our son, but he severed the connection. He called our child a mongrel and walked away to be with his brother's wife. While I lay dying in a pool of black and gold blood, poisoned by his sister, Damien was next door celebrating the birth of another man's child. When the doctor told him I was flatlining, he told them to save the power for Victoria. He didn't know I wasn't a rogue. I was the daughter of the Alpha Prime, the King of all wolves. He killed his true son and his True Mate for a lie. My father saved my body, but my heart died in that cage. One year later, I returned as the CEO of the company holding all of Damien's debt. He knelt before me, weeping, begging for his Luna back. I stepped on his hand with my stiletto heel and smiled. "Your Luna died in the basement, Alpha. I am just here to collect what you owe."