No Longer His Captive Surgeon Wife

"She is exhausted from taking care of a sick child! What's the big deal if she wears a piece of your clothing?! When did you become such a vicious shrew?!" My Alpha mate protectively cradled his weeping mistress in his arms, unleashing his crushing aura to force me to my knees to apologize to her. And all of this was simply because I slapped the woman who had hijacked my bridal suite and put on my clothes. But that bridal suite was painstakingly decorated by me, and that piece of clothing was the sexy lingerie he gifted me for our one-year anniversary! When I refused to yield, he ordered his guards to drag me into the freezing psychiatric isolation ward. "Lock her up for five days! Let her starve in the dark until she crawls out begging for forgiveness!" He didn't know that in my past life, I died in that exact cell. I was forcefully injected with hallucinogens and chained to a bed. When a roaring fire engulfed the building, he kicked open the door, ignored my desperate screams, and scooped up his fake-crying mistress before rushing out. I was left to burn alive, smelling my own roasting flesh. Reborn on the exact day I was locked away, I didn't struggle. Five days later, he and his mistress stood outside the door, waiting for me to grovel. Instead, I smashed a flawless mental health evaluation and a signed "Mate Rejection Form" right into his hypocritical face! "Keep the house, and keep the trash." I coldly watched him drop to his knees, gasping in agony as our soul bond violently severed, and then tossed three thousand dollars at his feet. "That's for the lingerie. Consider it charity." He scoffed, certain that an abandoned she-wolf would eventually starve on the streets. He had no idea that I already held the deadly secrets of his corrupt officials and used them to extort my first pot of gold. Next, I will build my own business empire, monopolize the pack's supply chain, and buy the absolute loyalty of his entire army. When his proud Alpha throne is completely hollowed out by me, I can't wait to see how he protects his precious little parasite!

I loved Prince Valerius with the foolish devotion of a destined mate. But on my birthing bed, soaked in blood and unbearable pain, he coldly ordered the doctors to save the child and let me die. My stepsister, Isabelle, stood by his side, her face a mask of false sorrow as she tightly held his hand. They murdered me just to pave the way for her to become his Luna. Shortly after my death, my mother was also killed by a doctor secretly hired by my grandmother and stepmother, her death ruled as a complication from grief. My entire family had conspired to steal my royal dowry and completely erase my existence. I died in agony, a discarded Omega, betrayed by everyone I ever trusted. Until my last breath, I couldn't understand. Why did the sacred mate bond mean absolutely nothing to the man I loved? Why did my own blood relatives hate my mother and me so much that they wanted us dead? Opening my eyes again, a brutal pressure was crushing my windpipe. I was back at the exact moment Valerius was choking me because of Isabelle's fake pregnancy. "Monster! You really thought you could tarnish Isabelle's pure name?" This time, instead of begging for his mercy, I went limp and faked the terrifying symptoms of a deadly silver poisoning. I would force him into a public rejection, take back every penny of my dowry, and save my mother. From this day on, I live only for myself.

I wasn't marrying into the Falcone mafia because I was loved. I was being handed over like payment. My parents owed the Falcones a fortune, and I was the daughter they chose to sacrifice. On my wedding day, I was supposed to become the wife of Enzo Falcone, the golden heir of New York's most dangerous mafia family. Then an anonymous message lit up my phone. Want to see your groom? Go to the bridal suite. I went. I found Enzo on my wedding bed with my half-sister. Her dress was pushed up. My lace garter, the one meant for me, was wrapped around her ankle like a trophy. And when the scandal exploded, no one blamed him. His mother called me a lunatic. My half-sister cried pretty, poisonous tears. Then she revealed the final insult. She was pregnant with Enzo's child. They locked down the estate to silence me. They wanted me humiliated, obedient, and disposable. A ruined bride. A convenient scapegoat. A debt paid in flesh and shame. So I gave them a show they would never forget. I walked onto the balcony, set my diamond-studded veil on fire, and dropped the burning silk in front of every elite guest who had come to watch me be sold. Then I went to the true matriarch of the Falcone family and made my own demand. I would not marry a traitor. I would marry Damien Falcone instead. The dead grandson. The fallen Underboss. The legendary God of War. A dead man could not betray me. A dead man could not touch me. A dead man could give me the power to destroy everyone who had tried to bury me. At least, that was what I thought. Until I learned Damien Falcone was not as dead as everyone believed.

At the company gala, Chloe caught her boyfriend of two years making out with her best friend in a shadowed alcove. Heartbroken, she got blackout drunk. The next morning, she woke up wearing nothing but a man's dress shirt in a massive, sterile penthouse. The man walking out of the bathroom was Damien Sterling, the ruthless CEO of her company. Instead of firing her, he coldly assessed her and stated, "I don't make mistakes. Chloe, marry me. You are the most suitable candidate." Chloe refused, terrified of the ice-cold billionaire, and tried to focus on quietly plotting revenge against her cheating ex. But Damien wouldn't let her go. He manipulated her into accepting a career-making trip to Paris, subtly showed he knew her deepest secrets, and trapped her late at night in the empty office building. Then, the real nightmare began. The next morning, her department head found highly classified blueprints of their biggest competitor planted on her work computer. The files were downloaded late last night, exactly when she was stranded alone on the executive floor with Damien. She remembered the artisanal hot chocolate he bought her, the way he bandaged her sprained ankle, and the chilling realization that he had been secretly watching her for months. He didn't want a wife. He wanted a perfect, disposable scapegoat for corporate espionage. Staring at the fake evidence that would ruin her life and send her to prison, Chloe's blood ran cold. She wasn't just fighting her cheating ex anymore; she was at war with the most dangerous man in New York.

Summer woke up to the blinding light of a crystal chandelier, only to realize she had transmigrated into the trashy romance novel she read last night. She was now the universally despised contract wife of Julian Sterling, a ruthless New York billionaire who immediately threw down a leather folder and demanded a divorce. Faking a drunken stupor to survive the night, Summer thought she could at least enjoy the wealthy lifestyle, but reality hit her hard. Her bank account had exactly fifty cents. The original owner had secretly sent every penny of her massive allowance to a parasitic, gambling-addicted brother. Worse, the maids were serving her daily fertility pills—a direct violation of her ironclad prenup that would leave her penniless on the streets if Julian found out. Even her rebellious teenage stepson and his vicious friends treated her like a joke, openly mocking her in her own foyer. A billionaire's wife with fifty cents? It was a cruel, terrifying joke. She was completely trapped with a husband who despised her, a stepson trying to humiliate her, and a toxic brother threatening public ruin if she didn't pay up. But Summer refused to be a victim in this new life. She flushed the forbidden pills down the toilet, permanently blocked her leeching brother, and effortlessly thwarted a vicious plot to drug her stepson. When Julian coldly called to order her to a high-society charity gala, he left a sharp warning. "Do not embarrass the Sterling name again tonight. Keep your mouth shut." Summer simply smirked. She bypassed the pastel dresses and zipped up a striking emerald green silk gown, her eyes burning with cold ambition, ready to show New York exactly who they were dealing with.

For three years, I swallowed every humiliation to warm my billionaire husband's frozen heart. But at his birthday banquet, the obsidian cufflinks I spent three sleepless nights carving were crushed into worthless powder. Carly, the woman he truly loved, had intentionally tripped and slammed into my arm. When the velvet box fell, I dropped to my knees on pure instinct. My bare hands were deeply sliced by the jagged shards, warm blood dripping onto the pristine marble floor. But Dominic didn't even spare a single glance at his bleeding wife. He protectively cradled Carly, his voice thick with concern as he asked if she was hurt. He let the entire ballroom laugh at me, calling me a piece of trash that wasn't even fit to touch the hotel carpet. When I later confronted him about the secret estate where he hid her, he nearly broke my jaw. "A toxic bitch like you deserves to rot in a loveless marriage." I finally understood. My marriage was just a cruel prison designed to torture me for a debt I supposedly owed. I didn't shed a single tear. I went back to the penthouse, signed the divorce papers waiving all my assets, and walked barefoot into the freezing New York storm. To survive, I took a job as the personal executive assistant to his biggest enemy on Wall Street. But when I showed up at an industry dinner wearing a stunning designer suit next to another man, the cold tyrant who had thrown me away completely lost his mind.