Reborn Daughter: The Family's Blood Bag Is A Legendary Agent

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.

For three years, I played the fool, sacrificing my dignity to drag Luca back from the abyss so he could inherit the Falcone Family. But at his grand swearing-in banquet, the woman he claimed as his own wasn't me. It was my illegitimate half-sister, Elena. To please her, he laced my soup with poison and watched his men mock my agony. When my mother was dying in the ICU and desperately needed my medical signature, Elena's enforcers pinned me to the floor of an underground fighting ring. "Perform your jester routine, Claire. Make me laugh," Elena taunted. Crying, I begged Luca to save my mother. But he just looked at me with cold disgust, wrapped his arms around Elena, and kissed her passionately right in front of me. Driven by blinding desperation, I smeared filthy clown makeup on my face and tore my dignity to shreds just to beg for a merciful laugh. But it was too late. Because of their twisted games, my mother flatlined and suffocated to death alone. I didn't understand how eighteen years of blind devotion and three years of keeping him alive amounted to nothing, or why he so easily believed Elena's fabricated lies to destroy my life. Staring at my ruined, painted face on the cold floor outside the hospital morgue, the last trace of my love for him turned to ash. I wiped away the greasepaint, downloaded the hidden evidence of their crimes, and dialed an independent federal lawyer. "I am breaking Omertà. File the lawsuit."

Grace's engagement to Dillan Hayes was nothing but a cold business transaction to secure funding for her family's company. But when Dillan violently shoved her into a marble bar over his ex-girlfriend, leaving her bleeding, Grace didn't hesitate. She called 911, had her fiancé arrested on the spot, and broke off the engagement. Returning to the Albert estate, she expected chaos, but not absolute betrayal. Her family didn't care that she had just been physically assaulted. They were in a sheer panic because her cousin Ashly had just fled the country, abandoning a terrifying arranged marriage. The groom was Hudson Turner, a man known across Manhattan as a disgraced, violent psychopath, paralyzed from the waist down in a severe crash. To save themselves from the Turner family's wrath and financial ruin, Grace's aunt and father ordered her to take Ashly's place. "You eat from this family, you live in this house! It is time you paid us back!" Her father even threatened to freeze her bank accounts and faked a heart attack to force her compliance. For three years, Grace had single-handedly kept the family business afloat while they squandered the profits. Now, they were throwing her to a monster without a second thought, expecting her to rot as a crippled man's miserable nursemaid. But they picked the wrong sacrifice. Grace ruthlessly extorted a legal severance from her family, taking her shares and cutting all ties forever. She walked straight into Hudson Turner's private gallery to propose a mutually beneficial, cutthroat business marriage. However, when the prenuptial was signed, the "paralyzed" billionaire placed his hands on his wheelchair. Slowly, deliberately, Hudson stood up to his full, imposing height of six-foot-three. "The wheelchair is a necessary illusion for my enemies," Hudson stated calmly. "But it will never be an illusion between you and me."

To save her dying mother, Adaline walked into the Waldorf Astoria to deliver a shirt to her fiancé. She didn't know her stepsister, June, had swapped her keycard. Adaline stumbled into a pitch-black suite and was brutally assaulted by a stranger in the dark. The nightmare didn't end there. June paid off the only bone marrow donor for Adaline's mother to flee the city, and stole Adaline's fiancé. Bankrupt and desperate, Adaline was forced to sell herself into a loveless marriage with the ruthless billionaire Ferris Finch just to secure a medical team. But when Ferris saw the dark, violent bruises covering her body, his eyes filled with absolute disgust. "You make me sick. Pack up your cheap tricks." He mocked her, calling her a filthy woman who couldn't even wash her lover's marks off before crawling into his house. Adaline swallowed her pride and endured his cruel humiliation. When June publicly taunted her about the hotel assault, Adaline finally snapped, ending up handcuffed in a freezing police cell. She thought she was completely out of moves, waiting to rot in prison while her new husband despised her. But back at the estate, Ferris had just pulled the hotel's security footage. Staring at the screen, the arrogant billionaire's face turned completely ashen. He finally realized that the innocent woman he had destroyed in the dark that night, and the wife he was currently torturing, were the exact same person.

I was bleeding out on the cold ER table, my body failing, while the hospital’s blood bank sat empty. My husband, Clayton, stood just outside the glass doors, watching me die with the terrifying indifference of a man deciding on dinner. When the doctor begged him to sign the transfusion consent form to save my life, he didn't hesitate. He took the pen, slashed his signature across the Refusal of Treatment form, and turned his back on me to answer a call from the woman he truly loved. As my heart monitor flatlined into a long, piercing scream, I watched him walk away to comfort his mistress over a thunderstorm, leaving his legal wife to rot in a body bag. I was nothing to him—a vicious, disposable obstacle in his perfect world—and he ensured I left with absolutely nothing, freezing my accounts and cutting off my life. But he made one fatal mistake: he left me alive. I survived, and as I lay in the dark, the pathetic flame of my love for him snapped and died, replaced by a cold, broken promise. If I survived this night, I would make sure he bled for every second of the hell he put me through. I ripped the IV from my arm, stood up on my prosthetic leg, and walked out to start my war.

For six years, my husband, Corbin, used his severe mysophobia as an excuse for why he could never touch me. I believed him, until I saw him tenderly caress another woman-his ex-girlfriend, Annis. When I was later left bleeding on the pavement after saving her life, he walked right past me to comfort her, his eyes filled with a fury I'd never seen. He didn't ask if I was okay. He didn't call for help. He just looked at me with disgust and said, "My priority is you," to her, before walking away. The final blow came when Annis smugly revealed the truth: Corbin only married me for my family's connections. He called our marriage a "contract." I wasn't his wife; I was a business deal. So, while he was distracted by Annis's "anxiety" in my hospital room, I had him sign a document he thought was a template for a friend. It was our divorce agreement. He's about to find out he's not just single-he's also broke. Because I just gave away every last cent of the fortune he gave me to win me back.