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My heart pounded in my chest as Edward stammered. "Layla, I..." He hesitated, running a hand through his hair. "This is for my honor, Layla. I don't want to bring unwanted attention to myself."
I raised an eyebrow, a small laugh escaping my lips. "What are you talking about, Edward?"
He didn't meet my gaze. "You're... the pack's gossip," he stammered, his voice tight with frustration. He let out a heavy sigh. "Look, Layla, I can't be with the outcast. The daughter of alpha Elaxdor who couldn't attend the mating ceremony even after her coming of age."
There was a sickening silence in the room, the air thick and suffocating. I struggled to process his words, my mind reeling in a desperate attempt to understand what he was saying.
Then, realization dawned on me, sharp and icy. Rejection. It was clear and loud. This was a rejection.
A bitter taste flooded my mouth, and I shut my lips tight, the lump in my throat making it hard to swallow. Tears welled up, blurring my vision. I blinked hard, trying to hold them back, but the sting still burned my eyes.
How dare he use that against me? But a deeper pain cut through the anger – a raw ache of betrayal. He was supposed to be my mate, chosen by the moon itself, and yet...
He took a step back, his voice cold. "Layla Downhill," he declared, staring over my shoulder, "I, Edward Thrison, reject you as my mate!"
A formal rejection.
He said it so easily, like weeny bits of dust blowing in the wind.
It felt like he had been stockpiling those words, dying to blurt them out.
I looked at him and noticed how his face lit up with relief, a sucker punch straight to my gut. Nobody wants the laughingstock of Sy, the family screw-up. I shoved my hair back, hiding the tears stinging my eyes.
There was a reason I couldn't let him see how much this hurt. Giving him that satisfaction would be the final blow.
I lifted up my chin to face him even though it felt like I was balancing on a rope over a bottomless pit. "Good riddance, then," I gritted out, the words scraping raw against my throat.
DON'T CRY, YOU PATHETIC FOOL.
You've gotten through worse, this wouldn't break you. Holding back tears might be the only thing you have ever been good at!
And I really could have handled it. Except... except he said those words.
"I'm sorry."
I didn't stand a chance against those forbidden words. A sob tore through me, tears gushing down my face. "Asshole!" I cursed.
He stared at me, an infuriating look of pity replacing the fleeting relief on his face.
Pity was worse, a thousand times worse.
Rage, hot and primal, bubbled up inside me. "Don't you dare!" I shrieked, my voice high-pitched and shaky. "Don't you dare look at me like that! Like I'm some fragile doll you accidentally broke." My breath hitched, each word a shard tearing at my throat. "I don't need your apology. I don't need your pity!"
Tears, those little traitors, continued their relentless flow, blurring my vision. But I would not let him see me crumble. I didn't want to; I won't give him the satisfaction. Squaring my shoulders, I spoke, my voice surprisingly strong despite everything.
"Get out. Now. Before I say something I truly regret." The threat hung heavy in the air, it was a threat I wasn't even sure I could follow through.
His face flickered with something – maybe surprise, maybe a flicker of the old affection I clung so desperately on. But it was gone as quickly as it came. With a deep sigh, he turned and walked out.
Alone.
I was finally... alone. The tears I was holding back came rushing down my cheeks. "Damn it. Damn it all!" I sank to the floor, the cold wood a slap against my shaking knees.
Edward was someone I actually thought I would spend my entire life with. He was supposed to be forever. We were supposed to be a love story, a life built together, brick by loving brick.
I loved and trusted him. Every stupid, vulnerable part of me, I laid bare for him. And for what?!
"Wait... did I just say loved?" The word scraped against my raw throat. I chuckled, a dry, humorless sound, at how pathetic I was. "I can be such a liar sometimes." Because I still love him. Saying I didn't love him anymore would be a betrayal of the way my heart still hammers a frantic rhythm against my ribs. A pathetic, lovesick rhythm.
This wasn't my first rejection. So I wasn't supposed to feel this alone, this lost. But here I was, adrift in a sea of what-ifs and maybes, clinging to a love that felt more like a punishment than a blessing.
When I finally looked up, a familiar voice made me flinch.
"Well, well, well, look who's crying like a baby again."
The sneer on Chloe's face, my ever-so-perfect stepsister, was a fresh stab of pain. Her perfectly styled blonde hair and manicured nails that seemed to mock my tear-streaked face. A new wave of anger washed over me. "Get out," I croaked, my voice hoarse from crying.
The last thing I needed right now was her cruel taunts.
She sashayed in, a smirk plastered on her face. "Aww, is widdle Layla all sad because her boyfriend doesn't want her anymore?" she cooed, her voice dripped with fake sweetness, like syrup on a rotten apple. "Don't worry, with your looks, I'm sure you can find some other loser to latch onto."
My fists clenched. "He wasn't a loser!" I yelled, the words tumbling out in a rush.
"Isn't that what he said, though?" she countered, a cruel laugh escaping her lips. "The pack's gossip? The outcast?" She mimicked his words in a singsong voice, making his words sound even worse.
Tears welled up again, blurring my vision "He didn't mean it," I lied, my voice barely above a whisper. Even to my own ears, the lie sounded pathetic.
Chloe leaned in close, her eyes gleaming with a sick kind of joy. "Maybe not," she said, her voice dropping to a low hiss. "But everyone else does."
That was it. A loud growl ripped out from my throat, I pulled out my claws and lunged for her, hoping to make her feel even a fraction of the pain she was causing me.
But Chloe was faster. She dodged my clumsy attack with pracised ease, her smirk never leaving her lips. "Looks like that's all you got, little sis. All bark and no bite."
Her words stung, a bitter reminder of how weak I was. Tears streamed down my face. "Why are you doing this?" I rasped. "Why do you always make me the joke? Huh! Because am the 'almost' werewolf?"
The question hung heavy in the air. Chloe hesitated. "Look," she finally spoke, "everyone knows half-shifters are..." she trailed off, searching for the word that would cause further damage.
"Unreliable?" I offered, my voice bitter. "Broken? Not good enough?"
Chloe seemed startled for a moment before a smile slowly cracked through her lips. "It's just... frustrating for your mate, that's all. They can't complete the bond if you can't shift."
"So it's my fault?" I shrieked, the injustice of it all threatening to consume me. "I can't control what I am! I train like crazy, every damn day, push myself to the limit, and it's never enough!"
Three rejections.
Three times my wolf had whimpered in my head, crying for a connection it could never fully have. Three times the pack had looked at me with a mixture of pity and disappointment.
"I'm tired, Chloe," I whispered, the fight draining out of me. "Tired of the whispers, the stares, the feeling like I'm a freak. Maybe... maybe you're right. Maybe I am just a loser."
Silence stretched between us, thick and suffocating. Even Chloe seemed taken aback.
I slumped against the wall, defeated.
Chloe had not budged from the doorway, but her smug smirk was gone, replaced by something worse – disappointment. It stung worse than her usual insults. The excitement in her eyes earlier was replaced by a cold anger that sent shivers down my spine.
"So that's it?" she spat, her voice dripping with disgust. "Is that all you got? A pathetic cry and a sob story? I figured you'd at least put up a fight, make it a little fun."
Her words hit me like a punch. The tiny spark of defiance I had left sputtered out. Here I was, exposed and vulnerable, and all she felt was boredom? A new wave of despair washed over me, even worse than before.
"What do you even want from me, Chloe?" I rasped, my voice barely a whisper. I had no fight left in me, just emptiness.
"I don't know," she shrugged, her eyes glinting with cruel indifference. "Maybe a little fire. Maybe some of that wild spirit everyone thinks half-shifters have. But I guess that's a lie too, huh?"
Each word was a sharp knife, twisting in the wound of my already shattered hope. She was right. There was no fight left, no spirit to claw back. I was a broken doll, lying in pieces on the cold floor of reality.
"If you are really tired why not try ending your life, it's not like you have any body to mourn you." With a final disgusted look, Chloe turned and walked out, slamming the door so hard it echoed through the empty room. Tears welled up again, but this time, they were not of anger or frustration. They were the tears of a soul utterly defeated.
Alone, a horrifying thought slithered in. Maybe Chloe was right. Maybe death is the only form of escape I will ever have. The exhaustion that had settled earlier deepened, turning into a cold, numbing pain. Maybe without hope, there wasn't even a hollow of peace to find. Just... nothing.
I open my nightstand and pulled out a knife.
After hiding her true identity throughout her three-year marriage to Colton, Allison had committed wholeheartedly, only to find herself neglected and pushed toward divorce. Disheartened, she set out to rediscover her true self-a talented perfumer, the mastermind of a famous intelligence agency, and the heir to a secret hacker network. Realizing his mistakes, Colton expressed his regret. "I know I messed up. Please, give me another chance." Yet, Kellan, a once-disabled tycoon, stood up from his wheelchair, took Allison's hand, and scoffed dismissively, "You think she'll take you back? Dream on."
My world revolved around Jax Harding, my older brother's captivating rockstar friend. From sixteen, I adored him; at eighteen, I clung to his casual promise: "When you're 22, maybe I'll settle down." That offhand comment became my life's beacon, guiding every choice, meticulously planning my twenty-second birthday as our destiny. But on that pivotal day in a Lower East Side bar, clutching my gift, my dream exploded. I overheard Jax' s cold voice: "Can't believe Savvy's showing up. She' s still hung up on that stupid thing I said." Then the crushing plot: "We' re gonna tell Savvy I' m engaged to Chloe, maybe even hint she' s pregnant. That should scare her off." My gift, my future, slipped from my numb fingers. I fled into the cold New York rain, devastated by betrayal. Later, Jax introduced Chloe as his "fiancée" while his bandmates mocked my "adorable crush"-he did nothing. As an art installation fell, he saved Chloe, abandoning me to severe injury. In the hospital, he came for "damage control," then shockingly shoved me into a fountain, leaving me to bleed, calling me a "jealous psycho." How could the man I loved, who once saved me, become this cruel and publicly humiliate me? Why was my devotion seen as an annoyance to be brutally extinguished with lies and assault? Was I just a problem, my loyalty met with hatred? I would not be his victim. Injured and betrayed, I made an unshakeable vow: I was done. I blocked his number and everyone connected to him, severing ties. This was not an escape; this was my rebirth. Florence awaited, a new life on my terms, unburdened by broken promises.
As a simple assistant, messaging the CEO in the dead of night to request shares of adult films was a bold move. Bethany, unsurprisingly, didn't receive any films. However, the CEO responded that, while he had no films to share, he could offer a live demonstration. After a night filled with passion, Bethany was certain she'd lose her job. But instead, her boss proposed, "Marry me. Please consider it." "Mr. Bates, you're kidding me, right?"
Rejected by her mate, who had been her long-time crush, Jasmine felt utterly humiliated. Seeking solace, she headed to a party to drown her sorrows. But things took a turn for the worse when her friends issued a cruel dare: kiss a stranger or beg her mate for forgiveness. With no other choice, Jasmine approached a stranger and kissed him, thinking that would be the end of it. However, the stranger unexpectedly wrapped his arms around her waist and whispered in her ear, "You're mine!" He growled, his words sending shivers down her spine. And then, he offered her a solution that would change everything...
"I, Riccardo Saviano, future Alpha of the Grey Shadow Moon Pack, reject you, Artemisia Guerrieri, Daughter of Alpha Franco of the Blood Moon Pack, as my mate and future Luna." One single sentence. One stupid single sentence was all it took to disintegrate my life. And the day of my birthday, on which this sentence was audaciously uttered to me, I lost the love of my life, my future mate, and my wolf, all at once. As I'm still assembling the pieces of my shattered heart years later, there they come. Like lightning out of a crystal blue sky. My Mates. But wait... If I am mated to triplets, how come I'm about to be mated to 5 gorgeous men? *** TW: explicit and foul language; spicy content; explicit sex scenes ***
Kara Martin was known as Miss Perfect. She was a beauty with good personality and successful career. Unfortunately, her life changed at one night. She was accused of adultery, losing her job, and abandoned by her fiance. The arrogant man who slept with her did not want to take responsibility. He even threatened to kill her if they met again. What's worse, Kara was pregnant with twins and she chose to give birth to them. Four and a half years later, Kara returned to work at a large company. As the secretary, she would frequently face their notorious CEO. Kara thought it wouldn't be a problem, but as it turned out ... the CEO was the father of the twins!
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