Discarded Fiancée: The Ruthless Billionaire's Obsession

For ten years, I was nothing but an ATM for my abusive adoptive family. To buy my freedom, I agreed to a bizarre marriage of convenience with a complete stranger in exchange for a $150,000 dowry. I threw the check at my greedy adoptive parents, severed all ties, and walked out, thinking my nightmare was finally over. But my new husband, Aidan, dragged me to a shabby, run-down apartment in Brooklyn, claiming he was just a struggling freelancer. He looked at me with pure disgust, utterly convinced I was a shameless gold digger, and openly mocked my secret career as a romance novelist. "What is it, a how-to guide for marrying rich?" He treated me like a parasite, yet he threw tantrums over instant ramen and wore luxurious silk pajamas that cost more than our rent. To make matters worse, my adoptive brother Leo, who harbored a dark, obsessive desire for me because we shared no blood, was actively hunting me down. I felt completely trapped. I didn't understand why my biological parents had abandoned me to the Kowalskis' hell in the first place. And I understood even less why my supposedly broke husband would casually slap down an exclusive, solid black credit card at Target when I couldn't afford our groceries. Who exactly was the man I had married? Realizing my new husband was hiding a massive secret and my obsessive brother was closing in, I refused to be a victim again. I was going to uncover Aidan's true identity, and this time, I would be the one writing the rules.

Before she died, she was the merchant's brat who'd "married above her station."​ Sterilized. Bleed dry. Thrown out like trash.​ She burned the Thorne name to ash-with them still trapped inside it.​ Now she was back. Her birth mother peddled her off for status. Her stepsister draped herself in her late mother's jewels. And every last one of them plotted to hand her right back to the man who'd killed her.​ What a shame.​ They thought she'd returned to forgive.​ She was here to finish what she'd started.

In my previous life, I was tortured to death in a damp cellar, my bones snapped one by one. It was all because of my sister, Katrina. She had convinced me to run away to Sunstone Ridge, only to leave me bleeding in a hunter's trap with a shattered ankle. "You will always be a worthless coward," my mother had sneered, blaming me for missing my Awakening ceremony. My family treated Katrina like a precious princess, but abused me like a stray dog. When I was finally captured and tortured by a monster, my mother and brother did nothing to save me. Katrina even smiled as she abandoned me to the wolves, stealing the perfect life that was supposed to be mine. Until the very end, I didn't understand why my own flesh and blood hated me so much. Why did they always blame me for her mistakes? Opening my eyes again, I was back on the day I was sixteen, right before our supposed escape. I checked my shoulder and found my fated wolf birthmark blurred into an ugly smudge with herbal paste. Katrina was reborn too, and she had already acted to steal my fated Alpha mate. But this time, I didn't follow her into the woods. Instead, I locked my door, faked a severe illness, and waited for our father to come home. This time, I would let her walk into her own trap, and I would take back everything.

Casey woke up with a throbbing skull in a glamorous dressing room, facing a public execution by an internet mob. Her wealthy family had thrown her away. Her hypocritical sister, Coralie, forced a holographic tablet into her hands, demanding she join a deadly survival reality show on a wasteland planet. "It's what Mommy wants. If you don't sign, you're dead to the Hendersons." The whole world wanted her dead. On the live broadcast, billions of viewers cursed her as a toxic stalker. The golden boy idol Kayson physically attacked her to defend Coralie's honor. Even the show's staff mocked her, deliberately leaving her with nothing but a torn, broken tent and a single bottle of water for the lethal alien wilderness. The universe was playing a cruel joke on her. She was framed as the villain of her sister's perfect story, banished to a wasteland where everyone expected her to cry, beg, and die on live television. But they didn't know she had already survived a decade in the ruins. Casey didn't shed a single tear. Instead, she invoked a hidden contract clause, demanding a full year on the planet instead of the standard month. "I'll survive for a year, and the planet becomes mine." She grabbed her broken tent, stepped onto the red alien dirt, and prepared to show the universe what a real predator looked like.

After five years of being sneered at as the "defective" Omega, I finally held the plastic stick with two pink lines. I thought this pup would finally make my mate, Alpha David, love me. But when I rushed to his office to surprise him, I heard him laughing with his Beta. "Sarah is just a pet," David's voice rumbled. "I'm micro-dosing her with Wolfsbane to ensure she stays barren. Rebecca is the only Luna I need." My world shattered. I tried to run to protect my baby, but they hunted me down. Rebecca, his cruel mistress, framed me for attacking her, and David looked at me with pure disgust. He dragged me to an underground fight ring. Rebecca whispered in his ear, claiming my unborn child was a rogue's bastard. David didn't even hesitate. Blinded by arrogance, he kicked me brutally in the stomach, determined to kill the "abomination." "David, please! It's your son!" I screamed, blood soaking my thighs. He didn't listen. He crushed our child—his own heir—under his boot. Only after I severed our mate bond and vanished did the DNA test reveal the truth: The baby wasn't a rogue. He was a rare Alpha Prime. David went mad with grief, but I was already gone. Three years later, the doors to the Grand Summit opened. I walked in, not as the weak Omega he discarded, but as the legendary White Wolf Queen. David fell to his knees, weeping and begging for a second chance. I looked down at the broken man. "You killed your son," I whispered, my aura crushing him into the floor. "Now, live with the ghost."

My husband of five years, a ruthless New York mogul, paraded his affairs while refusing to touch me. My existence was a public humiliation, a constant, quiet ache in a gilded cage. To finally get a reaction, I staged a fake affair of my own. His response wasn't jealousy. It was violence. He stabbed me with a letter opener and threatened to destroy the one thing I had left: my late mother's memorial garden. At his mistress's birthday party-held on the anniversary of my mother's death-he forced me to my knees. I had to publicly apologize to the woman he was cheating on me with, my own half-sister, Aubrey. But the ultimate betrayal came when I discovered a secret video from a decade ago. It proved Aubrey hadn't just been there when my mother fell from a balcony. She had pushed her. And my husband-the man who swore he'd find her killer-had helped cover it all up. As I knelt on that cold floor, broken and defeated, he made his final choice. He pressed a button on a remote, and my mother's garden exploded into dust and ash. In that moment, the woman he thought he knew died, and someone new was born from the wreckage.