Rejected by My Mate, Chosen by the Wolf Prince

I am the wife of Dante Moretti, a powerful Mafia Underboss. But in secret, I am "Spettro," the phantom architect who built his entire encrypted bootlegging empire. On my birthday, I came home to find him gifting our five-year-old daughter the exact plush toy he had violently slapped out of my hands months ago. Only this time, he was giving it to his mistress, Adriana, to present as her own. "Auntie Adriana is a million times better than Mommy." My daughter's innocent words pierced my heart, while Dante coldly dismissed my presence, treating me like an unwelcome stranger interrupting their perfect family. He mocked my mothering, allowed his mistress to sever my desperate phone calls with my child, and weaponized his power to break our daughter's spirit just to spite me. He sneered that my only purpose was to stay quiet, absolutely certain I would crawl back the second my allowance ran dry. He thought I was just a weak, submissive wife who had lost everything. He didn't realize that the empire he arrogantly ruled was entirely built on my stolen brilliance. I left my diamond ring on the table, violently slashed our ancient blood oath in half, and walked out of his gilded cage forever. Sitting in a cold warehouse, I placed my hands on my telegraph machine and initiated the Ghost Protocol to permanently paralyze his entire criminal network. The era of playing the dutiful wife was over. I am Donna Falcone, and the vendetta has just begun.

For ten years, Eleonora devoted herself to Julian Sterling, waiting for the day she would finally become his wife. But at the grand ball, just three months before their wedding, Julian walked in with her cousin Isabella on his arm. In front of the entire high society, he publicly broke their engagement, announcing he would marry Isabella instead. Worse, he arrogantly declared that Eleonora would become his "treasured mistress" so he could still use her massive dowry to fund his army. When she looked to her father for defense, Lord Reginald actually agreed. Her entire family—her father, her uncle, the elders—all demanded she accept this humiliating arrangement, eager to drain her mother's fortune to secure their own parasitic ambitions. Ten years of quiet devotion and her late mother's dying wish were trampled into the mud. She finally realized her family was nothing but a nest of greedy vipers, and they fully expected her to kneel and accept her utter ruin. But she refused to be their sacrificial lamb. Taking the secret ledgers of her vast inheritance, Eleonora walked straight into the fortress of the most ruthless and feared man in the empire. "I will fully equip three legions of your heavy cavalry." "In exchange, I require a title. I wish to become the Duchess of Vanderbilt."

I survived a transport crash in the 22nd century only to wake up in the broken body of Aryanna, a "wolfless" orphan adopted by a prestigious werewolf pack. But my new life didn't begin in a warm bed. I woke up chained to the cold stone gates of the Citadel, my back being ripped open by a whip. My fiancé, the Alpha heir Damien, had falsely accused me of treason. It was a convenient lie to publicly discard me for his new mistress, who stood by laughing as he ordered salt water poured into my bleeding wounds. When I managed to survive and drag my battered body back to my adoptive family's estate, the nightmare only worsened. My adoptive sisters had ordered my only loyal servant beaten to the brink of death and left my little brother to die of a severe fever. "Look at you, you filthy wolfless mutt. You've disgraced the Mcknight name." The old Aryanna would have sobbed and cowered, accepting her fate as a powerless creature in a world of cruel predators. But I am not the old Aryanna. Unlocking a futuristic medical sanctuary within my mind, I pulled my servant back from the dead. Then, I picked up a heavy iron fire poker and walked toward the people who thought they could break me. It was time to show this barbaric pack how a surgeon dissects her enemies.

I held the positive pregnancy report, hoping it would finally bring a trace of warmth to my cold, transactional marriage with Aloysius Lawson. Instead, he didn't even glance at it. He slid a medical consent form across his massive desk and coldly ordered me to abort the baby. His sister Eloisa's leukemia had relapsed. She needed a bone marrow transplant, and I was the only match. He accused me of carrying another man's bastard, completely denying the one chaotic night we actually spent together. When I desperately sought help from my childhood friend Julian at a gala, he publicly humiliated me, terrified of my husband's wrath. Aloysius's mistress mocked me in front of the elite crowd, while my own mother begged me to save our family's failing company, oblivious that the price was my baby's life. Aloysius dragged me home, bruising my arms, and threatened to destroy anyone who dared to help me. I begged him, offering to wait three weeks for a DNA test to prove the child was his true heir. "Why would I wait three weeks?" he sneered, his eyes devoid of humanity. "Eloisa doesn't have three weeks. It has to go." I was entirely alone, treated as nothing more than a blood bag and a pawn. Why was my flesh and blood worth absolutely nothing to them? Sitting in the sterile room of the private abortion clinic, holding the flimsy blue scrubs he forced me to wear, my despair finally hardened into pure rage. When the nurse urged me to hurry, I dropped the scrubs to the floor. "I'm waiting for someone," I said, my voice eerily steady as I took the first step to destroy them all.

On the day of my Mating Ceremony, I stood in my sacred white silk dress, waiting to be bound to my fated mate, Alpha Hunter. But Hunter barged into the dressing room, violently ripped the dress from my body, and ordered me to give my Luna title to my best friend, Hazel. "She's dying and wants to experience being a Luna before her mind is gone. Step aside," he commanded coldly. He confessed he had been draining the pack's funds for her and even snapped my mother's pet pup's neck to hide his late-night affairs. He forced me to stand at the altar as a lowly servant while they kissed, broadcasting the fake ceremony directly into my sick Grandmother's hospital room. The horrific shock caused my Grandmother's heart monitor to flatline. At the hospital, I discovered an even darker truth. Years ago, Hazel had framed me for treason out of jealousy, causing me to be kidnapped and tortured by Rogues in a freezing lake of silver. The silver poisoning left me permanently infertile. And while I was dying in the ICU sending thousands of SOS calls, Hunter had blocked every single one to perform a secret Blood Oath with Hazel. I lost my only family, my fertility, and my youth to a man who treated me like trash to protect a traitor. I grabbed the wolf-tooth necklace from my neck and snapped the leather cord. “I, Chloe, reject you, Hunter, as my mate.” The words left my lips like a blade. He didn’t know yet that rejection was only the beginning. This time, I wasn’t just leaving. I was going to bury them both.

The darkness of the Yale archaeological dig site swallowed Eleanor whole, dropping her straight into a lethal, prehistoric jungle. Before she could even process the bizarre time jump, a massive prehistoric wolf attacked her, only for her to be saved-and immediately claimed-by Jace, a towering, blood-soaked savage chief who marked her as his mate. Dragged back to his primitive camp, her nightmare only escalated. When she used her modern first-aid kit to save a dying hunter whose stomach had been ripped open, the tribe didn't thank her. Instead, a jealous tribeswoman named Greta and a ruthless Shaman incited a violent, torch-wielding mob. "Burn the witch before we all die!" They marched on the Chief's cave, demanding Eleanor be burned alive, claiming her life-saving stitches and antibiotics were dark magic that would curse them all. Eleanor was terrified and furious. She had just pulled a man back from the brink of death using basic medical science, yet she was about to be slaughtered by a mindless mob simply because they couldn't understand her language. Was she really going to be burned at the stake for an act of pure salvation? But when the hunter's fever broke and he walked out alive, the angry mob dropped to their knees in absolute reverence. Looking at her dying lighter and finite supplies, Eleanor realized that fear wouldn't keep her alive in this brutal world. She pulled out her tactical pen, deciding to drag this savage tribe out of the dark ages herself.