/1/125270/coverbig.jpg?v=af931e5c8da276e10bf57cabaef8db8c)
My aunt shoved a bowl of black, bitter potion in front of me. She commanded me to drink it so they could abort my baby and sell me as a "clean" bride to a brutal Rogue wolf for a hefty bride-price. In my previous life, I was forced to drink it. The cheap herbs ravaged my body but failed to kill my unborn child. Months later, I bled to death in a freezing, filthy shack on the night of the full moon. The Rogue didn't call for a healer, he just kicked my dying body aside and cursed me as useless. Meanwhile, my cousin Khloe stole my family heirloom and used a dark market perfume to mimic my unique scent. She successfully impersonated me to claim my destined Alpha mate, the most powerful man in the capital. She lived a life of ultimate luxury as the future Luna, while my child and I rotted in the dirt. I died never even seeing my baby's face, swallowed by endless darkness. I didn't understand why my own family would trade my life for a few crumpled bills. I understood even less how Khloe could so easily steal the destiny the Moon Goddess gave me, leaving me with nothing but despair. Opening my eyes again, I was back to the exact moment the deadly potion was pushed into my hands. This time, I looked at their greedy faces, and "accidentally" knocked the bowl over.
Contents
Revenge of His Stolen True Mate Chapter 1
Alaina Cole POV:
A bowl of liquid, black as ink and reeking of bitter herbs, was shoved in front of me. The ceramic scraped harshly against the wood, a dull thud that echoed in the sudden silence.
"Drink it," my aunt, Susan Michael, commanded. Her face was a twisted mask of impatience. "Stop wasting time. Billy Hicks is waiting for a 'clean' new bride."
The word 'clean' felt like a physical blow, sending a tremor through me. I looked down, seeing my own pale, haunted reflection in the dark liquid. My stomach churned.
That smell... it was too familiar. It was a key, violently twisting a lock in my mind, throwing open a door to a memory drenched in blood.
It all started on the Feral Night. A drugged Alpha-out of his mind, driven by instinct-had taken me without ever knowing my name. I fled before dawn, carrying his seed, not even knowing his face. But that one night left me with this child.
Later, my aunt and uncle discovered I was pregnant. They saw profit, not family. They found Billy Hicks, a brutal Rogue who would pay for a "clean" bride. They sold me to him and pocketed the money. The day I was handed over, Billy forced the same potion down my throat-the abortion draught, meant to kill the pup inside me.
It failed. The pup survived. But months later, in a filthy shack, I went into labor on a full moon night. Billy was outside, drinking and laughing with his Rogue friends.
I felt the pup inside me struggling weakly for life.
Then the hemorrhage took everything. The last thing I saw was Billy stumbling in, kicking me aside with a look of disgust, cursing me as "useless."
Cold. Darkness. An endless void. I never even saw my baby's face.
A violent shudder wracked my body, yanking me from the memory. I gasped for air, my hands gripping the edge of the table so hard my knuckles turned white.
I wasn't dead.
I was back.
Back in this kitchen. Back before they sold me. Before Billy put his hands on me. Before I bled out on that dirty floor.
My stomach was flat. But I pressed my hand there, and I felt it-a tiny warmth, a pulse. My pup. Still there. Still fighting.
I was twenty-one again. Same house. Same poison. Same two faces waiting for me to drink.Not this time.
My uncle, Sean Michael, lost his patience. He strode over, grabbing a fistful of my hair and yanking my head back. "What are you waiting for? You're an Omega carrying some unknown bastard's pup. That draught will flush it right out of you. Then Billy gets a clean bride, and we get paid. We're being merciful by not throwing you out on the street!"
His words were sharp, but this time, I didn't cry or beg like I had before.
My eyes changed. I looked through his greasy, flushed face and saw his future: a pathetic, broken man, cast out of the Pack for his crimes.
Susan chimed in from the side, her voice a wheedling whine. "Just drink it, Alaina. Once that pup is gone, Billy will take you, and we'll all be done with this mess. It's for the best. Especially for your cousin, Khloe. She has an important meeting with a very important person soon. Our family can't afford any scandals."
Khloe. The name ignited a firestorm of hatred in my chest. It was her. She stole everything that should have been mine, including the favor of that Alpha.
I remembered the Feral Night. I had stumbled home, dazed and disoriented, barely knowing where I was. I had no idea that in my discarded clothes lay a cufflink engraved with the Silver Moon Pack's crest and a note from the Alpha-proof of our bond, a token meant to bring me to him. But I was too fogged to notice. And Khloe, my dear cousin, had found them first.
She stole the cufflink and the note. She bought expensive perfume to mimic my scent. And she went to the capital, to the Silver Moon Pack, and claimed she was the Omega he had mated with. She was sitting in his estate right now, wearing his gifts, calling herself his future Luna-while I sat here, being force-fed poison to kill his child.
The memory burned through me like acid.
Slowly, inch by inch, I lifted my gaze to meet Sean's. My eyes were cold, calm, and utterly devoid of fear.
He flinched, his grip on my hair loosening unconsciously. "What are you looking at?"
I didn't answer. My attention shifted to the bowl. I knew what was in it-cheap, dangerous herbs that would ravage my body.
In my past life, drinking it had left me so weak, so unable to fight back against Billy's abuse.
No.
This time, I wouldn't believe a single word. I wouldn't drink a single drop.
Seeing my hesitation, Susan softened her tone, a falsely sweet poison. "Good girl, just drink it and it will all be over. Billy will give you a generous bride-price. We'll get a cut. Your sacrifice is worth it."
Her words exposed their true motive: greed. They didn't care if I lived or died, only how much they could profit from me.
I took a deep breath, forcing down the urge to scream. It wasn't time to fight back. Not yet. I needed to survive. I needed to protect my child.
I had to be smarter than them. More ruthless.
My hand reached out, slowly closing around the cold ceramic bowl.
Satisfaction bloomed on Susan and Sean's faces. They thought I had finally surrendered.
I made a silent vow to the child in my womb. Baby, I will never let anyone hurt you again. You are mine. You are the child of that god-like Alpha. You carry the noblest blood in this world. And those who hurt us, I will make them pay a thousand times over.
I lifted the bowl to my lips. Just as they thought I was about to drink, my wrist "accidentally" trembled.
The bowl tipped. Most of the black liquid spilled onto my worn dress, a small amount splashing onto the floor with a faint sizzle.
View More Comments on App
Other books by Hua Jian
More/1/122080/coverbig.jpg?v=2f84f3e3b89568355609c8fddc3feceb)
Alpha's Awakening: From Rejected Woman to Queen
WerewolfFor four years, I was the unmarked, unloved fated mate of Alpha Bryson, enduring his coldness while silently acting as his obedient assistant. On the morning of our anniversary, he abandoned my bed without a second glance to rush to his old flame, Kelsey. Hours later, a text message shattered my world: an ultrasound photo of Kelsey's baby, with a note saying she was moving in. The ultimate betrayal triggered a severe bond-strain sickness, a toxic reaction tearing my body apart. I coughed up crimson blood, my lungs feeling like they were filled with shattered glass. Desperate and dying, I called Bryson on my way to the ER. "Stop with these pathetic games for attention. You're disappointing me," he sneered, before hanging up to gently comfort Kelsey in the background. I almost died alone on a cold, metal hospital table. Four years of my unwavering loyalty meant absolutely nothing to him, while the whole pack openly mocked me and cheered for his returning true love. The sacred mate bond wasn't a blessing from the Moon Goddess; it was a deadly cage killing me from the inside out. But surviving that agony gave me brutal clarity. I sent my resignation letter to his company, emptied my closet, and walked out of his mansion without looking back. I am going to perform the ancient, agonizing Rejection Ritual to sever this toxic bond forever. This time, I am choosing to live for myself.
/1/119273/coverbig.jpg?v=8d722f917257edd761b80919cb907beb)
His Unwanted Wife Is A Genius
RomanceOn the night of her birthday, Chloe's billionaire husband, Griffin, dragged her out of bed. He didn't take her to celebrate. Instead, he forced her into a sterile clinic, pinning her to a chair to draw her blood for Jaida—the fragile woman he truly cared for. While Chloe almost fainted from the blood loss, Griffin answered Jaida's call with gentle concern and abandoned Chloe at the clinic. When she finally stumbled home in the freezing night, Jaida intentionally faked a fall in the hallway. Without asking a single question, Griffin violently shoved Chloe against the staircase. Knowing she had a severe allergy to organ meats, he forced her to sit at the table and served her a plate of bloody, raw liver. "You will sit down, and you will eat every last piece of that liver. Now." He then had his assistant toss her a cheap, generic scarf as an afterthought birthday gift, before carrying Jaida away. For three years, Chloe had endured every humiliation, hoping to eventually warm his cold heart. She didn't understand why her absolute devotion only earned his brutal contempt, while Jaida's pathetic lies won his unconditional protection. Staring at her pale, hollow reflection in the mirror, the last flicker of hope in her chest finally died. She didn't cry or argue anymore. She simply left a signed divorce agreement and her diamond ring on his desk, and vanished without a trace. Five years later, she returned to the city not as his obedient wife, but as an untouchable Hollywood powerhouse, with two genius twins by her side.
/1/106614/coverbig.jpg?v=8933c0a0ec23b348f47c67896920f012)
The Roommate Pact: No Strings Attached
Romance"We do not talk. Ever," she warned, her voice trembling with a year's worth of rage. Brendon Hampton was Manhattan's ultimate "simp," using wealth and shallow socialites to silence his past. But during a lavish dinner, he snapped. He walked out, moved into a luxury apartment-and found Kiera Richards, the girl he ghosted during his father's scandal, standing in his new living room. Reunion is a nightmare. Kiera, now an "Ice Queen," looks at him with pure loathing. A housing glitch and a massive lease penalty trap them together. She reveals his disappearance cost her more than her heart-it shattered her mental health and her violin career at Juilliard. Brendon endures her hatred daily, unable to explain that federal agents seized his phone and his father had a heart attack. He abides by her rigid rules of silence, treated like a biohazard in his own home. Everything changes during a blackout. As a storm rages, Kiera's icy mask cracks-and she collapses into his arms, terrified of the dark. In the shadows, Brendon notices she still wears the necklace he gave her long ago. The war isn't over, but he's no longer just a roommate-he's a man determined to win back the soul he destroyed.
/1/106281/coverbig.jpg?v=26a670f90dc7ebfd864daeda24bca6de)
He Faked Death, I Married The Don
MafiaI was arranging white lilies on the cold marble of my husband's grave when I saw a ghost. Walking through the cemetery gates was a man who looked exactly like my dead husband, Dante. Logic said it was his twin brother, Matteo. But a wife knows the slope of a man's shoulders. She knows the arrogant tilt of his chin. My husband hadn't been blown up in a car bomb three years ago. He had faked his death to steal his brother's rank, his fortune, and his mistress. For three years, I had forced our son, Leo, to kiss a photograph goodnight. We lived in a damp, peeling apartment, surviving on the "charity" of the Family. Meanwhile, Dante was living in a mansion, driving cars that cost more than my life, playing house with another woman. When he came to our cramped apartment to drop off the monthly "pension" money, pretending to be Uncle Matteo, he didn't look at me with love. He looked at his watch. When Leo ran to hug him, shouting "Papa," Dante peeled the boy's small arms off his expensive suit like he was removing a piece of lint. "Don't call me that," he snapped. "I am your Uncle." My grief turned into ice. He chose another woman's comfort over his own son's hunger. I grabbed Leo's hand and walked out the door. "You walk away, and you get nothing!" Dante shouted after me. "You'll be on the street!" I didn't stop. I walked straight to the black SUV idling at the curb. The window rolled down, revealing Salvatore Vitiello. The Don. The most lethal man in the city. "Get in, Elena," he commanded. I opened the door and slid onto the leather seat next to the devil himself. As we drove away, leaving my husband in the dust, I realized I had just traded a liar for a killer. And I didn't regret it for a second.
/1/104698/coverbig.jpg?v=20260106224536)
The Mafia Don's Regret: Torturing His True Savior
ModernMy husband crushed the metacarpals of my left hand—my drawing hand—with a heavy leather-bound book. This was Punishment Ninety-Six. The offense? I had missed a single phone call from my stepsister, Joyce. According to Don Austen Ballard, ignoring the woman who allegedly saved his life fifteen years ago was akin to high treason. "Discipline is the highest form of love, Alana," he whispered, watching the violet bruise spread across my skin. He calls shattering an architect's hand "love." He believes Joyce dragged him from a burning building when he was a boy. He treats her like a living saint and me like a punching bag to pay his life debt. But it is all a lie. Fifteen years ago, Joyce was at a cheerleading camp three towns away. I was the one in that crawlspace. I was the one who found the bleeding boy in the dark. I was the one who called him "Stellen" because he was too terrified to tell me his real name. He has spent our entire marriage torturing his true savior to please a fraud. Tonight, the pain finally burned away my fear, leaving only cold resolve. I didn't cry. I waited until the house was silent, then I retrieved a burner phone hidden in a false bottom of a box in the bathroom. I dialed the number of his sworn enemy, Don Dalton Underwood. "I have the blueprints," I said, my voice steady despite the agony in my hand. "And I have the controlling shares of Ballard Industries. I'm ready to burn his kingdom to ash."
/1/104695/coverbig.jpg?v=83989b8a64e2579f3481295e73c4e1a9)
Finding Love In A Scripted Betrayal
ModernI was the black sheep of the wealthy Jenkins family, the villain in my adopted sister Jami's perfect story. Everyone adored her, the sweet, innocent heroine. I was just the difficult one. Then, a system uploaded itself into my brain, showing me the script of my life. It wasn't just a story where I was the bad guy-it was a detailed blueprint for my entire family's destruction, all orchestrated by Jami. The script showed how she would drive one brother to suicide, frame another for a crime he didn't commit, and leave me for a gruesome "accidental" death, making her the sole heir to their fortune. My family saw her as an angel. They were completely blind, worshiping the very monster who was plotting to bury them all. But the system that showed me this horrifying future also gave me a weapon. It let me hear their thoughts. And then, at the family gala, I realized something even better. They could hear mine.
