Fatal Test: Dying For His Love

Corrie lay restrained on the sterile hospital bed, her wrists bleeding against the thick leather straps. Her husband, Damon, walked in with eyes entirely black with disgust and ordered the nurse to drain her rare blood. He believed Corrie had pushed Kara, the woman he claimed as his savior, and he was willing to drain Corrie dry to save her. "As long as she doesn't die, keep drawing. Kara's life is worth a hundred of hers." He ignored the frantic beeping of her heart monitor and walked out, leaving her slipping into hypovolemic shock. Using her last ounce of strength, Corrie escaped the clinic and hailed a taxi in the freezing rain, just wanting to survive. But the driver locked the doors and deliberately drove the speeding car straight off the bridge into the raging Hudson River. As the icy water swallowed her and she tried to swim out of the shattered windshield, a black-gloved hand grabbed her ankle. The inhuman grip dragged her down into the crushing, dark depths, filling her lungs with liquid fire. As her vision faded to black, Corrie's heart shattered into a million pieces. Why did the man she loved believe a lying stranger over his own wife? And who was the assassin in the dark water making sure she died? Five years later, Corrie walked out of the airport with a new, untouchable identity and a pair of genius twins. The freezing river had permanently ruined her heart and lungs, but it had also forged her into a ruthless survivor. She swore to never let the Holloway family touch her again, until her son's identical icy blue eyes caught the attention of the billionaire CEO she thought she had escaped.

I was the Fated Mate of the Alpha, and my ancient White Wolf blood was the only thing that saved him from madness. But for six years, Kael refused to mark me. Instead, he brought Elena into the castle, gave her my sacred moonstone necklace, and treated her like the true Luna. While I drained my own dowry to keep his pack from starving, he ignored me. When my time came during a brutal winter blizzard, Elena bribed the guards to barricade my doors and cut off my coal supply. I gave birth to our son in a freezing room, biting a leather strap to muffle my screams, while Kael sat by Elena's warm fire, completely oblivious. Three years later, at the sacred Pup Initiation, Kael walked right past our son. He took the hand of Elena's pup, presenting him to the pack as his heir, leaving my son to kneel in the dust. "Mother, why am I second? Was I not good enough?" Hearing my son's whisper, looking at the wooden toy he had carved until his fingers bled for a father who didn't even recognize his scent, my heart finally died. I had sacrificed my wealth, my hands, and my soul to anchor his sanity, only to be treated like a ghost in my own home. I didn't cry or beg anymore. I calmly pulled out the Rejection contract, stamped it with my personal seal, and packed my son's bags. This time, I chose to leave the pack and live for myself.

I liquidated my life savings and spent three years in a dark bunker, using my hacking genius to build an untouchable criminal empire for the Capo I loved. But the moment his throne was secure, he erased my name from the Syndicate ledgers and brought home a mafia princess to be his Queen. He publicly humiliated me to elevate her, dismissing my heartbreak as a pathetic civilian tantrum. He even ordered me to use the offshore accounts I had funded to buy her a three-hundred-thousand-dollar blood diamond engagement ring. When he finally cooked a lavish dinner in our safehouse, he covered the plates in fresh truffles. "Then do not eat it. Just stay out of the way when she gets here." He had perfectly memorized the elite tastes of a woman he barely knew, but conveniently forgot the one ingredient that would send me into fatal anaphylactic shock. I had sacrificed my sanity and ignored my dying father to secure his territories. I finally realized he never kept me in the shadows to protect me. He hid me because he was terrified of my brilliance, caging my mind so he could steal my victories and replace me. So, I initiated a master kill-switch, wiping every trace of my existence from his servers. I packed my bags, invoked my own Omertà, and walked out. Since he refused to give me the throne he promised, I would just have to step into the light and conquer the underworld myself.

I was staring at the black-and-white ultrasound of our baby, waiting to share the joy with the man I had loved for eight years. But Preston walked into the clinic flashing a brand-new solid gold wedding band. He told me he had just married a mafia princess to secure his territory. He demanded I become his secret mistress and keep our unborn child. If I dared to abort his heir, he would pull his protection and leave my father for dead. When I refused and tried to leave him, his new wife orchestrated a federal raid on my father's business. Preston stood by and let it happen, using my family's ruin to force my submission. Driven to absolute despair, my father jumped from the roof of his building. Hours later, my mother suffered a massive, fatal heart attack from the shock. Preston rushed to the emergency room, dropping to his knees and begging for my forgiveness. He cried that he didn't know his wife ordered the hit, claiming he only wanted to scare my father so I would stay. I looked at the man who had promised me the world, my bare feet covered in my own blood, my parents lying dead on steel slabs just steps away. "You have nothing left to threaten me with." Returning to my empty apartment, I bypassed the mafia's digital firewall and uploaded their darkest secrets to the world.

Chloe Beaumont's adopted sister, Victoria, handed her a glass of champagne with a sweet smile right before the violent car crash. Victoria and Chloe's fiancé, Asher, left her in the freezing rain with broken ribs and a dislocated arm, certain she would die. When Chloe dragged her bleeding, mud-caked body back to the estate three days later, her family didn't offer a shred of comfort. Instead, Victoria squeezed out fake tears, claiming Chloe had gone insane. "Mother! Chloe came back and started saying these crazy things, and then she attacked me!" Her stepmother slapped her, her brothers called her a disgrace, and her father coldly watched as they accused Chloe of faking her horrific wounds for attention. They even conspired to marry her off to a dying, reclusive heir just to clear the path for Victoria's grand engagement. Looking at their disgusted faces, Chloe's usually warm eyes turned to ice. She finally understood that her own family never cared if she lived or died; they only wanted her out of the way. But she wasn't the weak, naive girl they thought they had broken. Using her hidden skills, Chloe meticulously painted a grotesque, permanent-looking burn scar across her cheek. She picked the lock of her bedroom door and headed straight for Victoria and Asher's lavish engagement party. If they wanted to treat her like a ruined monster, she would use that mask to tear their perfect, glittering world to shreds.

I was married to the city's celebrated FBI hero, Harrison Phelps. But when I was bleeding out on our floor from a miscarriage, he stepped right over me to attend a welcome-home party for his female partner, Brooke. "It’s not a baby yet. It’s just a clump of cells." He delivered those cold words and walked out the door. Later, during a live-broadcast bank hostage crisis, both Brooke and I were held at gunpoint. The hijackers made him choose one to live. Without hesitation, he chose Brooke, declaring her a "national asset," and left me to take a bullet to the neck. I barely survived the surgery, only to discover that our six-year marriage was a complete sham—he had never even legally filed the paperwork. He had also been intercepting my messages for years, systematically isolating me from my only brother. I had given up my brilliant career to be his obedient wife, only to realize I was nothing but a disposable pawn. Digging deeper, I uncovered an even more horrifying truth: Brooke's incompetence had caused my mother's death years ago, and Harrison had used his power to cover it up. Having narrowly escaped death, my grief was completely burned away by a cold, absolute hatred. I dragged out the sealed, dust-covered case containing my old digital arsenal. Under my old hacker alias "Pandora," I calmly began to dismantle the FBI hero's life, piece by piece.