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  • Invisible To Her Bully by Dea B

    Invisible To Her Bully by Dea B

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    Unlike her twin brother, Jackson, Jessa struggled with her weight and very few friends. Jackson was an athlete and the epitome of popularity, while Jessa felt invisible.

    Noah was the quintessential “It” guy at school-charismatic, well-liked, and undeniably handsome. To make matters worse, he was Jackson’s best friend and Jessa’s biggest bully.

    During their senior year, Jessa decides it was time for her to gain some self-confidence, find her true beauty and not be the invisible twin.As Jessa transformed, she begins to catch the eye of everyone around her, especially Noah.Noah, initially blinded by his perception of Jessa as merely Jackson’s sister, started to see her in a new light.

    How did she become the captivating woman invading his thoughts? When did she become the object of his fantasies?Join Jessa on her journey from being the class joke to a confident, desirable young woman, surprising even Noah as she reveals the incredible person she has always been inside.

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    Invisible To Her Bully Chapter 1

    Jessa

    Seven Years Earlier

    Growing up as a twin sounds fun, right? Built-in best friend, someone who always has your back, someone who gets you without explanation. That’s what I had-at least for the first ten years of my life.

    My twin brother, Jackson, was the center of my world. We were fraternal twins, but opposites in every way. Jackson was tall, lean, athletic, and could make friends with just about anyone. I was short, a little chunky, shy to the point of painful, and usually tripping over my own feet.

    But it never mattered to me. I didn’t need a million friends. I had Jackson. He was my best friend, my other half, my person.

    It was always just the two of us. Our mom worked constantly to keep food on the table, so most of the time it was just me and him. Maybe that’s why we clung to each other so hard.

    “Jax, I wanna go home,” I whined, dragging my feet as he tossed a football from hand to hand.

    “Jess, chill. I told the new kid I’d meet him here to throw the ball around,” he said, his brown eyes locked on the field like he was already in the NFL.

    “This is boring.” I plopped down on the grass.

    He sighed, dug in his pocket, and tossed me a granola bar. “Here. Peanut butter. Your favorite.”

    Instant mood boost. “Yes! Thanks, Jax.”

    While I was tearing open the wrapper, he straightened up, glancing at the entrance to the field. “That’s him.”

    A boy about our age walked toward us, a football tucked under his arm. He had dark, messy brown hair and the greenest eyes I’d ever seen. The kind of eyes you notice right away. And his lashes? Long enough to make me jealous.

    “Hey,” he said to Jackson.

    “Hey, Noah. This is my twin, Jessa.”

    I scrambled up, brushing grass off my jeans. My mouth moved faster than my brain. “Wow… you’ve got really long eyelashes. For a boy.”

    Noah’s cheeks turned pink. “Uh, thanks?”

    Jackson groaned. “Sorry, she doesn’t have a filter sometimes.”

    “I just meant they’re… pretty,” I tried, wishing I could disappear.

    “Jess, why don’t you go sit while we toss the ball around,” Jackson muttered.

    “She doesn’t play?” Noah asked.

    I shook my head before Jackson could answer. “Not really my thing.”

    “Nope. If she tried to throw, she’d probably knock herself over,” Jackson joked.

    I pretended not to care, sitting back down on the sidelines, but my eyes kept drifting toward Noah as he and Jackson tossed the ball. He wasn’t just cute-he was quiet, too. Almost shy. Something about him made me want him to like me.

    After they finished, Jackson clapped him on the back. “You’ve got a good arm.”

    “Two older brothers taught me some stuff,” Noah shrugged.

    “Oh! So they’re your best friends too, like me and Jackson?” I asked eagerly.

    “No. They’re just… brothers. I don’t really have a best friend.”

    My heart squeezed. “Then you should get one. Me and Jackson do everything together. He’s the best best friend you could ever have.”

    Noah looked at Jackson. Jackson just shrugged. Noah nodded slightly, like he got the message.

    At the time, I didn’t realize how wrong I was.

    One Month Later

    “I don’t wanna go to the movies, Jax!” I whined, arms crossed.

    “Too bad. Noah and I wanna see the new Marvel movie. You can’t stay home alone.”

    “We always do what you and Noah want. What about me?”

    He sighed. “Jess, I love you. But sometimes I wanna do stuff without you. You need to find your own friends.”

    That stung more than I wanted to admit.

    The doorbell rang, and Noah walked in with his usual smirk.

    “Sup.”

    “Jess, get your shoes on,” Jackson ordered.

    “She’s coming too?” Noah asked.

    “Yeah. Mom’s at work. I’m babysitting.”

    “Babysitting?” I snapped. “We’re the same age! You’re not babysitting me.”

    “I’m twelve minutes older,” Jackson shot back.

    Noah snickered. “She’s definitely acting like the baby.”

    I stormed off to grab my shoes, but I froze halfway up the stairs when I heard Noah’s voice:

    “Man, your sister’s such a brat. Wish she didn’t have to tag along.”

    Jackson’s answer was the knife that cut deepest. “Tell me about it.”

    At the theater, I tried to forget. “Jax, can we get popcorn? With extra butter?”

    Noah raised his brows. “Do you really need the extra butter?”

    I clenched my fists. “Yes. I like it that way.”

    Jackson slipped me a couple of bills. “Get your own small one.”

    I headed for the snack line, and that’s when I heard them again.

    “She always has to be eating,” Noah muttered.

    “Yeah,” Jackson said with a low laugh. “Sometimes it’s embarrassing to be seen with her.”

    The words hit harder than any punch. My own twin-my best friend-was embarrassed of me.

    “Hey, it’s your turn,” a girl behind me said gently.

    I shook my head. “Changed my mind.”

    She frowned. “You okay?”

    “No,” I whispered. “I think I lost my best friend.”

    She studied me, then said, “I’m Mariah. We’re in the same class, right? You’re Jessa. Jackson’s twin.”

    “Yeah.”

    “What movie are you supposed to be seeing?”

    “Some superhero thing.”

    Mariah smirked. “Ditch it. Come with me instead. There’s a new comedy. Way cuter lead actor.”

    Before I could decide, Jackson and Noah appeared.

    “Jess, what’s taking so long?” Jackson demanded. “Oh, hey, Mariah.”

    Mariah smiled sweetly. “Hi. Jessa and I are seeing the comedy instead.”

    Jackson shrugged. “Fine. Meet us in the lobby after.”

    As he and Noah disappeared, Mariah tugged me toward her theater.

    “Come on. You need a laugh.”

    I glanced back one last time at my brother’s retreating figure.

    He stole my best friend, I thought. And he’s never giving him back.

    Three Years Later

    Thirteen hit me hard. My body changed in ways I didn’t ask for. I wasn’t the chubby little girl anymore-I had curves. Breasts too big for my age. Hips that didn’t match the other girls at school.

    Mom always said, Girls built like us need to cover up. Layers make you look thinner.

    So I wore baggy shirts. Oversized hoodies. Clothes that swallowed me whole. It didn’t matter. The teasing still came.

    “Jess, you’re wearing that?” Jackson asked one morning, eyeing my loose shirt.

    “It’s comfortable.”

    “It’s a tent.” He rolled his eyes and left.

    Mom kissed my cheek. “Ignore him. He doesn’t understand what it’s like for girls like us.”

    At school, the comments started before I even reached the doors.

    “The circus is in town!”

    “Yeah, they brought the whale exhibit!”

    My stomach dropped when I saw where it came from-Jackson and Noah, flanked by their football buddies, all laughing.

    “Nice shirt, Jess,” Noah snorted. “They only had tent size left?”

    “Shut up, Noah.”

    Jackson smirked. “Told you it was too big.”

    “Perfect for hiding that fat ass,” Noah added, sending the group into hysterics.

    I turned away, pretending I couldn’t hear. But their laughter followed me.

    By the time I reached my locker, my hands were shaking. I tugged the handle, but it was jammed. Mariah appeared at my side.

    “Need help?”

    We pulled together until it finally burst open-and trash bags tumbled out, spilling all over the hallway.

    A note taped to one read: Got you a new wardrobe.

    The roar of laughter around us was deafening.

    “Did you do this?” Mariah snapped at Jackson and Noah, who had pushed through the crowd to watch.

    Noah grinned. “She wants to dress like a hobo? Why not just give her options?”

    Jackson chuckled. “Relax. It’s just a joke.”

    Mariah glared at him. “She’s your sister.”

    But Jackson only walked away with Noah.

    I stared at the trash bag in my hands. For just one second, I wished I could trade places. To be the one laughing, not the one humiliated.

    Present Day

    Beep. Beep. Beep.

    I groaned, slamming my alarm clock. Senior year. My last year in this hellhole.

    I’m Jessa. Nobody special. Just the overweight twin sister of Jackson, starting quarterback and golden boy of our high school. The sister his best friend, Noah Carter, has made it his life’s mission to torment.

    Once, when I was ten, I thought Noah was cute. That crush didn’t survive the year. Now at eighteen, he’s tall, broad-shouldered, perfect hair, perfect smile. Every girl wants him.

    And I can’t stand him.

    But he’s always around-because he’s Jackson’s best friend. The boy who stole my brother from me.

    I roll out of bed and tug on my armor: jeans, tank top, oversized button-up. The layers hide the body I’ve been told to be ashamed of.

    Time to sneak out before Jackson sees me. Before Noah’s voice finds me.

    Another day. Another battle.

    Invisible To Her Bully Chapter 2

    Jessa

    I tiptoe down the hallway, holding my breath. If Jackson’s awake, he’ll have some comment locked and loaded about my clothes, my hair, or just… me. I’d rather start the day without it.

    Too late. His bedroom door creaks open, and there he is-my twin, my other half, my betrayer-all six feet of cocky quarterback standing in my way.

    “Morning, Jess,” he says, eyes flicking over my shirt. “Nice… tent.”

    I don’t even answer. I just shoulder past him, my cheeks heating.

    “Aw, come on, don’t be so sensitive,” he calls after me.

    Sensitive. That’s what he calls me when his words cut deep, like it’s my fault for feeling anything.

    By the time I make it to the kitchen, Mom’s already gone. She leaves early most mornings, and I can’t decide if I’m grateful or jealous. Grateful that she doesn’t see me like this, jealous that she never has time for us.

    Jackson grabs a protein shake from the fridge and downs it like he’s in some athlete commercial. I butter a piece of toast, trying to look invisible.

    And then, of course, the devil himself arrives.

    Noah Carter.

    He strolls right into our kitchen like he owns it, helmet tucked under his arm, hair still damp from his shower, all six-foot-two of golden-boy arrogance. He’s wearing his jersey, number 14, stretched across broad shoulders like it was custom made for him.

    And because I’m apparently a glutton for punishment, my stupid brain notices the curve of his jaw, the way his damp hair curls at the edges, the clean soap-and-sweat smell that clings to him. I hate myself for noticing.

    “Morning, sunshine,” he smirks at me.

    I roll my eyes. “Don’t call me that.”

    “What? Thought you’d like a nickname.” His grin widens, like he knows exactly how to get under my skin.

    Jackson laughs and bumps fists with him. “Ignore her, bro. Ready for practice?”

    “Always,” Noah says. He glances at my toast, eyebrows lifting. “Extra butter again?”

    I slam the knife down. “Seriously? Do you ever get tired of commenting on what I eat?”

    Jackson snorts. “Don’t mind him, Jess.”

    But I mind. God, I mind so much.

    The two of them head out to the truck, leaving me with a cold piece of toast and the familiar ache in my chest. It’s the same ache I’ve had since I was ten years old.

    The ache of realizing my twin-my best friend-chose someone else.

    At school, it doesn’t get better. It never does.

    The minute I step into the hallway, eyes flick my way. Whispers. Snickers. The same crap I’ve been hearing since middle school.

    “Damn, she’s bigger than the linebackers.”

    “Bet she eats more than the team.”

    I keep walking, head down, pretending the words don’t stab me. But they do. Every single one leaves another scar I can’t cover with oversized clothes.

    Jackson doesn’t notice, or maybe he does and just doesn’t care. He’s too busy soaking in the glory of being the starting quarterback. Too busy laughing with Noah and the rest of the team.

    Noah. Always Noah.

    The worst part is that when he laughs, it’s this deep, warm sound that makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up. When he smiles, girls melt into puddles. And when his hazel eyes catch the light, they almost glow.

    I hate that I’ve noticed all of that.

    I hate that part of me gets why the entire female population of Crestwood High would kill for a chance with him.

    I hate that part of me, some twisted little part buried deep down, remembers what it felt like to have a crush on him before he turned into my tormentor.

    Mariah finds me by my locker. Thank God for her. She’s the one good thing that came out of all this-the girl who saw me breaking at the movies three years ago and decided not to let me stand alone.

    “You look like you’re ready to murder someone,” she says, tucking a strand of her blonde hair behind her ear.

    “Noah,” I mutter. “As usual.”

    She makes a face. “Ugh. You’d think after all these years he’d get bored.”

    “He doesn’t. It’s like tormenting me is his favorite sport, right after football.”

    Mariah sighs. “Well, senior year, right? Almost done.”

    Almost. But almost feels like forever.

    Lunch is the worst. Always has been.

    I sit with Mariah at the edge of the cafeteria, away from the football table. But no matter how far away I am, Noah still finds me with his eyes. I feel them, sharp as daggers, hot as a spotlight.

    Today’s no different. I’m halfway through my sandwich when I hear him across the room.

    “Hey, Jackson! Better hide your food or Jess will eat it all before you blink.”

    Laughter erupts from the table. Jackson doesn’t defend me. He never does.

    I keep my head down, cheeks burning, praying no one else joins in. But of course they do.

    “She could be the team mascot,” someone says. “Put her in pads, she’ll bulldoze the defense!”

    The guys howl with laughter.

    Mariah leans across the table, her eyes flashing. “Ignore them. They’re idiots.”

    But ignoring doesn’t make it stop.

    I grip my sandwich so tightly my knuckles turn white. In my head, I imagine standing up, marching over there, and telling Noah exactly what he is-a bully. A coward. A pathetic jerk who gets off on tearing me down.

    But I don’t move.

    Because I know what would happen if I did. He’d smirk. He’d say something sharper. And Jackson would laugh right alongside him.

    Just like always.

    That night, lying in bed, I stare at the ceiling.

    This is my last year. One more year of Noah Carter. One more year of Jackson pretending I don’t exist except when it’s convenient. One more year of being “the fat twin,” the joke, the nobody.

    After graduation, I’ll be free. College will be my reset button. Nobody will know me as Jackson’s sister or Noah’s favorite target. Nobody will remember the locker full of trash bags or the jokes about butter.

    It’ll just be me.

    But even as I tell myself that, my brain betrays me. Because it’s not Noah’s insults that replay behind my eyes. It’s his face. His stupidly perfect, sharp-jawed, broad-shouldered, movie-star face.

    And I hate myself for it.

    The next morning, the cycle repeats. Jackson teasing, Mom absent, me shrinking into myself.

    But when Noah shows up, there’s a shift. Not big, not obvious-just a flicker.

    He catches me staring.

    I don’t mean to. Honest. I’m just zoning out, and my gaze lands on him, on the way his T-shirt stretches across his chest, on the strong line of his throat as he tilts his head back to laugh at something Jackson says.

    And then his hazel eyes lock on mine.

    For a second, I can’t breathe.

    There’s no smirk, no insult, no sharp edge. Just Noah looking at me like… like he sees me.

    Then he blinks, and it’s gone. Replaced by the same cocky grin I know too well.

    “Like what you see, Sunshine?”

    My face burns. “In your dreams.”

    But that flicker stays with me all day.

    And it terrifies me more than all his insults combined.

    Because what if-just what if-the boy who’s made my life hell for years is the one I can’t stop noticing?

    What if the one I hate most is the one I’m secretly drawn to?

    And what if he knows it?

    Invisible To Her Bully Chapter 3

    Noah

    Most people think I’ve got it easy.

    They see the jersey, the captain’s armband, the girls who slide notes into my locker, the teachers who cut me slack because I’m “leading the team this season.” They see the highlight reels, the touchdowns, the swagger.

    And yeah, I play into it. Why wouldn’t I? That image has kept me on top since freshman year.

    But what they don’t see-the part I’d never admit out loud-is that the best part of my day isn’t the touchdowns. It’s not the cheers, or even the wins.

    It’s Jessa Lombardi’s face when I get under her skin.

    I shouldn’t find it that entertaining. She’s Jackson’s twin, for one. Which means technically, she’s off-limits. But God, she makes it too easy. The way her cheeks flush, the way she slams things down or throws out these sharp little comebacks-Jessa’s like one giant exposed nerve. Sensitive as hell.

    And I like testing how far I can push before she snaps.

    Take this morning, for example.

    Jackson and I were heading to practice, but I swung by his place first. Walking into their kitchen always feels… weird. I don’t know why. Maybe because I can practically feel how much Jessa doesn’t want me there.

    She was standing at the counter, spreading butter on toast like it had personally offended her. Oversized T-shirt, messy hair, bare feet curling against the tile. For a second, I almost didn’t say anything.

    Almost.

    “Morning, sunshine,” I tossed out, leaning in the doorway.

    The way her shoulders stiffened-it was instant gratification. Like watching a fire catch.

    “Don’t call me that,” she muttered, eyes on her plate.

    “What? Thought you’d like a nickname.”

    She rolled her eyes so hard I swear I heard them click.

    Jackson laughed, completely oblivious. “Ignore her, bro.”

    I didn’t ignore her, of course. Couldn’t. I never do. Instead, I spotted the toast and couldn’t resist. “Extra butter again?”

    She slammed the knife down like she wanted to stab me with it.

    “Seriously? Do you ever get tired of commenting on what I eat?”

    And just like that, my day was made. That flare of anger in her eyes, the way her voice cracked on ever. She didn’t realize it, but she was giving me exactly what I wanted.

    Attention.

    Here’s the thing: Jessa doesn’t understand me. She thinks I pick on her just to be a jerk, or because I’ve got nothing better to do. But the truth? It’s not that simple.

    I notice her.

    More than I should.

    And noticing her-really noticing her-is dangerous.

    Because Jessa’s not like the other girls who throw themselves at me. She doesn’t giggle when I walk by or bat her lashes hoping I’ll toss her a grin. She doesn’t want anything from me.

    Except maybe for me to disappear.

    And that makes me want to poke, prod, irritate. It makes me want her to look at me, even if it’s with fire in her eyes. Because when she’s angry at me, at least she’s seeing me.

    At school, it’s even better.

    In the cafeteria, Jackson and I had the whole team cracking up over stupid inside jokes when I spotted her sitting with Mariah. Always the far table, always head down, like she’s hoping to disappear.

    But I don’t let her disappear.

    “Hey, Jackson!” I yelled across the room. “Better hide your food or Jess will eat it all before you blink.”

    The table erupted. Perfect.

    I caught the way her shoulders hunched, the way her hand froze halfway to her mouth. She didn’t look up, but I knew she heard me. Knew she felt the sting.

    And yeah, maybe that makes me an asshole. But there’s something about her silence that gets to me. Like she’s holding all this emotion inside, and I’m the only one who knows how to drag it out of her.

    Jackson doesn’t get it. To him, Jessa’s just… Jessa. His twin, his shadow, the sister he doesn’t think twice about. He doesn’t notice the way she winces when people whisper, or the way she pulls her hoodie tighter like armor.

    But I do.

    I see it.

    And sometimes I wonder if that’s why I keep poking-because if I don’t, maybe no one would notice her at all.

    Practice that afternoon should’ve wiped Jessa from my brain. It usually does. Once I’m on the field, nothing else matters. The snap of the ball, the crunch of pads, the roar of the guys-it drowns everything out.

    But not today.

    Today, when I closed my eyes, all I saw was the way she glared at me over her toast, cheeks flushed, eyes flashing.

    And then-God help me-the way her gaze flickered over me. She thought she was subtle, but I caught it. The way her eyes lingered on my shoulders, my chest.

    She thinks I don’t notice, but I do.

    And that thought sticks with me longer than I’d like.

    That night, lying in bed, I try to tell myself it’s nothing. Jessa’s sensitive, that’s all. She reacts to me because I push her buttons. If she didn’t, I’d probably lose interest.

    Except… I’m not losing interest.

    If anything, I’m hooked.

    I want to know how far I can push before she finally snaps. Before she lets me see the fire I know she’s hiding.

    I want to know if that fire burns as hot when it’s not anger.

    The next morning, I catch her staring again.

    She doesn’t realize it-I’m laughing at something Jackson said, tilting my head back, and when I glance over, her eyes are on me. Not in hate. Not in anger. Just… watching.

    And for one insane second, it feels like she sees me. Not the quarterback. Not Jackson’s best friend. Not the jerk who won’t leave her alone.

    Just me.

    Our eyes lock, and the air shifts. She looks caught, like a deer in headlights.

    For once, I don’t smirk. For once, I just look back.

    But then panic kicks in, and I cover it with a grin. “Like what you see, Sunshine?”

    Her face flames. “In your dreams.”

    But I heard the hitch in her breath. I saw the way she couldn’t look away fast enough.

    And that’s when I know I’m in trouble.

    Because tormenting Jessa Lombardi isn’t just a game anymore.

    It’s an addiction.

    And sooner or later, it’s going to blow up in my face.

    👉 CONTINUE READING

  • Flash Marriage To My Best Friend’s Father by Madel Cerda

    Flash Marriage To My Best Friend's Father by Madel Cerda
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    I was once the heiress to the Solomon empire, but after it crumbled, I became the “charity case” ward of the wealthy Hyde family. For years, I lived in their shadows, clinging to the promise that Anson Hyde would always be my protector.

    That promise shattered when Anson walked into the ballroom with Claudine Chapman on his arm. Claudine was the girl who had spent years making my life a living hell, and now Anson was announcing their engagement to the world.

    The humiliation was instant. Guests sneered at my cheap dress, and a waiter intentionally sloshed champagne over me, knowing I was a nobody. Anson didn’t even look my way; he was too busy whispering possessively to his new fiancée. I was a ghost in my own home, watching my protector celebrate with my tormentor.

    The betrayal burned. I realized I wasn’t a ward; I was a pawn Anson had kept on a shelf until he found a better trade. I had no money, no allies, and a legal trust fund that Anson controlled with a flick of his wrist.

    Fleeing to the library, I stumbled into Dallas Koch-a titan of industry and my best friend’s father. He was a wall of cold, absolute power that even the Hydes feared.

    “Marry me,” I blurted out, desperate to find a shield Anson couldn’t climb.

    Dallas didn’t laugh. He pulled out a marriage agreement and a heavy fountain pen.

    “Sign,” he commanded, his voice a low rumble. “But if you walk out that door with me, you never go back.”

    I signed my name, trading my life for the only man dangerous enough to keep me safe.

    👉 READ NOW

    Flash Marriage To My Best Friend’s Father Chapter 1

    The crystal flute in Eliza Solomon’s hand was going to shatter.

    She could feel the hairline fractures in the glass pressing against her palm, a perfect mirror of the way her chest felt—tight, brittle, and one breath away from exploding.

    “He looks happy, doesn’t he?”

    The voice came from her left. A socialite in emerald silk, someone Eliza used to know before the Solomon empire crumbled, before she became the pitiful ward of the Hyde family. They weren’t just her guardians; they were the iron-fisted trustees of the Solomon estate, a vast fortune she couldn’t touch until she turned twenty-five, or married. Anson, as the primary trustee, controlled every dollar.

    Eliza didn’t answer. She couldn’t. Her throat had closed up somewhere between the appetizer course and the moment Anson Hyde walked into the ballroom with Claudine Chapman on his arm.

    Anson looked more than happy. He looked victorious.

    He stood in the center of the room, under the massive chandelier that cost more than Eliza’s entire college tuition. His hand rested on the small of Claudine’s back, his fingers splayed possessively against the white fabric of her dress. He leaned down, whispering something into her ear that made Claudine throw her head back and laugh.

    The sound was sharp. It cut through the heavy orchestral music and lodged itself directly behind Eliza’s ribs.

    It was the same laugh Claudine used when she made fun of Eliza’s second-hand shoes.

    “Excuse me,” a waiter muttered, bumping into Eliza’s shoulder with a heavy tray.

    Champagne sloshed over the rim of her glass, soaking into the bodice of her grey dress. It was cold and sticky.

    The waiter didn’t apologize. He glanced at her, recognized her as the charity case, and curled his lip in a sneer before moving on to serve the guests who actually mattered.

    Eliza’s stomach cramped. The humiliation was a physical weight, pressing down on her shoulders until her knees felt weak. She needed air. She needed to not be here, watching the boy who held the keys to her gilded cage announce his engagement to the girl who had made that cage a living hell. The promise to “protect her” had always been a lie. It was a promise to possess her.

    She turned and walked toward the library, keeping her head down.

    The library was dark, smelling of old paper and lemon polish. It was the only room in the Hyde estate where Eliza had ever felt safe. She closed the heavy oak door behind her and leaned her forehead against the wood, gasping for air. Her lungs burned.

    The door handle turned under her grip.

    Eliza jumped back, wiping frantically at her eyes. She expected Anson. She expected him to come in here and tell her to stop making a scene, to smile for the cameras, to be grateful for the roof over her head.

    But the figure that filled the doorway wasn’t Anson.

    It was a wall of a man in a black tuxedo that seemed to absorb the dim light of the room. He was taller than Anson, broader, with a stillness about him that made the air in the library drop ten degrees.

    Dallas Koch.

    Eliza’s breath hitched. Why was he here? The CEO of Koch Industries, the most powerful man in the city, didn’t hide in libraries. He didn’t even look at people like Eliza.

    He stood there, his hand still on the brass knob, his dark eyes scanning her face. He took in the champagne stain on her dress, the red blotches on her cheeks, the way her hands were shaking so hard the crystal flute was rattling.

    For a second, the stoic mask he wore—the one that made him look like a statue carved from granite—cracked. A muscle in his jaw ticked.

    He stepped inside and closed the door, sealing out the noise of the party.

    He reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a handkerchief. It was white silk, folded into a perfect square. He held it out to her without a word.

    Eliza stared at it. “I… I’m fine.”

    “You are not fine,” Dallas said. His voice was a low rumble, vibrating in the quiet room. “Take it.”

    Eliza reached out. Her fingers brushed against his palm as she took the silk. A jolt of static electricity snapped between them, sharp and surprising. She flinched, but he didn’t move.

    The handkerchief smelled of sandalwood and something clean, like rain on pavement. It smelled expensive. It smelled like stability.

    From the hallway, Anson’s voice drifted through the thick wood of the door. He was making a toast.

    “…to my beautiful fiancée, Claudine…”

    The words were like a physical blow to the back of Eliza’s knees. Her legs gave out.

    She didn’t hit the floor.

    Dallas moved with a speed that shouldn’t have been possible for a man of his size. One moment he was standing three feet away, and the next, his arm was around her waist, catching her.

    His grip was firm. Solid. He held her up effortlessly, his arm like a steel bar against her spine.

    Eliza looked up. Her vision was swimming with tears, blurring his features, but she could see the intensity in his eyes. He wasn’t looking at her with pity. He was looking at her with a terrifying kind of focus.

    “Take me away,” she whispered.

    The words fell out of her mouth before she could stop them. It was a desperate plea, born of heartbreak and the sudden, overwhelming instinct that this man was the only thing in the room that wasn’t trying to crush her.

    Dallas went still. His eyes darkened, shifting from brown to something nearly black. He looked down at her, assessing the weight of her request, calculating the cost.

    “There is no turning back if we leave, Eliza,” he warned. His voice was low, rough around the edges. “If you walk out that door with me, you do not come back to this house.”

    Eliza nodded frantically. The tears were spilling over now, hot tracks on her cold skin. “Please. Just get me out.”

    Dallas didn’t hesitate. He shifted his grip, guiding her toward the servants’ exit hidden behind a tapestry. He moved his body to shield her from the security cameras, blocking her from view with his broad shoulders.

    The night air outside was biting. A sleek, matte black Maybach was idling at the curb, looking like a predator waiting in the shadows.

    Dallas opened the heavy door and helped her in. The interior smelled of leather and isolation. He slammed the door shut, and the silence was absolute. The music, the laughter, Anson’s voice—it was all gone.

    Eliza slumped against the seat. There was a crystal decanter in the center console. She didn’t think. She just poured amber liquid into a glass and drank it in one gulp.

    It burned. It burned all the way down to her empty stomach, setting her blood on fire.

    Dallas got into the driver’s seat. He didn’t look at her. He gripped the steering wheel so hard his knuckles turned white.

    “Where are we going?” she asked, her voice slurring slightly as the alcohol hit her system with the force of a truck.

    “My place,” Dallas said.

    The car moved. The city lights blurred into streaks of neon. Eliza felt dizzy, unmoored. The alcohol was mixing with the adrenaline and the grief, creating a toxic cocktail in her brain.

    She looked at Dallas’s profile. He was Azalea’s dad. He was old money. He was power.

    “I need a shield,” she mumbled, the words tumbling out. “I need a wall he can’t climb.”

    Dallas glanced at her in the rearview mirror. His expression was unreadable.

    They arrived at a building that pierced the skyline. The elevator ride was a blur of motion sickness. When the doors opened into the penthouse, Eliza stumbled.

    Dallas was there again, steadying her. His hands on her arms felt hot through the thin fabric of her dress.

    She looked up at him. In the harsh lighting of the foyer, he didn’t look like a savior. He looked dangerous.

    “Marry me,” she blurted out.

    The silence that followed was deafening.

    It was the alcohol talking, yes, but it was also a desperate, calculated gambit. Marrying Anson was a life sentence. But marrying anyone else… that was the loophole in her father’s will. It was her only escape clause. It was the survival instinct of a wounded animal trying to find the one predator in the forest who could kill the wolf at her throat.

    Dallas froze. The air in the penthouse turned electric, charged with a tension that made the hair on Eliza’s arms stand up.

    He didn’t laugh. He didn’t tell her she was drunk.

    He walked to a wall safe hidden behind a painting. He punched in a code, the beeps loud in the quiet room. He pulled out a document and a heavy fountain pen.

    He walked back to her and placed the paper on the marble console table.

    “Sign,” he commanded. His voice was soft, but it carried the weight of a gavel striking a sounding block.

    Eliza blinked, trying to focus on the paper. The words swam. She saw “Marriage” and “Agreement.”

    She didn’t care about the details. She just wanted Anson to know she was gone. She wanted to burn the bridge so thoroughly she could never cross it again.

    She grabbed the pen. Her signature was messy, a jagged scrawl across the bottom line.

    “Done,” she whispered.

    The pen slipped from her fingers and clattered onto the marble. The room tilted sideways.

    The last thing she felt was Dallas catching her again, lifting her into his arms as the blackness swallowed her whole.

    Flash Marriage To My Best Friend’s Father Chapter 2

    The light was aggressive.

    It sliced through the floor-to-ceiling windows, hitting Eliza squarely in the face. She groaned, rolling over and reaching blindly for the glass of water that usually sat on her nightstand.

    Her hand hit nothing but air.

    She cracked one eye open. The ceiling was too high. The crown molding was too intricate. And the sheets… these weren’t her scratchy, polyester sheets. This was cotton so smooth it felt like water against her skin.

    Memory slammed into her like a physical blow.

    The party. The champagne. Dallas.

    Eliza sat up so fast her head spun. The room tilted, her brain throbbing against her skull in a rhythmic, painful beat. She looked down.

    She was wearing an oversized men’s silk pajama top that swallowed her frame. The fabric was impossibly soft against her skin, and it smelled faintly of sandalwood—his scent.

    Panic, cold and sharp, flooded her chest. She grabbed the massive duvet and pulled it up to her chin, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird. Her own dress, the cheap grey one, was nowhere to be seen.

    She scanned the room. It was minimalist, masculine, and expensive. Dark wood, grey accents, no clutter.

    On the bedside table, a stack of clothes was folded with military precision.

    Sitting on top of the clothes was a piece of heavy cardstock and a black credit card.

    Eliza reached out with a trembling hand. The card was heavy—metal, not plastic. A Centurion card. It was a blank, supplementary card, bearing only the platinum insignia of the bank.

    She dropped it like it was hot coal.

    She picked up the note. The handwriting was sharp, angular.

    Hydrate. The code is your birthday. —D.

    Flashbacks assaulted her. The car ride. The demand for a shield. The paper on the marble table.

    Sign.

    She gasped, pressing her hands to her mouth. She had proposed to her best friend’s father. And he had said yes.

    She grabbed her phone from the nightstand. The screen lit up with a barrage of notifications.

    52 missed calls from Anson Hyde.

    30 texts from Anson Hyde.

    12 voicemails.

    Then, a single text from a number she didn’t have saved, but recognized instantly.

    Lawyers are filing. You are safe. Go to school.

    Dallas.

    Eliza stared at her left hand. There was a ring there. It was a simple platinum band, elegant and understated, but it felt heavier than a shackle.

    She scrambled out of bed, her legs wobbly. She grabbed the clothes. A soft cashmere sweater, dark jeans, fresh underwear. She pulled them on. They fit.

    They fit perfectly.

    She paused, the sweater halfway over her head. How? How did he have clothes in her exact size ready? The thought sent a shiver down her spine, but she pushed it away. She couldn’t deal with that right now.

    She needed to leave.

    She grabbed her bag and the black card—shoving it deep into her pocket—and fled the room.

    The penthouse was silent. A housekeeper was dusting in the hallway, a stout woman with grey hair.

    “Good morning, Mrs.—”

    Eliza didn’t let her finish. She bolted for the elevator, jabbing the button, half-expecting it not to work. To her surprise, a green light blinked and the doors slid shut. He had already given her access.

    Her phone buzzed in her hand. It was Azalea.

    Library. Now. Emergency.

    Eliza’s stomach dropped. Did she know?

    She hailed a cab outside the building, her hands shaking so bad she could barely open the door. The ride to the university took twenty minutes, but it felt like twenty seconds.

    She ran through the campus quad, ignoring the stares of students who probably saw the photos of her fleeing the party last night.

    She found Azalea pacing behind the reference section in the library. Azalea looked manic, her blonde hair messy, phone clutched in her hand.

    “Eliza!” Azalea grabbed her arm and dragged her further into the stacks. “My dad just transferred a crazy amount of money to my account.”

    Eliza froze. “What?”

    “Like, ‘buy a small island’ money,” Azalea whispered, eyes wide. “He said to take you shopping. Why is he spoiling you?”

    Azalea looked suspicious. Her eyes narrowed, scanning Eliza’s face.

    Eliza’s mouth went dry. “I… I helped him with a project. Some translation work.”

    It was a weak lie. Eliza was an art history major, not a translator. Azalea nodded slowly, though a flicker of doubt crossed her mind. Translation work? For her father, who had an entire in-house team of linguists? It felt thin, but Eliza looked so fragile, Azalea decided not to press. For now.

    “Whatever. We have orders. Come outside.”

    Azalea marched her out of the library toward the student parking lot.

    “He said your car is a death trap,” Azalea said over her shoulder. “Which, to be fair, it is. The brakes sound like dying cats. So I took the liberty of having it towed to a junkyard this morning. You’re welcome.”

    They reached the lot. A flatbed truck was idling there, its empty bed a testament to Azalea’s efficiency. Parked in her old spot was a silver Aston Martin. It gleamed under the sun, looking alien among the dented Civics and Toyotas.

    The driver hopped out and walked over to Azalea. He handed her a key fob.

    Azalea tossed it to Eliza.

    “He said this is the replacement.”

    Eliza caught the keys. The fob was heavy, leather and chrome. She looked at the car. It was worth more than the house she grew up in.

    “I can’t take this,” Eliza whispered.

    “You have to,” Azalea said, crossing her arms. “You know how he is. If you send it back, he’ll just send two.”

    Students were stopping. Phones were coming out. Whispers rippled through the air.

    “Is that Eliza Solomon? Who bought her that?”

    Eliza’s phone buzzed again. Anson.

    She declined the call, her thumb hitting the red button with aggressive force.

    She walked to the car and pressed the unlock button. The mirrors unfolded. The lights flashed.

    “Get in, Mrs. Koch,” Azalea joked, nudging her ribs.

    Eliza flinched. The title hit too close to home.

    She slid into the driver’s seat. The smell of new leather enveloped her. It smelled just like the Maybach. It smelled like Dallas.

    She gripped the steering wheel, her knuckles white. She had signed a contract with the devil, and now she was driving his chariot.

    Flash Marriage To My Best Friend’s Father Chapter 3

    The coffee shop on campus was loud, a chaotic mix of espresso machines hissing and students complaining about midterms.

    Eliza sat in the corner booth, clutching a latte like a lifeline. The caffeine was making her hands shake worse, but she needed it to combat the fog in her brain.

    Azalea was sitting opposite her, scrolling through Instagram with a grimace.

    “Everybody is talking about how you vanished,” Azalea said, not looking up. “Claudine is posting passive-aggressive quotes about ‘loyalty’ and ‘trash taking itself out.’”

    Eliza flinched. A drop of foam spilled onto her thumb. “Let her talk.”

    “Oh, I am,” Azalea said darkly. “I’m commenting with vomit emojis on every single post.”

    Eliza reached for a napkin to wipe her hand. As she moved, the cashmere scarf she was wearing slipped slightly to the side.

    Azalea gasped.

    The sound was so loud that two people at the next table turned around. Azalea dropped her phone onto the table with a clatter.

    “Eliza! What is that on your neck?”

    Eliza’s hand flew to her throat. She felt the tender spot just below her ear. A dark, purplish bruise against her pale skin.

    She had seen it in the mirror this morning and had been trying not to think about it. The memory of the night was hazy, obscured by alcohol. She remembered stumbling. She remembered Dallas catching her. Had he held her too tightly? Or was it… something else? She couldn’t be sure, and the uncertainty was terrifying.

    “It’s nothing,” Eliza stammered, pulling the scarf tighter. “The car door hit me on the way out this morning.”

    “Bullshit,” Azalea hissed, leaning over the table. Her eyes were wide, predatory. “That’s not a door, that’s a hickey. A world-class, possessive, ‘stay away from her’ hickey. Who is he?”

    Eliza’s heart hammered against her ribs. She couldn’t say Your Dad. She absolutely could not say that.

    “It’s… complicated,” Eliza said, looking down at her cup. “An older guy.”

    Azalea’s eyebrows shot up. “Older? Like… Anson’s age?”

    “Older,” Eliza whispered.

    Azalea opened her mouth to scream, but her phone cut her off. It began to ring, vibrating violently against the wooden table.

    The Caller ID flashed: The Bank.

    That was her contact name for Dallas.

    Azalea answered immediately, her posture straightening instinctively. “Yes, Daddy?”

    Eliza held her breath. She could hear the deep rumble of Dallas’s voice on the other end, though she couldn’t make out the words. The sound alone made the hair on her arms stand up.

    Azalea frowned. “Right now? But we have class in an hour.”

    She listened for another few seconds, then sighed. “Okay. Fine. We’re coming.”

    She hung up and looked at Eliza, confused.

    “He wants us at the flagship store downtown.”

    Eliza’s stomach dropped. “Both of us?”

    “Yeah. He says you need ‘appropriate attire’ for a dinner tonight.”

    “Dinner?” Eliza squeaked.

    “Apparently.” Azalea gathered her bag. “Come on. You don’t keep The Bank waiting.”

    They walked back to the parking lot. The silver Aston Martin was gleaming in the sun, drawing stares from a group of fraternity guys.

    Eliza unlocked the car. She slid into the driver’s seat, the leather molding to her body. She pushed the start button, and the engine roared to life, a guttural growl that vibrated through the floorboards.

    “You’ll get used to the high life, eventually,” Azalea laughed, buckling her seatbelt.

    Eliza pulled out of the lot, merging onto the main road toward the city. The skyline loomed ahead, glass towers reflecting the afternoon sun.

    She glanced at her reflection in the rearview mirror. She adjusted the scarf again, ensuring the mark was covered.

    Whether it was a bruise or… something else, Dallas had left a mark on her. And he had done it in a place that was hard to hide.

    It felt like a brand.

    Suddenly, the dashboard screen lit up. Eliza had paired her phone to the car’s Bluetooth earlier.

    A text message notification popped up on the center console, huge and undeniable.

    Sender: Anson Hyde

    Message: Stop playing games. Come home. You belong here.

    Azalea saw it. She let out a low whistle.

    “He’s obsessed,” Azalea said, shaking her head. “It’s actually creepy. Good thing you have a new ‘older man’ to distract you.”

    Eliza gripped the steering wheel tighter. “Yeah. Good thing.”

    She drove faster, putting distance between herself and the university, between herself and Anson. But she was driving straight toward the man who had put a ring on her finger and a mark on her neck.

    And she had no idea what his game was.

    👉 CONTINUE READING

  • The Alpha’s Destined Mate: Similar Book to Alpha Hayley’s Destined Mate novel

    The Alpha's Destined Mate: Similar Book to Alpha Hayley's Destined Mate novel
    👉 READ NOW

    Overnight, Alora went from being the Alpha’s daughter in the Gemini wolf pack to a fugitive with a shattered family. Her uncle, who had seized power, had murdered her father, and her mother had been imprisoned and was being sought by her uncle’s men. She gave it everything she had but couldn’t get away. She was led to the edge of the cliff, but she refused to give in. After jumping off the cliff, she ended up falling to her death.
    On the lakeside, Xavier, who was on his way back to his wolf pack, saw Alora. A quick check of her breathing revealed that she was still alive, so he dashed over.
    “Hey! What are you doing?”
    Alora struggled to open her eyes. Her eyelids reflected a handsome face. She made a painful lip movement.
    Save me, save me, I want my vengeance.”
    “What’s your name?”
    “Alora”
    After uttering a few words, she collapsed to the ground.
    Finally, Xavier came to the conclusion that he couldn’t risk getting himself into any more trouble. The voice in his head that had been silent for years returned just as he was about to abandon her and let her die.
    “Her life is in danger! Alora! Your situation is in her hands.”

    👉 READ NOW

    The Alpha’s Destined Mate Chapter 1 One

    Damon stared through the sky, he could picture the rising the of the moon, this was the third full moon that set for the year, there was one thing werewolves enjoys in full moons, the warmth of the full moon which radiates on their body when they change to their wolf form.

    Damon smiled, but that wasn’t the only reason he loves full moons, full moons meant seeing Anna, the woman who had been forcefully taken away from him right from the moment he laid his eyes on her.

    As if knowing he was thinking about her, he felt a slender hands on his shoulders, slowly, he turned to stare at the woman who had captured his heart, her scent alone was able to relax his inner battles.

    “You aren’t asleep yet?”

    Anna asked, staring at Damon, the brother to her mate.

    “A wounded lion can never be found asleep.”

    Damon whispered, touching her face tenderly, he heard a gasp emit from her lips, he smiled, she was so damn beautiful.

    “What Is the issue? you can share your thoughts with me.”

    Anna said, her eyes glistened with unwavering affection for the man who had first captured her heart right from the start.

    “I want you……”

    Damon phrased, he stared at her longingly, slowly tracing her lips with his fingers…..slowly and affectionately

    “….but…. I can’t have you. You aren’t mine, the goddess have always been cruel with me, first taking my birth right, then taking one thing I always desired which is you.”

    Damon said, watching as she quivered under his touch, he affected her in so many ways but that was where it all end. His touch on her body was to have a little glimmer of hope.

    “Your birth right wasn’t taken by the goddess, it was taken away from you forcefully by the culture, our tradition took you away from your right and me.”

    Anna said, smiling bitterly as a tear fell off from her tender face.

    “Don’t cry my love. I promise to fight and take you away with me to a far away land, there you will get pregnant for me and bear my pups.”

    Damon said, quickly holding her two cheeks, he smashed his lips on hers.

    The full moon covered their entwined body as they savored each others tongue. Damon wasn’t ready to quit tasting every inch of her mouth, she always tasted like vanilla, the flavor that always draws him closer to her.

    Slowly they detached from each others hold, Anna bent low as she stared down at him.

    “But that can’t happen, you are only lucky to be alive, your brother only keeps you alive because he promised your parents to do so.”

    Anna said, quickly hugging him as she cried sorrowfully.

    “Shhhh, you don’t need to cry, I hate hearing you cry.”

    Damon said, each choke that wobbles out from her lips caused his heart to squeeze with anger.

    “But I can’t be with you.”

    Anna said, staring at him.

    “Perhaps that is our fate, but I promise to be with you always. That is a promise.”

    Damon said, slowly detaching her from his body.

    “You brought more twins to the pack?”

    Damon asked.

    His brother Damien, who was the alpha of the pack immediately after their parents had died always came to the barren land which belongs to his pack whenever there was twins to deliver.

    He was in charge of taking care of this twins which have been brought to the barren land.

    That was the price he had to pay to survive until he leaves the barren land.

    “Yes, your brother brought more twins, since you have been kept alive, there wasn’t a need to kill the last twins in the pack. The pack will term it to be partial. I wish this whole tradition will stop.”

    Anna whispered, but something kept raking in her mind, something terrible which she was about to do.

    “I see, my brother is treating you well?”

    Damon said, staring at her.

    Anna stared at him for a while, slowly closing her eyes, all she could see was light blue eyes which stared back at her in pain.

    How could she forget that day, the first day she had been sent to the banished land to cater for the little twins who have been forcefully taken. Then Damon parents ruled the pack of the Gemini, at first when she saw Damon, she had taught him to be the arrogant son of the alpha who had been wooing her before they found out they were true mates. 

    Later on she realized he was the second twin whose story have been constantly discussed within the pack.

    Damon had captured her heart totally at first sight and It was the same for him too, his bare chest which had shun under the sparkling sun had captivated her teenage self and at that moment she decided he was the one for him, but fate had her ways of playing games. They could not be together, her parents been one of the great elders of the werewolf clan cannot allow her be mated to an abominable child. 

    But that never stopped them from seeing each other, every little chance she had, she would use it to visit the barren land which was almost seven hundred miles when she uses a horse.

    “Anna….you seem lost, is my brother treating you well, if he is not treating you well, I won’t waste a single moment to rip him apart, I don’t care about the consequences.”

    Damon said, glaring down at the threshold that lead to where his twin brother might have been laying.

    “I got carried away by the past. Damien is still Damien.”

    Anna whispered, there wasn’t much to say about the other twin, Damien was an arrogant bastard whom she had been forced to marry.

    “That is not an answer, my brother is an arrogant man who doesn’t know how to treat anyone with respect. I can sue him to death if he ever tried harming you……”

    “Shuuuuu, you need to keep your voice low, your voice might be heard and if that happens, we both will be in a big trouble. Damien will have a reason for detaching your body.”

    Anna said, touching his beards slowly, watching as his breathing calmed down a little. There was something peculiar about this two brothers, they are hot blooded fellow.

    “I am sorry for throwing such an outburst.”

    Damon said, circling her within his arms as he placed his forehead on hers.

    He breathed in her scent slowly and deeply, his one wish was to have her but he could not have her.

    “It’s fine, you care so much for me that is why you threw such an outburst.”

    Anna said, hugging him back.

    “When do you leave with the others.”

    Damon asked, they never stayed less than two days when ever they visited the barren lands, watching her leave the barren land was the hardest thing he had learned to endure.

    “We leave by first light tomorrow morning.”

    Anna said, she felt his breath stopped for a while and she felt her heart broke into pieces.

    “There is a problem.”

    Damon said, still hugging her.

    “There Is always a problem.”

    Anna said, laughing lowly.

    Damon chuckled at her words.

    “Well it is true. We always have problems and I wish for that to stop.”

    Damon said, smiling quite sadly.

    “I won’t see you anymore.”

    Damon said, Anna slowly detached her self from his hug.

    “What do you mean I won’t see you anymore. Are you planning on running away, while I remain with your brother.”

    Anna said, watching as Damon shook his head frantically.

    “No I am not running away. My brother must have suspected our closeness. In the meeting he mentioned something about him coming alone to the barren land from now on and if I ever said a word in the discussion, he will question me and perhaps find the truth about us, then he will hurt you at the end of it, which I don’t want it to happen.”

    Damon said, Anna nodded her head in understanding.

    Damien was a bitch, Anna thought.

    Anna breathed in slowly, there wasn’t any other option left, she will have to do the last thing in her mind.

    “Come let’s have some drink in your chambers, who knows when I will meet you again, maybe In two years or ten years or so.”

    Kira said, leading him to his room in the dark night when no eyes was watching.

    Damon followed after her, he needed a drink to clear his mind off.

    When they reached his room, she dragged him to sit on the wooden bed.

    “I came to your room with wine but I couldn’t find you so I decided to check on you.”

    Anna said, handling him a glass as she filled it with wine, she took a glass for her self, filling it with wine.

    “You came prepared already, hmmm I love the taste of this wine.”

    Damon whispered, gulping the wine at once, the wine was insanely sweet and makes one forget themselves for long.

    “Yes it is, take more, sometimes you got to free your mind by drinking.”

    Anna said, she only but tasted a single drop of the wine.

    “Yes I will, you aren’t drinking?”

    Damon asked, watching as her cup still have a huge amount of wine left in it.

    “Of course I take wine but a little, I am a terrible drinker.”

    Anna said, adding more wine to his cup, watching as he drowned it shakily.

    “I feel drunk already but I need more wine.”

    Damon said, stretching his hands towards the cup.

    Anna smiled down at him, filling his cup with more wine, she quickly walked to close the door, her plans had been activated, this was the last moment she might spend with him, so she had no other option than to make him drunk, she will bear her actions alone. He was drunk and it was time to make him hers, she was not going to regret this when she wakes up the next morning, Never!

    The Alpha’s Destined Mate Chapter 2 Two

    The whole pack gathered around, only consisting of men and women within the range of eighteen since it was considered to be a great welcome, but Alora, the daughter of the alpha of the Gemini pack, was seen, standing with the entire pack which consist only of the people within the age of eighteen but Alora was not eighteen yet, she was two years and a month old, she was a little child, but she had every right to attend to a meeting which was only meant for the grown ups.

     They were awaiting for the arrival of someone who they have been told was unknown, someone who they have been told belonged to the Gemini pack, but was never accepted at birth, because it was an abomination to accept a being like him in the pack. 

    The carriage made a stop, slowly two guards stepped down from the carriage, slowly opening the carriage door, a young man within the age of the alpha stepped down from the carriage, his light blue eyes, was enough to capture the whole attention of the entire pack.

    Then there came a gasp, coming from the pack members, they whispered in hushed tone among themselves, their voices got louder at every minutes they spent staring at the strange but familiar man who stood few feet away from them.

    “Who is he?”

    “Why is he familiar and look just like the alpha”

    “Why is he strange”

    “Who is he”

    The little Alora stood amidst them, she was been carried by her mother, Luna Anna, her few years old self could not understand what was going on in the pack. Not knowing what was going on among the pack, sucked unto her fingers.

    But whatever it was, she could not wait to leave the scene, and instead play with her toys and have a good sleep.

    Anna stared at the second twin, Damon, who had been hidden for years, away from the law which had placed him on a death sentence. 

    But he survived through all odds.

    Damon looked around the whole pack, his eyes in search for a light blue eyes, with thick dark hair just like his. 

    Slowly his eyes met his twin, he stoic form standing amidst the crowd, glaring down at him.

    Alpha Damien was not the type who could accept his twin so quickly into the pack, but that was the rule, a rule given by their parents, when his twin brother who had been hidden away from the law, when he have been crowned the alpha of the pack for three years, then he shall be brought back to stay among the people. Among his fellow pack and he shall not be killed.

    The noise in the pack was getting louder and quickly, alpha Damien turned towards the Beta of the pack, giving him a light stare, Beta Zach understood what he meant, slowly turning to stare at the members of the pack, his eyes filled with anger.

    “Be quiet everyone, the alpha stands with you, yet you cause a chaos among your selves. Please behave!”

    Beta Zach said, and quickly, the whole pack became still at his words, no words were whispered, no words was spoken.

    When the pack became silent, alpha Damien cleared his throat, he knew the whole pack was confused about the new member of the pack, who have a striking resemblance with him. 

    “Welcome Damon, my twin, welcome to the Gemini pack, the pack of our late parents.”

    Alpha Damien said, but his smiles were fake, because he was not happy to accept his twin into the pack.

    Another whispers broke through the entire pack.

    Everyone knew the law, the rule which had taken lives, that it was a crime for a second twin to live, when two twins were born, the younger would be killed and the older will remain living among them.

    But it seems the former alpha and Luna had hidden the second twin away from them, they had not killed him as the rule had said, but not just him, other twins.

    “I know everyone of you is confused, why would a younger twin survive, everyone knew the rule, any twin born in the Gemini pack will have its younger one killed in a second, but, I was not in the position to change what had happened, if I was, I wouldn’t have kept him Alive.”

    Alpha Damien said, glaring at his brother, he hated competition and seeing his brother here felt like a competition.

    “And he is back today, to live among us, but first, he will live like a commoner, he will till the soil like each and every one of you and he will pave a way for himself. But one thing for sure, he would not take my crown, I still remain your alpha.”

    Alpha Damien said, glaring at his brother once more, he walked out from the scene. 

    But not without throwing a glance at Anna, who held their child. 

    Damon stared at the his brother as he left the scene, slowly he turned to stare at Anna who gave him a light stare before quickly leaving the scene.

    Waving his head lightly, he turned toward the carriage, still feeling the heavy stare the pack gave him, some were leaving while some remained standing, whispering in hushed tones. 

    They knew not to anger the alpha by speaking behind his backs, so quickly, they walked out, leaving the alpha twin standing to tender to his business.

    Damon looked around, he had returned only with two bags, which contained his clothes and arrows, his sword was carefully kept behind his torso, making him more dangerous and sexy.

    The guards were not there to help him out, because his brother had commanded that he should not be given any help what so ever.

    Slowly he turned, walking towards the pack mansion, where his brother and family resides. 

    He still has some little right, which was, living in the family’s house.

    As he passed through the corridors, he could hear the whispers which came forth from the pack.

    He waved his head, quickly, turning to the other direct, but instead, a figure came, crashing on him so hard, making the bags he held fall on the floor. 

    Quickly he held the figure from falling, the person who had crashed into him was slender woman, her thick dark hairs cascading on his arms. He had rammed into his twin brother’s wife.

    Quickly, she left his hold, bending her head low. 

    He could feel how she trembled under his stare, he looked surprised, marveled at the sight in front of him.

    She haven’t changed for once, she was still beautiful, slender, yet she looked scared, and for a Luna like her, she had no right to be scared, especially of someone like him. Her first love and a mere wolf who had been detached from his birth right.

    “I am sorry Luna Anna.”

    He said, staring at her, as she still kept her gaze on the floor, hiding her face.

    The Alpha’s Destined Mate Chapter 3 Three

    Anna looked down, she knew the alpha was watching her, she could feel his intense gaze on her, he watches her, and if she looks up, the mark on her face would be visible, and that was something she never intend on showing to any one.

    “Are you ok Luna Anna?”

    Damon asked, walking closer to his brother’s mate, his love, but quickly, she backed off from him, taking four paces back.

    “I am fine and sorry for not looking.”

    Anna said bluntly, then quickly, she strode out from his presence.

    He watched her as she left his presence.

    Damon closed his eyes for a moment, he was playing the games of been cool with her, he knew his brother was watching and he knew not to put her in danger. Slowly waving his head, he picked up his items, slowly walking to the room which have been prepared for him.

    Anna stepped into the room, her body shook with fear, she knew she could be in another trouble, for talking with her mate’s brother.

    “You spoke with my brother, why?”

    She heard a hard voice said, it was coming from her back, quickly she turned back, her slender form became stoic with fear.

    “I had mistakenly rammed into him, by mistake. I never spoke to him intentionally. You know I wouldn’t.”

    Anna said, hoping she believed him. But Damien was not someone who you could place your hope on, In the bedroom, he was ruthless, a devil, a beater, but In the eyes of the pack, he was the best alpha with a cheerful face. 

    “Why do you think I would believe you, you both once had a thing, also knowing the fact that you had been forced to marry me, so why would I believe you, why do you think I won’t believe the fact that you both were planning on escaping or maybe…..”

    Damien said, striding towards her like a predator, who was about to capture his prey. 

    “You both are planning on committing treason, taking away my crown and making him your alpha.”

    Damien said, Anna gasped at his words, how would the alpha said such foolish words, such insane words.

    She have been forced to marry Damien, who had done nothing but abuse her on a daily basis.

    “Damien, you know I would never do t….”

    Before she could be finish her words, she felt her body, been slammed on the wall, a low scream escaped from her lips. 

    This was the second time he was hitting her for the day and this was not going to be the last either.

    “How dare you lie to my face. How dare you speak back to me.”

    He said, this time he picked her up, throwing her on the bed, quickly mounting on her.

    Anna stepped back, she knew what he was planning on doing.

    “You spoke back to me, how dare you, I am your mate, your half, not that bastard.”

    Alpha Damien said, quickly dragging her legs back, tearing her clothes into shreds.

    Anna cried In pain, she hated him, she hated his guts.

    “Lay low and spread your legs apart now!”

    Damien said, it was few words, which she was meant to obeyed.

    Anna knew she had no option, she knew what would happen to her If she disobeys his words.

    “Please do not do this.”

    Anna begged, Damien was trying to have sex with her, when she was not ready to do so, and she knew if she disobeys his words, he would not hesitate to maybe, slash her throat.

    “NOW!”

    Damien said, glaring at her as he removed the last remnant of his clothes, leaving him standing stark naked In front of her, with his huge length which had instantly became hard, he was a man of no patience and he could not bear the pathetic plead that escaped from her lips.

    Slowly, Anna parted her legs, slowly but widely.

    But as said, Damien was no man of patience because quickly, he pushed her legs apart, quickly opening her legs wider, to his delight, the sight of her clit sent him wild, making his wolf growl with excitement. 

    Anna whimpered weakly, Damien was always a beast, a wild terrible beast and she hated his guts, and there was no option for her than to allow him do what so ever he planned on doing on her.

    Quickly, she felt him thrust his huge length into her, a heavy cry elicited from her lips, she groaned, feeling the heavy thrust he was giving her.

    Damien was not the type of man to do romance, so his pace on her was fast and rough. 

    Quickly dragging her head, trying to elicit more pain from her, this sure made Anna to scream with more pain and he got delighted at it.

    And with a heavy grunt, he cum in her, filling her with his release, he hated her guts, so damn well, and he do have to inform her to whom she belonged to. 

    He hated the fact that his twin was here and his guts kept informing him that his mate would or might run into the hands of his twin, he gritted his teeth, quickly throwing her off the head board as he walked out from the room to the bath.

    He loved her, but there was a feeling that kept cladding in his mind that his mate would leave him for his brother, so the best option was to make her know whom she belonged to.

    Maybe, he could lower Damon and make him look like a threat in the eyes of the entire pack, sure that would make him leave the pack and then he would not have anything to worry of.

    Slowly Anna stepped out from the bed, her thighs still hurt over what the alpha had done to her. 

    Slowly wearing another clothes since the former one had been thorn into shreds.

    Quickly, she walked out from the room, she needed to be far away from him, normally, Damien would hit her until maybe she passed out, but today, he had not just hit her, instead, he had taken her forcefully. 

    She was so lost in thoughts that she did not see a figure coming from the other direction, she groaned in pains, hissing again, thinking she had made a contact with a wall.

    👉 CONTINUE READING

  • The Alpha’s Discarded Luna: Similar Book to Separate Hearts novel by micaelatecossi

    The Alpha's Discarded Luna: Similar Book to Separate Hearts novel by micaelatecossi
    👉 READ NOW

    I was three months pregnant when the car hit me.

    Lying there, barely hanging on, I called my husband-Alpha Ethan-over and over. No answer. When I finally woke up from the pain, I saw a post from his first love, Ivy. “Thank you, Alpha, for knowing how scared I am of the dark and staying with me all night. He even cleared his whole schedule today to take me to the auction, just to give me the best gift in the world. I’m so happy!”

    Right then, it hit me. While I was fighting to protect our child, he was with another she-wolf. I calmly liked her post and put my phone away.

    Since he chose his first love, I chose to let go.

    Seven days from now, I’d leave his world for good-with our child.

    👉 READ NOW

    The Alpha’s Discarded Luna Chapter 1 Sign The Rejection

    Lianne’s POV:

    Three months into my pregnancy, I, Lianne Riley, was caught in a car accident.

    Half-conscious and shaking, I kept calling my husband, Alpha Ethan Voss, but he never answered.

    When the pain finally eased enough for me to stay awake, I opened my phone and saw a post from his first love, Ivy Brooks.

    “I have to thank Ethan for staying with me all night because he knows I’m afraid of the dark. He even canceled all his meetings today to take me to an auction and bought me the most beautiful gift in the world. I’m so happy!”

    That was the moment I understood everything. When I was seriously injured while protecting my child, he chose to stay beside another she-wolf.

    Without a word, I liked the post and closed the app.

    If he wanted his first love back, then he could have her.

    Seven days from now, I would disappear from his life forever-with our child.

    …

    Clutching the freshly printed Rejection, I dragged my injured body back home.

    I shoved open the heavy oak door. The living room sat in darkness, with only the faint glow from the wall lamps cutting through the shadows.

    In the faint light, a tall figure sat on the couch, his presence heavy and suffocating. The pressure rolling off him belonged only to a top-tier Alpha.

    He was none other than my mate, Ethan.

    “So you still remember this is your home?” His voice cut through the silence like frost.

    Before I could answer, he rose from the couch and crossed the room in a few long strides.

    His hand clamped around my wrist with brutal force, pain shooting through my arm as though he meant to snap the bones.

    “Lianne, what was the point of that like on Ivy’s post?” he snapped, glaring down at me with open contempt. “She only just came back, and her condition isn’t stable yet. She can’t deal with stress right now. Were you trying to remind her that you’re my Luna?”

    I lifted my eyes to him, my blurred vision making his face hard to see clearly.

    Three years ago, Ethan had been poisoned with silver. The toxin ruined his legs.

    After Ivy dumped him and ran overseas, he spiraled completely, numbing himself with alcohol day after day.

    The Elders of the Thorn Pack arranged our bond.

    For the last three years, I’d stayed by his side as his mate, calming the rage and pain eating away at him. At the same time, I’d given him my blood again and again, using my healing ability to help repair his body until he could finally stand on his own once more.

    But now, there wasn’t even a trace of warmth left in him. His breath brushed lightly against my neck while his voice stayed cold. “I already told you before-stop letting your jealousy control you. Can’t you act reasonable for once?”

    Reasonable.

    The word hit harder than a slap against my already numb heart.

    He didn’t know that not long ago, I’d been trapped in a wrecked car after the crash.

    Pinned inside the overturned vehicle with blood running down my face, I’d called him again and again, hoping he would come to save me and our unborn baby.

    But before I could explain anything, all he said was, “Ivy’s not feeling well right now. I can’t leave her side. Whatever it is, deal with it yourself.”

    Then he ended the call.

    I forced myself out of the crushed driver’s seat with the last bit of strength I had left. After that, I walked three miles through heavy rain before a passing car finally stopped for me.

    “I’m sorry,” I whispered, lowering my gaze so he wouldn’t see the sadness in my eyes. “It won’t happen again.”

    Ethan looked caught off guard by how quickly I apologized. He fell silent for a moment, the anger in his eyes easing slightly, though suspicion soon took its place.

    Letting go of my wrist, he looked me over slowly, from my tangled hair to my pale face.

    “The staff said you were out all day, and you weren’t answering your phone.” He frowned. “And those calls you kept making… were you throwing a fit because of Ivy?”

    “No.” I took a slow breath, forcing down the turmoil churning inside me. “There was an issue with the pack’s supply deliveries, so I went to deal with it. I must’ve lost my phone during the mess.”

    I pulled out a stack of documents and handed them to him. “These are the financial reports for this quarter, along with a few documents that need your signature. The admin office needs them by tomorrow morning.”

    Ethan took the papers from me and casually tossed them onto the coffee table without even checking them.

    He trusted me completely. For the past three years, I’d been the perfect Luna in his eyes, handling every responsibility without fault.

    I took care of the endless pack matters for him. Whenever the silver poison pushed him into violent, uncontrollable episodes, I stayed beside him and used our mate bond to calm the beast inside him.

    Ethan sat back down, picked up a pen, and signed the documents one after another with quick, practiced strokes.

    He didn’t realize the Rejection was hidden beneath the stack of documents.

    Once he signed it, the Rejection would take effect in seven days.

    After that, the bond forcing us together would break completely. He would finally be free. And I would disappear from his life forever.

    “It’s done.” He slid the papers back toward me, his fingers brushing lightly against the back of my hand by accident.

    I pulled my hand away instantly, as though his touch had scorched me.

    A shadow passed through Ethan’s eyes. He stared at me for a long moment before asking, “Lianne, are you avoiding me?”

    He rose to his feet, his tall frame closing in until his shadow swallowed me completely.

    Then he reached for me. His fingers caught my chin and lifted it, forcing me to look straight at him.

    There was something fierce burning in his eyes. Possessiveness. The instinctive dominance an Alpha held toward his mate.

    “Today’s our wedding anniversary,” he said quietly. His hand slid from my chin to my throat, his rough thumb brushing slowly over the sensitive skin there. “By pack tradition, I should stay with you tonight.”

    His touch felt burning hot against my skin, yet my heart remained cold and unmoving.

    At that moment, his phone suddenly rang.

    The glowing screen showed a name I knew too well. Ivy.

    Ethan’s body stiffened.

    He answered immediately, and Ivy’s trembling voice drifted through the call, “Ethan, I’m scared. The thunder’s really loud tonight. Can you come stay with me?”

    Ethan glanced at me, hesitation flickering briefly across his face.

    I pressed a faint smile onto my lips and urged, “You should go. Ivy only just came back, and she’s still not fully recovered. As the pack’s Alpha, you should look after your pack members. I’ll be fine here alone.”

    Ethan kept staring at me, as if trying to find some trace of resentment hidden beneath my words. But there was nothing for him to find. I looked empty enough to fool even him, like a doll with nothing left inside.

    “You’re finally beginning to understand what it means to be a Luna,” he said after a moment, satisfaction creeping into his tone as he put his phone away. “I know this hasn’t been easy for you. Once Ivy’s settled in, I’ll make it up to you.”

    Make it up to me?

    What I wanted was never compensation. I only wanted the one thing he had never truly given me-his whole heart.

    “Okay,” I answered with a nod.

    Ethan turned and headed for the door, his hurried steps making it seem as though he couldn’t leave fast enough.

    He never looked back, so he never saw my legs buckle the moment the door shut behind him. I slid slowly down the wall, too weak to keep standing.

    Lowering my eyes, I looked at the Rejection while my trembling fingers brushed across his signature.

    This would be the last thing I ever did for Ethan.

    In seven days, I would no longer be his Luna.

    I would take our unborn child and disappear from his life forever.

    The Alpha’s Discarded Luna Chapter 2 Eternal Devotion

    Lianne’s POV:

    The next morning, sunlight spilled through the floor-to-ceiling windows and filled my room.

    I endured the constant ache in my fractured ribs, then covered the lifeless color of my face with thick concealer before changing into a clean, tailored business suit.

    Ethan wasn’t only the Alpha of the Thorn Pack. He was also the CEO of Voss Group. And I was his chief secretary.

    To everyone in the company, I was the person he relied on most. Calm, capable, efficient. The perfect secretary who handled every problem without hesitation.

    Only a few in the pack knew I was his mate.

    I knew Ethan hated the fact that I had lost my wolf. That was why he’d never acknowledged our bond in public. For a long time, I’d waited quietly, hoping one day, he’d accept me openly.

    But now, none of that mattered anymore.

    I walked into the company building and went straight to the HR department. Then I placed my resignation letter on the manager’s desk.

    “You’re resigning?” The HR manager adjusted her glasses in disbelief. “Lianne, you’re the person Mr. Voss trusts more than anyone. The company would fall apart without you. Does Mr. Voss know about this?”

    “He won’t mind,” I replied calmly, keeping the same polished smile I used at work every day. “I’ll finish the transition over the next few days. Nothing at the company will be affected.”

    The manager looked like she wanted to say more, but in the end, she only sighed and signed the resignation letter.

    After leaving her office, I stopped in the hallway and took a slow breath. A sharp pain spread through my chest, reminding me that the injuries from the car crash were far worse than they looked.

    I was about to return to my desk when quiet voices drifted out from the break room nearby.

    “Did you hear? The one Alpha loves is back.”

    “You mean Ivy? No wonder Alpha spent so much at the auction. He paid fifty million for the ‘Tears of Moonstone’ necklace.”

    “Seriously? That’s the necklace that represents eternal devotion. He really treats her like a queen.”

    I stopped walking.

    Tears of Moonstone.

    Three years ago, on the day Ethan and I formed our mate bond, I’d seen that necklace in a magazine.

    The crystal was said to glow blue beneath moonlight, a gift blessed by the Moon Goddess for true mates.

    Back then, I’d pointed at the picture shyly and whispered to Ethan, “It’s beautiful.”

    He hadn’t even looked at the picture for more than a second before answering casually, “That necklace is meant for she-wolves who’ve gone through the official Luna ceremony. You don’t even have a wolf, Lianne. If you wore it, the pack would only complain. Stop making things harder for me.”

    So that was the truth. It had never been about pack traditions. I simply wasn’t worthy enough in his eyes.

    “Lianne, this document needs Alpha’s signature right away. Could you bring it in for me?” A junior secretary hurried toward me, pulling me out of my thoughts.

    I accepted the document, though my fingers shook slightly around it.

    Then I walked to the CEO’s office and pushed the door open. The moment I stepped inside, the scene before me froze me in place.

    Ethan sat behind his large desk while Ivy perched casually along the edge beside him.

    She wore a flawless silk dress that made her seem delicate enough to break.

    The coldness in Ethan’s eyes had completely disappeared. He let her wrap her arms around his neck, and when she leaned over to kiss his cheek, he didn’t pull away.

    Suddenly, the document slipped from my numb fingers. Papers scattered across the floor with a sharp rustle, as though my heart had shattered along with them.

    Both of them looked toward me at once.

    The tenderness on Ethan’s face vanished instantly, replaced by the familiar icy expression I knew too well. Irritation flickered in his eyes.

    “Do you not know how to knock before entering?” he said sharply.

    Ivy quickly jumped off the desk, acting startled by the situation. Then she walked over to me and took my hand, as though she was trying to comfort me. “Lianne, please don’t misunderstand anything. I’m just really happy today. Ethan gave me such an amazing gift.”

    Her fingers tightened around mine while she tilted her head to show off the necklace resting against her throat.

    The huge moonstone shimmered beneath the sunlight pouring through the windows, its glare so bright it almost hurt to look at.

    “It’s gorgeous, isn’t it?” Ivy smiled sweetly, but the provocation in her eyes was meant only for me. “Ethan told me I’m the only person worthy of this symbol of eternal devotion.”

    A sharp pain twisted through my chest, dull and brutal, like a blunt knife dragging back and forth inside me.

    Still, I forced myself to remain standing. Somehow, I even managed a steady smile. “It’s beautiful. It looks perfect on you.”

    I crouched down slowly, pain shooting through my ribs as I gathered the scattered papers. After straightening them neatly, I placed them on Ethan’s desk. “Alpha, this document needs your signature.”

    My composure seemed to unsettle Ethan.

    A trace of discomfort crossed his face as he watched me turn toward the door. Then, almost awkwardly, he spoke up to explain himself. “Ivy just returned to the pack. The necklace was only meant as a welcome-back gift. Don’t overthink it.”

    “Alright.” I nodded lightly, said nothing else, and walked out without looking back.

    That evening, I returned home and quietly began packing my things.

    Everything in the house carried traces of the life Ethan and I had shared together. Now all of it felt like a cruel reminder of how foolish I’d been.

    I folded my clothes carefully and placed them inside the suitcase one by one. As for the expensive jewelry Ethan had given me over the years, I left every piece behind.

    I only wanted to take the things that truly belonged to me.

    The moment I closed the suitcase, hurried footsteps sounded from behind me.

    Then Ethan’s voice rang out in panic. “Lianne! What do you think you’re doing?”

    The Alpha’s Discarded Luna Chapter 3 Ethan, Help Me

    Lianne’s POV:

    I hadn’t expected Ethan to come back so early.

    Before I could say anything, he crossed the room in a few quick strides and grabbed the wrist I was using to close the suitcase. His grip tightened hard enough to hurt.

    Then he seemed to have realized something. Dark anger stirred in his eyes as he stared at me. “Didn’t I already explain the necklace was only a gift to celebrate Ivy’s return? And now you’re packing your things to threaten me? Lianne, you’re not a child anymore. You’re the Luna of this pack. Start acting like one.”

    I looked at his familiar face, handsome as ever yet completely devoid of warmth, and a deep sense of bitterness rose quietly inside me.

    No matter what happened, he always treated my pain like some immature attempt to gain attention.

    But I didn’t want to argue with him. Most of all, I couldn’t let him discover the Rejection.

    “I’m not threatening you,” I said, lowering my eyes. “The closet’s just too crowded, so I thought I’d clear some of the clothes out. Sometimes, old things should make room for new ones.”

    Ethan stared at me for a long moment, as though trying to determine whether I was lying to him.

    But my face remained calm, without the hurt and resentment he usually expected to see. Gradually, the tension in his expression eased. “Good. I’m glad you understand.”

    “Ethan?” A soft voice drifted in from the doorway.

    I looked up sharply. Ivy stood in the doorway wearing a thin silk nightdress, a man’s jacket draped loosely over her shoulders. It carried Ethan’s scent.

    She leaned weakly against the doorframe, her pale face making her look like a fragile white flower ready to collapse at any moment.

    “What is she doing here?” The words escaped before I could stop them, and a sharp ache pierced my chest.

    “Ivy’s going to stay here for a while.” Ethan walked over to her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders with natural familiarity, as though he’d done it countless times before. “Some of her fans have been crossing the line lately. They even found the place she’s staying at now. It isn’t safe for her anymore. Until she finds somewhere suitable, staying here is the best option.”

    Then he looked at me, warning clear in his eyes. “Treat her properly. I don’t want people spreading rumors that the Luna of the Thorn Pack is bullying another pack member. Do you understand?”

    I stared at the two of them standing together, and the whole thing felt strangely unreal.

    My mate had brought the woman he loved into our home. And now he expected me to welcome her with a smile.

    “Alright,” I replied with a bitter smile. “I’ll make sure she’s well taken care of.”

    The staff moved quickly after that. They cleaned out the room beside mine, the nursery Ethan and I had once planned to use for our future child, and turned it into Ivy’s bedroom.

    Ethan personally stayed with her while the servants arranged everything. He even instructed them to replace the scent diffuser oils with lavender because it was Ivy’s favorite fragrance.

    The laughter drifting from the room next door grated against my nerves like a blade scraping over raw skin, tearing deeper into a heart that was already falling apart.

    Late that night, I forced my exhausted body into the bathroom.

    Warm water poured over me, but no amount of heat could drive away the cold buried deep inside my chest.

    I lifted my eyes to the mirror. My face looked pale and drained, and dark bruises spread across my chest from the crash. At that moment, the tears I had been holding back finally fell.

    Just six more days.

    If I could endure six more days, everything would be over.

    After changing into a simple silk slip dress, I stepped out of the bathroom through the lingering steam. My vision was still hazy, so I didn’t notice someone standing inside the room.

    Suddenly, my foot slipped against the floor, and my body pitched backward.

    But instead of crashing down, I fell into a firm, burning embrace.

    One of Ethan’s arms locked tightly around my waist while his other hand pressed protectively against the back of my head, pulling me hard against his chest.

    The sharp cedarwood scent that always clung to him surrounded me instantly.

    “Can’t even stand properly anymore?” His voice came out low and rough beside my ear.

    “Let me go,” I insisted, struggling to steady myself. “Shouldn’t you be with Ivy right now?”

    His eyes darkened instantly. Instead of letting me go, Ethan pulled me tighter against him. His fingers slid slowly through my damp hair before settling at the back of my neck, right over the sensitive gland every werewolf guarded instinctively.

    “Lianne, I’m your mate,” he murmured against my skin. His warm breath brushed across my collarbone, sending a shiver through me. “Yesterday was our anniversary. I told you I’d make it up to you.”

    His hand moved slowly along my skin, rough fingertips brushing lightly against me and leaving heat in their wake.

    Three years of marriage had taught him every weakness I had. He knew exactly how to break down my defenses.

    “No…”

    My protest was swallowed by his possessive, punishing kiss.

    There was no gentleness in the kiss. It was fierce and possessive, filled with a hunger that felt more like claiming than affection.

    He kissed me hard enough to steal the air from my lungs, as though he wanted to erase every thought in my mind except him.

    The next moment, he pushed me down onto the bed, his body pressing heavily against mine.

    During the struggle, the straps of my silk dress slipped from my shoulders, exposing bare skin beneath the dim light.

    Desire burned openly in Ethan’s eyes. His lips moved slowly down my neck, leaving heated marks along my collarbone.

    “Ethan…” A shaky sound escaped my throat as my fingers gripped his shoulders tightly, my nails pressing into the hard muscles beneath his shirt.

    For that brief moment, I let myself sink into the illusion he created. Even knowing it wasn’t real, I still reached desperately for the warmth he gave me so rarely.

    His hand slid beneath the hem of my dress, his touch burning against my skin.

    Just as he was about to go further, a terrified scream suddenly rang out from Ivy’s room next door.

    “Ethan, help me!”

    👉 CONTINUE READING

  • The Lycan King Curse: Similar Book to The Lycan King’s Army

    The Lycan King Curse by Bobbie_
    👉 READ NOW

    “Our marriage was only a deal between me and my father. I don’t love you. The woman I love is pregnant and in critical condition… This marriage is cancelled!”
    Those words shattered Quinn on what should’ve been the happiest day of her life. Betrayed by her fiancé and best friend in one brutal moment, she spirals into heartbreak-and lands in the arms of a dangerous stranger after a reckless, wild night.
    But the man she gave herself to wasn’t just any stranger.
    He was the cursed Lycan king-a feared beast of legends who disappeared from the world long ago. And now, he’s back… for her.
    Framed for murder by the same people who betrayed her, Quinn finds herself hunted-until the king rises from the shadows to claim what’s his. Her.
    And she’s not alone.
    She’s carrying his pup.
    Cold. Possessive. Lethal. He will burn kingdoms to protect her, shed blood for her vengeance, and tear apart anyone who made her cry. Because she isn’t just his mate…
    She’s his cure.
    And no one touches what belongs to the cursed king.

    👉 READ NOW

    The Lycan King Curse Chapter 1 The Rejection

    I should’ve known.
    The moment Dylan stepped onto that stage with his tie undone and his lips pressed into a flat, miserable line, I should’ve known something was wrong. Something was always wrong with Dylan, I just didn’t want to see it.
    The guests murmured. My heart thumped in my ears. I took a shaky breath and stepped forward in my ivory dress, the veil clutched in one hand. My smile wavered.
    He didn’t even look at me.
    “Dylan?” I whispered.
    He turned to face the crowd instead, jaw tight. “I-I can’t go through with this.”
    Silence. Pure, suffocating silence. Then-
    “What?” I choked, the word barely leaving my throat.
    “I’m sorry,” he said, like it meant anything. “But I’m not marrying Quinn.”
    Gasps broke out across the pack house hall.
    My chest caved inward.
    “My mate is in the hospital,” he said louder now, for everyone to hear. “She’s carrying my child. And she’s in critical condition.”
    The room spun. My body turned to ice.
    Mate?
    Pregnant?
    My feet moved on their own. “Dylan, what are you talking about?” My voice cracked, shaking.
    “I can’t let her die while I stand here pretending to love someone I don’t.” His eyes finally met mine, hard and cold. “I never loved you, Quinn.”
    Pain hit like a slap. I stepped back. My wolf whimpered in my mind.
    He kept going. “I needed to prove to my father that I was responsible. That I could commit. That’s why I proposed. That’s why I played along.”
    Played along?
    I laughed. It was sharp and hollow. “You used me.”
    “I had no choice,” he snapped. “You think my father would’ve let me near the Alpha title if I didn’t prove myself with the perfect, obedient she-wolf? You were convenient.”
    I clenched my fists. “Say that again.”
    But he turned his back to me.
    That was it. No explanation. No guilt.
    Just cold-blooded betrayal.
    I could hear someone crying in the crowd. I didn’t know if it was my aunt, my cousin-or me. My throat burned. I couldn’t breathe.
    My mother stood at the far end of the room, arms folded, face unreadable.
    Of course she wasn’t surprised.
    Of course she knew.
    She always knew everything before I did.
    I turned toward her, and for once, I saw what she really thought of me. No pity. Not concerned. Just disgust.
    “Don’t make a scene,” she mouthed slowly.
    Don’t make a scene?
    I stormed down the aisle, ripping off my veil and tossing it to the floor. My father avoided my gaze like getting has always done when things get sour. Coward.
    Outside, the wind howled. My hands trembled as I tugged off the heels. I didn’t care that I was barefoot on the gravel path. I didn’t care that I was still in my wedding dress.
    I needed answers.
    I needed a name.
    I needed to know who Dylan threw everything away for.
    So I ran.
    The hospital smelled like bleach and betrayal. I charged up to the nurse’s station, my voice steel. “I need to know who was just admitted for an emergency pregnancy. Critical condition. The father’s name is Dylan Reid.”
    The nurse blinked. “Ma’am, we can’t-“
    “I’m his fiancée. Or… I was,” I bit out. “Tell me where he is.”
    The nurse hesitated, then pointed. “Room 213. Maternity emergency wing.”
    I didn’t thank her. I didn’t slow down.
    I burst through the door like a hurricane.
    And there she was.
    Cassandra.
    My best friend.
    In the hospital bed, propped up by pillows, looking pale and beautiful, was the girl I’d grown up with. The girl who laughed with me in high school, shared secrets, painted my nails, and told me Dylan was “just her cousin” when they met two years ago.
    She looked shocked when she saw me. But not guilty.
    “Quinn…”
    I laughed bitterly. “You?”
    She blinked, pretending to be confused. “W-What are you-“
    I marched to the bed. “Cut the crap. You’re the one carrying Dylan’s baby?”
    Her hands went to her stomach. Protective. Possessive.
    Like she had any right.
    “He said you’d hate me,” she whispered.
    “Hate you?” I seethed. “You sat in my house. Ate with my family. Planned my engagement party. All the while, screwing the man I was supposed to marry?”
    “He was never yours Quinn, you were just a temporary replacement” she said, a tone of mockery evident in her voice.
    “Oh, that makes it okay?” I barked out a harsh laugh.
    The door opened behind me, and Dylan stepped in, panting, sweaty, looking like he’d just run a marathon.
    His eyes widened when he saw me.
    “You,” I said quietly. “Told me she was your cousin.”
    He didn’t respond.
    “She’s pregnant,” I continued, voice rising. “With your child. And you introduced her to me as your goddamn cousin.”
    “Quinn, I-“
    I slapped him.
    The sound echoed in the room.
    Cassandra gasped. Dylan reeled back, but I wasn’t done.
    “You humiliated me in front of the entire pack,” I hissed. “You lied. You used me. For what? To earn Daddy’s approval?”
    He looked ashamed, but not enough.
    “I should’ve known. You were always a coward.”
    “Don’t talk to him like that,” Cassandra said, frowning.
    I turned to her. “Shut up. You don’t get to defend him.”
    “Please leave,” Dylan said, voice low. “She’s not well.”
    “I don’t give a damn.” I stepped closer. “You could’ve told me the truth. You could’ve broken it off like a man. But instead you waited till our wedding day to throw me away like garbage.”
    “You were always garbage,” he said, his voice rising.
    “I gave you people to rely on when no one wants to play with a cursed and weak omega like you so be grateful for that” he said scorn
    “I was just a tool to get what you wanted.”
    He didn’t deny it.
    My eyes burned with unshed tears, but I refused to let them fall.
    “You’re dead to me, both of you.”
    I turned to leave, then paused. “Oh, and Dylan? You better pray your father never finds out the truth. Because I’ll make sure he does.”
    “Too bad, his father died this morning and that’s why your engagement was broken” Cassandra said with a smirk playing on her lips
    My face went pale.
    I slammed the door on my way out.
    It is raining now. Of course it was.
    I stood on the sidewalk, wedding dress soaked, mascara running. People stared. I didn’t care.
    My phone rang. My mother.
    I declined the call.
    It rang again.
    I picked it up.
    “What?” I snapped.
    “You made a spectacle of yourself,” she said coldly. “We’ll never live this down.”
    “I don’t care,” I spat. “I’m done pretending.”
    “I warned you about Dylan. You didn’t listen.”
    “You didn’t warn me. You just hated me so much you wanted me to fail.”
    She was silent.
    I continued, voice shaking. “You never loved me. You just tolerated me because it made you look good in front of the pack.”
    “You’re being dramatic.”
    “No. I’m finally seeing things clearly.”
    I hung up and tossed the phone into a puddle.
    Let it drown like the trust I once had in everyone around me.
    I didn’t go home. I walked for hours, barefoot, cold, and furious. I ended up at the old training field, the one Dylan and I used to sneak into when we were younger. The gate creaked as I pushed it open.
    I let out a scream.
    One long, raw, animalistic scream that tore from my throat like a wound being ripped open.
    Then I shifted.

    The Lycan King Curse Chapter 2 The Stranger

    The wind stung my face as I tore through the woods, paws thudding against the wet earth. I didn’t care where I was going-I just needed to run, to escape the crushing weight in my chest.
    Branches snapped underfoot. Trees blurred past. My wolf didn’t stop. Not until the pain dulled to a low throb and even she was tired of being angry.
    By the time I shifted back, my skin was damp with rain and sweat. My hair clung to my face, and I was somewhere deep in the northern edge of Graybridge-far from the pack, far from home, if I could even call that place home anymore.
    I didn’t plan on going back. Not tonight. Maybe not ever.
    In the distance, I spotted flickering neon lights-Blue Moon Tavern. Fitting.
    I walked barefoot toward it, mud caking my feet, still wearing the tattered remains of my shift clothes from under the wedding dress. A few people outside started, but I didn’t stop. I pushed the door open and was greeted with loud music, stale smoke, and the clink of glasses.
    The bartender blinked as I approached.
    “You alright there?” he asked, eyeing my torn dress and matted hair.
    “I need a drink,” I croaked. “Something strong.”
    He poured without another word. I downed the first shot, then the second, then three more. The burn didn’t bother me. I wanted it.
    I wanted to forget.
    “Rough night?” the bartender asked after a while.
    I slammed my sixth shot glass down. “You have no idea.”
    “Maybe a bed would be better than the bar.”
    “Maybe,” I muttered, swaying slightly. “You rent rooms?”
    “Upstairs. We’ve got a few for overnight travelers.”
    “I’ll take one.”
    He handed me a key. “Room twelve. Down the hall, second left, past the stairs.”
    “Got it.” I nodded… or tried to.
    I grabbed the key, slid off the stool like a newborn deer, and made my way toward the hallway. I forgot the number immediately.
    Was it ten? Or twenty? No-twelve.
    I squinted at the numbers on the doors, my vision dancing. I stopped at a door that looked vaguely right. 210? 201? 120? Who cares.
    The key fit.
    I turned it and stumbled in.
    Dim lights. A warm scent of cedar and something spicy.
    I yawned and dropped my purse, letting my dress fall from my shoulder.
    Then I heard the door to the bathroom open.
    “What the hell?” a deep voice rumbled.
    I froze, heart lurching.
    A man stepped out, towel slung low on his hips, hair wet, water dripping down his abs like a slow tease from the goddess herself.
    He stared at me, stunned. “Who are you?”
    I blinked. “This is my room.”
    “No. It’s not.”
    I looked down at the key still in my hand, confused. “Room twelve?”
    He raised a brow. “This is twenty-one.”
    Shit.
    “Oh,” I mumbled. “My bad.”
    He walked forward, still dripping, still towel-clad, and just-why did he look like that? The body of a warrior, but the face of a man who could ruin someone without saying a word.
    “I’ll leave,” I said quickly, trying to back up.
    But I stepped on the hem of my dress and slipped.
    “Whoa-!”
    He caught me before I hit the floor, one strong arm around my waist.
    And just like that, the room shifted.
    Our eyes locked.
    There it was. That damn electric snap. Like the universe had grabbed my spine and yanked.
    My hands were on his chest. His skin was hot. My head spun-but not from the alcohol anymore.
    “Don’t,” I whispered.
    “Don’t what?” he murmured, his voice low, steady.
    I should’ve pulled away.
    I should’ve walked out.
    But I didn’t.
    Instead, I leaned in and kissed him.
    Hard. Desperate.
    He froze for half a second, then gripped my waist and kissed me back-deeper, rougher, like he’d been waiting for something to break him open too.
    My dress dropped to the floor.
    His towel hit the ground.
    There was no name, no promise, no future. Just breath and skin and pain and need.
    He pressed me to the wall, lips grazing my jaw. “What’s your name?”
    I closed my eyes. “Does it matter?”
    He paused. Then, “No. Not tonight.”
    That was all it took.
    He lifted me with ease, laid me on the bed, kissed every broken part of me like it could be stitched together by mouth and tongue and fire.
    It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t sweet.
    It was raw.
    And somewhere between the gasps and the tangled sheets, I gave something I’d never given anyone else-my body, my heart, my firsts.
    My virginity.
    To a stranger.
    And I didn’t regret it.
    Not even a little.
    I woke up to sunlight slanting through the window and the weight of an arm draped across my hip.
    For a moment, I forgot where I was.
    Then I turned and saw him.
    God, he was even more beautiful in the light.
    His face was relaxed, lashes dark against his cheekbones, jaw rough with stubble. He looked peaceful. Untouchable.
    I slipped out of bed carefully, grabbing my dress from the floor and wincing at the soreness between my legs.
    Last night came back in pieces-drinks, heat, skin, his voice whispering something I didn’t understand in my ear as I collapsed on top of him.
    I didn’t even ask his name.
    And I still didn’t want it.
    Not yet.
    I needed the illusion-that just once, I’d done something reckless for myself. That just once, I wasn’t someone’s pawn.
    I scribbled a note on a hotel notepad:
    “Thanks for the rescue. No regrets. – Q.”
    I placed it on the bedside table and slipped out quietly.
    I didn’t even look back.
    Outside, the town was waking. I stood at the corner of the street, unsure where to go. No home to return to. No pack to belong to.
    But for the first time in years, I felt something close to free.
    Still hurt. Still pissed. Still burning.
    But free.
    My phone buzzed. I’d forgotten I even had it.
    Caller ID: Mom.

    The Lycan King Curse Chapter 3 The Truth Revealed

    I stared at the screen like it owed me a damn explanation.
    Caller ID: Mom.
    Of course.
    The second I picked up, her screech nearly shattered my eardrum.
    “Where the hell are you, Quinn? Do you think this is some kind of game? Get back here right now!”
    I held the phone away from my face and blinked into the sky. Still gray. Still miserable. I exhaled through my nose, trying not to punch a wall or dissolve into flames.
    “I’m coming anyway,” I muttered and hung up before she could spit another insult.
    I should’ve tossed the phone into traffic.
    I walked the rest of the way home. No one stopped me. No one cared. The stares I got? All pity. The same pity I hated when Dylan rejected me, the same pity I spat on when I ran away, barefoot and broken.
    But now? I didn’t feel broken anymore. Something inside me had snapped clean, like the last chain unhooked from my ribs. It still hurt, but I could breathe for once.
    When the Arledge estate came into view, I paused at the gate and stared up at it like it was a stranger’s home. Technically, it always felt like it.
    My hand gripped the cold handle of the front door, and just before I pushed it open, I froze.
    “…the cursed Lycan King’s envoy will be here shortly,” my father’s voice floated out the open living room window.
    I froze. My stomach turned.
    “She’s lucky,” Mother added. “After humiliating us, this is the least she can do.”
    “Sold,” I whispered to myself. “They’re selling me off like I’m… livestock.”
    My nails dug into the door.
    “Is this a goddamn joke?” I roared as I burst in, slamming the door behind me.
    Father turned, barely blinking. “Watch your mouth, girl.”
    I marched in. “Tell me what I just heard isn’t true.”
    “It is. You leave today. The King’s guard will arrive shortly,” he said like he was reading off a weather report.
    My chest caved in.
    “You’re selling me to the cursed Lycan King? The murderer? The one with a trail of blood behind him longer than his shadow?”
    “It’s an honor-“
    “It’s a death sentence!” I snapped. “And you didn’t even ask me? You didn’t think to-“
    A flash. A crack. My face whipped sideways as his palm smacked hard against my cheek.
    I gasped, tasting iron.
    “Be grateful,” he growled. “You’ve embarrassed this family enough.”
    I blinked at him, stunned for maybe half a second. Then I laughed. Laughed so hard I thought I’d choke.
    “You mean after your perfect deal with Dylan fell apart? That’s what this is about? Saving face?”
    “Don’t speak unless spoken to,” my mother cut in coldly.
    “You hate me so much you’re throwing me to a beast,” I hissed.
    “If you hadn’t failed at keeping a man-“
    I lunged forward, but one of the guards stepped between us. “Back off.”
    That’s when I noticed the three men by the hallway-pack guards I hadn’t seen in years. Muscle-bound, silver-armed, ready for war.
    “You’re seriously doing this,” I breathed. “You’re giving me away like a sack of rice?”
    My mother narrowed her eyes. “It’s done. Accept it.”
    “No.” I spun and bolted for the door.
    Before I could reach it, cold fingers yanked my wrist. Mother’s grip was steel.
    “You’re not leaving.”
    I jerked, twisted, tried to shake her off. But she pushed me toward the staircase, and the guards flanked me.
    “Don’t touch me!” I shrieked.
    “Put her in her room!” Father bellowed. “Now!”
    One of the guards hoisted me like I weighed nothing and shoved me up the stairs while I kicked and punched and screamed.
    “This is illegal! I’m not a damn toy! I’m not-“
    They pushed me inside my room and slammed the door shut behind me. A key turned. Then the bolt.
    Trapped.
    Like always.
    I roared, a deep growl tearing from my chest as I punched the wall. My hand ached. Didn’t matter. I grabbed the dresser and threw it against the door. Not that it’d stop anyone.
    My breaths were ragged. My pulse, wild. My wolf was clawing to the surface, as angry as I was.
    They were really going to send me off to the cursed king like some gift-wrapped offering. And no one was coming to save me.
    Fine.
    I’d save myself.
    The window. I ran over, threw it open. Wind howled through, cold and sharp. The branches of the tree beside my room were thinner than I remembered. But they were there.
    And I had nothing to lose.
    I climbed onto the window ledge, looked down at the drop.
    Then I jumped.
    The wind snatched my breath as I hit the first branch, bounced, scraped my arm, then landed hard in a pile of dead leaves.
    Groaning, I scrambled to my feet.
    “GO!” I hissed to myself, feet pounding the dirt as I sprinted away from the house.
    I didn’t make it far.
    Just two blocks down the private trail that led toward the old woods, a black SUV screeched to a halt in front of me.
    Four men in dark leather stepped out. Lycans. No doubt about it.
    One sniffed the air, checked the picture in his hand and grinned. “She’s the one.”
    I turned on my heel and ran.
    Another SUV behind me. They’d blocked both exits but I smirked crazily, “this is my hood bitch”.
    One of them shifted, mid‑air. Fur erupted, bones cracked, and a massive gray beast landed on all fours, snarling.
    I veered into the woods. My legs were on fire. My heart? A thunderstorm.
    Branches slapped my face. My foot snagged on a root. I tripped, fell, rolled, and scrambled up again.
    Behind me, I heard them yelling. One of them burst through the tree line and lunged.
    I ducked just in time. His claws missed my back by inches.
    I turned and screamed, “STAY AWAY FROM ME!”
    He snarled. “We don’t want to hurt you, but keep fighting and I can’t promise anything.”
    Another one lunged, this one in human form. He grabbed me by the waist, but I elbowed him hard. He grunted and lost his grip, and I took off again.
    Straight toward the old creek.
    I leapt over it, almost slipped on the mossy rock, and kept running until my lungs give out.
    A hand caught my ankle.
    I crashed forward, breath knocked out of me.
    He flipped me over and pinned me down.
    “You’re done running,” he said.
    I screamed. Bit his wrist. Kicked. He growled, shifting mid‑hold, muzzle snapping toward my face.
    Just then, another voice cut through the chaos.
    “Let her go.”
    The man froze.
    A shadow moved behind him. One of the guards who’d been quiet this whole time stepped forward, dark eyes locked on me.
    “She’s the King now. You don’t rough her up before she even gets there,” he said calmly.
    “I was following orders-“
    “Then follow them better.”
    The one pinning me hesitated, then released me slowly and backed off.
    I lay there gasping, blood on my lip, knees scraped, heart racing.
    “We’re taking you now,” the calm one said, extending a hand.
    I didn’t take it.
    “You’ll have to drag me,” I said.
    He gave a small smirk. “Then I will.”
    He stepped forward.
    But I was faster.
    I yanked the dagger from my boot-one I’d hidden there months ago for emergencies-and stabbed it into his thigh.
    He roared in pain.
    I jumped back and sprinted into the thickest part of the woods, branches tearing at my skin, hair flying behind me.
    They were shouting, chasing me again, but I didn’t care. I wasn’t going to stop.
    Not now. Not ever.
    I didn’t know where I was going.
    But I knew what I was running from.
    And that was enough.

    👉 CONTINUE READING

  • The Fake Luna: Marked By The Alpha King by Krystal

    The Fake Luna: Marked By The Alpha King by Krystal
    👉 READ NOW

    Contract Marriage+Kickass Heroine+Hidden Identity+Regret
    For two long years, Aria Smith devoted everything to Ethan Holt, convinced she was his beloved Luna and his fated mate.
    Until a trip to replace her lost marriage certificate shattered every lie.
    Ethan had never loved her. Her closest best friend Clara was his real destined mate. The adopted son Aria had raised with all her love for two years was actually their biological child.
    Before she could process the brutal truth, a sudden call overturned her whole life. She was not a lonely, powerless human orphan as she had always believed. She was the sole legitimate heir to Vincent Smith’s staggering cross-realm fortune, inheriting his massive business empire that dominated both human and werewolf worlds.
    Her heart completely broken, Aria made her choice without hesitation.
    “I am single. Legally, I have never been anyone’s wife.”
    She cut off all ties with the Silver Creek Pack and stepped into her rightful identity as a billionaire heiress overnight.
    Ethan and Clara mocked her relentlessly. They believed the helpless human orphan could never survive outside the pack, and she would soon come crawling back begging for forgiveness.
    They never foresaw the day they met again.
    When Aria returned, she was no longer the humble, gentle human Luna who lived for Ethan. She stood powerful, wealthy, and untouchable, holding unmatched commercial power that shook the entire werewolf realm.
    And right by her side stood a dominant, peerless Alpha King-someone far more powerful than Ethan could ever dare to rival, ready to burn the whole world down for her revenge.

    👉 READ NOW

    The Fake Luna: Marked By The Alpha King Chapter 1 How could our certificate possibly be fake !

    Aria’s POV
    “Ma’am, I’ve checked the system three times. There’s no marriage record under your name. Are you certain about the date?”

    I stood frozen outside the County Clerk’s office, the clerk’s words still ringing in my ears.

    Two years. Two years of believing I was Ethan Holt’s wife, his Luna.

    As the only human Luna, we had also applied for a marriage certificate in my human community, and it now sat in the nightstand drawer in my bedroom. Real enough that I never questioned our relationship, even though we never had a mating ceremony with his pack.

    Until three days ago, when Marcus tore it to shreds during one of his tantrums. That was what brought me here today-to get a replacement copy.

    But now, standing here with trembling hands…

    How could our certificate possibly be fake?!

    My phone buzzed. An unknown number. Normally I would have ignored it, but something made me answer.

    “Ms. Smith? Aria Smith?”

    “Speaking.” My voice sounded distant, like it belonged to someone else.

    “My name is Richard Castellano. I’m the attorney handling the estate of Vincent Smith. I apologize for the abrupt contact, but it’s imperative that we meet as soon as possible. You are the sole heir to your father’s estate.”

    I blinked. “I’m sorry, what? I don’t have a father. My parents abandoned me when I was born.”

    “Ms. Smith, Vincent Smith passed away two weeks ago. The DNA test and his will are both conclusive. You are his only legitimate biological child.”

    Vincent Smith. That name was nothing short of legendary in both human society and the werewolf world. Orphaned as a child, taken in by a wolf pack, he’d displayed extraordinary business genius from an early age. As an adult, with the backing of his adoptive Alpha brother, he forged a massive commercial empire connecting the human and supernatural realms.

    And now someone was telling me that I, as his sole daughter, stood to inherit the bulk of his fortune?

    “The estate is substantial,” Castellano continued, “including commercial holdings across multiple Pack territories. We need to begin the inheritance process immediately.”

    “I need to confirm something first,” I heard myself say. “I’ll call you back.”

    The most important thing now was to verify my marriage status with my husband. If this was real, Ethan and I wouldn’t have to worry about the pack’s questioning looks anymore. I could complete the final mating ceremony with him smoothly, become the pack’s Luna, and lead them to even greater prosperity.

    The drive to Silver Creek Pack’s main building took twenty minutes.

    The hallway on the third floor was unusually quiet. As I approached Ethan’s office, voices drifted through the half-open door.

    A woman’s voice.

    “Ethan-yes-right there-“

    His voice, ragged and raw: “You feel so good, Clara.”

    Clara. My best friend.

    Then something even worse than betrayal hit like a freight train.

    “When are you going to get rid of her, Ethan? Our son is already three years old. I’m tired of pretending.” Clara’s voice was sharp with impatience.

    Marcus. The little boy Ethan claimed we’d adopted because my human body supposedly couldn’t handle pregnancy, and the pack needed a pup to serve as the Alpha’s heir.

    I couldn’t breathe. The pup I had lovingly raised was Ethan and Clara’s biological child.

    Inside the office, Ethan sighed. “Just a little longer.” His voice was cold. “We still need her. The Pack’s finances are stable because of her work. Once we’ve locked everything down, I’ll cut her loose.”

    “What am I supposed to do until then? Keep playing victim while she parades around as Luna?”

    “You know she’s nothing to me. Just a tool. Once we’ve squeezed every last drop of value out of her…”

    I didn’t wait to hear more.

    I shoved the door open.

    Clara was perched on Ethan’s desk, her blouse undone, skirt pushed up to her waist. Ethan was buried inside her, his hips driving into her as she gasped against his mouth.

    It made me want to throw up.

    “Sorry to interrupt.” My voice sliced through the air like a blade.

    They froze. Clara scrambled to cover herself, nearly falling off the desk. Ethan jerked upright, his mouth wet, his eyes wide with shock.

    I leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, a cold smile on my lips. “Don’t stop on my account. I’d hate to ruin the mood.”

    “Aria. You shouldn’t be here,” Ethan said with mild annoyance.

    “Shouldn’t I?” My voice shook with rage. “You told me I was your True Mate. You pursued me for months. You convinced me the Moon Goddess chose us. But now you’re sleeping with my best friend?”

    “There’s nothing to explain. Clara is my destined mate.” Ethan said it flatly, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “The deal with V&A International Group needs final signatures. We need you for one last meeting as Luna. After that, we’ll give you reasonable compensation for your… services.”

    “Compensated?” The word tasted like poison. “You lied to me for two years. You used me to build your Pack’s business portfolio. And now you want to pay me off like a servant who’s served her purpose?”

    Clara walked toward me, adjusting her clothes with deliberate slowness. “You should be grateful, honestly. A human orphan with no family, no packs? Where else would you have ended up? If you’re smart, you’ll take whatever he offers and leave quietly. Otherwise-“

    I moved.

    I was across the room before Clara could finish, my hand fisting in her golden hair. Clara yelped, stumbling backward into the desk.

    “Aria!” Ethan grabbed my arm, twisting hard enough to make me gasp. Then he shoved me backward. Hard.

    I hit the floor, the impact jarring through my spine. Pain exploded in my tailbone. I looked up at him, stunned.

    Ethan stared down at me, his light blue eyes ice cold. “Touch her again and I’ll break your wrist.”

    The words hit harder than the fall.

    Something inside my chest cracked. Not my ribs. Something deeper.

    I pushed myself to my feet, my hands shaking. Everything hurt. Not just my body.

    “You’re going to regret this,” I said quietly. “Both of you.”

    I turned and walked out before either could respond.

    Back in my car, I dialed the lawyer’s number. “Mr. Castellano. About Vincent Smith’s estate. I’m ready to talk.”

    “Good. I need to confirm-inheritance requires the heir to sign as an independent individual. If married, the spouse must witness the process. Otherwise-“

    “I’m single,” I cut him off. “Legally, I always have been.”

    Silence for two seconds.

    “Understood,” Castellano said, his tone shifting, becoming more formal. “That simplifies things considerably. Are you available to meet soon?”

    “The sooner the better. I have plenty of time these days.”

    “My office then. This afternoon?”

    “I’ll see you at three.”

    I sat in the parking lot for another five minutes, staring at nothing.

    Two years of lies, manipulation, and humiliation. Two years of believing I was fighting for something real.

    But it was over now.

    Ethan was about to discover exactly what the fury of an heiress looked like.

    The Fake Luna: Marked By The Alpha King Chapter 2 How pathetic

    Aria’s POV
    After signing the inheritance papers at Mr. Castellano’s office, I drove home in a daze.

    The house blazed with warm light. Through the front window I saw them-Ethan, Clara, and Marcus around the dining table like a perfect family portrait. Ethan laughed at something Clara said, his hand resting on the back of her chair. Marcus sat between them, grinning up at his father. Clara ruffled the boy’s golden hair; Ethan caught her hand and pressed a kiss to her knuckles.

    Domestic bliss.

    Everything I’d been too blind to see for two years snapped into clarity. The late nights he called “Pack business.” The way Marcus flinched whenever I tried to hold him. Clara’s constant presence, always with some excuse. They’d all known. Everyone except me.

    I forced myself to breathe. Not yet. Not here. I needed to play this smart.

    I walked in and schooled my face to careful neutrality. The laughter died the instant I stepped inside.

    “Aria.” Ethan stood quickly, putting distance between himself and Clara, as if that erased what I’d witnessed in his office. “You’re home early.”

    “Am I?” I crossed to the kitchen and filled a glass of water, more to occupy my hands than anything. My heart pounded in my ears.

    “Can we talk?” His voice was low, careful.

    I turned slowly. “About you and Clara?”

    “It’s not what you think. Clara’s going to be staying here as Marcus’s nanny. He needs consistency, and frankly, you’re not around enough-“

    “Not around enough?” I cut him off. “I’ve been running this Pack for you, Ethan. Every meeting, every decision-while you were off doing what, exactly?”

    His jaw tightened. “That’s not the point.”

    “Then what is?”

    “Marcus needs to be taken care of.”

    “I disagree. This is my home. I didn’t agree to a live-in nanny.”

    “She’s not just a nanny. She’s helped raise Marcus since he was born. He needs her here.”

    Of course. Because she was his real mother.

    “That’s not my problem,” I said. “If you want Clara housed, buy her an apartment. She’s not living under my roof.”

    “You’re just tired.” He raised a hand, his tone measured-managing me, like my opinion was a tantrum to be waited out. “We’ll discuss this after dinner.”

    “There’s nothing to discuss.”

    “Bad woman!”

    Marcus appeared out of nowhere, small face twisted with rage. “You’re really bad! You’re mean to Clara!”

    “Marcus, that’s enough-” Ethan started.

    But the boy was already charging at me, hands outstretched. He slammed into me with surprising force. I stumbled back, my hip colliding with the corner of the side table-exactly where I’d hit the floor in Ethan’s office earlier. Pain exploded through my lower back; my vision went white.

    “Marcus!” Ethan grabbed him by the shoulders. “What the hell are you doing?”

    “She’s mean!” Marcus wailed, but his eyes were dry-nothing but calculated defiance. “She’s mean to Clara and mean to you and I hate her!”

    Ethan reached for me. “Aria, I’m sorry, he didn’t mean-“

    I jerked away. “Don’t touch me.”

    I pushed myself upright, ignoring the swimming in my vision. My tailbone throbbed from earlier; now my hip would bruise too.

    Clara burst in and gathered Marcus into her arms, stroking his hair while he buried his face in her neck. The devoted mother, perfectly performed.

    “He’s just a kid,” she murmured, kissing his temple. “Please forgive him.”

    “What a touching scene of motherly devotion,” I said. “I’m starting to wonder if he’s actually your biological pup.”

    Clara’s expression tightened-clearly she wasn’t sure how much I’d overheard.

    “Aria, as your friend, I’m very disappointed in you-“

    I turned and walked upstairs, each step sending fresh jolts of pain through my hip.

    I spent the next hour in the guest bathroom, running the hottest water I could stand. My hip had already darkened to purple, matching the bruise on my tailbone. Two injuries in one day. Both from the same “family.”

    By the time I emerged in pajamas, the house had gone quiet. A knock at the door.

    “Come in.”

    Ethan stepped inside, closing the door carefully. He looked tired. Worried. Like he actually gave a damn.

    “How are you feeling?”

    “Fantastic. Your son has quite the arm.”

    His jaw tightened. “He’s been disciplined. It won’t happen again.”

    “Right. Like the last dozen times really stuck.”

    He exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “I know today has been difficult. But Clara needs to stay here. Marcus needs her. She’s been more of a mother to him than-“

    “Than me?” I finished. “Yes, I’m aware. Hard to bond with a child who’s been taught to hate me since birth.”

    “That’s not-” He caught himself, changing tactics. “This isn’t about you and Clara. This is about what’s best for Marcus. He’s settled here. Taking Clara away would disrupt his entire world.”

    I stared at him, this man I’d believed was my husband, my mate. This man who’d convinced me I was broken. This man who’d built his entire Pack’s success on my labor while keeping his real family hidden in plain sight.

    He was still lying. Still manipulating.

    Fine. Let him think he’d won.

    “I have a condition,” I said.

    Wariness flickered across his face. “What kind?”

    “My birthday is next week. You forgot last year, and the year before. So this year, I want a proper gift.” I kept my voice light. “The penthouse at Meridian Tower. Top floor. In my name only.”

    He went very still. “That’s a fifteen million dollar property.”

    “Is it?” I tilted my head. “I think it’s fair-as a birthday gift, and as compensation for what you’ve done.”

    The muscle in his jaw jumped. For a moment I thought he might finally drop the pretense. Instead, he pulled out his phone.

    “Fine. Consider it an early birthday present.”

    “And the transfer note,” I added. “For Aria’s house fund. Happy birthday.”

    He tapped at the screen, expression darkening with every second, then turned the phone toward me. Fifteen million dollars. Transfer note included.

    “Happy birthday,” he said flatly.

    “Thank you, Ethan.” I let the endearment drip with acid. “You’re so generous.”

    He pocketed his phone. “Clara stays.”

    “Clara stays,” I agreed.

    He nodded and left.

    I waited until the door clicked shut, then pulled out my phone and opened the banking app.

    Balance: $15,150,000.00

    Two years as Luna-hosting banquets, negotiating alliances, building his reputation. My card had never seen a single paycheck, not a penny of Pack money. The only funds I’d ever had were fifteen thousand saved from part-time jobs during school.

    Now, because I’d caught him with Clara-because she was the leverage that finally forced his hand-he remembered I existed.

    How pathetic.

    The Fake Luna: Marked By The Alpha King Chapter 3 Now it was his turn

    Aria’s POV
    I woke to the smell of pancakes and coffee.

    For a moment, still half-asleep, it felt almost normal. Then I heard Clara’s laugh drifting up from the kitchen, and reality came crashing back.

    I took my time getting dressed. Let them have their little domestic fantasy. I could afford to be patient. After all, I was a billionaire now. And their client.

    By the time I came downstairs, a plate of eggs, toast, and bacon sat waiting on the counter-the kind of gesture meant to look like an apology. I reached for it.

    Marcus lunged forward and yanked it away, the plate clattering against the marble. “No! This is for Clara! Daddy made it special for her!”

    Clara hurried over, hands fluttering. “Marcus, sweetie, that’s not how we treat people. Apologize to Aria.” Her words were honey. Her eyes, locked on mine, were pure triumph.

    Ethan appeared in the doorway. “Marcus. Apologize. Now.”

    The boy shuffled toward me, not meeting my eyes. “Sorry,” he muttered.

    I didn’t accept it.

    I stood, crossed the room, grabbed him, and pressed him against the wall. I took a thin branch from the nearby vase and brought it down hard on his backside.

    He burst into tears.

    “Aria, that’s too much.” Clara stepped forward. “He already apologized-“

    “Funny,” I said, landing another strike. “By what right do you interfere with a mother disciplining her child?”

    Clara’s face went white. “He’s still young… he didn’t do anything that wrong…”

    “Small mistakes uncorrected become big ones. If I don’t discipline him now, I’ll have a harder time later.”

    That shut her up.

    Ethan stepped forward and caught my wrist. “That’s enough.”

    He was right. The anger had cooled. I tossed the branch to the floor. Marcus scrambled behind Clara, sobbing too hard to even glare at me.

    “Marcus.” I fixed my gaze on him. “As long as I’m your mother, you will show me respect. If you can’t learn that, I’ll adopt a better child to be the pack’s rightful heir.”

    The room went quiet. Even Marcus stopped crying. I was smiling when I said it.

    “Aria, don’t-” Ethan’s voice tightened.

    “Don’t what?” I turned to him, sweetly. “Since I accepted adopting one child with no blood relation to me, I can certainly adopt a second. As long as you want me to stay with this pack, don’t try to provoke me.”

    Looking at their three faces, all dark as thunder, I cheerfully picked up my purse. “Enjoy your breakfast. All of you.”

    I was halfway to my car when footsteps followed.

    “Aria, wait.” Ethan caught up, slightly breathless. “I’ll drive you to the office. We can go over the Riverside contract on the way.”

    “I’m not going to the office.”

    “What? We have the meeting with-“

    “Reschedule it.” I pulled open the car door. “I have other plans.”

    “What other plans?”

    “I’m going to look at a house.”

    I closed the door and started the engine. In the rearview mirror, he stood in the driveway, fists clenched at his sides.

    The Meridian Tower was everything the listing had promised. Floor-to-ceiling windows, soaring ceilings, and most importantly, it was mine.

    Now I just needed furniture.

    The furniture district catered to Pack elite-somewhere I’d never shopped before, too expensive for someone like me. Now, walking through the gleaming showrooms, I felt like a kid in a candy store.

    That was when I saw it. A sofa in deep charcoal leather sat center stage. The tag read “Russo Collection – Limited Edition. 1 of 3.”

    Perfect.

    I was reaching for my phone when a voice cut through the air.

    “Excuse me, but I’m taking this one.”

    A woman about my age stood there, arms crossed, looking at me like I was something unpleasant she’d found on the bottom of her shoe. Dressed head to toe in designer labels, blonde hair in perfect waves, makeup flawless.

    “I’m sorry?” I said.

    “The sofa.” She gestured impatiently. “I saw it first. So you’ll have to find something else.”

    “I don’t think that’s how shopping works.”

    Her lips thinned. “Do you have any idea who I am?”

    “Should I?”

    A flush crept up her neck. “I’m Vanessa Crane. My father is Alpha Richard Crane of the Riverside Pack. And when I say I want something, I get it.”

    “That’s nice,” I said, turning back to the sofa. “I’m still buying it.”

    Vanessa’s face flushed scarlet. She snapped her fingers. Two large men in black suits materialized from behind the displays. “This woman is harassing me. Escort her out.”

    They moved toward me. I tensed.

    “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

    A deep, cultured voice from the entrance-carrying the kind of authority that made everyone freeze. A silver-haired man in a perfectly tailored three-piece suit strode in, flanked by six men in dark suits. He moved like someone who had wielded power for decades and never once had to raise his voice.

    Vanessa’s guards stepped back instantly. Her face drained of color.

    “Beta Harrison,” she stammered. “I didn’t know you were-“

    “Clearly.” He didn’t look at her. His attention was fixed entirely on me. He inclined his head in something close to a bow. “Miss Smith. It’s an honor to finally meet you.”

    The showroom went silent.

    “I’m Harrison Reid, Beta of Crescent Moon Pack. Your uncle Victor sent me to find you.”

    “Wait.” Vanessa’s voice came out strangled. “Smith? As in-Vincent Smith?”

    Harrison finally turned to her. “Miss Crane. I believe you were just threatening my boss’s daughter and sole heir. Would you like to rephrase your earlier comments?”

    Vanessa went from pale to gray. “I didn’t-she didn’t say-I had no idea-“

    “Ignorance is not an excuse for disrespect. Particularly when you were having her physically removed from the premises.”

    She turned to me, all earlier arrogance dissolved. “I’m so sorry. If I had known-“

    “You would have been polite?” I said. “How nice. Unfortunately, basic decency shouldn’t require a family pedigree.”

    “Please-if there’s anything I can do to make this right-“

    “An apology is enough. You can go.”

    She practically fled, her guards scrambling after her.

    I turned to the sales associate. “I’ll take the sofa. Have it delivered to the Meridian Tower, penthouse floor.” I paused. “And the matching armchair.”

    Then I faced Harrison. “Quite an entrance.”

    “Word will spread quickly. But it was necessary. Aria Smith is not to be trifled with. It will save you considerable trouble down the line.”

    He gestured toward the exit. “The car is waiting, Miss Smith. Shall we?”

    “Where are we going?”

    “Crescent Moon Pack house.” A slight smile. “Your home.”

    I was silent for a moment. My father-Vincent Smith. A billion-dollar inheritance had landed in my lap. Going to Crescent Moon was inevitable.

    “Alright,” I said. “If it’s my home, I should at least see it for myself.”

    What was meant to come would come eventually.

    👉 CONTINUE READING

  • Dump One Loser, Gain Six Husbands. by Zhao Da

    Dump One Loser, Gain Six Husbands. by Zhao Da
    👉 READ NOW

    Anja woke up in an interstellar empire where females were precious assets-and promptly got dumped by her arrogant fiancé.

    He waited for her to cry. She laughed in his face.

    With a single thumbprint, she dissolved the marriage, kicked him out with security drones, and walked straight to the government assessment center. The test revealed something impossible: an S-Class psionic rating, the highest in a century.

    Now five elite, beast-eared warriors are being dispatched to her estate. They’re dangerous. Possessive. And genetically engineered to worship her.

    But Anja doesn’t just want protection. She wants power. Every corrupted warrior she purifies makes her stronger. Every Hive Core she absorbs pushes her abilities further. And every Consort she claims adds a new weapon to her arsenal.

    Her ex wanted her to be nothing. Too bad for him-she’s about to become everything.

    👉 READ NOW

    Dump One Loser, Gain Six Husbands. Chapter 1

    Anja’s eyes snapped open.
    A spike of pain, sharp and blinding, shot through her skull. It felt like her brain being split in two. She gasped, a ragged sound in the dead quiet of the room, her hand flying to her forehead as if she could physically hold the pieces of her mind together.
    The bed was wrong.
    It was too soft, the sheets like cool silk against her skin. A low hum vibrated through the mattress, a subtle, calming frequency. Her bedroom in her tiny off-campus apartment had a lumpy mattress and scratchy polyester sheets.
    Memories, not her own, crashed into her consciousness. The Commonwealth. A sprawling interstellar empire. Genetic corruption. Psionic abilities. The ratio of females to males was one to one hundred thousand. Females were rare, precious assets, revered wherever they went. A society where matrimonial contracts were brokered by a central authority dedicated to finding males worthy of their scarce females.
    And a name. Kenny Mcdaniel. Her fiancé.
    Before she could fully process any of it, a voice rang out from the doorway. “Even if I die, even if I get exiled to a barren mining planet, I will never form a bond with you!”
    The door to the bedroom slammed open, the sound cracking through the silence like a gunshot.
    A man strode in. He was tall, with sandy blond hair and a suit that was trying too hard to look expensive. It was tailored just a little too tight across the shoulders, the fabric a synthetic blend that caught the light with a cheap sheen. He carried himself with an unearned arrogance, his chin tilted up as he looked down his nose at her.
    Kenny Mcdaniel.
    The name clicked into place with a fresh wave of nausea.
    He sneered, a curl of his lip that was meant to be disdainful but only made him look petulant. “Finally awake, are we? Don’t bother putting on a show. I’m not here to play games.”
    Anja just stared at him, her mind a whirlwind of two lives colliding. One was a college student from Earth, drowning in student loans and surviving on instant noodles. The other was Anja Compton, heiress to a minor noble house, betrothed to this… this peacock. And from the memories of the original Anja, she could see the woman had been utterly blind. She had cried over him, pleaded for his attention, and rearranged her entire life to please him. For what? For a male of thoroughly average looks—decent, but nothing special—whose only remarkable feature was his physique, which was standard issue for any male who had completed the mandatory academy training. He had been handed a priceless gem on a silver platter and somehow convinced himself he deserved better. What a joke.
    “I’m here to make things perfectly clear,” Kenny continued, pacing in front of her bed like a lawyer in a courtroom drama. “This political arrangement our families cooked up? It’s over. I’ve found someone I actually love. Someone who understands me. I will not sacrifice my happiness for some dusty old family alliance.”
    He punctuated his speech by slapping a thin, transparent data slate onto the polished wood of the nightstand. The clack was sharp and final. An electronic contract glowed on its surface: Agreement for Matrimonial Annulment.
    “So you can take your pathetic, clingy affections and find someone else to bother,” he spat, his voice rising with theatrical fervor. “I’m telling you now, Anja. Even if I die, even if I get exiled to a barren mining planet, I will never form a bond with you!”
    Anja slowly pushed herself up, the silk sheets pooling around her waist. The headache was receding, replaced by a strange, icy calm. The Anja from Earth thought he was a joke. A weak, insecure man puffing up his chest to feel powerful in front of a woman he perceived as weaker. It was pathetic. And frankly, hilarious.
    She let a slow, deliberate gaze travel from his cheap shoes up to his self-satisfied face. Then she met his eyes.
    “Are you done?” she asked. Her voice was quiet, devoid of the hysteria he was clearly expecting.
    Kenny froze mid-stride. The triumphant look on his face faltered, replaced by a flicker of confusion. “What?”
    “Your performance,” Anja clarified, leaning back against the plush headboard. She crossed her arms. “The big, dramatic speech. Was that the grand finale, or is there an encore?”
    He stared at her, his mouth opening and closing silently. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. She was supposed to cry. To beg. To make a scene that would validate his decision and allow him to storm out as the wronged, romantic hero.
    “You think this is a joke?” he stammered, his voice losing its confident edge. He puffed his chest out again, a desperate attempt to regain control. “I’m serious, Anja! I’m leaving you!”
    “I heard you the first time,” she said, her tone bored. “You want to end the engagement. Great. Let’s do it.”
    She didn’t even glance at the data slate he had thrown down. She simply looked towards the empty air near the door.
    “Unit 01,” she commanded.
    A soft, synthesized voice replied instantly from an unseen speaker. “Yes, Mistress Anja.”
    “Access the Federal Marriage Center,” she ordered. “Project the annulment agreement and initiate the signing protocol.”
    “At once.”
    A holographic panel of brilliant blue light materialized in the air beside the bed, displaying the contract in crisp, clear text. At the bottom, a glowing box waited for a biometric signature.
    Kenny’s face went slack with shock. “What are you doing? That’s not—you can’t just—”
    Anja ignored him. She reached out, her fingers steady, and pressed her thumb against the glowing box. The system chimed, a clear, pleasant tone that echoed in the tense silence.
    BIOMETRIC SIGNATURE VERIFIED. ANJA COMPTON HAS UNILATERALLY DISSOLVED THE MATRIMONIAL CONTRACT. STATUS: FINALIZED.
    The words burned in the air for a moment before the holographic panel dissolved.
    Almost immediately, a series of chimes sounded from the room’s speaker system. A new, distinctly official synthesized voice read out three consecutive messages:
    “Message from the Federal Marriage Center: Esteemed Lady Anja, your matrimonial contract has been successfully dissolved. You are now returned to single status.”
    “Message from the Federal Marriage Center: Esteemed Lady Anja, there are hundreds of millions of males in the Commonwealth. If one lacks vision, there will always be another. Please do not let a male with poor taste affect your mood.”
    “Message from the Federal Marriage Center: Esteemed Lady Anja, should you desire, the Federal Marriage Center is ready at any moment to match you with new husbands. No upper limit.”
    Kenny stared at the empty space where the contract had been, then back at her. His expression was a comical mix of disbelief and panic. He had come here for a fight, for drama, for a validation of his own importance. He had not, under any circumstances, expected this easy, dismissive acceptance.
    “You… you just signed it?” he said, his voice a weak squeak. “Just like that? This is a trick. Some kind of game to make me feel guilty.”
    Anja gave him a small, pitying smile. “There’s no game, Kenny. You wanted out. You’re out. Congratulations. The door is over there. Get out of my house.”
    The shift was instantaneous. The moment she finished speaking, the AI’s synthesized voice spoke again, its tone now stripped of all warmth.
    “Warning,” Unit 01 announced. “Kenny Mcdaniel, your security clearance for this property has been revoked. You are now classified as an unauthorized intruder. You have ten seconds to vacate the premises before defensive measures are deployed.”
    A cold, red light began to sweep across the room, originating from a sensor near the ceiling.
    Kenny paled. “Your… your security? You can’t-“
    He was cut off by a heavy, mechanical whirring sound. Two panels in the ceiling slid open, and a pair of sleek, gunmetal-gray security drones descended. Their optical sensors glowed with the same menacing red light, and the barrels of their plasma weapons swiveled to lock directly onto his chest.
    Fear, primal and undignified, washed over Kenny’s face. All his practiced arrogance vanished. He threw his hands up in a gesture of surrender.
    “Okay! Okay! I’m going!” he yelped, stumbling backward.
    The drones advanced on him silently, their movements perfectly synchronized, herding him towards the door. He tripped over the edge of an expensive rug, catching himself on the doorframe. He looked back at her, his eyes wide with a mixture of terror and wounded pride, as if he wanted to say one last thing to salvage his dignity.
    Anja didn’t give him the chance.
    “Unit 01,” she said, her voice dripping with finality. “Close the door.”
    The heavy, soundproofed metal door slid shut with a deafening thud, cutting off his last pathetic look.
    Silence returned to the room.
    Anja fell back against the pillows, the silk cool against her neck. A long, slow breath escaped her lips. She felt a profound sense of release, of lightness. The headache was gone. The confusion was gone. She thought about the Federal Marriage Center’s final message—match her with new husbands. And the words “no upper limit” echoed in her memory from the original Anja’s knowledge of the law. A villa this large, five stories and hundreds of square meters per floor… it would be a shame to live in it alone, wouldn’t it? She wasn’t admitting anything. She was just curious.
    For the first time in this new world, she felt free.

    Dump One Loser, Gain Six Husbands. Chapter 2

    A new light bloomed in the room, soft and golden. It wasn’t sunlight.
    Anja turned her head. A holographic panel, the color of warm honey, floated in the air where the blue contract had been. It bore the official crest of The Commonwealth Eugenics & Pairing Directorate.
    A gentle, synthesized female voice, far more sophisticated than Unit 01’s, filled the room.
    “Congratulations, Citizen Anja Compton,” it purred. “Our records indicate you have successfully terminated your betrothal contract. Your status has been updated to ‘Unbonded.’ Welcome to a new chapter of your life.”
    The panel shimmered, and text began to scroll, listing the benefits that were now active for her.
    Federal Income Tax: Exempt.
    Property Tax, Core Worlds Sector: Exempt.
    Priority Purchase Rights, All A-Class Residential Zones: Activated.
    Tier-One Medical and Nutritional Subsidies: Activated.
    Personal Security Detail Allotment: Pending Review.
    Anja felt a breath catch in her throat. This wasn’t just a breakup; it was like winning the lottery. She had been vaguely aware of the laws from the memories she’d inherited, but seeing them laid out like this was staggering.
    “Unit 01,” she said, her voice a little hoarse. “Pull up the Commonwealth’s legal statutes on marriage and asset sharing.”
    “Of course, Mistress,” the house AI replied.
    The golden panel was replaced by a dense wall of legal text.
    “Summarize,” Anja commanded, not in the mood to read hundreds of pages of legalese.
    Unit 01’s voice began a concise audio summary. It explained that due to the scarcity of females, the law was designed for their absolute protection and prosperity. A bonded male’s assets, income, and even inheritances were automatically and irrevocably linked to his Matron’s primary account. He was, in financial terms, an extension of her.
    And then came the part that made Anja’s jaw drop.
    “There is no legal upper limit to the number of Consorts a female may bond with,” Unit 01 stated calmly. “The formation of a Consortium is considered a private matter, encouraged by the Directorate as a means of ensuring genetic diversity and providing comprehensive support for the Matron.”
    No limit.
    Polygamy. No, polyandry. And it was legal. Encouraged, even.
    Anja thought back to Earth. The endless, bitter divorces. The fights over money. The prenuptial agreements that were more like business contracts than declarations of love. Here, the system was brutally simple: everything belonged to the woman.
    A laugh escaped her lips. It started as a small chuckle, then grew into a full-throated, joyous peel of laughter that echoed in the luxurious bedroom. This wasn’t a dystopia. It was a custom-built paradise.
    The system seemed to anticipate her thoughts. A new, shimmering button appeared on the golden panel: Initiate New Matching Cycle?
    Her laughter subsided into a wide, mischievous grin. She was tired of being sad and pathetic for a man like Kenny. It was time to see what this new world really had to offer.
    She tapped the button.
    The panel transformed into something that looked like a high-end, exclusive dating app. Profiles began to slide across the screen, each one featuring a stunningly handsome man. There were soldiers with chiseled jaws and intense eyes, businessmen in sharp suits with predatory smiles, artists with soulful gazes and long, clever fingers. Their stats were listed beside their photos: psionic grade, genetic lineage, net worth, military honors. It was a catalog of the most elite men in the Commonwealth.
    Anja scrolled, her interest piqued. She noticed a small tag on some of the profiles: Latent Bestial Morphology.
    Curious, she tapped on one. The profile expanded. In addition to the man’s primary photo, there were smaller, secondary images showing him with a pair of sharp, tufted wolf ears and a thick, bushy tail. The description noted these features were highly sensitive and could manifest during moments of heightened emotion.
    Fluffy ears. A tail.
    Anja felt an unexpected jolt of interest, a deep, primal pull that all the polished, perfectly suited men had never once managed to inspire.
    She quickly filled out the matching preference form that appeared at the bottom of the screen. Age range, psionic compatibility, asset level… and under ‘Physical Preferences,’ she decisively checked the box for Bestial Traits.
    Her finger hovered over the ‘Submit’ button. For a fleeting second, a flicker of the old Anja’s insecurity surfaced. The girl who thought she wasn’t good enough, the girl who had been convinced by Kenny that she was plain and worthless.
    Then the image of Kenny’s arrogant, sneering face flashed in her mind.
    She pressed the button. Hard.
    A confirmation message appeared: Application successfully uploaded to the Federal Central Database. Deep-level compatibility analysis is now underway.
    “Mistress,” Unit 01’s voice cut in, its tone impeccably polite, “Since you are celebrating your newfound freedom, shall I prepare a celebratory breakfast?”
    “Yes, absolutely,” Anja said, feeling lighter than she had in years. “Eggs Benedict. And real coffee. Black.”
    “An excellent choice.”
    She threw back the silk covers and stepped out of bed. Her bare feet sank into a thick wool carpet that was warm to the touch. The room was vast, with a walk-in closet the size of her old apartment and an adjoining bathroom that looked like a marble sanctuary.
    She walked to the massive floor-to-ceiling window that made up one entire wall of the room. It overlooked a sprawling garden, with manicured lawns, a sparkling blue pool, and a forest of strange, beautiful alien trees in the distance.
    This was her life now. Safety. Luxury. Control.
    A soft, insistent chime broke her reverie. She turned back to the golden panel still hovering by her bed. A red warning icon was flashing.
    CRITICAL DATA MISSING. PSIONIC POTENTIAL ASSESSMENT: PENDING.
    The system’s gentle voice returned, now with a note of official firmness. “Citizen Compton, our records indicate you have not completed the mandatory Psionic Potential Assessment. This is a prerequisite for matching with Alpha-Plus class Consorts. Your matching cycle has been temporarily suspended.”
    Before she could even process that, the panel changed again, displaying a new document. It was an official, non-negotiable appointment.
    EMERGENCY APPOINTMENT: PSIONIC POTENTIAL TESTING CENTER. CAPITAL PRIME. TODAY.
    Anja stared at the screen. The original Anja had never gone. Kenny had told her it was a waste of time, that she was probably a worthless F-grade, and the embarrassment wouldn’t be worth it. He had systematically chipped away at her confidence until she believed him.
    Now, that little omission was standing between her and a lineup of handsome men with fluffy tails.
    Well, she thought with a grim smile. They were about to find out just how “worthless” she was.

    Dump One Loser, Gain Six Husbands. Chapter 3

    Anja read the appointment details again. The words mandatory and compulsory were highlighted in a severe, official red. Failure to attend would result in an indefinite freeze on her matching rights and a suspension of some of her newly acquired federal benefits.
    They weren’t asking. They were telling.
    “Mistress,” Unit 01’s voice chimed in, a flicker of something that might have been urgency in its synthesized tone, “You may wish to view the GalacticNet. Your status change has been… noted.”
    “Show me,” Anja said.
    The large window overlooking the garden dimmed, turning into a massive screen. It displayed the landing page of the most popular news network in the Commonwealth. Her own face stared back at her from the headline banner.
    ANJA COMPTON, HEIRESS OF HOUSE COMPTON, TERMINATES BETROTHAL. RETURNS TO UNBONDED STATUS.
    Below the headline, a ‘Trending Topics’ sidebar was dominated by her name. AnjaIsFree. ComptonConsortium. NewHopeForAlphaPlus.
    The screen began to populate with comments from a live public forum. Thousands of them, scrolling by in a dizzying cascade.
    “Finally! I knew Mcdaniel wasn’t good enough for her!”
    “An untested female from a noble line! This is the biggest news of the year!”
    “The matching pool is about to get a lot more interesting…”
    “Please, Mistress Compton, if you ever consider new consorts, review my profile. Class A psionic ability, five million credits, and I cook.”
    Anja stared, dumbfounded. It was one thing to read about the value of females in the abstract. It was another to see this raw, desperate, public thirst for her attention. The old Anja had wasted years crying over one mediocre male who didn’t want her, while thousands across the Commonwealth were practically begging for her attention. What a joke.
    She accessed the original Anja’s memories, searching for context. The Commonwealth was plagued by a low-level genetic corruption that affected all males. It was a slow-acting poison, a consequence of their psionic abilities, that caused irritability, aggression, and eventually, a descent into feral madness. The only cure, the only way to soothe the corruption, was the purifying psionic energy of a female. Males who lacked a female to purify them were forced to rely on suppressants—agonizing injections with devastating side effects.
    The demand was infinite. The supply was critically low.
    And an untested female, especially one from a good family, was the ultimate wild card. She could be a useless F-Grade, or she could be a world-changing A-Grade. The uncertainty, the sheer potential, was intoxicating. It was like a lottery where the jackpot was salvation.
    “Unit 01,” she said, her voice hard. “What’s the fastest way to get to the testing center in Capital Prime?”
    “The journey by private shuttle would take approximately forty-five minutes, Mistress. However, it appears alternative arrangements have been made.”
    Before Anja could ask what that meant, a low, powerful thrumming sound vibrated through the floor. It grew rapidly into a deafening roar, the sound of massive engines displacing a huge volume of air. The delicate curtains on her window whipped inward as a powerful downdraft hit the side of the house.
    Anja rushed to the window, peering up into the sky.
    A ship was descending. It wasn’t a sleek, civilian shuttle. It was a beast of a machine, matte black and brutally angular, a military transport vessel designed for assault landings. The official, silver crest of the Eugenics Directorate was emblazoned on its side.
    It settled onto the main lawn with a final, ground-shaking whump, its landing struts sinking inches into the perfectly manicured grass. A ramp hissed open at its rear. Twelve soldiers marched out in perfect synchronization. They were clad in black tactical armor, their faces hidden behind reflective visors, and they carried heavy-looking plasma rifles. They moved with terrifying efficiency, forming two perfect lines of six leading from the ramp towards the front door of the estate.
    A voice, amplified and resonant, boomed from the ship’s external speakers. It was deep, respectful, and utterly commanding.
    “Mistress Anja Compton. On behalf of the Commonwealth Eugenics Directorate, we are your designated escort to the Capital Prime Testing Center. Please prepare for immediate departure.”
    Anja stood frozen, her heart hammering against her ribs. This wasn’t a taxi. This was a military operation. For her. Was she being escorted to a testing center or to a war zone?
    “Mistress, I have taken the liberty of selecting an appropriate outfit for the occasion,” Unit 01 said, its voice cutting through her shock. A panel on the wall of her closet slid open, revealing a simple but elegant outfit: dark, well-fitted trousers, a cream-colored silk blouse, and soft leather boots. It was understated, comfortable, but undeniably expensive. “I would advise you to change quickly.”
    Numbly, Anja did as she was told. She dressed with fumbling fingers, her mind still reeling from the sight of the armored ship on her lawn. This was real. This was happening.
    Guided by Unit 01’s soft light prompts, she walked through the silent, cavernous halls of the estate to the grand front entrance. She took a deep breath, her hand resting on the cool metal of the door handle. She thought about the comments she had just read—males begging for her attention, showing off their credits and their abilities. And then she thought about Kenny’s parting words: “Even if I die, even if I get exiled to a barren mining planet, I will never form a bond with you.” A small, bitter smile crossed her lips. He had spent years convincing her she was nothing. In a few minutes, the entire Commonwealth would know the truth.
    Then she pulled it open.
    The force of the soldiers’ collective gaze was a physical thing. They stood perfectly still, rifles held at a parade rest, but she could feel the intensity of their focus. It wasn’t threatening. It was… worshipful.
    The man at the front of the line, clearly the captain, took a step forward. He was taller than the others, his armor bearing subtle markings of rank. He removed his helmet, revealing a stern, handsome face with a sharp jaw and piercing gray eyes. He held the helmet under his arm and then, to Anja’s utter astonishment, he dropped to one knee before her on the stone steps.
    “Mistress Compton,” he said, his head bowed, “It is an honor. We have prepared a sterilized walkway for your convenience.”
    As he spoke, a thin, metallic carpet unrolled from the base of the ship’s ramp, gliding silently across the lawn to stop at her feet. It was a simple, practical measure to keep her boots from getting damp from the morning dew. It was also the most ridiculously reverent gesture she had ever witnessed.
    “Th-thank you, Captain,” she managed, her voice barely a whisper.
    The captain’s head dipped lower. “The honor is all ours, Ma’am.”
    Feeling as though she were in a dream, Anja stepped onto the walkway. She walked between the two lines of silent, armored sentinels, and she could feel that beneath their visors, their gazes devoutly tracked her every move. The air buzzed with their restrained energy.
    She stepped up the ramp and into the ship’s interior. It wasn’t the spartan, utilitarian hold she expected. It was a VIP cabin, furnished with plush, cream-colored leather chairs, polished chrome accents, and soft, indirect lighting. It looked more like the inside of a private jet than a military transport.
    The ramp hissed shut behind her, sealing her inside and cutting off the outside world. A small, silent service droid glided up to her, offering a chilled glass of champagne on a silver tray.
    Anja sank into one of the chairs, the leather sighing under her weight. She took the glass, the crystal cool against her trembling fingers. Through the cabin’s reinforced viewport, she watched her new home, her new life, shrink below as the ship ascended with breathtaking speed.
    A timer appeared on a small screen embedded in the armrest of her chair.
    Estimated Time to Arrival: 12 minutes.
    She stared at the descending numbers, her heart beating a frantic rhythm against her ribs. There was no going back now.

    👉 CONTINUE READING

  • Chosen as the Cursed Alpha’s Seventh Bride by Alibi

    Chosen as the Cursed Alpha's Seventh Bride by Alibi
    👉 READ NOW

    Emilia Taylor was the most unwanted daughter of the Frostridge Pack.
    She had no wolf, no status, and no one who truly loved her. After failing to awaken at the age of twenty-two, she was betrayed by her lover, abandoned by her family, and finally sent by her father to the Silver Moon Pack-to become Sebastian Simons’ seventh bride.
    Sebastian was the Alpha everyone feared.
    Rumor had it that none of his first six wives had met a good end, and every woman who married him eventually became another name on the list of the dead.
    Everyone was waiting for Emilia to die.
    But they did not know that her failed awakening had not left her with nothing. Instead, she had gained the ability to read minds. She could hear the malice and lies hidden behind every smile.
    Everyone’s thoughts were open to her.
    Except Sebastian’s.
    She could not hear his mind, nor could she see through his secrets.
    When a wolfless girl abandoned by everyone meets a cold-blooded Alpha haunted by the mystery of six dead wives, will she become his next victim-or the only one who can break the curse?

    👉 READ NOW

    Chosen as the Cursed Alpha’s Seventh Bride Chapter 1

    Wolfless But Mind Reader
    Emilia’s POV
    For a very long time, I had believed that pain was something a person could grow used to, the same way one grew used to winter wind slipping through cracked windows or old scars aching before rain.
    In the Frostridge pack, I was not simply disliked. I was considered an error that had somehow survived birth.
    My father was Alpha Henry, but being his daughter had never protected me, because my mother had been a witch, and in a pack that worshiped pure wolf blood above almost everything else, my mixed blood became a crime no one needed to prove before punishing me for it.
    When I was younger, I used to wonder if they would have treated me differently if my wolf had awakened early, if I had shifted beneath the moon like every other Alpha-blooded child was expected to do, if my claws had been sharp enough and my howl loud enough to make them forget the witch half of me.
    But year after year, nothing came.
    Hybrid.
    Bastard.
    Curse.
    The words followed me through the halls of the pack house, across the training field. My stepsister Linda was even better at it; she never needed to raise her hand when she could turn an entire room against me with one sweet, pitying glance.
    By the time I turned twenty-two, I had already learned how to lower my eyes when elders looked at me with disgust, how to ignore the servants who whispered that I was cursed, and how to pretend my stepmother Dorothy’s gentle smile did not hurt more than open cruelty because it always came before she reminded me, in the softest possible voice, that I should be grateful the pack still allowed me to stay.
    The only reason I had not completely collapsed under all of it was Brandon Cole.
    He had been my hope for so long that I no longer knew how to separate him from the idea of survival itself.
    Brandon was the strongest young warrior in our pack, handsome, admired, and respected in a way I had never been.
    “When she comes, Emmy,” he used to whisper, brushing his lips over my scars as if they were something precious instead of proof of every punishment I had endured, “everyone who looked down on you will regret it.”
    So I waited.
    I waited through my eighteenth birthday, when most wolves shifted for the first time and I felt nothing but silence beneath my skin. I waited through nineteen, twenty, and twenty-one, while the pack’s disappointment hardened into mockery and my father’s eyes grew colder each time he looked at me. I waited until my twenty-second birthday, the final night a werewolf could still awaken before being declared permanently defective.
    Tonight was my last chance.
    Under the full moon, surrounded by wolves who had gathered less to witness my awakening than to enjoy my final failure, I stood barefoot in the ritual circle and forced myself not to tremble. The silver bowl before me reflected the moonlight, the elder’s chant rose and fell like distant thunder, and somewhere beyond the crowd, Brandon watched me with an expression I wanted desperately to believe was love.
    Then the ritual ended.
    Nothing happened.
    A few wolves laughed.
    My stepmother sighed as if my failure had personally inconvenienced her, Linda lowered her eyes to hide the smile pulling at her lips, and my father turned away before the elder even announced what everyone already knew.
    That would be the worst pain of the night.
    But I was wrong.
    As I stepped out of the ritual circle, something sharp split through my skull, and a flood of voices crashed into me all at once.
    [What a waste of moonlight.]
    [I knew she wouldn’t shift.]
    [Brandon must be tired of pretending by now.]
    I froze.
    No one’s mouth had moved.
    The wolves around me were still laughing, whispering, staring, but beneath their spoken words came another layer of sound-clearer, uglier, impossible to ignore.
    Their thoughts.
    Panic tightened around my throat as I stumbled back, pressing a hand against my temple while the pack’s hidden cruelty poured into me without mercy. Every smile had a second voice. Every pitying glance carried a knife. They had hated me more deeply than I had ever allowed myself to imagine.
    I needed Brandon.
    I needed the one person who had always made the noise of the pack feel far away.
    But as I pushed through the crowd, desperate to find him, a maid passed close enough for her thoughts to slice through the chaos.
    [Brandon followed Linda into her room again. Goddess, I swear, if I have to wait for them to finish and then scrub another set of destroyed sheets, I’m going to lose it.]
    My body stopped moving.
    For one heartbeat, the entire world went silent.
    Then my blood turned cold.
    I grabbed the maid’s wrist so hard she cried out.
    “What did you say?”
    Her eyes widened in terror. “Miss Emilia, I didn’t say anything.”
    She was telling the truth.
    Her lips had not moved.
    But I had heard her.
    A terrible numbness spread through me as I released the maid and turned toward the pack house. I did not remember crossing the courtyard, climbing the stairs, or passing the servants who stepped out of my way with startled faces and guilty minds. I only remembered the pounding of my heart and the foolish, desperate prayer repeating inside me.
    Please be wrong.
    Please let this be the one thought I misunderstood.
    Please let him still be mine.
    When I reached Linda’s door, I already knew.
    I pushed the door open.
    The scene before me was worse than any nightmare.
    The bed creaked rhythmically, obscene sounds spilling.
    Brandon-my Brandon-was naked, his body moving over someone sprawled beneath him on the bed. Linda’s long legs wrapped around his waist, her nails raking down his back as she moaned his name.
    My sister. My boyfriend.
    In that moment, I didn’t feel pain. I felt nothing. Just a hollow, echoing void where my heart should have been.
    Then their thoughts crashed into my mind like broken glass.
    [God, she’s so much better than Emilia. Tighter. More responsive. How did I waste many years on that frigid wolfless bitch?] Brandon’s voice, clear in my head even as his mouth was occupied elsewhere.
    [Look at her standing there like a pathetic little ghost. Does she really think Brandon ever loved her? Please. He’s been mine since the day I decided I wanted him.] Linda’s thoughts dripped with venom and smug satisfaction.
    The numbness shattered.
    Rage-pure, incandescent fury-flooded through me.
    I grabbed the vase from the dresser near the door and hurled it at the wall beside the bed. It exploded with a satisfying crash.
    They jerked apart, Linda screaming, Brandon scrambling to cover himself.
    “Emilia!” Brandon’s face went white. “This isn’t-I can explain-“
    “Explain?” My voice came out low and deadly calm. “Explain how you’ve been fucking my sister for three months while telling me you loved me?”
    His jaw dropped. “How did you-“
    “Does it matter?” I stepped into the room, my hands clenched into fists.
    Linda sat up, not bothering to cover herself, a cruel smile playing on her lips. “Oh, please. Don’t act so surprised, Emilia. Did you really think someone like Brandon would settle for a wolfless freak like you?”
    [She’s even more pathetic than I thought. Look at her, about to cry. This is delicious.]
    I moved before I could think. My hand connected with Brandon’s cheek with a crack that echoed through the room.

    Chosen as the Cursed Alpha’s Seventh Bride Chapter 2

    Sent to the Demon
    Emilia’s POV
    Brandon staggered back, hand flying to his reddening face. “What the fuck-“
    The second slap hit even harder.
    “That’s for lying to me for a year,” I said, my voice shaking with fury. “For making me believe you cared about me. For being a fucking coward who couldn’t even break up with me before shoving your dick into my sister.”
    “You crazy bitch!” Brandon lunged toward me, but I was already moving.
    I grabbed Linda’s designer purse from the nightstand and flung it at his head. It connected with a satisfying thud.
    “We’re done,” I said coldly. “Don’t ever speak to me again. Don’t look at me. Don’t even breathe in my direction. You disgust me.”
    I turned to Linda, whose smirk had finally faltered.
    “And you. Congratulations. You’ve won the grand prize-a cheating coward with a small dick and no future. I hope you’re very happy together.”
    I didn’t wait for a response. I spun on my heel and walked out, slamming the door behind me hard enough to rattle the frame.
    My father’s office was on the first floor. I stormed through the hallways, ignoring the curious stares of lingering guests, my heart hammering against my ribs.
    I didn’t bother knocking. I shoved the door open.
    Alpha Henry sat behind his desk, Dorothy perched on the edge beside him. They both looked up, startled.
    “Emilia,” my father began. “What are you-“
    “Did you know?” I demanded, my voice raw from everything I had just swallowed and everything I could no longer pretend not to understand. “Did you know Brandon was cheating on me with Linda?”
    Alpha Henry only leaned back in his chair and looked at me with the tired impatience.
    “Sit down, Emilia.”
    “No.”
    My answer was sharper than I expected, and the silence that followed made Dorothy lift her brows.
    “Did you know?” I asked again.
    This time, my father did not bother to lie.
    “Yes.”
    The word hit harder than finding Brandon in Linda’s bed.
    “You knew,” I whispered.
    “Brandon is a talented warrior,” my father said coldly, as if that explained everything. “He is one of the most promising wolves in this generation, and the pack has invested too much in him to waste his future on sentiment.”
    For a moment, I could only stare at him, because I had come into this room expecting anger, perhaps even disappointment, but not this calm, practical cruelty that treated my heartbreak as nothing more than poor strategy.
    Then he said the thing he had clearly been waiting to say.
    “You failed your Awakening.”
    The room went still.
    “You were given twenty-two years, Emilia,” he continued, his voice hardening with each word. “and yet after all that time, you are still standing here exactly as you began.”
    [Wolfless.]
    [Useless.]
    [Unwanted.]
    He did not need to say the words aloud.
    I heard them anyway.
    “So that’s it?” I asked, my throat tightening around the question. “Because I didn’t shift, Brandon gets to betray me, Linda gets to humiliate me, and you get to pretend none of it matters?”
    “Linda has a wolf,” Henry snapped. “Linda has value. Brandon needs a mate who can stand beside him, bear strong heirs, and strengthen this pack. Not you.”
    “If I was such a disappointment,” I said slowly, “then why did you have me at all?”
    His expression changed. “Watch your tone.”
    “No,” I said, and once the word left me, everything I had buried for years began to rise with it. “If you hated my mother so much, why chose her? If you hated what I was, why let me live here for twenty-two years begging for scraps of approval you never planned to give me?”
    Dorothy’s face cooled. “That is enough.”
    Henry slammed his hand against the desk. The sound cracked through the office.
    “I chose this pack.”
    That was when I saw the black envelope.
    Dorothy picked it up from the desk with graceful fingers and placed it where I could see the silver wax seal pressed into the paper.
    The Simons crest.
    My blood turned cold before she even spoke.
    “Linda received an invitation from the Simons family,” Dorothy said gently, and the sweetness in her voice made my stomach twist. “But after discussing it carefully, your father and I have decided that you will attend in her place.”
    For a few seconds, I could not make sense of the words, because the Simons family was not merely powerful or wealthy; they were feared, whispered about, avoided by every family with daughters old enough to marry.
    And Alpha Sebastian Simons was the worst of them.
    Six brides.
    Six funerals.
    “You want me to replace Linda,” I said, each word colder than the last, “because you’re afraid he will kill her.”
    “No one said that,” Dorothy replied.
    But my father’s thoughts moved through my mind with brutal clarity.
    [Linda is too valuable to risk.]
    “It is a duty,” my father corrected. “The Simons alliance can save Frostridge pack.”
    “And if I die?”
    Neither of them answered.
    They did not need to.
    My father’s thoughts answered for them.
    [If she dies, we lose nothing.]
    For a moment, the office seemed to disappear around me, and all I could feel was the horrible clarity of finally knowing my place in this family, not as a daughter, not even as a shame they wished to hide, but as a body they could send into danger because no one would mourn the loss.
    I stepped back.
    “No.”
    Henry’s eyes narrowed. “Emilia.”
    “No,” I repeated, louder this time. “I won’t go.”
    His Alpha aura filled the room, heavy enough to press against my bones. “You have spent your entire life receiving this pack’s mercy. Now you will repay it.”
    “Mercy?” I laughed, though my chest felt like it was breaking open. “You call this mercy?”
    “I call it obedience.”
    Then he looked past me.
    “Guards.”
    The door opened before I could reach it, and two warriors seized my arms from behind with enough force to make pain shoot through my shoulders.
    I kicked, twisted, screamed, and when one of them dragged me backward, I sank my teeth into his wrist with every bit of rage I had left.
    He cursed, his grip loosened.
    For one wild second, I was free.
    Then something slammed into the back of my head.
    Pain burst white behind my eyes, the floor tilted beneath me, and as darkness began to drag me under, I heard my father’s thoughts one last time, calm and relieved in a way his voice had never been.
    [Finally.]
    [That problem is taken care of.]
    The dark closed in.
    And in the last fading corner of my mind, I understood.
    No one in Frostridge pack expected me to survive.
    They had already abandoned me to death.

    Chosen as the Cursed Alpha’s Seventh Bride Chapter 3

    Bride Selection
    Emilia’s POV
    The scent of roses and expensive perfume hit me first.
    My eyes fluttered open to find myself staring at an ornate ceiling with intricate moldings. The bed beneath me was obscenely soft.
    Where the hell was I?
    I sat up too quickly. My head spun, the sedative still clinging to my system. The room around me was massive-easily twice the size of my bedroom back at the Frostridge pack house. Everything screamed wealth: silk curtains, marble floors, a chandelier that looked like it belonged in a palace.
    Then I caught sight of myself in the full-length mirror across the room.
    They’d dressed me up like a doll.
    My hair cascaded down my back in soft waves, and my makeup highlighted my best features. My eyes looked deeper, my lips fuller, and my reflection almost felt unfamiliar.
    The navy silk dress fit me perfectly, elegant and flattering, making it impossible to look away.
    I looked gorgeous.
    I looked like a bride being prepared for slaughter.
    Of course they made me pretty. Can’t send damaged goods to the devil himself.
    My father had held that elaborate birthday ceremony not out of love, but as a public display-proof that he’d treated both daughters equally. Then he could ship me off to Sebastian Simons with a clear conscience, his reputation intact.
    Linda got Brandon. I got a death sentence.
    He’d probably started planning this the moment my wolf failed to emerge.
    A sharp knock at the door.
    “Miss Taylor?” A woman’s voice. “Alpha Sebastian’s selection will begin shortly. Please follow me.”
    My stomach dropped. This was really happening.
    I opened the door to find a middle-aged woman in a black uniform. She looked me up and down with cold assessment.
    The Frostridge pack must really be desperate, her thoughts hit me. Sending a wolfless embarrassment to Alpha Sebastian. Do they think we’re idiots?
    The malice in her thoughts made my jaw clench. But I kept my expression calm, following her down a hallway that seemed to stretch forever.
    The mansion was even more impressive than my room suggested-a sprawling estate that mixed modern luxury with old-world elegance. We passed floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking manicured gardens, walls lined with what I suspected were original Renaissance paintings.
    As we walked through the double doors, the noise hit me.
    Not sound-thoughts.
    Dozens of them, all at once, crashing into my mind like a tidal wave.
    I can’t believe I’m actually doing this. Marrying a notorious demon. My life is over.
    He might be violent, but his marriages never last long. Two months tops, then divorce. But that severance package… eighteen million dollars and the status of being a Simons? Worth the risk.
    Oh God, she’s gorgeous. If that wolfless bitch gets chosen instead of me, I swear I’ll-
    My father’s going to kill me if I don’t get selected. The pack needs this alliance. I have to make him notice me.
    The thoughts overlapped, tangled, multiplied. It felt like a thousand bees had nested inside my skull, their buzzing growing louder and louder until I couldn’t tell where one thought ended and another began.
    My vision blurred. The hallway tilted.
    I pressed a hand against the wall, trying to steady myself, but the thoughts kept coming, relentless and overwhelming.
    Why is she touching the wall? Is she going to faint? Pathetic.
    The guide’s thoughts cut through the chaos, sharp with disdain.
    “Miss Taylor?” Her voice sounded distant, underwater. “Are you quite alright?”
    I couldn’t answer. My throat had closed. My lungs refused to expand. The edges of my vision darkened as panic clawed up my chest.
    *Breathe, *I commanded myself desperately. Just breathe.
    But the voices in my head wouldn’t stop. They grew louder, angrier, more frantic.
    A waiting area, with at least thirty women, all dressed to perfection, all wearing varying expressions of fear and determination.
    The receiving room doors burst open.
    A woman stumbled out, makeup streaked down her face, shoulders shaking with sobs. As she rushed past me, her thoughts slammed into mine with devastating clarity.
    I’ve never met such a cruel, heartless Alpha in my life. The way he looked at me-like I was dirt. Like I was nothing. God, I just want to go home. I want to disappear. I want-
    She was gone before I could process it, but two more women followed in quick succession, each one crying, each one broadcasting their terror and humiliation directly into my brain.
    Monster. He’s a monster.
    Those eyes. Those cold, empty eyes. Like a predator deciding whether to kill you now or later.
    I’m not pretty enough. I’m not smart enough. I’ll never be enough for someone like him.
    I doubled over, pressing my palms against my temples, trying desperately to shut them out. But I couldn’t. The ability was too new, too raw. I had no control.
    “Miss Taylor!” The guide’s hand gripped my elbow, steadying me. “You’re next. Pull yourself together.”
    I forced my head up, blinking away the spots dancing across my vision.
    Two guards flanked the entrance, massive wolves who watched me with undisguised contempt.
    *Run, *every instinct screamed. Run now while you still can.
    But I’d seen the guards. I’d seen how the estate was locked down tighter than a prison. Even if I made it past them, where would I go? Back to a father who’d drugged and sold me? Back to a sister who’d stolen my boyfriend and laughed about it?
    I had nowhere to run. No one to save me.
    So I did the only thing I could.
    I straightened my spine, lifted my chin, and walked through those doors like I had a choice in any of this.
    The receiving room was enormous. But despite its size, the air felt suffocating, pressing down on me from all sides.
    And then I saw him.
    Sebastian Simons sat in the center of the room on a leather sofa that looked more like a throne. Even seated, his presence dominated the space. Tall. Powerfully built. He radiated the kind of authority that made people instinctively want to kneel.
    Dark hair. High cheekbones. A straight nose. Every feature sharp and defined.
    His eyes… Green. Piercing. Intense and unforgiving.
    Those eyes locked onto mine.
    And suddenly, the world went silent.
    All the voices-the screaming, buzzing chaos that had been tearing my mind apart-vanished in an instant.
    I couldn’t hear his thoughts. Couldn’t sense anything from him except… presence. Weight. Power.
    It was the most peaceful silence I’d experienced since this cursed ability had awakened.
    And this peace, ironically, came from the very man most likely to kill me.

    👉 CONTINUE READING

  • Untouchable: The Alpha’s Miracle Doctor by Yue Rujing

    Untouchable: The Alpha's Miracle Doctor by Yue Rujing
    👉 READ NOW

    I was the wolfless disgrace of the pack, traded like cattle to a dying monster.

    When a royal decree stripped away my engagement, my own father gave my fiancé to my cruel sister, Charly. My punishment for being born without a wolf? A forced marriage to Demetri Contreras—the crippled, disgraced Alpha left to rot from silver poison.

    They threw me into a frozen, forgotten estate, waiting for my new husband to die so I could be buried as a silent widow.

    Charly laughed as she stole my life, my mate, and my future. My family discarded me, just like they murdered my mother years ago.

    They thought this exile would break me. They thought I was a helpless pawn.

    They didn’t know that inside this fragile body lived the soul of the top interstellar miracle surgeon.

    Looking at the ruined, festering Alpha bleeding on my wedding bed, I didn’t see a corpse. I saw the deadliest weapon in the realm.

    The fallen Alpha needs a miracle to survive. Lucky for him, I am the miracle.

    I will drag this monster back from the gates of hell—and together, we will burn my enemies to ash.

    👉 READ NOW

    Untouchable: The Alpha’s Miracle Doctor Chapter 1

    Haven Kramer POV：
    The silence in the living room was thick, but it didn’t weigh on me. I sat comfortably on the edge of the silk armchair, my hands resting loosely in my lap, calmly observing the theater playing out around me.
    My father, Alpha Gordon Kramer, stood by the mantelpiece with his back to me, staring into the unlit fireplace. His rigid posture was a performance of grim authority, but to my trained eyes, the overextension of his shoulder muscles betrayed pure, anxious tension. He was nervous. I found that amusing.
    A heavy tread on the marble floor signaled the arrival of the King’s envoy.
    A severe-looking wolf with graying temples stepped into the room, clad in the King’s formal uniform. His face was a mask of absolute neutrality. The air in the room crackled with tension, but my heart rate remained a steady, resting sixty beats per minute.
    My father finally turned, his expression a carefully constructed mask of solemn welcome. “Emissary,” he said, his voice a low rumble. He pointedly did not look at me. It was a classic evasion tactic. He thought he was breaking my heart; in reality, he was just confirming his own cowardice.
    The envoy gave a curt nod, wasting no time on pleasantries. He drew a parchment scroll tied with a royal blue ribbon from his inner pocket and unrolled it with a soft crackle.
    “By decree of the Alpha King,” the envoy began, his monotone voice echoing in the vast room. “Regarding the union between the houses of Contreras and Kramer.”
    I leaned back slightly.
    “It is noted that Alpha Darren Contreras is an exemplary heir, beloved and strong. And it is noted that his brother, Alpha Demetri Contreras, was grievously wounded by silver in the Western War, his connection to his wolf severed, leaving him a broken shell.”
    The formal descriptions of the two brothers hung in the air. One a golden boy, the other a crippled outcast.
    “It has been confirmed by the council that Haven Kramer is wolfless,” the envoy continued, casting a brief, pitying glance my way. “A wolfless mate is an unacceptable match for a future leader. Therefore, the betrothal between Alpha Darren Contreras and Haven Kramer is hereby declared null and void.”
    Beside the mantelpiece, my father’s expression remained placid, his eyes distant. He looked exactly like a merchant watching a trade deal close. To him, I was just damaged goods being offloaded at a steep discount to preserve an alliance.
    “In her stead,” the envoy read, “her sister, Charly Kramer, a true wolf of good standing, shall be joined with Alpha Darren Contreras. And to honor the original alliance, Haven Kramer shall be given to the crippled Alpha, Demetri Contreras.”
    “The weddings will be held simultaneously in three days’ time,” the envoy concluded, neatly rolling the scroll and handing it to my father. With a curt bow, he turned and walked out.
    The silence returned. My father finally looked at me, likely bracing himself for the hysterics, tears, or begging that the “old” Haven would have provided.
    Instead, I stood up smoothly, smoothing down the skirts of my dress.
    “Three days,” I said, my voice cutting through the quiet room, entirely devoid of tremor. “I will be ready.”
    Before my father could recover from his visible shock, I turned on my heel and walked up to my lavish bedroom.
    I was sitting at my vanity, listening to the quiet night outside, when my door opened without a knock. The cloying scent of sweet pea perfume, heavily laced with unearned triumph, announced her arrival.
    My sister, Charly.
    “Oh, my poor sister,” she cooed, her voice dripping with fake sympathy as she glided into the room, wearing an expensive white lace dress. She came to stand behind me, her fingers reaching out to stroke my hair as if comforting a pet. “I was so heartbroken to hear the news.”
    I remained perfectly still, watching her reflection in the dark glass of the window.
    When I gave her no reaction, her facade quickly cracked. The corner of her mouth twitched into a smug smirk. “But you know, being wolfless, you were never worthy of Darren anyway. This is for the good of the family.”
    She leaned in close, her breath warm against my ear, dropping her voice to a venomous whisper. “Besides, Darren was always mine. You were just keeping his spot warm.”
    I slowly lifted my head, meeting her gaze in the mirror. My eyes were completely flat, cold as chips of ice.
    Charly flinched, the triumphant smile freezing on her face. She took an involuntary step back, unnerved by the lack of tears.
    Slowly, deliberately, I rose from the chair. I picked up a heavy, silver-backed comb from the vanity and began to rhythmically, elegantly pull it through my hair.
    “Marrying a broken man is better than marrying a piece of trash,” I said softly, my voice even and calm.
    The color instantly drained from Charly’s face. “You—”
    “Our wedding is in three days, isn’t it?” I turned to face her directly, letting the full weight of my detached, icy gaze fall upon her. “Go plan your ceremony, Charly. I accept the arrangement completely.”
    Charly stood there, utterly baffled. I thought she had come prepared for tears, hysterics, and a desperate sister she could kick while she was down. My utter lack of distress disarmed her entirely.

    Untouchable: The Alpha’s Miracle Doctor Chapter 2

    Haven Kramer POV:
    Charly’s shock quickly curdled back into anger. My composure was a greater insult than any screaming match could ever be. Her face flushed a blotchy red.
    “Accept? What choice do you have?” she spat, her voice sharp and brittle. “A filthy wolfless. Marrying into the Contreras family at all is a gift from the Moon Goddess you don’t deserve!”
    I ignored her, turning my back to walk to my wardrobe. I began to sift through the dresses, my movements unhurried. As if I were merely choosing an outfit for a mundane dinner party.
    This utter dismissal was more than she could stand.
    She lunged, grabbing my arm. Her nails dug into my skin. “I’m talking to you! Are you deaf?”
    Her face was inches from mine, her expression twisted with vicious glee. “Do you know why Father agreed so easily? The Contreras family paid a fortune! Your ‘funeral trousseau’ has secured our family’s prosperity for the next decade!”
    The words were meant to crush me, to remind me of my worthlessness. She leaned closer still, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial hiss. “And Father already knows Demetri is dying. The silver poison is in his bones. The healers say he won’t last the month. You’re marrying him to be his widow. To spend your life guarding a corpse and an empty title.”
    I still didn’t give her the satisfaction of a breakdown.
    Frustrated by my absolute silence, Charly’s face distorted with pure malice. She shoved me roughly, shouting in my face, “Why aren’t you crying? You think you’re still the precious eldest daughter? Your mother was nothing but a low-born old bitch, and you’re just a little bitch!”
    That was the line.
    My movements ceased.
    Slowly, inch by inch, I turned my head. The ice in my eyes was gone. In its place, a fire blazed, so hot and furious it felt like it could melt steel.
    Charly saw the sudden murder in my gaze and her hand flew from my arm as if she’d been burned.
    Before she could process what was happening, I moved.
    My speed was a blur. My hand shot out and clamped like an iron vice around her throat. With a surge of overwhelming strength, I slammed her backward against the solid oak of the wardrobe.
    Thump.
    The impact rattled the heavy wood. Charly’s head cracked against the surface, and a strangled gasp escaped her lips as the air was forced from her lungs.
    Her eyes, wide with terror, stared at me. The face she had known for twenty years was now a stranger’s mask, a harbinger from hell. This was not the weak, yielding sister she loved to bully.
    My fingers were bone-white from the force of my grip, but my expression was eerily calm. The contrast was monstrous.
    “Apologize,” I said. My voice was a raw, cold rasp, like a blade scraped over stone. “Apologize to my mother.”
    Charly’s face was turning a horrifying shade of purple. She clawed frantically at my wrist, her throat making wet, gagging sounds. She couldn’t form a single word.
    “Say it again,” I whispered, tightening my grip just enough to cut off her pathetic whimpers. “Say another word about her.”
    Her struggles weakened. Tears of pure terror streamed down her face. She began to beat a weak tattoo against the wardrobe with her free hand, a desperate, silent plea for help.
    Seeing her pathetic, sniveling state cooled the inferno in my chest. Killing her here would be too quick. Too merciful.
    I released her.
    Charly slid down the wardrobe like a discarded doll, landing in a heap on the floor. She clutched her throat, coughing and retching, desperately sucking in air. Snot and tears smeared her perfect makeup. She looked up at me, her eyes filled with a new kind of fear. A primal fear.
    I stood over her, my own expression one of utter disgust.
    “Get out,” I said. One word.
    She scrambled to her feet, a clumsy, pathetic mess of limbs. She didn’t dare look at me again. She stumbled to the door, fumbling with the handle. Just before she pulled it open, she risked a final, hateful glare over her shoulder.
    “You’ll regret this!” she choked out, the threat utterly hollow.
    A cold smile touched my lips. It sent a visible shiver down her spine.
    She yanked the door open and fled, her footsteps pounding down the hall.
    The door slammed shut, leaving me in silence once more. I leaned against the wall, my body trembling slightly from the rush of adrenaline. I lifted my hand, staring at my fingers. They were steady now.
    Tonight, they had tasted violence for the first time.
    And it was only the beginning.

    Untouchable: The Alpha’s Miracle Doctor Chapter 3

    Haven Kramer POV:
    The silence that followed Charly’s flight was absolute. I walked to the window and watched her frantic, scurrying figure disappear across the manicured lawns. My expression was flat, my heart a cold, steady drum.
    I uncurled my hand, palm up. The feeling of her throat under my fingers lingered—a foreign sensation of power that sent a cold thrill through my veins. I knew Charly. She was already running to our father, spinning a tale of victimhood. There would be consequences.
    But I no longer cared. If they wanted to push me into the abyss, I would claw my way back out from hell itself and drag them all down with me.
    My gaze fell upon a small, locked wooden box on my nightstand. It was the only thing I had left of my mother, Elara Beaumont. After I was born, my mother died in a so-called “hunting accident.” A convenient fall from a cliff. I believed it was murder.
    I walked to it, my steps measured. From a chain around my neck, I pulled a small, tarnished key. The lock clicked open with a sound that seemed to echo in the quiet room.
    Inside, there were no jewels, no gold. Just a few faded, leather-bound diaries and a single, thick vellum envelope.
    I lifted the envelope, unfolding the paper soft with age. It was a letter written in my mother’s elegant, flowing script, its words of love underlined with a deep, aching sorrow. She told her story—how she had used her family’s resources and her own strength to help Gordon Kramer challenge and win the title of Alpha. But once he had the power, he grew ashamed of her and began an affair with Concetta, Charly’s mother.
    My dearest Haven, the last lines read, if you are reading this, I am gone. Do not trust Gordon Kramer. Do not trust any of them. Survive. At any cost, you must survive.
    A single, hot tear finally escaped and fell onto the page, smearing the ink. My heart broke for my mother.
    But I would not share her fate.I was not helpless.
    I had knowledge from another world, memories of a life where I held power not in bloodlines, but in skill. That was my weapon.
    Yes. Two lifetimes.
    Seven days ago, I almost lost my life to betrayal. Back then, I was deeply and innocently in love with my betrothed, Alpha Darren Contreras. But Gordon Kramer, swayed by Concetta’s malicious scheming, forced me to hand over my beloved and my entire future to my sister, Charly. To me, Darren was my world. Unable to endure the suffocating grief, the humiliation, and the sight of my sister stealing the man I loved, I chose to end my own life.
    Perhaps the Moon Goddess took pity on me, because I did not die.
    During the seven days I lay in a coma, my soul traveled to a highly advanced interstellar world called Astraea. Although I was born an orphan there, living in a crowded shelter, that technologically superior society allowed me to graduate from the top Imperial Medical Academy through my own relentless efforts and the help of a kind benefactor. After I repaid my debt of gratitude to that benefactor, I threw myself entirely into the work of saving lives, mastering the complex biological structures of various humanoid and beast-kin species. My surgical skills reached a level that commanded absolute reverence. In the final years of my long and fulfilling life there, the patients I had cured bestowed upon me a legendary title—”The Miracle Healer.”
    When I closed my eyes for the last time on Astraea, I thought my journey had ended. Yet, I woke up back in the werewolf realm, returning to this body exactly seven days later.
    My past infatuation with Darren means nothing to me now. But my lingering resentment and my mother’s tragic fate remain. Since fate has granted me a second chance, I will use it to collect every single debt. Everything they owe me, everything they owe my mother, I will take back piece by piece. Those who deceived and humiliated me will face retribution. I am a healer, and I possess a merciful heart. But that mercy will never be granted to my enemies.
    I carefully folded the letter, placed it back with the diaries, and locked the box. This box would go with me. It was my anchor and my mission.
    I wiped my eyes. When I looked up, my reflection in the vanity mirror was a stranger. Pale face, green eyes, a mane of brown hair. But behind the eyes, the soul of a surgeon who had stared down death a thousand times was now fully in control.
    The faces flashed through my mind, a gallery of smiling betrayers. The last face was one I’d never seen, only imagined: the pale, ruined face of Demetri Contreras. The dying Alpha.
    Choosing to marry the crippled Alpha was an act of survival forced upon me by the council. But it was also the first calculated step of my grand design. He was the hell they were sending me to, but his broken body was a patient only a master surgeon could rebuild. A powerful, indebted Alpha, brought back from the brink of death by my hand, would be the sharpest blade I could possibly wield against the Kramer family.
    After he was healed? A cold smile touched my lips. I trusted no one, least of all powerful men. This was a transaction. My skills for his power. A platform for my revenge.
    A soft, respectful knock came at the door. A maid’s voice, timid. “Miss, the Alpha requests your presence in his study.”
    Charly’s tears had worked their magic. Gordon was ready to deliver his judgment.
    Even though I forced myself to remain detached, a tight knot of nerves twisted in my stomach as I stood up.
    But I quickly smoothed my dress, my expression shifting, melting back into the mask of a meek, fragile girl. The avenger vanished, hidden deep inside.
    “Of course,” I called out, my voice soft and pliant. “I’ll be right there.”

    👉 CONTINUE READING

  • Shielded By The Ruthless Military Boss by Mo Yufei

    Shielded By The Ruthless Military Boss by Mo Yufei
    👉 READ NOW

    I was an intern nurse working exhausting shifts, yet my mother constantly forced me into blind dates with wealthy, arrogant men to secure our family’s social standing.

    During a terrifying hospital lockdown, an assassin disguised as a doctor held a scalpel to my throat. I was almost killed, but a high-ranking military colonel threw his own body down a flight of concrete stairs to shield me.

    I survived with cuts and bruises, but when I went home, my mother didn’t care about my near-death experience. She was only furious that I had rushed out on my blind date with Preston, a rich financial analyst.

    She forced me to meet him to apologize. When Preston grabbed my arm, bruised me, and mocked my attack as a pathetic lie, my mother still took his side.

    “Men get angry,” she told me coldly. “It’s your job not to provoke them. You will beg for his forgiveness, or you are no longer welcome in this house.”

    I had narrowly escaped an assassin, yet my own family was willing to feed me to a monster just for a fat paycheck and neighborhood gossip.

    My heart went completely dead.

    So, when the intimidating Colonel appeared, offering me maximum military protection through a sudden marriage, I didn’t hesitate.

    I walked back into my parents’ house and calmly slapped a crisp marriage certificate onto the coffee table.

    “I won’t be apologizing to Preston. I got married today.”

    👉 READ NOW

    Shielded By The Ruthless Military Boss Chapter 1

    “If you’re going to order the salmon, make sure they don’t overcook it. The last time I was here, it was practically cat food.”
    Caroline Thompson stared at the man sitting across from her. Preston Finch. Financial analyst. Ivy League graduate. The eighteenth blind date her mother had forced her into in the last two years.
    He wasn’t looking at her. He was using his silver fork to trace the menu like he was grading a flawed exam paper.
    “The wine list here is a joke,” Preston continued, snapping the leather bound menu shut. He finally looked at her, his chin tilted in perpetual judgment. “At my club in New York, we have a sommelier. Here? I wouldn’t trust them to open a beer.”
    Caroline’s fingers dug into the fabric of her dress under the table. This was her life now. Sitting across from arrogant men who thought a fat paycheck bought them the right to treat everyone else like peasants.
    “So, Caroline,” Preston leaned back, offering a smirk that was probably meant to be charming but landed closer to constipated. “My mother mentioned you’re a nurse?”
    “Intern nurse,” Caroline corrected automatically. “At Washington United Medical Center.”
    “Right.” The smirk deepened into outright dismissal. “Must be exhausting. All that cleaning up and taking orders. And the pay? Practically minimum wage, right? Honestly, a pretty girl like you should just find a guy who provides. Someone who makes enough so you don’t have to wipe up vomit for a living.”
    A muscle ticked in Caroline’s temple. She opened her mouth to tell him exactly where he could shove his financial advice, but her phone buzzed.
    She never took personal calls on a date. But right now, it was the only thing keeping her from baptizing Preston with her ice water.
    She glanced at the screen. Her breath hitched. It wasn’t just the hospital. It was the direct emergency line from the Chief of Staff.
    She answered it right there. “Thompson.”
    “Caroline.” Dr. Alistair Cromwell never used her first name. His voice, usually dripping with academic condescension, was flat. Breathless. “Get back here. Now.”
    “I’m off the clock, Dr. Cromwell. Is something—”
    “I don’t have time to repeat myself.” The line crackled with background shouting. “This is not a drill. We are at Code Atlas. I say again, Code Atlas. Get here in ten minutes or don’t bother coming back at all.”
    Click.
    Caroline sat frozen, the dial tone buzzing against her ear.
    Code Atlas.
    In all her years of training, she had only heard that term whispered in break rooms like a ghost story. It meant catastrophe. Mass casualties. A high-level terror threat. It meant the world was falling apart.
    “I have to go,” Caroline said, already grabbing her coat.
    Preston scoffed, slamming his water glass down. “You’re joking. What kind of emergency could a nurse possibly have? We haven’t even ordered.”
    “It’s a Code Atlas,” she said, not caring if he understood. She pulled a fifty-dollar bill from her wallet and dropped it on his pristine white tablecloth. “This covers my share of nothing. Goodbye, Preston.”
    She didn’t wait for his face to finish flushing red. She turned on her heel and practically sprinted out of the restaurant.
    The Washington air hit her in a heavy, soaking downpour. Adrenaline washed away the lingering disgust of the date. She flagged down a cab dropping someone off at the corner, sliding into the back seat before the passenger was fully on the curb.
    “Washington United Medical Center,” she gasped. “Step on it.”
    By the time the cab screeched to a halt, the rain had slowed to a mist, but the chill in Caroline’s bones only deepened.
    She stepped out and stopped dead.
    The hospital had been turned into a fortress.
    The main entrance wasn’t blocked by ambulances, but by military police. Two armored Humvees idled across the driveway, their headlights cutting through the fog. Men in full combat gear, rifles strapped to their chests, stood behind concrete barricades.
    This wasn’t a mass casualty event. This was a federal lockdown.
    Heart hammering against her ribs, Caroline approached the nearest checkpoint, holding up her ID badge with a trembling hand. “Caroline Thompson. I was paged by Dr. Cromwell.”
    The guard, a soldier with eyes like flint, scanned her badge, checked a clipboard, and stepped aside. “Go straight to the main desk. Do not deviate from the hallway, ma’am.”
    Caroline slipped under the yellow tape. The lobby was unrecognizable. The usual chaotic symphony of the ER was gone, replaced by a suffocating, terrified silence. Doctors and nurses huddled in clusters. Armed soldiers lined the corridors like statues.
    “Thompson!”
    Dr. Cromwell was striding toward her. He looked like he had aged a decade since morning. His white coat was rumpled, a dark coffee stain splashed across his tie.
    “Listen carefully, I don’t have time for questions,” he snapped, his forehead gleaming with sweat. “You are assigned to ICU Room 3. You will monitor the patient’s vitals. You will not speak to him. You will not touch any personal effects in the room. If his heart rate fluctuates by more than ten percent, you hit this button.” He shoved a black pager into her palm. “Do you understand me?”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “Go.”
    Caroline walked briskly toward the private elevator bank. The air smelled different here—sharper, metallic, like ozone and gunpowder.
    As she turned the corner, the doors of the VIP elevator slid open. A group of people emerged, moving like a single, lethal organism. Men in dark suits. Military brass with medals gleaming.
    But they were just background noise.
    In the center, walking slightly ahead, was a man who looked like he had been carved from granite and violence.
    He was well over six feet, his shoulders straining the seams of his digital camouflage uniform. The rank on his chest—a silver eagle—demanded absolute submission. His face was a landscape of sharp angles and hard lines, his jaw set like a steel trap.
    As the group passed, the man turned his head.
    His eyes—a cold, piercing, impossible gray—swept the corridor. And for a fraction of a second, his gaze locked onto Caroline’s.
    It was like stepping onto a landmine.
    The air was violently sucked from her lungs. A jolt of pure, electric heat shot down her spine, freezing her blood. Those eyes didn’t just look at her; they stripped her down, assessed her threat level, and branded her in the span of a single heartbeat.
    “Colonel Romero,” an aide murmured, handing the man a classified tablet.
    The spell shattered. The man—Colonel Romero—broke eye contact, taking the tablet without missing a stride. He began firing off orders in a low, gravelly voice that vibrated down the hallway.
    Caroline let out a shaky breath, her knees suddenly weak. She hadn’t realized she was holding onto the wall until a hand grabbed her arm.
    “Are you breathing?” her friend Brenna whispered, pulling Caroline into a supply alcove. Brenna’s face was paper-white. “Oh my god, Caroline. Did you see him?”
    Caroline swallowed hard, her throat like sandpaper. “The Colonel?”
    “Jarrod Romero,” Brenna breathed, the name heavy with awe and terror. “Department of Defense. My cousin at the Pentagon says he’s the guy they call when the world is ending.” She clutched a medical chart to her chest. “He looks like he’d shoot you just for breathing his air.”
    Caroline rubbed the back of her neck, trying to dispel the lingering, phantom heat from that brief eye contact. “Where are you headed?”
    “ICU 3. Cromwell’s special assignment.”
    Brenna’s eyes widened, all gossip vanishing instantly. “Oh, God. Caroline, be careful. That patient… this whole thing is black-ops. The FBI tried to get in twenty minutes ago and Romero’s men turned them away at gunpoint.”
    “I just have to watch the monitors,” Caroline said, though her voice lacked conviction.
    She grabbed a supply cart and pushed through the double doors of the ICU wing. They hissed shut behind her, sealing her in a sterile, fluorescent-lit silence.
    Two MPs stood outside Room 3, their faces blank masks. They checked her badge twice before unlocking the door.
    The room was freezing. The steady beep-beep of the heart monitor was the only sound.
    In the bed lay a young man, motionless. His face was a swollen canvas of bruises, thick bandages wrapping his torso. Caroline moved to the bedside, picking up the chart.
    Alston Petersen. Lieutenant. JAG Corps.
    The list of his injuries read like a torture report.
    She set the chart down, her eyes fixed on the rhythmic spike of the heart monitor. Her pulse thrummed in her ears.
    She had told Brenna she just had to watch the monitors. But standing in the freezing room, looking at the broken soldier, Caroline knew the truth.
    She had just walked into the eye of a very deadly storm. And the man with the ice-gray eyes was the one holding the lightning.

    Shielded By The Ruthless Military Boss Chapter 2

    The next twelve hours were a blur of checking vitals and adjusting IV drips. Caroline didn’t sit down once. Every time Lieutenant Petersen stirred, she was there, checking his pupils, measuring his output. He woke up briefly around 3 AM, his eyes glassy with pain.
    “Water,” he croaked.
    She held the cup with a straw to his lips, letting him take small sips. “Slowly, Lieutenant. You’ve been out for a while.”
    He looked at her, confused, then his gaze drifted to the guards outside the door. “Where is…” His voice trailed off, too weak to finish.
    “You’re safe,” Caroline said, though she wasn’t entirely sure she believed it herself. “Just rest.”
    He closed his eyes and drifted off again. Caroline sank back into the chair, rubbing her burning eyes. She hadn’t heard anything from the outside world. No news on what Code Atlas meant, no updates on the lockdown. Just the hum of the machines and the muffled sound of boots in the hallway.
    Around 6 AM, the door swung open without a knock.
    Caroline jumped to her feet, her heart leaping into her throat. Jarrod Romero stood in the doorway. He looked exactly as he had the night before-immaculate, unyielding, and completely exhausted. Dark circles shadowed his eyes, but his posture was rigid.
    He stepped inside, followed by two men in suits who looked like they hadn’t slept in a week. Dr. Cromwell scurried in behind them, looking like a nervous chihuahua next to a pack of wolves.
    “Status report,” Romero barked. He wasn’t looking at Caroline. He was looking at the bed.
    “Vitals are stable, Colonel,” Dr. Cromwell said, stepping forward. “No signs of infection. The surgery was a success, though we won’t know about nerve damage for-“
    “I wasn’t asking you, Doctor.” Romero’s voice cut through the room like a blade. He shifted his gaze to Caroline, his eyes pinning her in place. “The nurse. Report.”
    Cromwell’s mouth snapped shut. He took a step back, his face flushing.
    Romero finally turned his full gaze to Caroline. Up close, his eyes were even more unnerving. They were a pale, stormy gray, fringed with dark lashes. They assessed her with a clinical detachment that made her feel like a specimen under a microscope.
    “Now,” he repeated.
    Caroline swallowed, her palms suddenly slick with sweat. She wiped them on her scrubs and forced her voice to stay level. “Lieutenant Petersen’s heart rate has been consistent, hovering around 72 BPM. Blood pressure 120/80. He woke briefly at 0300 hours, oriented but weak. I administered 2mg of morphine via IV at 0315 for pain management. Urine output is within normal limits.”
    Romero listened without blinking. His expression didn’t change, but his eyes stayed locked on her face. Then, his gaze dropped. It moved down her scrubs, past the name tag pinned to her chest, and landed on the chart in her hands.
    Specifically, on the signature line at the bottom.
    Caroline watched his face. There was a minuscule shift. A slight narrowing of his eyes. His jaw, already tight, seemed to clench even harder. He stared at the name “Caroline Thompson” for a beat too long.
    Then, just as quickly, the moment passed. He looked back up at her face, his expression once again a mask of stone.
    “Acceptable,” he said. He turned to Cromwell. “I want the security detail doubled. No one gets within fifty feet of this room without my explicit authorization. Not the hospital administrator, not the Joint Chiefs, not even God himself. Is that clear?”
    “Y-yes, Colonel,” Cromwell stammered. “But the board is already asking questions about the cost-“
    Romero took a step toward Cromwell. It was a subtle movement, but Cromwell flinched like he’d been struck. “I am not concerned with the board, Doctor. I am concerned with keeping this man alive. If you can’t manage that, I will find someone who can.”
    Cromwell paled. “Understood.”
    Romero turned back to the door. As he passed Caroline, he paused. He didn’t look at her, but his voice washed over her, low and cold.
    “Do your job, Nurse. Nothing else.”
    He walked out, his entourage trailing behind him. The door swung shut, and the oppressive weight in the room lifted.
    Caroline let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. Her hands were shaking. She pressed them flat against the counter to steady them.
    “What an ass,” she muttered under her breath.
    But even as she said it, she couldn’t stop thinking about the way he had looked at her name. Like it meant something. Like he recognized it.
    The rest of the shift passed without incident. When Brenna came in to relieve her at 7 AM, Caroline practically ran to the locker room. She stripped off her scrubs, tossing them into the hamper, and stepped into the shower. The hot water sluiced over her, washing away the sweat and the antiseptic smell, but it couldn’t wash away the memory of those gray eyes.
    She dressed in the clothes she had worn to the date-the little black dress and the heels. She looked ridiculous. She felt ridiculous.
    The cab ride home was suffocating. The morning traffic was a nightmare, and by the time the taxi pulled into the driveway of her parents’ house, her nerves were frayed to the breaking point. She paid the fare, then opened the front door, bracing herself.
    “Where have you been?”
    The voice came from the living room. Caroline closed her eyes for a second, gathering her patience, before walking in.
    Her mother, Mrs. Thompson, was sitting on the edge of the sofa. She was still in her housecoat, her arms crossed over her chest. Her face was a mask of barely contained fury.
    “I was working,” Caroline said, dropping her bag on the entryway table. “There was an emergency at the hospital.”
    “An emergency?” Her mother stood up, her voice rising. “Preston’s mother Brenda called me at six o’clock this morning. Do you know what she said? She said you walked out on Preston in the middle of dinner. You left him sitting there like a fool!”
    Caroline rubbed the back of her neck. “Mom, I had to go. It was a Code-“
    “I don’t care if the building was on fire!” Mrs. Thompson shrieked. “You do not walk out on a man like Preston! He makes three hundred thousand dollars a year, Caroline! He has a condo in Georgetown! Do you have any idea how hard it is to find a man like that?”
    “He’s a snob,” Caroline said, her voice hardening. “He thinks nurses are beneath him. He told me I should just quit and find a man to support me.”
    “That’s called being a provider!” her mother shot back. “That’s what men do! Your father provided for me, and I provided him a home. That’s how the world works!”
    Caroline looked at her father, who was sitting in the armchair in the corner, hiding behind his newspaper. He didn’t look up. He never did.
    “I’m not having this argument,” Caroline said, turning toward the stairs. “I’ve been up for over twenty-four hours. I need sleep.”
    “You’re not going anywhere until we resolve this!” her mother snapped, stepping into her path. “Brenda is humiliated. Preston is humiliated. You have ruined our standing in the community!”
    “Your standing?” Caroline let out a bitter laugh. “Is that all you care about? What the neighbors think?”
    “It’s called respect, Caroline! Something you clearly know nothing about!” Mrs. Thompson’s eyes were blazing. “I have already spoken to Brenda. You are going to call Preston, and you are going to apologize to him. Personally.”
    Caroline stared at her mother in disbelief. “Apologize? For what? For having a job that matters?”
    “For being rude! For being ungrateful!” Her mother jabbed a finger toward the phone on the hall table. “You will call him, and you will make this right, or so help me God, I will call him myself and apologize on your behalf. Do you want that? Do you want your mother begging for your forgiveness?”
    The threat hit Caroline like a physical blow. The image of her mother groveling to a man like Preston Finch made her stomach turn. It was the ultimate manipulation, the one card her mother always played when she knew she was losing the argument.
    Caroline’s shoulders slumped. The fight drained out of her, leaving only exhaustion and a hollow ache in her chest.
    “Fine,” she whispered. “I’ll call him.”
    She walked past her mother, not meeting her eyes, and trudged up the stairs to her room. She closed the door, leaned against it, and slid down to the floor.
    She buried her face in her hands. She’d just endured the kind of pressure at the hospital that felt like a gun to her head, and now she came home to face this. She was trapped. Work, family, the expectations of everyone around her—they were all chains binding her.

    Shielded By The Ruthless Military Boss Chapter 3

    The next morning, the drive to the hospital was a blur. Caroline’s mind was numb, stuck on a loop of Preston’s “good girl” and her mother’s triumphant smile. She felt like a puppet, her strings being pulled by everyone around her.
    When she walked into the hospital, her phone buzzed. A text from Brenna.
    More suits today. ICU is locked down tight. Be careful.
    Caroline sighed and headed for the elevator. The ICU wing was even more tense than the day before. The guards at the end of the hall were different-bigger, meaner, carrying heavier weaponry. They checked her badge three times before letting her through.
    She pushed open the door to Room 3 and stopped.
    Dr. Simon Adler, the attending physician, was standing by the bed, whispering urgently with the Colonel Jarrod Romero.
    Romero was in the same combat uniform, but today he looked even more on edge. His hands were clasped behind his back, the knuckles white. His jaw was clenched so tight a muscle was jumping in his cheek.
    They both looked up as she entered.
    Caroline froze in the doorway. The air in the room felt thick, charged with an unspoken tension. Dr. Adler looked nervous, shifting his weight from foot to foot. Romero just looked dangerous.
    “Nurse Thompson,” Dr. Adler said, clearing his throat. “The Colonel was just reviewing the patient’s progress.”
    Caroline nodded, not trusting her voice. She walked over to the monitors, keeping her eyes on the screens. She could feel Jarrod’s gaze on her, heavy and assessing. It was the same feeling she had gotten in the hallway yesterday-like being caught in a searchlight.
    “The medication schedule needs to be adjusted,” Jarrod said, his voice low. “He’s too sedated. I need him lucid by 1800 hours.”
    “Colonel, if we reduce the sedation, his pain levels will be-” Dr. Adler started.
    “I am aware of the risks, Doctor,” Jarrod cut him off, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Adjust the dosage. That is an order.”
    Dr. Adler swallowed hard. “Yes, sir.”
    Jarrod turned and walked toward the door. As he passed Caroline, he stopped. He was close enough that she could smell him again-cedar, gunpowder, and something distinctly male. Her pulse skipped a beat.
    He looked down at her. His gray eyes were unreadable, but there was an intensity in them that made her breath catch.
    “Watch your back, Nurse,” he said quietly. “The walls have ears.”
    Then he was gone. The door clicked shut behind him, and Caroline let out a shaky breath.
    What did that mean? She looked around the room, suddenly paranoid. The walls have ears? Was he warning her about something? Or someone?
    She turned back to the bed. Lieutenant Petersen was watching her, his eyes clearer than they had been the night before.
    “We all trust the Colonel,” Petersen rasped, his voice weak. “He’s… decisive. You just do your job, and he’ll handle the rest. Please, be careful. This world… it isn’t for civilians.”
    Caroline stared at him, confused, but Petersen had already closed his eyes, his breath evening out as sleep reclaimed him.
    She stood there for a long moment, her mind racing. Standing in this room with a wounded soldier and a cryptic warning from a terrifying colonel, she realized she might be drawing closer to something far more dangerous than her stubborn mother and that ill-mannered Preston.

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