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  • Married To My Ex-Fiancé’s Silent Uncle by Ming Yue

    Married To My Ex-Fiancé's Silent Uncle by Ming Yue
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    Twenty minutes before the “Wedding of the Century” at The Plaza, I stood outside the Presidential Suite in a fifty-thousand-dollar Vera Wang gown. I was the girl from a West Virginia trailer park about to marry Hugh Maxwell, the golden heir to a billion-dollar defense empire.

    I pushed the door open only to find Hugh pinned against the bed with my own stepsister, Floy. She was wearing my bridal diamond necklace, and the sounds of their laughter scraped against my eardrums like sandpaper.

    I didn’t scream; I listened as Hugh grunted that once the wedding was over and the trust fund unlocked, he’d dump “that hillbilly trash” on a bus back to the mountains. They weren’t just cheating; they were planning to steal my family’s land deeds and leave me with nothing. When I set off the sprinklers and exposed their naked bodies to the paparazzi, the Maxwell family didn’t apologize. They called me a “greedy peasant” and threatened to ruin my life unless I signed a new deal to save their crashing stock.

    I realized then that I was never a bride to them. I was a transaction, a rounding error in a ledger to be used and discarded. They thought my poverty made me weak and my silence made me a victim.

    “If we don’t have a marriage certificate by midnight, the bank freezes thirty percent of our liquidity,” their lawyer warned.

    So, I gave them exactly what they wanted. I used a loophole in their hundred-year-old family covenant and married the only other direct heir available. I didn’t marry Hugh. I walked into the ICU and married his uncle, Fleet Maxwell-the legendary war hero who had been in a vegetative state for months.

    Now, I am the matriarch of the Maxwell dynasty. I’ve suspended Hugh’s executive powers, exiled my mother-in-law to the Swiss Alps, and taken control of the family vault. They think I’m just a gold-digger waiting for a “corpse” to die so I can collect a fifty-million-dollar widow’s payout.

    But last night, as I lay beside my comatose husband, the man they called a vegetable gripped my hand back.

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    Married To My Ex-Fiancé’s Silent Uncle Chapter 1

    The corset of the Vera Wang gown was a vice, crushing Darcie Mayo’s ribs until shallow breaths were the only option.
    She stood outside the mahogany double doors of the Presidential Suite at The Plaza, her hand hovering over the gilded handle. Her palms were slick. Not with excitement, but with a cold, greasy sweat that made the metal feel foreign.
    “Give me two minutes,” she told the makeup artist hovering behind her. Her voice sounded thin, like stretched wire. “I need to see him alone before the cameras start.”
    The artist nodded and retreated down the plush hallway.
    Silence settled. Darcie closed her eyes and counted backward from ten. It was a habit from home, from the days when the debt collectors banged on the trailer door. Ten. Nine. Eight.
    The door wasn’t locked.
    It was cracked open just enough to let a slice of golden light spill onto the carpet. And with the light came a sound.
    A low, guttural moan. Followed by a giggle that scraped against Darcie’s eardrums like sandpaper.
    Floy. Her stepsister.
    Darcie’s hand froze. Her brain, usually so good at calculating odds and solving complex equations, stalled. The variable didn’t fit. Her stepsister shouldn’t be in her fiancé Hugh Maxwell’s suite twenty minutes before the ceremony.
    Darcie pushed the door. Just an inch.
    The foyer was lined with mirrors. The reflection hit her with the force of a physical blow.
    Hugh was bent over the edge of the king-sized bed, his back to her. His hands were gripping hips. Floy was underneath him, her head thrown back, the diamond necklace-Darcie’s bridal necklace, the one meant to signify her acceptance into the Maxwell dynasty-glittering obscenely against her neck.
    Darcie didn’t scream.
    She expected to. She expected the hysteria, the tears, the collapse. But instead, a terrifying, arctic calm flooded her veins. It started in her toes and worked its way up, freezing the nausea in her stomach.
    She stepped inside. The thick Persian rug swallowed the sound of her heels.
    “God, Hugh,” Floy gasped. “Faster. Before the hillbilly gets here.”
    “Don’t worry about her,” Hugh grunted. The sound was animalistic. “Once the wedding is over and the trust fund unlocks, I’m dumping that trash on a bus back to West Virginia. Or wherever the hell she came from.”
    “But the land,” Floy teased. “You need the Mayo land deed.”
    “I’ll have it by noon,” Hugh promised.
    Darcie looked to the coffee table.
    There it was. The Prenuptial Agreement. A stack of crisp, white paper that she had signed an hour ago. It was the only thing binding the merger. The only thing that made her valuable to them.
    Beside it lay a silver Zippo lighter.
    She picked it up. The metal was cool against her skin.
    Click.
    The sound of the lid flipping open was as loud as a gunshot in the quiet room.
    On the bed, the motion stopped. Hugh froze. He turned his head slowly, his eyes widening until the whites showed all around.
    “Darcie?” His voice cracked.
    She didn’t look at his face. She looked at him like she looked at a rounding error in a ledger. Something to be corrected.
    “Darcie, wait! Let me explain!”
    He scrambled off the bed, naked and pathetic. He tried to pull the sheet with him, but Floy was clutching it to her chest, screaming.
    Darcie struck the flint.
    The flame was orange and blue, dancing in the draft from the air conditioner. It was beautiful.
    “No!” Hugh shrieked, realizing what Darcie was looking at. “Don’t! That’s a ten-billion-dollar merger!”
    She touched the flame to the corner of the document.
    The paper was high quality. It caught instantly. The fire curled the edges, turning the legal jargon into black ash.
    “Darcie!” Hugh lunged.
    She took a step back, holding the burning pages high. The heat licked at her fingers, stinging, but she didn’t drop it.
    She looked up.
    Directly above her was the smoke detector.
    Darcie stood on her tiptoes, the burning contract acting as a torch. She held it right under the sensor.
    Three. Two. One.
    The alarm didn’t just ring; it screamed. A piercing, electronic wail that vibrated in her teeth. The red strobe lights began to flash, turning the room into a chaotic disco of panic.
    Then came the pop.
    The sprinkler system exploded overhead.
    It wasn’t clean water. It was the stagnant, black sludge that had been sitting in the pipes for years. It erupted in a high-pressure torrent, coating everything in a foul-smelling, oily rain.
    Hugh slipped on the marble floor as he tried to reach her, landing hard on his hip. Floy was shrieking, her hair plastered to her skull with black goo, looking like a drowned rat.
    Darcie dropped the charred remains of the contract into a puddle of sludge.
    The water soaked her veil. It ruined the fifty-thousand-dollar dress. But she didn’t care. She felt clean.
    She turned to the door.
    Outside, the hallway was filling with people. Guests in tuxedos, hotel staff, and-crucially-the paparazzi who had been camping out for the ‘Wedding of the Century.’
    Darcie pulled the door wide open.
    “Help!” she cried out, her voice trembling with a performance worthy of an Oscar. “Please!”
    The cameras flashed. Pop. Pop. Pop.
    They didn’t just see a distressed bride. They saw past her. They saw the naked heir to the Maxwell fortune, covered in black slime, scrambling on the floor with his fiancée’s sister.
    The shutter clicks were a machine gun of humiliation.
    While the mob surged forward, hungry for the scandal, Darcie stepped back.
    She kicked off her satin heels.
    She didn’t run toward the elevators. She turned toward the heavy fire exit door.
    As the chaos consumed the suite behind her, Darcie slipped into the concrete stairwell, the cold air hitting her wet skin. She was shivering, but her heart was beating a steady, rhythmic drum.
    She started to run down the stairs, leaving the ashes of a million dollars behind her.

    Married To My Ex-Fiancé’s Silent Uncle Chapter 2

    The conference room at Maxwell Industries smelled of stale coffee and fear.
    Gwendolyn Maxwell, Hugh’s mother, slammed her iPad onto the mahogany table. The screen cracked, a spiderweb fracture splitting the image of Hugh’s naked, sludge-covered backside.
    “Do you have any idea,” she hissed, her voice trembling with a rage that made the veins in her neck bulge, “what this has done to us?”
    On the wall, the giant monitor displayed the real-time stock ticker. MDI—Maxwell Defense Industries—was in freefall. A red line plunging straight down.
    MaxwellMeltdown was the number one trend on Twitter.
    “It’s a catastrophe,” Preston, Hugh’s father, moaned. He was wiping sweat from his forehead with a handkerchief. “Just let him marry Floy! She’s a Mayo. The contract says a Mayo.”
    Mr. Sterling, the family’s chief legal counsel, pushed his glasses up his nose. He looked like an undertaker who was tired of the bodies.
    “The contract specifies a legitimate Mayo heir,” Sterling said, his voice dry. “Floy is a product of… an affair. The Trust Committee won’t accept her bloodline. The deed to the Appalachian land is in Darcie’s name.”
    “Then find her!” Gwendolyn shrieked. She turned to the head of security. “Where is that hillbilly bitch?”
    The security chief, a man who looked like he chewed rocks for breakfast, looked down at his boots. “She’s gone, Mrs. Maxwell. She dumped her phone in a trash can on 5th Avenue. No credit card activity. She vanished.”
    Gwendolyn’s phone buzzed. She looked at the caller ID-Senator Valentine-and paled.
    “The Senator,” she whispered. “If we lose his backing because of this scandal…”
    The door burst open.
    Hugh stumbled in. He was wearing a bathrobe, and his skin was scrubbed raw, but he still smelled faintly of stagnant water.
    Gwendolyn didn’t hesitate. She walked over and slapped him.
    The sound echoed like a gunshot.
    “You idiot!”
    “It was Darcie!” Hugh whined, clutching his cheek. “She’s crazy! She burned the prenup! She set me up!”
    “If we don’t have a marriage certificate by midnight,” Sterling interrupted, checking his watch, “the bank freezes thirty percent of our liquidity. That’s payroll. That’s the defense contracts. That’s everything.”
    “Find her,” Gwendolyn ordered, her eyes cold and reptilian. “Turn New York upside down. Hire every PI in the city. Drag her back here by her hair if you have to.”
    While they were scouring the city, Darcie was less than a mile away.
    She was sitting in the back of a catering truck, wrapped in a stolen oversized gray jumpsuit that smelled of onions.
    She hadn’t run away. Running away requires money, and she had none. Running away meant going back to the trailer park, where her stepmother would sell her to the next highest bidder to cover her gambling debts.
    No. She needed a solution.
    The truck rumbled through the service gates of the Maxwell Estate. The guards waved it through. They were looking for a crying bride in a white dress, not a delivery boy in a cap.
    Darcie slipped out near the kitchens and moved through the shadows of the garden. She knew this house. She had spent the last six months here, being groomed, being measured, being ignored.
    She knew where the blind spots were.
    Darcie shimmied through a loose window into the library. The room was massive, two stories of books that nobody in this family ever read.
    She went straight to the antique desk in the corner.
    Her heart was hammering against her ribs, a frantic bird in a cage. “Calm down,” she told herself. “Do the math. What are the variables?”
    She ran her fingers along the underside of the heavy mahogany desktop, searching not for a keyhole, but for a seam. She had seen old Alfred, the butler, access it once, his movements too precise for a simple lock. Her fingertips found it-a nearly invisible biometric panel.
    Her breath hitched. They wouldn’t make it easy. She pressed her thumb to the scanner. Access Denied. Of course. It was keyed to a Maxwell.
    But next to it was a keypad, a failsafe. A twelve-digit code. Her mind raced. Not random numbers. A pattern. It had to be a pattern. She thought of the company’s founding date, the stock ticker symbol converted to ASCII, the launch dates of their most famous missile systems. She closed her eyes, visualizing the numbers as constellations. It was a prime number sequence, interwoven with the Fibonacci spiral. A beautiful, elegant equation hidden in plain sight.
    Her fingers flew across the keypad. The final digit was pressed.
    A soft, electronic click echoed in the silence.
    A drawer slid open.
    Inside lay a piece of parchment that smelled of dust and history. The 1920 Maxwell-Mayo Alliance Covenant.
    Her fingers trembled as she unrolled it. She scanned the calligraphy, looking for the clause she had memorized during her “grooming” lessons. Marriage to any direct male heir of the Maxwell bloodline…
    Any. Not just Hugh.
    A cold smile touched her lips. She looked up, through the rain-streaked window, toward the East Wing.
    The East Wing was a mausoleum. Dark. Silent. It was where they kept him.
    Fleet Maxwell.
    Hugh’s uncle. The legend. The war hero. The man who had built this company into an empire before a helicopter crash turned him into a vegetable. Or so they said.
    The library door handle turned.
    Darcie dove behind the heavy velvet curtains, holding her breath until her lungs burned.
    The butler Alfred shuffled in. He picked up a remote and turned on the TV.
    “Breaking News,” the anchor announced. Gwendolyn’s face filled the screen. She looked devastated. Fake tears shimmered in her eyes.
    “We are so worried about Darcie,” she sobbed. “She has been under so much stress. We just want her home safe.”
    Liar. Darcie thought.
    She dug her fingernails into her palms until the skin broke. The sharp pain grounded her.
    Alfred sighed, turned off the lights, and shuffled out.
    Darcie stepped out of the darkness.
    She wasn’t the victim anymore. She wasn’t the poor girl from the mountains who should be grateful for scraps.
    She looked at the contract in her hand.
    She was going to burn their house down. And she was going to use their own laws to do it.

    Married To My Ex-Fiancé’s Silent Uncle Chapter 3

    The main doors of the Maxwell manor flew open, banging against the stone walls with a violence that made the crystal chandelier tremble.
    Rain and wind swept into the grand foyer.
    Darcie stood on the threshold. Her hair was plastered to her skull, the gray jumpsuit was soaked, and she was shivering. But she didn’t look down.
    She looked straight at them.
    The family was gathered in the living room like a coven of vultures. Gwendolyn, Hugh, Preston, and Mr. Sterling. They’d all gotten Darcie’s message and must have sped home without a second thought.
    “You!” Hugh roared. He lunged across the room. “You bitch! You have the nerve to come back?”
    “Stop!” she shouted.
    Darcie held up the parchment.
    “One step closer, Hugh, and she rips this original document in half. The ink is a hundred years old. It will crumble.”
    Hugh froze.
    Mr. Sterling stood up, his eyes narrowing. “Hugh, stand down.”
    Gwendolyn stepped forward, her heels clicking on the marble. “What do you want, Darcie? Money? An apology? We can write a check.”
    Darcie walked to the fireplace. The fire was roaring, offering the only warmth in this cold, hateful house. She stood with her back to it, using it as a shield.
    “I want to fulfill the contract,” she said. Her voice was steady, surprising even her.
    Hugh let out a bark of laughter. “I knew it. You can’t walk away from the money. You’re just a greedy little hillbilly.”
    “Not with you,” she said softly.
    The silence that followed was heavy.
    Darcie looked at Sterling. “The covenant says ‘direct male heir.’ It doesn’t specify which generation.”
    Sterling’s face went slack. He looked from Darcie to the document, his legal mind racing.
    “Fleet Maxwell is a direct heir,” Darcie said. “In fact, as the former CEO and Hugh’s uncle, his claim supersedes Hugh’s.”
    “You’re insane,” Gwendolyn spat. “Fleet is a vegetable! He’s brain dead! He can’t consent to marriage!”
    “Actually,” Sterling interrupted. His voice was quiet, calculating. He pulled out his tablet. “Under the state’s conservatorship laws… if the marriage is deemed in the ‘best interest of the estate’ and the patient… a legal proxy can sign.”
    “Best interest?” Gwendolyn screeched. “How is marrying this… this gold-digger in his best interest?”
    “The stock,” Darcie said.
    Everyone looked at her.
    “The stock is tanking because of a sex scandal,” Darcie explained, channeling every ounce of math-brain she had. “Imagine the headline tomorrow: ‘Devoted Bride Stands by Family Hero.’ ‘Darcie Mayo Marries Comatose War Hero to Honor Alliance.’ It’s romantic. It’s tragic. It cleans up Hugh’s mess instantly.”
    Sterling looked at the stock ticker on his phone. It was down 40%.
    “She’s right,” Sterling said. “The narrative works. It saves the merger. It saves the liquidity.”
    “I won’t allow it!” Gwendolyn yelled. “Fleet is my responsibility!”
    “And I want to be near him,” Darcie said, forcing a tremor into her voice, playing the part of a lost, desperate girl. “He was always kind to me. It feels… right. To honor the agreement this way.”
    “Absolutely not,” Gwendolyn said, her eyes narrowing with suspicion.
    Darcie let the parchment drift closer to the fire, the heat curling its ancient edge.
    “Gwendolyn, stop,” Sterling commanded, seeing the bigger picture. “We need to control this. If she marries Fleet, we contain the damage. For this to be legally binding and satisfy the trust, she would require proxy rights. Medical power of attorney would be a necessary component to legitimize her role as caregiver and seal the PR narrative. We give her a cage, but it’s a gilded one we control.”
    He looked at Darcie. “We’ll grant you residency in the East Wing and the necessary legal authority. In return, you save this family from ruin.”
    Darcie looked down, hiding her triumphant smirk. She let a tear roll down her cheek. “Thank you,” she whispered. “I just want to take care of him.”
    “Fine,” Gwendolyn hissed through gritted teeth. “Marry the corpse. See if I care. Sterling, when he dies, the contract is fulfilled, we keep the land, and she gets nothing. Make sure that’s ironclad.”
    Hugh looked at Darcie, disgust curling his lip. “So what do I call you now? Auntie?”
    Darcie gave him a razor-sharp smile. “Not yet, nephew. But soon.”
    Sterling was already typing on his tablet. “The chaplain is on his way. We’ll do it in the East Wing ICU. Thirty minutes.”
    Darcie turned to look out the window, hiding the trembling in her hands.
    “I’m sorry, Uncle Fleet,” she whispered to the reflection in the glass. “But I need you.”

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  • Jilted Wife Returns As A Billionaire Heiress by Paula Gardini

    Jilted Wife Returns As A Billionaire Heiress by Paula Gardini
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    Chloe had just given birth to twins, lying exhausted in a cramped, bustling hospital ward.

    When she called her husband, Julian, he was busy partying with his actress mistress. He coldly hung up on her, having already drafted a brutal divorce agreement that would leave her with a pittance.

    Strangers in the next bed loudly mocked her pitiful state, gossiping about how Julian was dumping her. For years, Chloe had erased her own identity to fit into his elite world, only to be thrown away like garbage. She was completely alone, clutching her helpless babies, bracing herself to sign the cruel papers just to survive.

    She couldn’t understand why her absolute devotion was met with such chilling indifference. Why did she have to suffer this ultimate humiliation while he celebrated with the woman who ruined her life?

    But then, a senior doctor noticed a unique mole on her wrist and ran a secret DNA test. The results were staggering: Chloe was the long-lost daughter of the billionaire Beaumont family. With her fiercely protective parents and three powerful brothers suddenly forming an impenetrable fortress around her, Chloe picked up her phone and texted her arrogant husband.

    “City Hall tomorrow at 10 AM. If you don’t show up, my lawyer will handle everything. And trust me, you won’t like their terms.”

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    Jilted Wife Returns As A Billionaire Heiress Chapter 1

    A sharp, piercing cry sliced through the sterile air of the delivery room, followed immediately by another.
    Chloe Hayes’s vision swam. Sweat pasted strands of hair to her temples. The exhaustion was a physical weight, pressing down on her bones, but the sound of her babies’ cries was a tether to life. Tears, hot and thick, blurred the already hazy lights above her.
    With a kind expression on her face, the midwife placed the two warm little babies on Chloe’s chest. The weight was surprisingly solid. A tiny, thumping heartbeat pulsed against her own exhausted one. A wave of love, so fierce it felt like a physical blow, crashed over her, stealing what little breath she had left.
    The midwife ’s voice a soothing balm. “You gave birth to a pair of adorable boy and girl twins . Both perfectly healthy.”
    Chloe smiled weakly, trying to look at the two babies surrounded by the midwives.
    Outside the delivery room, a nurse cried out, “Where’s Chloe Hayes’s family? Where are Chloe Hayes’s parents?”
    She called out again and again, but no one responded.
    On the hospital bed, Chloe’s face turned even paler at the sound.
    Had Julian really not come?
    Even though they were divorcing, he was still the children’s biological father. So before entering the delivery room, she called him.
    She lay in the hospital bed, completely exhausted and weak.
    The doctor and nurse quickly took her to the ward.
    However, she wasn’t taken to the private VIP ward that Julian had promised her, but rather an ordinary multi-person room.
    There were many people in the ward. Besides her, there were also pregnant women lying in the other three beds. Each of them was attended to by several family members.
    Some were taking care of their wives, some were leaning over the baby cribs to watch their children, and there were also new dads holding their babies and comforting them. Everyone had a happy smile on their face.
    A sense of icy humiliation swept through Chloe’s entire body.
    She gave birth suddenly, and now there was no one to take care of her. She was unable to care for the baby on her own, and the nurses couldn’t help all the time. So, she decided to call Julian for help.
    A nurse handed Chloe her phone. Her trembling fingers fumbled across the screen until she found Julian Sterling’s name in the contacts. The sharp-looking business photo he used as his profile picture seemed to mock her from the screen.
    She took a deep, shaky breath and pressed the call button.
    The sound that answered wasn’t his voice. It was the cacophony of a party-loud music, the clinking of glasses, a swell of laughter.
    Then, his voice, sharp and impatient. “Chloe? What is it? I’m busy.”
    The coldness in his tone was a familiar ache. She squeezed her eyes shut, forcing the words out. “Julian, the babies… have been born. “
    A beat of silence on the other end. Just long enough for a sliver of hope to flicker in her chest.
    Then it was extinguished. “Okay. Send the details to my assistant.”
    Before she could form a reply, a woman’s laugh, high and melodious, echoed close to the receiver. It was a laugh she recognized from countless celebrity news segments. Amelia Hayes.
    Julian’s voice returned, layered with a dismissive politeness that was worse than outright anger. “I have to go. We’re celebrating Amelia’s new movie deal.”
    The line went dead.
    The dial tone buzzed in her ear, a relentless, mechanical sound that felt like it was drilling into her skull. Chloe’s hand fell limp, the phone slipping from her grasp onto the starchy white sheets.
    The tears finally came. Not loud, hysterical sobs, but silent, wracking tremors that shook her entire body. She curled onto her side, facing the wall, pressing her face into the thin pillow to muffle the sound. She couldn’t bear the thought of the woman on the other side of the curtain hearing her.
    A boisterous family spilled in, their happy chatter filling the small space.
    “Look at the one in the next bed,” a middle-aged woman said, her voice a stage whisper. “So pitiful. Gave birth and her husband isn’t even here.”
    A younger girl replied, “Isn’t that Chloe Hayes? The one who married into the Sterling family.”
    “That’s the one!” the woman confirmed, her voice dropping conspiratorially. “The papers are saying Julian is going to divorce her for that actress, Amelia Hayes.”
    “I heard Amelia’s pregnant too,” the girl added. “This is going to be some drama.”
    Each word was a fresh cut. Pity and malice, a cruel cocktail served by strangers.
    In fact, not many people knew about their marriage, as Julian always refused to bring her into his life.
    Occasionally, a few people might have seen her through certain channels and learned who she was. But so what? She smiled bitterly. Even if she became an actress like Amelia and was exposed to everyone, it was also possible that no one would recognize her as Julian’s wife.
    Chloe clamped her hands over her ears, but she couldn’t block them out. She squeezed her eyes shut, the darkness a welcome relief.
    A gentle squeak of wheels broke through her misery. A nurse was pushing a clear, plastic bassinet towards her bed, then another. The two sleeping infants were placed beside her.
    Chloe’s sobs caught in her throat. She pushed herself up, her sore muscles protesting, and gazed at her children.
    Their faces were so new, so perfect. The boy had her brow, a serious little frown even in sleep. The girl had a delicate nose that was an exact replica of Julian’s.
    She reached out a hesitant finger, her nail bitten and short, and gently stroked her daughter’s cheek. The skin was impossibly soft.
    In that moment, something shifted inside her. A foundation of steel began to form where only rubble had been. She was no longer just a wife, waiting for a man who would never love her.
    She was a mother.
    She wiped the tears from her face with the back of her hand. Her gaze, once filled with despair, now held a new, hard-edged resolve.
    For her babies, she had to be strong.
    She picked up her phone again. Not to call Julian. She scrolled through her contacts, a desperate search for a friend, a lifeline. Her finger swiped past business contacts for the Sterling family, past numbers for caterers and florists from a life that was no longer hers.
    The scrolling stopped. The screen glowed with the names of people who were not her people. She had spent years trying to fit into Julian’s world, and in the process, she had erased her own.
    She was utterly, completely alone.

    Jilted Wife Returns As A Billionaire Heiress Chapter 2

    The early morning sun cast long, pale stripes across the floor. Chloe hadn’t slept all night. Her eyes burned with a dry, gritty exhaustion that went deeper than the physical toll of childbirth.
    She watched the gentle rise and fall of her son’s chest, the tiny flutter of her daughter’s eyelids. And as she watched them, a memory, sharp and unwelcome, surfaced.
    Six months ago, Julian, who hadn’t been home in ages, suddenly returned and handed her a divorce agreement.
    The terms were a public execution on paper. She was to relinquish all claims to any Sterling assets. She would receive a one-time payment, barely enough to cover a year’s rent in a decent neighborhood. In return, she had to sign a non-disclosure agreement so ironclad it would prevent her from ever speaking about their marriage, his family, or even the existence of the agreement itself.
    “Sign this,” he had said, his voice devoid of any emotion. He didn’t even look at her, his gaze fixed on the skyline outside his window. “Amelia is the partner I should have had from the beginning.”
    “What about the babies?” she had asked, her hand instinctively going to her swollen belly.
    He had finally turned to look at her then, his eyes filled with a chilling indifference. “The Sterling family will provide for their financial needs. But don’t think you can use them as leverage for anything more.”
    She didn’t want to agree at all. She even thought that she’d be willing to endure this situation for the rest of her life. She refused to get a divorce. Even if his heart belonged to Amelia, she would still keep his wife’s title, ensuring that Amelia could never be anything more than a mistress.
    But she was willing to risk her entire life, yet she lost to his ruthlessness.
    He threatened her with the children—if she didn’t sign, the babies in her womb had to be aborted!
    She couldn’t give up her children.
    The doctor said that she had a special physical condition. If she aborted the babies, she might not be able to get pregnant again in the future.
    She had no relatives left. Her children were her only hope.
    For the sake of her children, she ultimately signed the divorce agreement.
    But she never expected that this man would be so heartless as to wouldn’t even take a look at his own children.
    Was it just because she was only a foster daughter of the Hayes family, while Amelia was the biological one?
    Twenty-two years ago, her adoptive parents, who had been unable to have children after years of marriage, adopted her from an orphanage. But no one expected that just a few months after adopting her, the adoptive mother became pregnant and gave birth to their own daughter, Amelia. From then on, she became the daughter whom the family didn’t really care for. Her adoptive parents always favored Amelia.
    Three years ago, Julian was in a car accident and fell into a vegetative state. In their own interest, the Hayes family put her forward as Julian’s wife in exchange for investment from the Sterling family.
    A year ago, Julian woke up unexpectedly. She thought that at last, after all the hardships, sweetness would come. But to her surprise, her sister Amelia fell in love with him at first sight.
    Throughout her life, she had already given in to Amelia far too much. She didn’t want to let her husband go to Amelia as well. In the end, she cut ties with her adoptive parents, because she truly loved him.
    But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t win Julian’s heart.
    Now, back in the stark reality of the hospital room, her nails dug into her palms. They signed the divorce agreement last time, but they haven’t officially gone to the civil affairs office to get the divorce certificate. So, legally speaking, they’re not yet divorced. She was determined to put an end to this as soon as possible.
    For her children, she had to. She had to take the money and get them as far away from the Sterling name as possible.
    A soft knock on the door interrupted her thoughts.
    A man in a crisp white coat entered, a warm, professional smile on his face. He was older, perhaps in his late fifties, with kind eyes and a calm demeanor that immediately set him apart from the rushed nurses. His name tag read: Dr. Quentin Beaumont, Head of Obstetrics.
    He was the department head. She wondered why he was doing routine rounds in a shared ward.
    “Good morning, Mrs. Sterling,” he said, his voice gentle. He asked about her recovery, his questions precise and his manner so genuinely caring it caught her off guard.
    Chloe answered politely, a wall of practiced courtesy around her.
    Quentin’s gaze drifted to the bassinets. His friendly expression tightened, just for a second. His eyes narrowed slightly.
    He turned back to her, his tone casual. “The children resemble you. Are your family coming to visit soon?”
    The question landed like a stone in her stomach. Chloe’s gaze dropped to her hands, clasped tightly in her lap. “I don’t have any family,” she said, the words tasting bitter.
    A fleeting, elusive expression crossed Quentin’s face. He noticed a small, light-brown mole on the inside of her left wrist, just below the pulse. That mole was identical to the one his sister-in-law Eleanor Beaumont had.
    His heart trembled violently. An idea, a hope that he had buried for over twenty years—a wild and seemingly impossible hope—struggled to surface in his mind.
    His heart gave a sudden, violent lurch. That was exactly why he came here. Confirm the birthmark.
    Yesterday, when he accidentally saw Chloe, he was shocked. Her appearance was too similar to his sister-in-law’s. There was even a faint resemblance to his brother Richard Beaumont in the girl’s features. He immediately thought of her niece who had gone missing 22 years ago.
    In the end, he couldn’t resist and secretly took a sample of the girl’s blood for a paternity test.
    The test results would be available today, and he would know the answer soon.
    “Get some rest,” he said, “I’ll make sure the nurses take good care of you.”
    Quentin returned to the office with steady steps, ready to endure the wait for the test results.
    The wait was agonizing. He paced the confines of his office like a caged animal. Every tick of the clock on the wall was a hammer blow against his nerves.
    An hour later, an email notification pinged. The subject line was stark: “99.99% Match.”
    Quentin’s hand shook so badly he could barely control the mouse. He clicked open the email. He stared at the report, at the undeniable, scientific proof on the screen.
    The doctor who had delivered thousands of babies, who had faced life and death with unwavering composure, felt his eyes burn with tears.
    He had found her.
    He had found Richard’s daughter.
    He grabbed his phone, his fingers punching in a number he knew by heart.

    Jilted Wife Returns As A Billionaire Heiress Chapter 3

    In a sprawling corner office atop a skyscraper in New York City, Richard was concluding a transatlantic video conference. His voice was a low, commanding rumble, and the executives on the screen listened with rapt attention. He was a man accustomed to absolute control.
    Suddenly, his private, encrypted cell phone vibrated against the polished surface of his desk. It was a frantic, insistent buzz. The caller ID showed a single name: Quentin.
    Richard knew his younger brother. Quentin would never call this line, at this time, unless it was a matter of life or death.
    He held up a hand to the screen. “Meeting adjourned.” He didn’t wait for a response before ending the call, plunging the screen into darkness.
    He answered the phone, his voice tight with apprehension. “Quentin, what’s wrong?”
    The voice on the other end was choked with an emotion Richard hadn’t heard in years. It was a raw, trembling mix of shock and elation.
    “Richard… I found her. I found your daughter. Her name now is Chloe Hayes.”
    The words struck Richard like a physical blow. The world tilted on its axis. He shot up from his leather chair, the heavy, gold-plated fountain pen in his hand clattering to the floor.
    “Are you sure?” he demanded, his voice a strained whisper. “One hundred percent?”
    “DNA match. 99.99%,” Quentin’s voice cracked. “She’s here, Richard. In my hospital. She just gave birth to twins, a boy and a girl.”
    Richard stumbled back, his hand flying to his mouth to stifle a sound that was half-sob, half-gasp. Twenty-two years of hollow anniversaries, of his wife’s silent tears.
    He took a deep, shuddering breath, the titan of industry forcing himself back into the role of the patriarch, the protector. “Don’t let anyone near her,” he commanded, his voice now laced with steel. “I’m on my way.”
    He hung up and slammed a small, red button concealed on the underside of his desk.
    Within seconds, his chief of staff burst into the office, his face pale with alarm.
    “Get the jet ready. We’re flying to Massachusetts. Now,” Richard ordered, his voice leaving no room for questions. “And get Eleanor, Alexander, Sebastian, and Nicholas on a conference call. Immediately.”
    The assistant, sensing the seismic shift in his boss’s universe, simply nodded and vanished.
    Minutes later, the Beaumont family’s emergency protocol was activated.
    On a screen in Richard’s office, four faces appeared. His eldest son, Alexander Beaumont, the formidable lawyer, was in his chambers, a court recess just beginning. His second son, Sebastian Beaumont, the hardened police detective, was at his desk in a bustling precinct. His youngest son, Nicholas Beaumont, the maverick film director, was on a chaotic movie set in California.
    Richard looked at his sons, his composure a thin veneer over a raging sea of emotion. “We found her,” he said, his voice thick. “Your sister is alive.”
    A stunned silence fell over the call. It was broken by a collective gasp, a chorus of disbelieving voices.
    At a charity luncheon on the Upper East Side, Eleanor was gracefully holding court. An assistant discreetly handed her a phone with an urgent message. Excusing herself with a serene smile that betrayed none of the sudden panic in her heart, she stepped into a private powder room and joined the call.
    When she heard her husband’s words, the regal composure she had maintained for decades shattered. A sob escaped her lips, and she pressed a silk handkerchief to her mouth, her perfectly applied mascara threatening to run for the first time in public memory.
    “She’s in a hospital in Massachusetts,” Richard continued, his voice firm, a general rallying his troops. “She needs us. Everyone, drop what you’re doing. We’re going to get her back.”
    The response was immediate and absolute.
    “Cancel all my appointments for the next week,” Alexander told his assistant off-screen.
    Sebastian was already on his feet, grabbing his keys. “Family emergency, cover for me!” he yelled to a bewildered colleague.
    On the film set, Nicholas ripped off his headset and bellowed into a megaphone, “Wrap for the day! Everyone go home!” The entire production ground to a halt, leaving a crew of hundreds standing in stunned silence.
    The vast, powerful machinery of the Beaumont family, an empire that spanned continents and industries, stopped on a dime. All for one girl.
    Back in Massachusetts, Quentin had already set his own plans in motion. He walked with purpose down the hospital corridor, his white coat a banner of authority. He stopped outside the door to multi-patient wards.
    He took a deep breath. His first job was to get his niece out of this public, undignified room. He was going to take her to a place where she would be safe, cared for, and treated like the princess she was.
    He raised his hand and knocked gently on the door, composing his features into the kindest, most reassuring smile he could muster.

    👉 CONTINUE READING

  • Nine Rejected Marriages, I Wed My Ex’s Rival by Mattie Valelly

    Nine Rejected Marriages, I Wed My Ex's Rival by Mattie Valelly
    👉 READ NOW

    Amelia sat alone at the City Marriage Bureau, watching the clock tick down to closing time.

    Fifteen minutes before the doors shut, a phone call shattered her last flicker of hope. Her fiancé, Kayson, wasn’t coming. He had abandoned their wedding registration because Kamila-her stepsister-had twisted her ankle.

    It was his ninth broken promise.

    When Amelia returned home, there was no comfort. Her biological mother sneered at her humiliation, shielding the stepsister while ordering Amelia to apologize to Kayson.

    “Who would she marry without Kayson?” her mother mocked. “Let’s see how long she survives out there without his money.”

    Meanwhile, Kayson arrogantly dismissed her absence. Finding out she had vanished, he just laughed it off with his assistant.

    “It’s just a tantrum to force my hand,” Kayson smirked. “She still can’t live without me.”

    After nine years of absolute devotion, she was nothing but a convenient placeholder to the man she loved, and a worthless joke to her own family. The suffocating weight of their betrayal finally snapped something inside her.

    She packed a single suitcase, threw away nine years of anniversary gifts, and permanently blocked Kayson’s number.

    Standing in the freezing wind, she pulled out her phone and dialed the private number of Kayson’s biggest, most ruthless rival.

    “Mr. Thornton, what you said seven months ago… does the offer to marry me still stand?”

    Ten minutes later, a sleek black Maybach pulled up to the curb.

    👉 READ NOW

    Nine Rejected Marriages, I Wed My Ex’s Rival Chapter 1 The Abandoned Bride

    Amelia Frye glanced at the Van Cleef & Arpels watch on her wrist.
    The delicate gold hands pointed to 4:45 PM.
    Fifteen minutes until the New York City Marriage Bureau closed for the day.
    Her thumb unconsciously picked at the already frayed skin beside her index fingernail. It was a nervous habit, one she thought she had kicked years ago.
    Clerk Sullivan, a kind-faced woman with salt-and-pepper hair, poked her head out of the office for the ninth time. Her eyes were full of a pity that made Amelia’s stomach clench.
    “Maybe it’s the traffic, dear,” Ms. Sullivan offered, placing a cup of lukewarm water on the small table beside Amelia’s chair.
    Amelia forced a smile that felt like cracking plaster. “Yes, New York traffic is always terrible.”
    Her gaze drifted to the poster on the wall. A beaming couple, with the words “Happy Marriages Start Here” printed in cheerful script below them. The irony felt like a physical weight on her chest, making it hard to breathe.
    A vibration buzzed from her handbag.
    Her heart leaped into her throat. Kayson.
    She fumbled for her phone, her fingers clumsy and cold. The screen lit up, but the name flashing wasn’t his.
    It was “Leo Foster.” Kayson’s assistant.
    The last flicker of hope inside her died, leaving a cold, dark void. She took a sharp breath, the air stinging her lungs, and answered the call.
    “Ms. Frye,” Leo’s voice was polite, professional, and utterly detached. “My sincerest apologies. Mr. Edwards has an urgent situation. Ms. Carlisle twisted her ankle during a rehearsal, and he had to go to her immediately.”
    Kamila Carlisle.
    The name was a familiar poison, seeping through the phone and directly into her brain. It was always Kamila. The reason for the first missed anniversary, the third missed birthday, and now, the ninth missed promise.
    Amelia said nothing.
    She simply ended the call.
    The phone’s screen went black, reflecting her own pale, numb face. She looked like a stranger.
    She opened her message thread with Kayson. Her thumbs moved with a strange, detached precision.
    “Kayson Edwards, we’re over.”
    Send.
    Then, without a moment’s hesitation, her finger found the option: “Block and Delete Contact.”
    A profound silence filled her head as she did it. The giant stone that had been crushing her chest for years finally rolled away. She could breathe again. The air, once thin and sharp, now felt full and clean.
    She stood up so abruptly that the chair scraped against the linoleum floor with a screech.
    Ms. Sullivan jumped, her expression shifting from pity to alarm.
    Amelia walked to the clerk’s desk and placed the untouched cup of water down gently.
    She looked Ms. Sullivan directly in the eye, her voice clear and steady in a way it hadn’t been in years.
    “I’ve decided. I’m not getting married.”
    Ms. Sullivan’s mouth opened, but no words came out.
    Amelia added, more to herself than to the clerk, a vow whispered into the sterile office air. “Not ever again.”
    With that, she turned and walked out of the Marriage Bureau.
    The cold November wind hit her face, but it didn’t chill her. It woke her up.
    She pulled out her phone again, scrolling through her contacts to a name she had saved seven months ago. A number she had never called.
    She remembered the man. Kayson’s biggest rival. He had cornered her at a gala, his blue eyes full of a mocking amusement, and said something utterly absurd to her.
    At the time, she’d dismissed it as a provocation, a way to get under Kayson’s skin.
    Now, it was her only option.
    Her heart hammered against her ribs as she pressed the call button.
    The phone rang only once before it was answered. A deep, magnetic voice cut through the city noise.
    “Who is this?”
    Amelia closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and let the words rush out before she could lose her nerve.
    “Mr. Thornton, what you said seven months ago… does the offer still stand?”
    There was a beat of silence on the other end, followed by a low, dangerously amused chuckle that sent a shiver down her spine.

    Nine Rejected Marriages, I Wed My Ex’s Rival Chapter 2 Ten-Minute Flash Marriage

    The soft chuckle vibrated through the phone, a sound so full of cynical amusement it made Amelia’s cheeks burn.
    “Which offer was that?” Garrett Thornton’s voice was a slow, deliberate drawl. “I have a terrible memory for things I’ve been turned down for.”
    Amelia bit her lower lip, the small pain grounding her. She forced her voice to remain steady. “You said if I ever needed a husband, I could call you.”
    She took another breath, pushing the rest of the words out. “You said you needed a wife to deal with your family.”
    The line went quiet again. This time, the silence stretched longer, so long that Amelia thought he was about to hang up. She could hear the faint rustle of fabric, as if he were shrugging on a jacket.
    Then his voice returned, stripped of all its earlier playfulness. It was sharp, direct, and decisive.
    “Where are you?”
    Amelia’s heart skipped a beat. She answered automatically, her voice barely a whisper. “The City Marriage Bureau.”
    “Good,” Garrett said. “Stay right there. Give me ten minutes.”
    She was stunned into silence. “Ten minutes?”
    “Thornton Tower is three blocks from there,” he stated, his tone leaving no room for argument. “I’m coming over. We’ll register.”
    The line went dead.
    Amelia stood frozen on the sidewalk, the phone still pressed to her ear. Her mind was a complete blank. It had been an act of pure, desperate impulse, a last-ditch effort to prove to herself that she had some control over her own life. She never thought he would actually agree.
    Panic began to set in, a cold wave washing over her. Her first instinct was to run, to hail a cab and disappear back into the quiet misery of her life.
    But then she pictured Kayson’s face, his brow furrowed with performative concern for Kamila. The thought of returning to that life, of waiting for the tenth broken promise, was more terrifying than this insane gamble.
    She took a deep, shuddering breath and forced herself to stand straight, like a soldier awaiting her fate.
    Meanwhile, on the top floor of the Edwards Corporation building, Kayson was pacing his office, a knot of irritation tightening in his gut.
    He had sent Amelia a text.
    “Babe, sorry. Kamila’s situation was an emergency. I’ll make it up to you later.”
    But the message was met with a stark red exclamation point. Delivery failed.
    He frowned, assuming it was a network issue. He tried again. Same result.
    Pressing his fingers to his temples, a familiar gesture of frustration, he decided to call.
    A cold, automated voice met his ear: “The user you are calling is currently unavailable.”
    A surge of annoyance, sharper and more potent than usual, coursed through him. Amelia never did this. She was always there, always waiting, always forgiving.
    He concluded she was throwing a tantrum, a bigger one than usual, but a tantrum nonetheless. He’d let her cool off. She’d come around. She always did.
    Nine minutes later, a black Maybach pulled up to the curb in front of Amelia, its tires letting out a soft, arrogant hiss.
    The back door opened, and a long leg, encased in impeccably tailored trousers, emerged.
    Garrett Thornton unfolded himself from the car. He was taller than she remembered from the gala, with dark hair and eyes the color of a stormy sea. He radiated an aura of raw, untamed power.
    He didn’t look at her at first. His gaze went to the sign above the door: City Marriage Bureau. A slow, predatory smile touched his lips. Only then did his eyes land on her.
    His gaze was intensely invasive, sweeping over her from head to toe as if he were assessing a potential acquisition.
    Amelia instinctively took a half-step back, feeling exposed and judged.
    The corner of Garrett’s mouth quirked up. He extended a hand towards her, his voice a low, possessive rumble.
    “Did you bring your ID and documents, future Mrs. Thornton?”

    Nine Rejected Marriages, I Wed My Ex’s Rival Chapter 3 Wedding Vow

    Amelia stared at Garrett’s outstretched hand. It was large, with long, strong fingers. A hand that looked like it could build things or break them with equal ease. It represented a future she couldn’t possibly imagine.

    An image of Kayson, his hand gently resting on Kamila’s bandaged ankle, flashed in her mind.

    Her spine stiffened. The hesitation vanished, replaced by a cold, hard resolve.

    She placed her trembling hand into his. His palm was warm and dry, his grip firm as it enveloped her cold fingers. It wasn’t a comforting hold; it was a claim.

    A triumphant smirk played on Garrett’s lips. He tightened his grip, giving her no chance to pull away, and led her back towards the entrance of the Marriage Bureau.

    Ms. Sullivan was just packing up her desk when she saw Amelia return, this time with a tall, devastatingly handsome man in tow. The clerk’s jaw dropped.

    Garrett flashed Ms. Sullivan a smile so charming it could have melted glaciers. “Ma’am, we’re in a bit of a hurry.”

    Under the force of Garrett’s sheer presence, the entire process became a blur. Paperwork was filled out with swift efficiency.

    When it was time for the photo, Amelia’s face was a stiff, unnatural mask. Garrett leaned in close, his breath warm against her ear.

    “Smile, Amelia,” he murmured, his voice a low vibration that seemed to travel straight through her. “From now on, you’re the winner.”

    Her breath hitched. She looked up at him, into those deep blue eyes, and for the first time, she saw something other than mockery. It was a flicker of… something else.

    A small, genuine curve touched her lips as the camera flashed, capturing a wedding photo.

    When the stamped marriage certificate was placed in her hand, it still felt unreal.

    Amelia Frye was now Amelia Thornton.

    The moment they stepped back outside, Garrett released her hand.

    He reached into his suit jacket and pulled out a set of keys and a sleek, black card, pressing them into her palm.

    Amelia looked down. A beautifully designed apartment key and an American Express Centurion Card.

    “What is this?” she asked, her voice hoarse.

    “The key to a penthouse on the Upper East Side. Your new home,” Garrett said, his tone casual, as if he were handing her a brochure. “The card has no password and no limit. Use it.”

    He paused, his eyes glinting. “Consider it pocket money for being Mrs. Thornton.”

    The weight of the key and card felt scorching in her hand. “This wasn’t part of our agreement.”

    “It is now.” Garrett’s voice was flat, leaving no room for negotiation. “My wife doesn’t live frugally. Especially not in front of Kayson Edwards.”

    He said Kayson’s name, and everything clicked into place. This wasn’t just a marriage of convenience. It was an act of war. And she was his newest, most strategic weapon.

    He opened the Maybach’s door for her. “Get in. I’ll take you to get your things.”

    Amelia slid into the plush leather seat, the scent of mint and expensive leather filling her senses. It was the smell of a world she didn’t belong to.

    She recited the address of the imposing Carlisle family estate.

    The car pulled smoothly away from the curb. After a moment of silence, Garrett spoke, his eyes on her in the rearview mirror.

    “You are heading to the Carlisle estate?”

    Amelia froze. The address she’d given was the grand home shared by her biological parents. Yet, ever since her mother, Kristen Carlisle, had acknowledged her and brought her back, Kristen had coldly claimed there were “no spare rooms” in the massive house, relegating Amelia to a cramped maid’s room. In that sprawling mansion, she was treated as nothing more than an unwanted burden.

    Her reply was cold and sharp. “My name is Frye.”

    Garrett watched her in the mirror, catching the flicker of resentment in her eyes. A soft, knowing hum escaped his lips, a sound that was neither a laugh nor a sigh.

    He didn’t press further. Instead, he took out his phone, opened a social media app, and snapped a picture of the marriage certificate in his hand.

    He framed it carefully, showing only the official seal, the date, and the word “Married,” but hiding their names.

    He typed a single word as the caption.

    “Married.”

    And then he hit post.

    👉 CONTINUE READING

  • One Girl, A Pack Of Beasts by Brass Wren

    One Girl, A Pack Of Beasts by Brass Wren
    👉 READ NOW

    Lillian woke in a werecreature universe as a total loser.

    Good news was that women ruled here and could take multiple mates, yet she still ended up as the one everyone looked down on. Compared to her talented sister at every turn, she watched her first match get stolen and her next four mates reject her without mercy.

    The first mate was the King of Succubine himself. On their very first meeting, he warned Lillian that he was only staying long enough to recover from his injuries-and that there could never be anything between them.

    The second mate was a merman. He took one look at her and said he had no interest in a loser like her, tossing her some cash so she could break off their bond herself.

    The third mate was the progenitor vampire-over a thousand years old. He admitted to admiring her sister instead and made it clear he had no interest in a layabout like Lillian.

    Lillian cut every bond and chose her own path instead. But as she rose higher and higher, those same men returned, full of regret and begging her to look at them again.

    The fourth mate was a werewolf Lillian had rescued from an underground fighting ring. She thought he might actually stay-until he revealed himself as royalty. And of course, he wanted to break their bond for more power.

    👉 READ NOW

    One Girl, A Pack Of Beasts Chapter 1 Breaking The Bonds

    “Lillian Clark, I’ll ask you one last time,” Waylon Edwards said, his voice sharp with impatience. “Are you going to break the bonds or not?”

    Without rushing, Lillian set the knife in her hand aside and placed a bag of beast cores on the table. Blood continued to drip from her palm. “After everything I’ve done for the two of you… has it never been enough?”

    Disgust showed plainly on Waylon’s face as he looked her over. Her appearance was unkempt, far from what he believed a female should be.

    “With that F-level spiritual power of yours, you’ve never been able to soothe either Jaycob or me,” he said coldly. “All these years, it’s been your younger sister helping us behind your back. To us, she’s the one we truly recognize as our domina. If you actually care about us, then end the bonds.”

    Lillian’s answer came without hesitation. “If that’s how you feel, then I’ll give you what you want.”

    She paused, her eyes settling on him. “But there’s something you need to settle first. We’ve been married for years, and to make up for my lack of spiritual power, I handed over every beast core I earned hunting aberrant beasts. Altogether, that’s worth five million stellar coins. Pay me back, and you’re free to go.”

    Surprise flickered in Waylon’s eyes, quickly replaced by excitement. He had been pushing for this separation for a year and never thought she would finally agree.

    He didn’t have many stellar coins, but if he joined forces with Jaycob Warren and borrowed the rest, they could still pay her back. He didn’t hesitate to agree.

    Lillian moved just as quickly. She pulled up the agreement on her communicator, signed it, and sent it over. “Get the money transferred by tonight. We’ll finalize everything at the Notary Hall tomorrow afternoon.”

    It had only been a month since Lillian took over this body, and along with it came every memory that belonged to its original owner.

    The world she now lived in was shaped by something known as Yggdrasil, something that governed countless planets. Once males on these planets reached adulthood, they awakened esper abilities that matched their nature. To strengthen those abilities, they hunted aberrant beasts and collected beast cores. The esper ability progressed from the lowest rank, F, all the way to S Plus. The esper abilities of females were the same.

    There was, however, one critical difference. As males’ abilities advanced, they entered periods of rut. Without suppressants or a female’s spiritual power to soothe them, they risked losing control, turning into mindless creatures or even destroying themselves.

    Females were rare and highly valued, their status high. Through Yggdrasil’s system, a female could be assigned multiple males, and those males were expected to remain completely loyal to her. Only a female held the power to sever the bonds with them.

    The body Lillian now occupied belonged to someone who shared her name, yet their lives couldn’t have been more different. This Lillian had been considered the least capable female in her family, stuck with an F-level spiritual power.

    Her younger sister, Justine Clark, stood in complete contrast. From birth, she possessed an S-level spiritual power, something extremely rare. Many females never advanced even a single level in spiritual power, so someone like Justine held immense value. Their family treated her as their pride, giving her the best of everything. Lillian, meanwhile, had to struggle for whatever she wanted. Even then, anything she managed to claim would often be taken by Justine.

    The previous Lillian had always known her limits. She lacked the spiritual power needed to soothe the two A-level males bonded to her when she came of age, Waylon and Jaycob. To make up for it, she spent her days fighting in the Aberrant Thicket, pushing herself to gather more beast cores for them.

    At home, she lowered herself to doing everything. She handled the cooking, washed their clothes, and kept the place clean, yet neither of those men ever warmed to her.

    Later that evening, Lillian sat down to eat with her neighbor, Rosalyn Scott, and told her about her decision to end her bonds to Waylon and Jacob the next day.

    Rosalyn’s reaction came instantly. “That’s unbelievable! They actually asked for that? How dare them? You’ve been nothing but good to them!”

    Lillian didn’t seem bothered. “Justine enticed them away from me during the first year after the bonds were formed. I have never shared a bed with them. And all I could do to soothe them is pat them on the head. There’s no point in forcing them to stay with me.”

    Rosalyn fell silent for a while, clearly shocked. Then, her expression softened as she remembered Lillian’s weak spiritual power.

    She said, “You don’t need to worry too much. The Federal Directorate won’t leave a female without mates. Once you break the bonds, Yggdrasil will assign new males to you.”

    Lillian let out a frustrated sigh and replied, “That’s the problem. I don’t want to be bonded again. It always ends the same way. The males won’t like me.”

    She could already see how things would play out. If she ended up bonded to capable males, Justine would step in again and take them away, just like before.

    Rosalyn looked Lillian over from head to toe before speaking again. “You don’t really have a choice. Bonding is required, and new males will come looking for you whether you want it or not. At least try to change how you present yourself. You always look like you just came out of the wild. Even if males don’t hold the same status as females, you should still try to leave a good first impression.”

    For years, Lillian had dressed only for survival. Hunting aberrant beasts and gathering herbs in the Aberrant Thicket had shaped her habits, leaving no room for concern about how she looked.

    Now, a thought crossed her mind. Maybe Waylon and Jaycob had kept their distance because of how disheveled she looked? If that was the reason, then in her eyes, they were nothing more than shallow males.

    A quiet sigh escaped her. “Alright, I get it.”

    Rosalyn handed her a ticket. “Here. It’s for an underground fighting match. Go watch something fun and take your mind off things. The bar owner gave the tickets to me. We can go together.”

    Lillian accepted the ticket. “Thanks.”

    The following day, after giving it some thought, Lillian decided to take a short break. The money from Waylon and Jaycob had already been transferred, so there was nothing holding her back.

    She started by taking a long shower. After that, she used her communicator to order several elegant dresses and followed tutorials to style her hair into soft curls.

    Her natural beauty was actually remarkable. Her skin was smooth, and her features could easily rival Justine’s. Years spent outdoors had shaped her body into something balanced and strong. There was firmness in her muscles, yet her movements carried a light, controlled ease.

    When Rosalyn saw Lillian, she froze in place, her reaction almost comical. It took a moment before she found her voice again. “Why would you hide a face like that before? Even without strong spiritual power, males would still be drawn to you. Waylon and Jaycob would definitely regret leaving you!”

    One Girl, A Pack Of Beasts Chapter 2 She Bought The Dying Werewolf In The Arena

    Lillian gave a small smile, thinking that Rosalyn was only saying that to comfort her.

    However, when they showed up at the underground fighting arena, she indeed caught the attention of many males around her.

    Rosalyn located their seats, guided Lillian over, and sat down with her. The fight was already underway, a brutal scene with fists flying and legs kicking, the audience watching with excitement.

    At first, Lillian felt no real interest in what was happening. That changed when a werewolf was hauled onto the platform in chains. His gray ears were alert, and his eyes glowed with a dull, reddish hue. Lillian’s focus locked onto him immediately.

    The werewolf was in rut.

    The emcee’s voice rang out with excitement. “Here we have a slave who has been stuck in rut for a long time, rejected by every female, deprived of food for an entire week, and left without even a drop of water. Whoever manages to take him down will earn a hundred high-grade beast cores!”

    One after another, fighters stepped up to the fight, but every single one was violently overpowered and thrown off the stage by the uncontrollable werewolf.

    As the rounds went on, his wounds increased. One of his claws was broken. He remained crouched on the stage, blood spilling from his mouth as he coughed, yet he refused to make a sound, enduring the pain in silence.

    When the final horn echoed through the arena, he raised his head. By chance, his bloodshot eyes met Lillian’s gaze. The mix of fury and despair in his look made her press her lips together.

    Rosalyn inhaled deeply and said with a trace of pity, “He’s said to be from the Rogue Planet. He has been kept here for quite some time. I remember seeing him here last time; he’s got a criminal past and no family, just scraping by on his own. Honestly, this could be the last time he steps into the ring alive.”

    It was common knowledge that a male left too long without a female soothing him would eventually lose control and destroy himself.

    Lillian’s expression grew somber. Something about his loneliness struck a familiar chord in her.

    In the end, the werewolf gathered what little strength he had left, defeated his final opponent, and then collapsed, looking as though he might die at any moment.

    Seeing that, Lillian suddenly asked, “How do I buy him?”

    Rosalyn stared at her in shock. “What? You want to buy him?”

    Lillian tilted her head slightly. “Just for fun. That’s allowed, isn’t it?”

    Rosalyn tried to talk Lillian out of it but eventually failed. She knew the arena’s owner and brought Lillian to meet him and explained her intention to buy the werewolf.

    The owner looked taken aback. “You mean you want to buy Samuel? I was already planning to get rid of him. My lady, if you take him, you’ll spend an enormous amount trying to treat him; it’s simply not worth it.”

    Ignoring that, Lillian crouched down in front of Samuel Burton, who had reverted to his human form due to extreme exhaustion. Even in that state, he was strikingly handsome, with an intimidating presence. A pair of soft, furry ears still remained visible. Lillian reached out and gently stroked them.

    Samuel flinched. Startled, he abruptly sat up and was about to attack the person before him.

    But the moment he recognized Lillian as the striking, gentle-looking female he had noticed earlier in the crowd, his raised claw stopped mid-swing. The hostility and lethal intent in his eyes faded. He couldn’t bring himself to hurt an innocent female. So, he lowered his head and curled into himself, silently refusing her touch.

    Lillian chose not to bother him anymore. She had always moved on her own or occasionally teamed up with low-tier hunting groups, traveling to the outer edges of the Aberrant Thicket to hunt small aberrant beasts and collect herbs just to get by. Still, the earnings were barely enough, and the low-grade beast cores she absorbed had no real effect on improving her spiritual power.

    She began to consider that this werewolf could help her venture deeper into the Aberrant Thicket, where she might find quality herbs and stronger beast cores to elevate her spiritual power.

    At the very least, it seemed like a feasible plan.

    Lillian spoke calmly. “I’ll pay one million.”

    She turned her attention to the owner and said firmly, “That’s a fair deal for you, isn’t it? Even if he recovers, the cost of suppressants alone is extremely high. And without a female to soothe him, he won’t be able to return to the arena anyway.”

    She wasn’t wrong. At this point, Samuel was a rogue werewolf with no real value. After a moment of consideration, the owner accepted her offer.

    After taking Samuel out of the underground arena, Lillian noticed her communicator buzzing nonstop with missed calls and messages. She opened one of the video messages.

    Jaycob appeared on the screen, his face flushed with anger as he shouted, “Lillian, we’ve been waiting for you at the Notary Hall forever! Don’t test our patience! You already took the money and signed the separation agreement. Are you trying to go back on your word now?”

    Without the domina’s approval, it was impossible for the males to end the bonds on their own.

    In her rush to buy Samuel, Lillian had completely forgotten about the matter with Jaycob and Waylon.

    She quickly turned to Rosalyn. “Please take Samuel back to my place. There are medical supplies stored there. Use whatever you need and make sure he pulls through.”

    “Sure, leave it to me,” Rosalyn replied with confidence.

    By the time Lillian arrived at the Notary Hall, Waylon and Jaycob were already standing beside Justine.

    Walking up to them, Lillian said, “Sorry for keeping you waiting.”

    Waylon and Jaycob stared at her, startled, as though they didn’t recognize her right away.

    “Li-Lillian?” Jaycob’s eyes scanned her from head to toe. She did look more attractive than before, but when he noticed she was wearing a white dress just like Justine, he let out a mocking laugh, assuming she was trying to imitate Justine to win sympathy and avoid the separation.

    Waylon seemed to reach the same conclusion. Disdainfully, he said, “There’s no need for you to copy Justine. What we care about isn’t just her looks; it’s her kindness. Don’t waste your time doing something useless.”

    Justine offered a soft smile, putting on a fragile and apologetic front as she spoke to Lillian. “Lillian, I truly didn’t mean to ruin your bonds or take your mates away from you. Please don’t hold it against me, okay?”

    In her mind, Lillian was deeply attached to these two males. Seeing Lillian dressed like her today only reinforced her belief that she had come here to plead for reconciliation.

    However…

    One Girl, A Pack Of Beasts Chapter 3 She Finally Found A Way To Enhance Her Spiritual Power

    “Sure.”

    Lillian gave a short nod. She barely spared Justine a glance before heading straight for the registration desk. Instead of wasting time on pleasantries, she went straight to the point and asked the staff to stamp the documents.

    Without delay, a staff member processed everything and placed three separation certificates in her hands. A polite smile stayed on his face as he spoke. “Now that you’re registered as a single female, Yggdrasil will match you with new males. You can check your email tomorrow for the results.”

    After acknowledging him with a nod, she turned back and flicked her wrist, throwing two certificates toward Waylon and Jaycob. “It’s done. From this point on, the two of you are Justine’s fated mates.”

    Shock spread across Justine’s face as she went stiff for a moment. “Lillian, you actually broke the bonds with them? So that’s it? You don’t love them anymore?”

    A cold laugh slipped from Lillian as she shook her head. “Love? There was never anything like that between us. It was nothing more than an obligation that tied me to them. Since you’re willing to pick up what I threw away, go ahead.”

    Waylon’s anger flared at that. “Lillian, watch your mouth! You think you can talk about us like that? We refused to serve you because of Justine. She’s the one we truly love.”

    Lillian didn’t even bother responding. Arguing with them wasn’t worth her time.

    So, she left and made her way home before the sky turned dark.

    Earlier, Rosalyn had sent a message to her. She said she had given Samuel an injection that kept him alive, but his condition hadn’t improved. His mind was unstable, and he needed a suppressant or a female to soothe him as soon as possible.

    The moment Lillian arrived home, she found Samuel in the guest room. His body was hunched over on the carpet as he knelt there, and he was struggling through waves of pain. A strained sound escaped him while one of his hands had already shifted into a claw, about to hurt himself.

    Lillian’s expression hardened at the sight. She rushed forward without hesitation and caught his wrist to stop him.

    At the sight of her, Samuel went still for a second. His chest rose and fell in uneven breaths as his voice came out rough. “You shouldn’t get close to me. I might lose control and hurt you.”

    “I’m not leaving you like this.” Carefully, Lillian reached up and held his head between her hands. She tried to soothe him, letting her spiritual power flow through him in an effort to calm the storm inside him.

    Even so, the strain on Samuel’s face didn’t ease. Pain tore through him without pause. It felt like his bones were being forced apart, then crushed back together again. Something unseen seemed to press along his spine, breaking it piece by piece. The agony dragged him closer to the edge with every passing second.

    “Thank you for helping me.” Samuel realized Lillian’s ability wasn’t enough to soothe him, gritting his teeth and reaching out to push her away gently. “I’ll just face my destruction.”

    A flicker of anxiety crossed Lillian’s face. Regulations made it impossible to use suppressants on someone with a criminal record. Without a female willing to soothe him, there was no way to pull him back from this.

    She had already tried soothing him through touch, yet it hadn’t been enough. That left only one option—mating.

    It was typically reserved for a female’s fated mates.

    She had never done something like that before. Neither in her previous life nor in this one had she ever given herself to anyone.

    Still, watching Samuel struggle right in front of her, Lillian hesitated only for a brief second before making up her mind. She leaned in, steadied his head in her hands, and pressed her lips against his in a firm gesture.

    A flicker of shock crossed Samuel’s eyes the moment her lips met his. Something within him shifted in a way he couldn’t explain. He had never felt anything like this before.

    For the first time, he experienced what it felt like to be soothed by a female.

    Tension drained from his body without warning. The violent strain in his muscles eased, and the sharp pain tearing through his bones faded as if it had been pulled away by an unseen force. A tremor ran through him as relief settled in. Driven by instinct, his arms moved on their own. He circled Lillian’s waist and pulled her closer, holding her tightly against him. The need for comfort from her took over as he deepened the kiss instinctively.

    Caught off guard, Lillian lost her balance and ended up seated on his lap. Her tongue was entwined with Samuel’s, continuously licked and sucked, occasionally grazed by his sharp teeth, causing her to shiver.

    A strange sensation spread through her, leaving her mind unsteady. Not only was there a physical change in her, but spiritually, she also felt something unusual.

    Her previously depleted spiritual power suddenly swelled like a sponge absorbing water, pulling in everything that poured from him. The wild energy surrounding him flowed into her, and she turned it into her spiritual power, using it to soothe him.

    Time slipped by without her noticing. By the time the kiss finally broke, her spiritual power had been completely drained. Her body gave in, and she slumped against Samuel, her consciousness fading as exhaustion took over.

    For Samuel, the torment hadn’t fully disappeared, but the storm inside him had calmed enough for him to think clearly again.

    Carefully, he carried Lillian and laid her down on the bed. His gaze lingered on her for a moment before he chose not to lie beside her. Instead, he lowered himself to the floor and stayed there, watching her quietly. Complex emotions lingered in his eyes.

    He couldn’t understand why someone like her would go so far just to save him.

    Nor could he figure out what he had ever done to deserve her help.

    In his eyes, she was perfect.

    When Lillian finally woke, a full day and night had already passed. Warmth surrounded her, and she noticed her hand was still being held firmly.

    A slight turn of her head revealed Samuel lying on the cold floor beside the bed, fast asleep.

    The small movement didn’t go unnoticed. He stirred almost at once, pushing himself upright as his blue eyes locked onto her.

    There was something intense in the way he looked at her. His gaze didn’t pull back, and combined with his rugged yet striking features, it made her heart skip a beat.

    Lillian paused for a moment before reaching out. Her fingers brushed through his messy hair, then touched his ear. “Samuel, why did you sleep on the floor?” she asked in a soft voice.

    A low sound slipped from Samuel at the touch. Since he was a werewolf, his ears and tail were highly sensitive. “I’m used to it. And… thank you for saving me and letting me stay here.”

    That answer wasn’t the truth. He hadn’t grown used to sleeping on the floor. But he had watched too many others like him get taken away by females who treated them like passing interests. They would leave with females smiling, only to return later with wounds covering their bodies.

    Some of those females, backed by their status, didn’t hesitate to cross the line and treat their slaves as nothing more than tools for their own desires.

    After seeing enough of that, Samuel had come to understand one thing. If he wanted to survive, he had to endure whatever came his way and be compliant.

    But…

    “Don’t say things like that. You should be sleeping on the bed.”

    Lillian pushed the covers aside and got out of bed, reaching for him as she pulled him to his feet. Only then did she realize just how tall he was. Standing close to him, she barely reached his chest, which forced her to tilt her head up to meet his eyes.

    A trace of shyness slipped into her expression before she spoke again. “After what happened last night… are you feeling better now?”

    Samuel was stunned for a moment before answering, “I am. You got me through the rut safely.”

    The memory of that kiss lingered in his mind, and his gaze drifted to her lips without him realizing it. He swallowed instinctively.

    He realized that the rumors on Rogue Planet were true. Once a male experienced a deep level of soothing from a female, the feeling would stay with him, pulling him back toward it again and again. He could already feel that pull.

    “Wait… you really made it through because of me?” Excitement lit up Lillian’s face. “So what I did actually worked?”

    When Samuel confirmed it, everything clicked for her. The way her spiritual power worked wasn’t the same as that of other females.

    Beast cores had never improved her spiritual power, no matter how many she had used. All those years of fighting aberrant beasts hadn’t changed anything. Now, she finally understood why. Her spiritual power didn’t grow that way at all.

    And what had happened last night went beyond simple contact. It was a deeper connection that had allowed her to draw in far more energy than before, upgrading her spiritual power.

    Without thinking, Lillian wrapped her arms around Samuel, unable to hide her joy. “Thank you, Samuel!”

    The sudden embrace caught Samuel off guard. A faint heat crept across his face, and he didn’t know how to react. Every instinct told him to stay wary of her, yet he was unable to do that.

    He forced himself to pull away, steadying his thoughts before speaking. “You shouldn’t treat me this well. I’m not someone worth your kindness. I’ve got a criminal record, and I’m marked as a slave from Rogue Planet. If people find out what you did for me, they’ll laugh at you.”

    “No,” Lillian responded as she held his hand, her smile unwavering. “Bringing you home was the best choice I’ve ever made. You’re my lucky charm!”

    She looked at him. “Stay with me, Samuel. Maybe you’re the only one who will.”

    👉 CONTINUE READING

  • The Neglected Wife’s Vicious Comeback Game by Xiu Luo

    The Neglected Wife's Vicious Comeback Game by Xiu Luo
    👉 READ NOW

    On our third anniversary, my husband canceled our dinner, claiming a sudden work emergency.

    I tracked his phone to an exclusive French restaurant, only to find him tenderly fastening a blessed bracelet—one I had flown across the world to get for him—onto his college ex-girlfriend’s wrist.

    The sheer shock triggered a violent placental abruption. Bleeding out in my car just across the street, I frantically called his number. Through the window, I watched him glance at his screen, frown in annoyance, and press decline to focus on his lover. While I was wheeled into a freezing operating room for an emergency C-section utterly alone, he took his mistress back to our marital bed.

    He didn’t even bother to check if I was alive, completely oblivious that our premature daughter was fighting for her life in the NICU. I soon discovered our entire marriage was a sham. He had used my family’s wealth to save his company, and now he was trading me to secure a massive business deal with his ex’s father. The man I loved didn’t exist; he only saw me as a disposable asset.

    “I’m going to make him wish he had never been born.”

    After secretly securing my baby in a private retreat, I ordered a medical-grade silicone pregnancy belly to hide my flat stomach. I stepped back into our penthouse, ready to burn his precious empire to the ground.

    👉 READ NOW

    The Neglected Wife’s Vicious Comeback Game Chapter 1

    “I made the reservations at Per Se, just like you wanted.” Adalynn Craig smoothed down the silk of her dress, her voice a little too bright in the cavernous silence of their penthouse apartment. She ran a hand over her seven-month belly, a reflexive, protective gesture.
    Across the room, Julian Hawthorne didn’t look up from his phone. “Cancel it.”
    The words, clipped and cold, hung in the air. Adalynn’s fingers tightened on the photo album she was holding—a leather-bound collection of their three years of marriage, her anniversary gift to him. “But… it’s our anniversary, Julian. I thought we could—”
    “Something came up at work. Emergency board meeting.” He finally looked at her, his expression impatient, as if she were a minor annoyance he had to deal with. “We can do it another time.”
    He never specified when “another time” would be. It was his standard line, the one he used to brush her off for the last six months. A familiar, cold knot formed in Adalynn’s stomach. She forced a smile, the muscles in her face feeling stiff. “Okay. Of course. Work is important.”
    She watched him grab his keys, his movements brisk and final. He didn’t kiss her goodbye. He didn’t even glance at her belly. The heavy front door clicked shut, leaving her alone with the perfectly set dinner table for two and the scent of the roast cooling in the oven.
    Disappointment, sharp and bitter, rose in her throat. She sank onto the velvet sofa, the photo album a heavy weight in her lap. She wouldn’t let him ruin this. Maybe he was telling the truth. Maybe he was just stressed. An idea sparked—a desperate, hopeful one. She would go to him. She would bring him a thermos of the soup he loved, show him she supported him. A surprise.
    A few minutes later, dressed in the dress he once told her made her eyes look like the sea after a storm, she grabbed the gift and headed for the garage. As she started the car, a familiar, sick feeling of doubt crept in. It was a small, ugly habit she’d developed—checking his location. She told herself it was just for peace of mind.
    She opened the app on her phone. Her thumb hovered over his icon. The screen refreshed, and a small dot appeared on the map. It wasn’t at the Hawthorne Group headquarters downtown. It was pulsing steadily over a small, exclusive block in the West Village. Over Le Ciel, the most expensive, most romantic French restaurant in the city.
    Her breath hitched. Maybe it’s a surprise, she thought, her heart hammering against her ribs. A reverse surprise. He’s waiting for me there. The thought was flimsy, a paper-thin shield against a much darker possibility, but she clung to it.
    She drove, her knuckles white on the steering wheel. A light rain began to fall, blurring the city lights into long, weeping streaks. Her stomach churned, a mixture of bad premonition and pregnancy-induced nausea.
    She parked across the street from the restaurant. The rain was heavier now, drumming a frantic rhythm on the roof of the car. Through the enormous, floor-to-ceiling window, she saw him. He was seated at a secluded corner table, bathed in the warm, intimate glow of a candle.
    And he was not alone.
    Across from him sat Carlene Shaffer. His college girlfriend. The one he’d sworn was just a part of his past. Carlene looked elegant, her blonde hair catching the light as she laughed at something he said. Julian was smiling back, a soft, unguarded smile that Adalynn hadn’t seen directed at her in years. It was a physical blow.
    Then, he reached into his pocket. He pulled out a small, velvet pouch. From it, he drew a bracelet made of dark, polished sandalwood beads.
    Adalynn’s vision tunneled. She felt the air leave her lungs in a painful rush. It was the bracelet she had flown twelve hours to a remote temple to get for him, a blessing for his loyalty and success that she had prayed over for hours. He had promised to wear it forever.
    She watched, frozen, as Julian leaned across the table. He took Carlene’s delicate wrist in his hand and gently, tenderly, fastened the bracelet around it. Then he raised her hand to his lips and pressed a soft kiss to her knuckles.
    A sound escaped Adalynn’s throat—not a scream, not a sob, but something raw and involuntary, like an animal caught in a trap. Her hand flew to her mouth, pressing hard against her lips as if she could force the sound back inside. But she couldn’t tear her eyes away. She pressed her other palm flat against the cold glass of the car window, her fingers splaying wide, her breath fogging the pane in short, ragged bursts.
    Her entire body began to tremble—not from the cold, but from a seismic shift happening deep within her. The woman who had climbed into this car an hour ago, still clinging to the hope that her marriage could be saved, was dying. And in her place, something else was being born. Something cold. Something unforgiving.
    She didn’t cry. She didn’t look away. She pressed her hand against the cold glass of the car window, her eyes burning into the scene in front of her, and she burned every detail into her memory. The way his thumb stroked Carlene’s wrist. The way Carlene tilted her head, basking in his attention. The way her bracelet—her blessing, her prayer, her twelve-hour flight—dangled from another woman’s arm like a trophy. She would remember this. When the time came, she would remember every single detail. And she would make sure he regretted it with every breath he took.
    The world tilted. The gift box in Adalynn’s lap slid to the floor, landing with a dull, final thud. At the same instant, a vicious, searing pain tore through her abdomen. It was a cramp so intense it stole her breath, making her double over. It wasn’t like the Braxton Hicks contractions she was used to. This was different. This was violent.
    With trembling fingers, she pulled out her phone and dialed Julian’s number. She watched through the window as he glanced at his screen, a flicker of annoyance crossing his face before he pressed the decline button.
    The pain sharpened, a hot blade twisting deep inside her. She tried again. He declined it again, this time silencing his phone and placing it face down on the table, his full attention returning to Carlene.
    She watched Carlene glance at the phone, then look up at Julian with a knowing smile. She watched Carlene’s lips form the words: “Is it her again?” She watched Julian shrug—actually shrug—as if his wife’s life-or-death emergency was a minor inconvenience. And then she watched Carlene laugh.
    A wave of dizziness washed over her. Another cramp, stronger this time, made her cry out. A sudden, warm gush of fluid soaked through her dress and onto the leather seat. Her water had broken. Panic, cold and absolute, seized her.
    She fumbled with her phone, her fingers slick with sweat. She couldn’t think. 911. She had to call 911. She managed to dial the numbers, her voice a choked whisper as she gave the operator her location.
    Inside the restaurant, Julian raised his wine glass, toasting the woman across from him. He was completely oblivious to the flashing lights that were now approaching, to the wife who was fighting for her life and the life of their child just a few feet away.
    The paramedics were gentle but firm, pulling her from the car and onto a gurney. As they lifted her into the ambulance, her gaze found the restaurant window one last time. Julian was leaning in, his eyes locked on Carlene’s, his expression full of a tenderness that had once been hers.
    The doors slammed shut, and Adalynn’s heart shattered into a million pieces. The physical agony and the emotional devastation merged into a single, overwhelming wave of blackness.
    At the hospital, a doctor with tired eyes, Dr. Foster, spoke to her in urgent, clipped tones. “Severe placental abruption. The baby’s in distress. We need to do an emergency C-section. Now.”
    They wheeled her into the sterile, freezing operating room. There was no one to hold her hand. No Julian to whisper that everything would be okay. His wedding vow, “I will never let you be alone,” echoed in her mind, a cruel, mocking joke.
    As the anesthesia began to pull her under, a single thought burned through the pain and the fog: My baby. Please, let my baby live.
    She was vaguely aware of frantic voices, the words “hemorrhaging” and “losing her” floating somewhere above her.
    Hours later, after a romantic dinner and a nightcap in his office, Julian Hawthorne finally checked his messages. He saw the missed calls from Adalynn and rolled his eyes, assuming it was just another one of her needy episodes.
    In the hospital, Adalynn was fighting for her life.
    When she finally stabilized, her daughter had already been born. Lily Craig Hawthorne, weighing just three pounds, was whisked away to the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit before Adalynn even had a chance to see her.

    The Neglected Wife’s Vicious Comeback Game Chapter 2

    The first thing Adalynn felt when she woke was a line of fire across her lower abdomen. The pain was a brutal confirmation that the night before had not been a nightmare. It was real. The empty chair beside her hospital bed was also real.
    A kind-faced nurse named Olivia Price came in to check her vitals. “How are you feeling, sweetie?” she asked, her voice soft with a pity that made Adalynn’s skin crawl.
    “My baby,” Adalynn rasped, her throat raw. “Is she…?”
    “She’s a fighter,” Olivia said with a reassuring smile. “Stable for now. She’s in the NICU, getting the best care.”
    A sliver of relief pierced through the fog of pain and betrayal. Stable. That was enough for now. The anger, however, was becoming clearer, sharper. She reached for her phone on the bedside table, her movements slow and agonizing. She would give him one last chance. One final opportunity to not be the monster she now knew he was.
    She dialed his private number. It rang. And rang. And rang. Finally, someone picked up.
    But it wasn’t Julian’s voice.
    “Hello?” The voice was feminine, husky with sleep, and sickeningly familiar. It was Carlene Shaffer.
    Adalynn’s heart stopped. In the background, she could hear the distinct sound of the rain showerhead in their master bathroom. Their bathroom. In their home.
    “Julian’s in the shower right now,” Carlene continued, her tone dripping with smug ownership. “Can I take a message?” A beat of silence, then, “If this is a business matter for Mr. Hawthorne, you can try his office later.”
    The implication was clear. She was the personal. Adalynn was the business.
    While Adalynn had been bleeding on an operating table, her husband had taken his mistress home to their bed. The bed where their child was conceived.
    Adalynn’s voice, when it came, was not the broken whisper of a wounded wife. It was ice. “Carlene,” she said, and she heard the sharp intake of breath on the other end of the line—the sound of a woman realizing she had been caught. “You’re in my house. Wearing my bracelet. Sleeping in my bed. Enjoy it while it lasts. Because when I’m done, you won’t even be a footnote in his story. You’ll be the punchline.”
    She hung up before Carlene could respond.
    Without a word, Adalynn ended the call. The last, fragile thread of hope she didn’t even know she was holding onto snapped. It wasn’t just an affair. It was a complete and utter replacement.
    A cold, terrifyingly clear thought formed in her mind. He cannot know about the baby. Lily was not a Hawthorne. She was a Craig. She was hers alone. This child would not be a pawn in a divorce, a bargaining chip for a man who didn’t deserve the title of father.
    Her hands shook as she scrolled through her contacts and found Sloane Hayes. Her best friend. Her rock.
    Sloane picked up on the first ring. “Addy? What’s up? Ready for our yacht weekend?”
    A choked sob escaped Adalynn’s lips. “Sloane,” she whispered, and then the dam broke. The story spilled out in a torrent of broken, gasping sentences—the restaurant, the bracelet, the rejected calls, the emergency surgery, Carlene answering his phone from their bed.
    On the other end of the line, Sloane’s silence morphed from shock into pure, unadulterated rage. “That son of a bitch,” she finally hissed. “That absolute, grade-A piece of human garbage. I’m going to make him wish he was never born. I’m coming. Don’t move. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”
    After hanging up, Adalynn wiped the tears from her face with the back of her hand. Her eyes were dry, burning with a new, cold fire. She was done crying. She was done being a victim.
    In the penthouse, Julian stepped out of the shower, wrapping a towel around his waist. Carlene was perched on the edge of his desk, wearing nothing but one of his dress shirts. Her face was pale, her hands trembling slightly.
    “Your wife called,” she said, her voice lacking its usual smug confidence. “I answered for you.”
    Julian frowned, a flicker of annoyance crossing his face. He rubbed at his temples. “What did she want?”
    “She… she knew I was here. She said—” Carlene stopped, unable to repeat Adalynn’s words. “She’s not what you told me she was, Julian. She’s not weak.”
    “She’s always dramatic,” Julian muttered, pouring himself a scotch. “It’s exhausting. Whatever she said, ignore it. She’s harmless.”
    Carlene opened her mouth to argue, then closed it. Harmless. The woman on the phone had not sounded harmless. She had sounded like a promise.
    He accepted the explanation without question. It was easier than confronting the truth.
    Twenty minutes later, Sloane burst into the hospital room, her face a mask of fury and concern. She took one look at Adalynn’s pale face, the IV in her arm, and the slight mound under the blanket where her stomach was bandaged, and her eyes filled with tears.
    “Oh, Addy.”
    Adalynn met her gaze, her own eyes steady and resolute. “I’m going to hide her, Sloane,” she said, her voice low and even. “He can never know she was born.” She took a breath. “Secure the child, ditch the father.”
    Sloane stared at her, the shock on her face quickly replaced by a fierce, predatory grin. “Damn right,” she said, her voice full of admiration. “That’s my girl. We are not letting that bastard or his dragon of a mother use that baby to control you or the trust fund. Not happening. When we’re done with him, he won’t even be able to afford the shirt on his back.”
    Sloane immediately took charge. “You rest. I’m going to go meet my goddaughter.” She squeezed Adalynn’s hand. “And don’t you worry. He’s going to pay for this. For every single thing.”
    As Sloane left, Adalynn’s phone buzzed. It was an Instagram notification. A new post from Carlene Shaffer. The photo was a selfie, taken from behind Julian’s desk, the glittering skyline of the city spread out behind her. Her chin was tilted up in a look of triumph. On her wrist, the sandalwood bracelet was prominently displayed.
    The caption read: “A new chapter.”
    Adalynn stared at the photo. Then, very calmly, she took a screenshot. She created a new folder on her phone and labeled it: “Evidence.” The screenshot went in, alongside the call log showing her rejected calls to Julian, the timestamp of her 911 call, and a photo of her empty hospital room.
    “A new chapter,” she murmured to herself. “You have no idea.”
    Sloane, who had paused in the doorway to check her own phone, saw it at the same time. A low growl escaped her throat. “I am going to rip her hair out.”
    “No,” Adalynn said, her voice stopping Sloane in her tracks. It was quiet, but held a core of steel. “Not yet. We don’t get emotional. We get strategic.” She looked at her friend, her eyes dark with purpose. “She just publicly wore stolen property and called it a new chapter. When I’m done with her, her entire story will be a cautionary tale that women whisper about at dinner parties for the next twenty years.”
    Sloane saw the look on her face and knew it was true. The sweet, accommodating Adalynn Craig she had known was gone. In her place was a woman who had been pushed past her breaking point and had come back as something far more dangerous.

    The Neglected Wife’s Vicious Comeback Game Chapter 3

    After Sloane left for the NICU, Adalynn’s gaze kept returning to the picture of Carlene on her phone. To the bracelet. The memory was so vivid it felt like it was happening now. A year ago, she had taken a solo trip to a small, secluded monastery in the mountains of Bhutan. Julian’s company had been on the verge of a hostile takeover, and he had been a wreck, consumed by anxiety.
    She’d spent two days with the monks, praying for him, for his peace of mind, for the protection of his legacy. They had blessed the sandalwood beads, infusing them with prayers for fidelity and strength. When she gave it to him, he’d been moved to tears. He’d kissed her and promised he would never take it off, that it would be a symbol of their unbreakable bond.
    Now that symbol was on another woman’s wrist, a trophy of his betrayal. The memory, once a source of comfort, now felt like a shard of glass in her heart. But she didn’t flinch. She let it cut. Let it bleed. Every scar from this moment forward would be a reminder of what she was fighting for.
    Meanwhile, on the fifth floor of the very same hospital, Julian was trying to charm Mr. Knight, a key investor whose health was failing. Carlene was by his side, playing the part of the concerned, attentive associate. They had ridden the elevator up, completely unaware that Julian’s wife was lying in a hospital bed two floors below, recovering from major surgery.
    After the visit, they stopped by the nurses’ station to inquire about scheduling a follow-up. As they approached, they could hear two nurses, Patty Hicks and Olivia Price, talking in low voices.
    “That poor woman in 302, Mrs. Craig,” Patty said, shaking her head. “So beautiful, and she had to go through that emergency C-section all alone. The husband hasn’t shown his face once.”
    Olivia sighed, refilling a cup with water. “I know. And the baby, a little girl, so premature she’s still in an isolette. What kind of man misses a moment like that?”
    Julian froze. The name “Craig.” The room number “302.” The word “C-section.” A cold finger traced down his spine. He turned to the nurses, his voice sharper than he intended. “What did you say the patient’s name was?”
    Patty looked up, startled. “Mrs. Craig. Adalynn Craig. She came in last night. Emergency C-section. Almost didn’t make it. Why—do you know her?”
    For one breath, for one heartbeat, the truth hung in the air between them. Julian opened his mouth—
    And Carlene’s hand clamped down on his arm. “Julian,” she said, her voice tight. “We’re going to be late for your meeting.”
    He hesitated. He looked at the nurses. He thought of Adalynn—his wife, his pregnant wife, who was supposed to be at Sloane’s, safe and angry at him, not bleeding out on an operating table. But Carlene’s grip was insistent, her nails digging into his sleeve. And the truth was too big, too terrifying. If he acknowledged it, everything would change.
    So he didn’t.
    “No,” he said, his voice flat. “I don’t know her.”
    He turned away from the nurses’ station and walked toward the elevator, Carlene’s hand still on his arm. He didn’t look back. But the words echoed in his head with every step: emergency C-section. Almost didn’t make it. Husband hasn’t shown his face once.
    He knew. Some part of him knew. But he had already chosen not to care.
    Just as they turned the corner, Sloane Hayes walked directly into their path, coming from the direction of the NICU.
    Sloane stopped dead in her tracks. A slow, dangerous smile spread across her face. “Well, well. If it isn’t Mr. Hawthorne,” she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Fancy meeting you here. Of all the hospitals in all the world.”
    Julian’s face darkened. “Sloane. What are you doing here?”
    Her eyes flicked dismissively over to Carlene, then back to him. “I’m visiting a friend,” she said, her voice sharp as a blade. “A friend whose husband was too busy wining and dining his mistress to answer his phone while she was bleeding out on the side of the road. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you, Julian?”
    The blood drained from Julian’s face. For a split second, he looked like a man who had just been punched in the gut. Carlene’s grip on his arm tightened convulsively.
    “Watch your tone, Sloane,” he managed, but his voice had lost its commanding edge. It sounded weak. Defensive. Guilty.
    Sloane just laughed, a cold, humorless sound. She didn’t give away a single detail about Adalynn’s current condition. She didn’t need to. “You’d better hope you haven’t done anything you’ll regret, Julian,” she said, her smile vanishing. “Because I’ve seen what happens to men who cross the Hayes family. Spoiler alert—they don’t recover. And you?” She looked him up and down with utter contempt. “You crossed the wrong woman. And you don’t even know it yet.”
    Carlene, sensing the conversation was about to escalate into a full-blown scene, pulled Julian’s arm again, more insistently this time. “Let’s just go, Julian. She’s not worth it.”
    Julian shot Sloane one last glare before letting Carlene lead him away. The encounter left him feeling irritated and vaguely uneasy, but more than that—he felt exposed. Sloane knew something. Something about Adalynn. Something he should know but was too afraid to ask.
    Sloane watched them go, her fists clenched. She took a deep, calming breath before turning back towards Adalynn’s room. She decided not to mention the run-in. Adalynn didn’t need the extra stress.
    When she entered the room, her expression was bright. “She’s beautiful, Addy,” she gushed, pulling out her phone to show Adalynn a picture she’d snapped through the glass of the isolette. “She’s tiny, but she has your nose. And she’s a fighter. I can already tell.”
    Adalynn stared at the image of her daughter, a tiny, perfect creature connected to a web of wires and tubes. A fierce, primal wave of love washed over her, so powerful it momentarily eclipsed everything else. This tiny person was all that mattered now. The last lingering shred of attachment she might have felt for Julian, the man who co-created this life, severed completely. He was nothing. A stranger. An obstacle.

    👉 CONTINUE READING

  • His Abandoned Wife, Now Untouchable by Decaf Demon

    His Abandoned Wife, Now Untouchable by Decaf Demon
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    For four years, I played the part of the perfect, pathetic wife to my billionaire husband, Damian Nunez. Bleeding from a gunshot wound I took to secure a multi-billion-dollar deal for his company, I dragged myself to our penthouse, ready to finally end the charade.

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    His Abandoned Wife, Now Untouchable Chapter 1 Divorce, leaving with nothing

    June’s brutal sun blazed down, warping the New York City skyline in a haze of sweltering heat.
    Gabriella stepped out of the corporate skyscraper, her clothes streaked with drying blood. She stared down at the signed partnership contract in her hand, a bitter smile tugging at her delicate, porcelain features.
    She’d taken a bullet to lock this deal down.
    And it would be the last thing she ever did for Damian Nunez.
    Damian had chased her relentlessly for three years. They’d been married for one, until he’d looked her dead in the eye and said he was bored of her. At first, she’d screamed, fought, sobbed-only to be met with his cold, cutting mockery. “Gabriella, you look hideous right now. You make me sick. Let’s get a divorce.”
    She’d found out later it was never just boredom. He’d met his so-called soulmate.
    He hadn’t set foot in their Tribeca penthouse in two months, not since the day he’d first mentioned divorce.
    There was no point in dragging this out any longer.
    Gabriella changed out of her bloodied clothes, hailed a yellow cab, and rode straight to Damian’s downtown Manhattan headquarters. She took the private elevator directly to the top-floor executive suite, and before she could reach the office door, a soft, breathy female voice froze her to the spot, drifting through the crack in the heavy oak door.
    “Damian, stop it… you’re gonna make my lips swell.”
    A sharp, searing pain seized Gabriella’s chest.
    To force herself to let go completely, she pushed the half-open door and stepped inside.
    The lavish, sprawling office came into view. Hayleigh Blair was perched in Damian’s lap, face flushed, lips swollen and marked, clear evidence of what they’d been doing only moments before.
    The biological daughter of the Blair family that had taken Gabriella in-the same woman who’d always claimed this marriage was meant to be hers.
    When she saw Gabriella walk in, panic flashed across her young face, and she scrambled off Damian’s lap. “Sis, I-“
    Gabriella didn’t spare her a single glance. She walked straight to the solid mahogany desk, set down the signed partnership contract, and laid a divorce agreement on top of it.
    Only then did she look up at the man across from her: Damian Nunez, the wealthiest man in New York City. He wore a tailored black dress shirt and slacks, exuding lazy old-money elegance, his features sharp and devastatingly handsome. Beneath his dark, swept-back hair, his face twisted into cold disgust as he stared at her-a look that sent a stabbing pain straight through her chest.
    “The corporate partnership is locked down. Fully executed contract,” she said, her voice eerily calm, as if this marriage meant nothing to her at all. “Beneath it is the divorce agreement. I’ve already signed it. It’s 2 PM. We’re going to the courthouse to finalize this today.”
    Only the deathly pallor of her face, and the way her thin, fragile frame swayed unsteadily on her feet, gave away the agony she was in.
    A flicker of surprise crossed Damian’s face, quickly replaced by his usual icy contempt. “Color me impressed, Gabriella. Half the firms on Wall Street couldn’t close this deal, and you locked it down. I’m curious-how exactly did you get this over the line?”
    His low, drawling voice dripped with disdain, as if he was already certain she’d used underhanded means to secure the contract.
    Gabriella’s hands clenched into fists at her sides, her gaze dropping for a split second to hide the raw pain in her eyes. She let out a cold, hollow laugh. “You only care about the end result, don’t you, Mr. Nunez? Why do you care about the process? Are you gonna sign the divorce papers, or not?”
    Hayleigh looked up at Damian anxiously, voice tight and pleading. “Damian, you promised you’d marry me. This marriage was never meant to be hers in the first place-it was mine. I’m back now, and you have to keep your promise.”
    Damian lifted a hand, brushing his fingers gently over her soft cheek, before glancing at Gabriella, expression dark and unreadable. “Marry you? Of course I will. I’m gonna finalize the divorce with this woman right now.”
    The tenderness in his eyes as he looked at Hayleigh cut through Gabriella’s chest like a knife. In that moment, she realized with a sickening jolt that Damian had never looked at her with that much softness. Not once in all their years together.
    “Damian, I knew you’d always choose me,” Hayleigh cooed, snuggling happily into his chest, shooting Gabriella a triumphant, challenging smirk over his shoulder.
    Gabriella dropped her gaze to the floor, refusing to look at the sight shattering her heart. She could barely tell if the searing pain was from the bullet wound in her side, or the one that had just split open her chest.
    Damian picked up the divorce agreement, flipping through the pages until he landed on the clause Gabriella had amended. His pupils constricted violently, voice dropping to a dangerous, gravelly rumble. “You’re waiving every single right to the Nunez family fortune? You’re walking away with nothing? A clean break?”
    Gabriella forced the words out through gritted teeth, voice hoarse and broken. “If we’re getting a divorce, we’re cutting ties completely. I want nothing from you.”
    Once she’d made up her mind, she never turned back.
    Four years. Her four years with him were over. It was time to leave, for good.
    Damian’s handsome face shifted, a storm of conflicting emotions raging in his deep eyes, disdain plain to see. “That’s so you, Gabriella. You always have to be this ruthless with everything. Let’s go. The courthouse.”

    His Abandoned Wife, Now Untouchable Chapter 2 She was shot in a calculated attack

    A bitter smile tugged at Gabriella’s lips. So this was what she’d always been to him.
    An hour later, Gabriella and Damian Nunez stepped out of the New York City Civil Courthouse, each holding a finalized divorce decree in their hand.
    Hayleigh Blair waited eagerly by the curb, eyes lighting up the second she saw the divorce papers in Damian’s hand. She’d finally earned the right to be Damian Nunez’s wife, fair and square.
    She put on a fake look of concern as she glanced at Gabriella. Something had shifted in the woman-her striking features were even more captivating now, but there was a cold, unapproachable edge to her that made it hard to meet her eye.
    Hayleigh had always been jealous of that face. Now, she’d never have to look at it again.
    “The family doesn’t want you anymore, and you walked away with nothing,” Hayleigh simpered, voice sickly sweet. “Do you even have anywhere to go?”
    In her eyes, Gabriella was nothing but a backwoods hick from the Ohio Rust Belt. It had been a blessing for her to even be tied to the Blair household, and now that blessing was gone.
    Gabriella let out a cold, humorless laugh. Even now, Hayleigh was still pretending to care about her.
    Memories flashed through her mind, sharp and unforgiving: when the Blairs found out she’d been switched at birth, they’d shipped her off to live with distant relatives in the Rust Belt the second she was born, never checking in, never caring. They’d only brought her back to New York when she turned 18-the same year she’d met Damian Nunez.
    Hayleigh, the Blairs’ real daughter, had been found two years prior, immediately sent to an elite private boarding school in Switzerland, all to make her worthy of old-money heir Damian Nunez.
    It wasn’t until Hayleigh returned to New York for good that Gabriella learned the truth: the family had found their real daughter, and they wanted nothing to do with her anymore.
    They’d never raised her. Cutting ties meant nothing to her. She’d only come back to New York to find out what had happened to her birth parents.
    She’d also finally learned why she’d been sent away in the first place: she was never a Blair, not by blood.
    And just a few days prior, she’d overheard Damian’s friends talking, and learned the truth: Damian had met the sweet, innocent Hayleigh on a business trip to Europe, and fallen head over heels at first sight. When Hayleigh came back to New York, they’d fallen into a whirlwind romance.
    Hayleigh had even sent Gabriella explicit photos of her and Damian in bed, over and over, just to taunt her, to humiliate her.
    A homewrecker, bold and unapologetic to the extreme.
    Gabriella shot her a single, indifferent glance. “Don’t trouble yourself, Miss Blair. Where I go is none of your business.”
    She didn’t spare Damian a single look. Spine perfectly straight, she hailed a yellow cab on the side of the road and climbed inside, the door slamming shut behind her.
    She’d walked away so decisively because she knew the other terrible thing Damian had done.
    Damian’s hand tightened around the divorce decree until his knuckles turned white, veins bulging in his forearm. She’d left without even glancing at him. Not once.
    But why had her gait been so off? So strange?
    He stared at the cab as it disappeared into New York traffic, gaze fixed on the empty road long after it was gone, unable to look away.
    “Damian, this is perfect!” Hayleigh gushed, clinging to his arm. “That backwoods hick is finally gone, and we can be together, properly, for everyone to see.”
    She was so overjoyed, she could barely wait to call her parents and tell them the good news.
    A cold glint flashed through Damian’s eyes, but his voice was soft and tender when he spoke. “Hayleigh, let me drive you home.”
    “Oh, that’s wonderful!” Hayleigh beamed. “Daddy will be so happy when he hears you’re divorced. Let’s go home and tell him the good news right now!”
    Damian’s eyes swirled with barely restrained emotion, unreadable to anyone but himself. He looked down at the sweet, innocent young woman in front of him, and smiled a soft, gentle smile. “Of course, Hayleigh. Let’s go tell your father right now.”
    “Yes!” Hayleigh was ecstatic. She’d finally gotten rid of Gabriella for good. Gone completely. It was all thanks to her mother’s flawless plan, the one that had gotten Damian and Gabriella divorced once and for all.
    Damian pulled the car to a stop in front of the Blair family’s grand Upper East Side townhouse. His phone buzzed in his pocket, caller ID flashing the CEO of H.Y. Holdings. He told Hayleigh to get out of the car and wait for him inside.
    Hayleigh nodded obediently, climbing out and waiting on the front steps.
    “Hello?” Damian answered, voice low and gravelly, features sharp and cold.
    A mocking, yet deeply impressed voice came through the line. “Well, well. Your sales director’s got some real nerve. Showed up at my warehouse with a knife to my throat, made me sign that damn contract. I put a bullet in her side, and she dug that slug out with her bare hands right in front of me. I’ve never admired a woman in my life, but your Gabriella? She’s the one. She still breathing?”
    Damian’s pupils constricted violently, his blood turning to ice in his veins. “What did you just say?”

    His Abandoned Wife, Now Untouchable Chapter 3 Left, picked up by a luxury car

    Damian hung up the phone, knuckles white around the device, and immediately dialed his executive assistant’s number.
    “Where is Gabriella Blair?”
    “Mr. Nunez, Miss Blair stopped by the estate briefly earlier. She grabbed a single suitcase and left.”
    Damian had known she would leave, but he’d never imagined she’d vanish this fast. Shot, and with nowhere to go?
    “Did she say where she was going?”
    “No, sir. But Director Blair was picked up by a multi-million dollar luxury vehicle. A man was behind the wheel-handsome, clearly extremely wealthy.”
    A sheet of ice instantly descended over Damian’s dark eyes. He slowly set the phone down on his desk, face schooled into a mask of casual indifference, even as rage and venom coiled tight in his chest.
    Divorced for less than a day, and she’s already being chauffeured around by some rich bastard. She never loved me at all, did she? That’s why she betrayed me without a second thought.
    Gabriella, you’re really something.
    Gabriella had been picked up by her older brother, Andrew Carlisle, and driven straight to Carlisle Manor-the Carlisle Foundation’s palatial, heavily guarded private estate in the heart of Manhattan’s Upper East Side. Andrew had been called away on urgent foundation business, leaving her alone in the manor. He had no idea she’d been shot.
    She lay back on the soft, custom-made king-sized bed, staring at the familiar, opulent surroundings of the suite she hadn’t stepped foot in for four years. She couldn’t hold on any longer. Her face was deathly pale, cold sweat beading and dripping down her forehead. The searing pain from the bullet wound in her side, tangled with the crushing heartache in her chest, was unbearable.
    She lay there weak and exhausted, eyes closed, long lashes trembling softly. She couldn’t understand it. How could two people who’d once loved each other so deeply, fall apart so completely, so suddenly?
    Every memory of the past four years with Damian flashed through her mind-the soft, tender look in his eyes that was once only for her, a look that now belonged to someone else forever. The thought sent a searing, tearing pain through her chest.
    It turned out even the most heartfelt vows had an expiration date.
    There was another reason she’d been so determined to finalize the divorce: she was pregnant.
    But Damian had eyes and ears everywhere, his reach endless across Wall Street and Manhattan. She could never, under any circumstances, let him find out about the baby.
    After she’d been shot, she’d dug the bullet out of her own side with her bare hands. She’d refused anesthesia, terrified it would harm the baby growing inside her.
    Her mind drifted to the promise she’d made her grandfather, the head of the Carlisle Foundation, all those years ago. She’d finally made her decision: she would return home, take her rightful place as the sole heir to the Carlisle legacy.
    She had finally let go of this broken relationship for good. It was time to return to where she truly belonged, to step back into her true identity: Gabriella Carlisle.
    One Month Later.
    Early autumn, bright and sun-drenched.
    Gabriella’s wound had fully healed. She stepped out of Carlisle Manor, slipping a pair of oversized designer sunglasses over her eyes. She stared up at the brilliant sunlight, a deep, unbridled smile tugging at the corner of her lips.
    For a month, she’d lain low here, cutting off all contact with the outside world.
    She wore a sharp, tailored crimson blazer, her red lipstick bold and vivid, her smile unruly and free. She climbed into the waiting luxury sedan at the curb, and gave the driver a single instruction: the Nunez Group headquarters. She was going to collect the last of her things from her office.
    At the base of the Nunez Group skyscraper.
    Gabriella pulled open the car door, and came face to face with Damian Nunez, who was just stepping out of the building. Beside him stood Hayleigh Blair, her smile soft and demure, her arm looped through his.
    The tender, loving look in Damian’s eyes as he glanced down at Hayleigh stabbed straight through Gabriella’s chest. Her hand at her side clenched into a tight fist, unbidden.
    Hayleigh’s eyes flicked to Gabriella, a flash of surprise crossing her face-what was she doing back here? But her expression smoothed over instantly, and she shot Gabriella a challenging, triumphant smile. “Blair, long time no see!” she greeted, voice sickly sweet.
    Gabriella ignored her completely.
    Damian looked at Gabriella with a lazy, mocking smirk, his gaze sweeping past her to the multi-million dollar luxury sedan idling behind her. Their eyes locked, and his sharp, penetrating gaze drifted, almost imperceptibly, to her side where the bullet wound had been.
    He let out a cold, sharp laugh, disgust swirling in the depths of his eyes. “You’ve got quite the life, Blair. Took a bullet to the side, and you’re still up and walking around like nothing happened. You’re lucky to be alive.”
    A sharp, searing pain lanced through Gabriella’s chest. The heart he’d broken hadn’t gone numb; it hurt worse than ever, now that he’d said it out loud. “My apologies for not dying and disappointing you,” she said, voice flat and cold. “I’m just here to collect my things from my office, then I’ll be gone.”
    Damian stared at her cold, emotionless gaze, his eyes growing darker, more frigid, more bloodthirsty by the second. “No wonder you walked away with nothing in the divorce, Gabriella. You already had your next sugar daddy lined up, didn’t you? You’re absolutely shameless.”
    The words stabbed into her chest like a knife. Gabriella looked up at his cruel, smirking face, and let out a cold, bitter laugh. “You cheated on your wife while you were still married, Mr. Nunez. What right do you have to call me shameless?”
    She stepped past the two of them, spine perfectly straight, and walked toward the glass doors of the Nunez Group skyscraper.
    Damian’s furious voice boomed out from behind her, sharp and unyielding: “Gabriella! Stop right there!”

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  • A Secretive Deal with My Billionaire Boss by Gregory Ellington

    A Secretive Deal with My Billionaire Boss by Gregory Ellington
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    Madison Harper knows all too well the chaos Alexander Knight leaves in his wake. As the billionaire CEO’s personal assistant, she’s cleaned up after countless scandals, soothed ex-lovers, and kept his messy private life from spilling into the boardroom. But when one fateful night lands her in Alexander’s bed, the dynamics shift dramatically.

    What begins as a moment of uncontrollable spirals into a neither can resist: Madison needs financial help for her mother’s mounting medical bills, and Alexander offers the resources-on the condition she becomes his girlfriend for a year. No strings, no emotions, just business.

    But as the lines between their professional and private lives blur, Madison’s resolve to keep her heart guarded begins to waver. Beneath Alexander’s reckless charm lies a magnetic that draws her closer than she ever intended. Just as she starts to believe she might be more than his latest “arrangement,” the ghost of Alexander’s long-lost first love, Katherine, reappears, threatening to unravel everything they’ve built.

    Can Madison protect her heart while navigating this high-stakes game of desire and deception? Or will this with her infamously reckless boss cost her more than she’s prepared to lose?

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    A Secretive Deal with My Billionaire Boss Chapter 1

    Madison

    I lifted my gaze from the computer screen as the elevator dinged. A woman in a red dress strutted toward me, her heels clicking against the marble floor like a timer counting down to chaos.
    “I’m here to see Alexander.” She planted her manicured hands on my desk, leaning forward with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.
    “Do you have an appointment?”
    “I don’t need one. We have… history. Just tell Shim Vanessa’s here.”
    “I’m sorry, but Mr. Knight only takes scheduled appointments. I can help you set one up for next week-“
    “Listen here, little secretary.” She interrupted. “I’m Vanessa Caldwell. I spent the night with Alexander last weekend, and I’m not leaving until I see him.”
    “As I mentioned, without an appointment or express permission from Mr. Knight-“
    “Who do you think you are? Just because you stand next to him all day, fetching his coffee and taking notes, you think you’re special?”
    “Ma’am, I need to ask you to leave-“
    “You’re pathetic. Playing gatekeeper, pretending you matter. I bet you fantasize about him noticing you, don’t you? Honey, even if you spread those thighs on his desk, he wouldn’t give you a second glance. He needs a real woman, not some desperate little assistant playing dress-up in her Target blazer.”
    “Security will escort you out if necessary.”I maintained an expressionless face.
    “You wouldn’t dare. Do you know who my father is? I could have your job with one phone call.”
    “And I could remove you from the premises with one button.” I placed my hand near the security alert under my desk. “Your choice, Ms. Caldwell.”
    Vanessa’s face contorted with rage. In one fluid motion, she snatched the water pitcher from my desk and emptied its contents over my head. Ice-cold water drenched my hair, makeup, and brand-new blouse – for the record, it wasn’t from Target.
    “Oops.” She smirked, dropping the empty pitcher on my keyboard with a clatter. “Looks like someone needs a towel.”
    But before I could process my next move, the elevator dinged again.
    Alexander Knight stepped out, filling the lobby like a storm front. His easy stride faltered as he took in the scene – me looking like a drowned rat, Vanessa preening like a cat who’d gotten the cream, and water pooling across my desk and expensive electronics.
    “Well.” His voice cut through the tension. “This is certainly not the greeting I expected.”
    Vanessa’s face lit up. “Alexander, darling! I was just-“
    “Assaulting my PA and damaging company property?” He crossed to us in three strides. “Bold strategy.”
    “I was simply having a conversation with your PA.” Her voice dripped honey while her eyes stabbed mine. “She refused to let me see you.”
    “Because that’s her job.” Alexander handed me his monogrammed handkerchief. His touch sent an unwanted tingle up my arm. “Miss Harper follows my protocols to the letter. That’s why she’s invaluable.”
    I dabbed at my face, grateful I’d worn waterproof mascara today. The handkerchief smelled like his cologne – a detail I wasn’t focusing on.
    “But darling,” Vanessa stepped closer to Alexander, her hip swaying. “After our magical night together-“
    “You mean the charity gala where you had too much champagne, and I called you a cab? That was hardly magical, though I hear you’ve been telling a different version around town.”
    I bit my lip to hide my smile.
    “I-” Vanessa gaped like a fish.
    “Now,” Alexander’s hand came to rest on my shoulder, and I prayed he couldn’t feel how my pulse jumped. “You’ve just assaulted my favorite employee and probably destroyed about ten thousand dollars worth of equipment. Would you like me to call security or the cops?”
    I felt my cheeks heat at my ‘favorite employee.’ He was always like this-charming, flirtatious, and making everyone feel special. It didn’t mean anything.
    “You wouldn’t dare.” But Vanessa’s confidence wavered.
    “Try me. I protect my people, especially those who keep my life running smoothly. In fact, I should ban you from the building entirely. What do you think, Miss Harper?”
    “I think that sounds reasonable, Mr. Knight.” I stayed professional despite his touch warming me.
    Vanessa’s face cycled through fifty shades of red. “This is ridiculous. You’ll regret this. Both of you will.”
    “The only thing I regret is not having my phone out to record this tantrum. Security’s on their way up. I suggest you leave before they arrive.”
    “My father will hear about this!”
    “I’m sure he will. Give Charles my regards. Tell him his company’s stock is looking shaky these days.”
    As soon as the elevator doors closed on her scowling face, Alexander’s hand left my shoulder, and I immediately missed its warmth – a thought I quickly shoved into my brain’s ‘do not examine’ folder.
    I stood from my chair, water dripping onto the floor.
    “Are you alright?” Alexander’s brow furrowed as he assessed the damage. “She didn’t hurt you, did she?”
    “Just my pride. And maybe my electronics.” I poked at my waterlogged keyboard, which responded with an alarming spark.
    “Leave that. I’ll have IT bring up replacements.” He pulled out his phone. “John can get you to the mall in fifteen minutes. Use the company card to pick up whatever you need-clothes, makeup, hair products.”
    “Thank you, Mr. Knight, but it’s no big deal. My shift ends in an hour, and I have a prior engagement after work.”
    “You’re going to sit in wet clothes for another hour?”
    “I’ll manage,” I insisted with a smile. “But I appreciate the offer.”
    He gave me a look that said he didn’t believe me but nodded anyway.

    I pushed open the door to the restaurant, ready for a relaxing dinner with Hazel after my disaster of a day. The hostess led me toward our usual corner booth, but I stopped short. Instead of just my best friend, a man sat beside her.
    “Mads!” Hazel bounced up, waving like I might miss her in the half-empty restaurant. “You made it! Come meet Derek!”
    I forced a smile and sat across from them. Of course, Hazel would ambush me with a surprise blind date after the day I’d had.
    “Mads, this is Derek. He’s a financial analyst, and I met him at that yoga retreat last month.” Hazel’s eyes sparkled with matchmaking glee. “Derek, meet my best friend Madison.”
    “Pleasure.” Derek flashed perfectly whitened teeth. “Hazel told me so much about you.”
    I resisted the urge to kick Hazel under the table. “All good things, I hope?”
    We fumbled through awkward small talk about the weather and restaurant specials until Derek excused himself to the restroom.
    The moment he was out of earshot, Hazel pounced. “Isn’t he dreamy? Those shoulders! And he’s so successful – you should see his condo downtown.”
    “Haze…”
    “Come on, when did you last go on a real date? You work too hard, sweetie. Everyone needs someone to lean on.”
    “I’m fine on my own right now. With Mom’s treatments and everything…”
    “How is she doing?” Hazel’s expression softened.
    “The same. The new medication is expensive, but…” I shrugged.
    “And that brother of yours is still MIA?” Hazel’s face darkened. “What a selfish asshole, leaving you to handle everything alone.”
    “I don’t want to talk about him. Mom worked three jobs to raise us. The least I can do is help her now.”
    Derek slid back into the booth, adjusting his designer tie. “Sorry about that. Now, where were we?”
    “Madison was just telling us about her day at work,” Hazel chirped.
    “Oh, right – you work as a secretary or something?” Derek asked.
    “Personal assistant to Alexander Knight at Knight Industries.”
    “Alexander Knight? The CEO?” He leaned forward, elbows on the table. “Must be quite the… demanding position.”
    “Excuse me?”
    “Come on, we all know how these things work.” He winked. “Beautiful young woman, powerful executive-I’m sure you’ve found ways to make yourself invaluable to the company.”
    Hazel’s jaw dropped. “Derek!”
    “What? I’m just saying what everyone thinks when they see these arrangements.” He gestured vaguely at me. “No judgment here. A girl’s got to use her assets.”
    “You absolute pig.” Hazel’s face flushed red. “Get out.”
    “Hey, I’m just being honest. No need to get defensive-“
    “Out!” Hazel stood up, pointing toward the door. “Now.”
    “Alright, alright. Guess some people can’t handle the truth.” He slid out of the booth, adjusting his jacket. “Call me when you’re ready to be real about things.”
    We watched him weave between tables toward the exit. Hazel collapsed back into her seat, mortified.
    “Oh my god, Mads. I am so, so sorry. I can’t believe I thought he was decent. He seemed so nice at yoga!”
    “Hey, at least we found out he was trash before the appetizers arrived.” I grabbed the menu, determined to salvage our evening. “Now, about those loaded nachos we always get…”
    “But still! The things he said about you and Mr. Knight!” She shook her head. “I feel awful.”
    “Forget him. Seriously.” I waved down a waiter. “The nachos and two margaritas, please. Make mine a double.”
    Hazel brightened with mischief. “Although, maybe Derek had a point. Not about you being – you know – but about Mr. Knight liking you. I’ve seen the way he looks at you.”
    I choked on my water, sputtering. “What? No! That’s – that’s impossible. He’s my boss!”
    “Why not? You’re smart, gorgeous, and he’s clearly interested.”
    “Stop it!” I grabbed a napkin to wipe my chin. “It’s not like that at all.”
    Hazel burst out laughing. “Relax, I’m kidding! Everyone knows Alexander Knight is Manhattan’s most notorious playboy. Different supermodels every week, yacht parties in Monaco.” She leaned forward. “Just be careful, okay? Don’t let that pretty face and charm fool you. Men like him don’t do relationships – they collect trophies.”
    “Trust me, I know exactly who he is.” My phone buzzed.
    I pulled out my phone to check the message. Alexander’s name flashed on the screen.
    “325 Park Avenue, Penthouse. Come now.”
    No explanation, no context. Typical Alexander.
    “Everything okay?” Hazel peered across the table.
    “Work.” I grabbed my purse, already sliding out of the booth. “Rain check on those nachos?”
    “Again? This is getting ridiculous. It’s almost 8 PM!”
    “I know, I know. But-“
    “But nothing! You’re not his personal servant. You have a life, too. What could possibly be so urgent?”
    “It’s probably another last-minute networking event. He does this sometimes-invites potential investors over for drinks. Someone has to coordinate with catering and handle the guest list.”
    “And that someone always has to be you?”
    “It’s my job.”
    “Your job ended three hours ago.” Hazel’s voice softened. “I worry about you, you know?”
    “I know you worry. But this job – the benefits, the salary – it’s helping Mom fight. I can’t risk losing it.”
    “Just be careful, okay?”
    I nodded, already halfway to the door. The cool night air hit my face as I flagged down a cab.
    The cab wound through Manhattan’s glittering streets. Mom’s medical bills haunted me, mounting higher each month. I couldn’t mess this up. Not when she needed me.
    325 Park Avenue loomed ahead, all gleaming glass and steel stretching into the night sky. The doorman nodded as I crossed the marble lobby to the private elevator. My finger hesitated over the penthouse button. Something felt… off.
    Usually, when Alexander hosted impromptu gatherings, the lobby buzzed with activity-caterers rushing supplies, guests arriving in designer suits and cocktail dresses. Tonight, there was silence.
    My heels clicked against the marble floor as I stepped out, echoing through the empty space. Warm lighting spilled across modern furniture and floor-to-ceiling windows, showcasing the city’s sparkle below.
    “Mr. Knight?”
    No response. Just the soft whir of the central air.
    The hair on my neck stood up. Something definitely wasn’t right.
    A floorboard creaked behind me.
    I spun around, heart hammering. Alexander stood there, leaning casually against the doorframe.
    He stepped forward, closing the distance between us in three long strides. Before I could react, he had me cornered against the wall, one hand braced beside my head.

    A Secretive Deal with My Billionaire Boss Chapter 2

    Madison

    His presence was intoxicating. Alexander’s cologne wrapped around me, lingering like dark spices and something earthy. My pulse quickened as he leaned in, our faces just inches apart.
    “You’re here,” he murmured.
    “Mr. Knight, what’s going on?” My voice trembled. I placed a hand on his chest, meaning to push him back, but all I felt was the chiseled muscles under his shirt.
    He took my hand, interlacing his fingers with mine and pressing them back against the wall. The heat from his touch was electric, coursing straight to my core. My breathing turned shallow, and my heart thudded in my ears. His eyes were dark, pupils blown wide.
    “You’re really here.” He whispered huskily. His gaze swept my face, lingering on my lips as his breath warmed my cheek.
    “Are you… okay?” I stammered. His pupils seemed larger than normal, almost swallowing the blue of his irises. Something felt off. Was he on drugs?
    “I’m more than okay.” He nuzzled against my neck, lips brushing my skin. “You’re perfect.”
    “I think you might need medical assistance-“
    He didn’t let me finish. His mouth captured mine, and the world tilted on its axis. The kiss was fierce, desperate, and filled with a hunger that took my breath away. His free hand found my waist, pulling me against him.
    The sensible part of my brain screamed for me to push him away, to get help. But then his tongue parted my lips, and my knees went weak. I grabbed onto his shoulders to steady myself, my fingers digging into the fine fabric of his suit.
    His kiss grew more intense, leaving me scarcely able to think or breathe. A moan escaped my lips.
    My hands roamed over his shoulders and back, feeling the hard muscles flex beneath my touch. His grip on my waist tightened, lifting me effortlessly.
    Before I knew it, he maneuvered me backward, guiding me toward the bedroom. We stumbled, our lips never parting, until the back of my knees hit the king-sized bed. He gently pushed me onto the mattress, positioning himself above me. His eyes were wild.
    “Off,” he said, tugging at my blouse.
    I fumbled with the buttons. Finally, I managed to undo the fabric and slip out of it.
    His gaze darkened, and he pulled down the cups of my bra.
    He bent down, and I arched up, gasping.
    His free hand roamed lower, slipping under the waistband of my pants. A sharp jolt shot through me.
    “Fuck,” I moaned, my fingers threading through his hair, holding him to my chest.
    With one swift motion, he tugged my pants and panties down my legs. His hands spread my thighs apart. I cried out.
    “You’re so ready,” he muttered, almost to himself.
    Before I could respond, I watched, breathless, as he quickly moved to unbuckle his belt and unzip his pants. He didn’t bother removing his clothes.
    He climbed between my legs, and I squirmed.
    He moved against me, and my nails dug into his back.
    His mouth crashed against mine in a desperate kiss. His hands gripped my hips as our bodies moved together, mingling with our groans and panting breaths.
    “God, you feel incredible,” he growled, breath hot and ragged.
    We moved together. I felt the pressure building. He angled his hips, and I cried out, my entire body tensing.
    “I’m close, Alexander,” I gasped, my nails raking down his back.
    My voice seemed to spur him on, his movements growing even more frenzied. I clutched at the sheets, trying to ground myself.
    “Yes,” he groaned, his pace becoming erratic. “Come for me.”
    His encouragement drove me over the edge. With a final scream, I shattered, waves washing over me as he continued moving with me through it.
    It was then, just as the intensity began to wane, that I heard him mutter, “Fuck, Katherine.”
    I froze. My mind reeled. Katherine?! Who the hell was Katherine?
    But I couldn’t dwell on it for long because he was still moving with me. My overstimulated body responded despite my confusion, another wave already building.
    “Katherine, you feel so good.” He drove into me one last time, with a guttural moan. His body trembled, triggering another wave that left me breathless and shaking.
    As the haze faded, reality sank in. Alexander had called another woman’s name while we were together. He didn’t even know who I was.
    As he collapsed next to me on the bed, his breathing heavy, I stared at the ceiling, my mind racing. Who was Katherine? Did she work for him, too, or was she just one of his many conquests? The thought gnawed at me like a persistent itch I couldn’t scratch.
    I slipped out from under his arm, my legs still trembling. Alexander’s soft snores filled the bedroom as I gathered my scattered clothes. Of course, he’d pass out – typical man. At least he hadn’t called me “baby” or some other generic pet name. No, he’d gone with “Katherine” instead.
    I stumbled to the bathroom, wincing at my reflection. My carefully straightened hair now resembled a bird’s nest, and my lipstick… well, that was definitely not where lipstick should be.
    As I cleaned up, my mind wandered to the stack of NDAs in my desk drawer – all the women who’d crossed paths with Alexander Knight.
    “At least I didn’t have to draft my own NDA,” I muttered. Being Alexander’s PA meant cleaning up his messes and arranging flowers and “sorry” gifts for the parade of models and socialites he left in his wake. But Katherine? That name wasn’t in any of my files.
    I smoothed down my outfit and checked my phone – 10:27 PM. The doctor would still be awake. I scrolled through my contacts, finding Dr. Peterson’s number. My thumb hovered over the call button as Alexander’s snores echoed from the bedroom.
    “Dr. Peterson? Sorry to bother you so late.” I kept my voice steady and professional. “It’s Madison Harper, Mr. Knight’s PA.”
    “What’s he done now?” Dr. Peterson sighed.
    “He seems altered. Dilated pupils, unusual behavior. I found him like this when I came to drop off some urgent paperwork.” The lie slipped out easily. Too easily.
    “Drugs?”
    “Possibly. He’s sleeping now, but-“
    “I’ll be there in twenty.”
    “Thank you, Doctor.” I ended the call and slipped my phone into my pocket.
    Back in the bedroom, Alexander sprawled across the unmade bed like a fallen Greek statue, suit wrinkled and pants still undone.
    “Right. Time to make you presentable.” I surveyed the scene. The nightstand had shifted a foot to the left. A decorative vase teetered on the edge – how had we not broken that?
    I approached Alexander’s sleeping form. “Don’t you dare wake up,” I muttered, reaching for his zipper. My fingers trembled as I worked quickly to tuck in his shirt and fasten his pants. The belt proved trickier – threading it through the loops while he was dead weight required some creative maneuvering.
    His head lolled to the side. “Mmm… Katherine…”
    I yanked the belt tight with more force than necessary. “Yeah, yeah. Katherine. Whoever she is.”
    The doorbell rang. Shit. Dr. Peterson was early.
    I sprinted to straighten the nightstand, shoving it back into place. A quick scan of the room – nothing else seemed obviously disturbed. I grabbed a pillow and wedged it under Alexander’s head, trying to make it look like he’d dozed off.
    Dr. Peterson strode in, medical bag in hand. “Evening, Ms. Harper.”
    “Doctor. Thank you for coming so quickly.” I gestured to Alexander. “I found him like this when I came to drop off some urgent documents.”
    The doctor knelt beside the bed, checking Alexander’s pulse. “Any idea what he might have taken?”
    “None. He seemed… not himself.” Understatement of the century. “Dilated pupils, erratic behavior.”
    Dr. Peterson lifted Alexander’s eyelids, shining a small light. “Probably some party drug. Though it’s unlikely for him to indulge alone.”
    “Should I call security? His driver?”
    “No need. I’ll stay until he comes around.” He pulled out a blood pressure cuff. “You should head home, Ms. Harper. I’ve got it from here.”
    I nodded, gathering my purse. “Of course. Thank you again.”
    I hurried to the elevator, my reflection in the metal doors nearly composed except for my swollen lips and flushed cheeks.
    The night air slapped my face as I hailed a cab, needing to get home and think.
    “Where to?” the driver asked.
    “Anywhere but here.” I caught his concerned look in the rearview mirror. “Sorry. 42nd and 8th, please.”
    As the city lights blurred past, I wondered how I’d face Alexander tomorrow. Would he remember? And more importantly – who the hell was Katherine?

    A Secretive Deal with My Billionaire Boss Chapter 3

    Madison

    I woke up feeling like I’d been hit by a truck – a very sexy, Alexander Knight-shaped truck. My body ached in places I’d forgotten existed, and my inner thighs bore the telltale bruises of last night’s activities.
    “Get it together, Madison,” I muttered to my reflection as I applied concealer under my eyes. Despite my best makeup efforts, the woman staring back looked debauched.
    The subway ride to work was torture. Every bump and sway reminded me of how Alexander had moved inside me. How his hands had gripped my hips. How he’d called me Katherine.
    Katherine. The name bounced around my skull like an angry ping-pong ball.
    I’d spent half the night googling “Katherine Alexander Knight” with zero results. Not that I was jealous or anything. I mean, why would I be jealous of someone whose name my boss moaned while high on God-knows-what?
    The elevator ride up to the office felt longer than usual. I checked my phone seventeen times in thirty seconds, praying there wouldn’t be a message from Alexander. Nothing. Thank God.
    I peeked into Alexander’s office. Empty. The relief that flooded through me was embarrassing.
    Collapsing into my chair, I buried my face in my hands. “This is fine. Everything’s fine. He probably doesn’t even remember. And if he does, well… I’ll just move to Antarctica. I hear they need secretaries there.”
    My phone buzzed. I jumped so hard that my knee slammed into the desk drawer.
    I rubbed my throbbing knee while checking the message. Just a spam email about enlarging body parts I didn’t possess.
    The morning crawled by in a haze of paranoia. Every footstep in the hallway had me tensing like a guilty teenager. By ten, my neck muscles felt like steel cables from constantly whipping around to check the door.
    My coffee mug sat empty, mocking me. I needed caffeine.
    I grabbed my mug and power-walked to the break room. I beelined for the coffee maker, already tasting that sweet salvation.
    “Madison! Just the person I wanted to see!”
    I nearly dropped my mug. Stella from Accounting materialized beside me, grinning like she’d just discovered tax evasion in the company books.
    “Hey, Stella.” I focused on pouring coffee, willing my hands not to shake.
    “So,” She leaned against the counter, eyes twinkling. “Hot date last night?”
    Coffee sloshed over the rim. “What? No. Why would you-“
    “That’s quite the love bite you’re sporting.” She pointed at my neck, smirking. “Unless you’ve taken up wrestling in your spare time?”
    My free hand flew to my neck. Horror dawned as I felt the tender spot just below my ear. The spot where Alexander had marked me like some overenthusiastic vampire.
    My mind raced faster than my morning subway ride. “Oh, this? My curling iron. Total klutz moment this morning.” I forced a laugh that came out like a strangled cat.
    “Must be some curling iron. Looks more like someone was trying to-“
    “Would you look at the time!” I glanced at my naked wrist, where a watch definitely wasn’t. “Those expense reports won’t file themselves!”
    “But you haven’t finished your coffee-“
    I abandoned my half-filled mug on the counter, speed-walking toward the exit with all the grace of a newborn giraffe. My heels clicked against the tile floor in what felt like morse code for “Help me!”
    I collapsed into my desk chair, heart pounding like I’d just run a marathon in heels. My hands trembled as I tried to pull myself together. What was I thinking? Curling iron? Really? I might have said it was a one-night stand. That would have been slightly more believable. God, a one-night stand would be even worse.
    Rumors about Alexander and me have been circulating since I became his PA. It was bad enough that I landed this position after being in the company for a short time.
    Everyone thought I’d slept my way to the top, that I’d spread my legs for him to get ahead. Despite all my hard work, the whispers never stopped.
    Colleagues who used to be friends now barely make eye contact with me. Their hushed conversations stop whenever I enter the room, replaced by forced smiles and awkward silence.
    Although I didn’t initially want this job, I took it because of the high salary necessary to cover my mom’s medical expenses.
    But now? The situation was an absolute mess. If anyone found out what happened last night, they’d think the rumors were true. They’d believe I used my body to climb the social ladder, something I would never do.
    No one could find out that Alexander and I had slept together. The very thought twisted my stomach into knots. I prayed Alexander would forget it all, erasing the memory as if it never happened.
    Of course, I knew I couldn’t hide from him forever. Sooner or later, I’d have to report to him for work. But I was convinced the doctor would tell him nothing happened. And even if he remembered something, he’d go to Katherine.
    Every woman Alexander slept with wanted to be his wife. So if he asked Katherine if she was with him the other night, she’d definitely say yes to get closer to him.

    The conference room felt smaller than usual as I arranged the meeting materials, hyper-aware of Alexander’s presence at the head of the table. My hands trembled as I distributed the financial reports, careful to keep my eyes glued to the papers.
    “Everyone here?” Alexander’s voice sent shivers down my spine. The same voice that had whispered things in my ear two days ago.
    I risked a glance up. Fatal mistake.
    His eyes caught mine, and suddenly, I was back in his penthouse, feeling his hands on my skin and his breath hot against my neck. My face burned hotter than fresh coffee.
    “Miss Harper?”
    I jumped, nearly dropping the remaining reports. “Yes, Mr. Knight?”
    “The quarterly projections?”
    Right. Work. Professional. I could do this. I shuffled through my papers, willing my racing heart to calm down.
    “Here they are.” My voice came out squeakier than a mouse in a cheese factory.
    Alexander’s brow furrowed. “Are you feeling alright? You look flushed.”
    Of course, I looked flushed.
    “Just warm in here.” I tugged at my collar, accidentally exposing the fading mark on my neck.
    His eyes flickered to the spot, then back to the reports without recognition. Nothing. Not even a flicker of remembrance about our passionate night together.
    The meeting droned on. I took notes mechanically, sneaking glances at Alexander between bullet points. He was completely at ease, discussing profit margins like he hadn’t rocked my world two days ago.
    The meeting finally ended, but my relief was short-lived. Alexander beckoned me into his office with a crook of his finger. My legs turned to jelly as I followed him inside.
    He settled into his leather chair like a king on his throne while I hovered near the door like a guilty teenager. The morning sun through the tall windows bathed him in an angelic glow. Unfair. The man looked like he’d just stepped out of a magazine photoshoot while I fought the urge to bolt.
    “Close the door, Miss Harper.”
    I did, my hand trembling slightly on the handle. This was it. He remembered everything and was about to fire me. Or worse, proposition me. I wasn’t sure which scenario terrified me more.
    “Take a seat.” He gestured to the chair across from his desk.
    I perched on the edge, ready to sprint at a moment’s notice. The leather squeaked beneath me, betraying my nervousness.
    Alexander shuffled some papers on his desk, his expression unreadable. My heart performed an Olympic-worthy gymnastics routine in my chest.
    “I noticed something concerning.” He looked up, those blue eyes piercing right through me.
    He remembered everything. I’d be fired, humiliated, and probably end up on some reality TV show called ‘I Slept With My Boss.’
    “You didn’t check in yesterday when I was absent.”
    Wait, what? Of all the things he could’ve brought up, he chose this?
    “As my PA, I expect you to maintain contact, especially during unexpected absences.” His tone carried that signature Alexander Knight authority, making board members squirm and competitors sweat.
    My mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. How exactly was I supposed to respond? ‘Sorry I didn’t check in; I was too busy having an existential crisis after our intense encounter where you called me another woman’s name’?
    “I apologize, Mr. Knight. I thought…” I thought you were sleeping off whatever happened between us. I thought you needed space. I thought a lot of things, none of which I could say out loud.
    “You thought?” Alexander’s piercing gaze made my brain cells commit mass suicide.
    “I thought… well…” My mouth went drier than the Sahara. What could I say?
    A phone’s shrill ring cut through the tension. The ringtone echoed through his office like a chorus of angels. Thank you, merciful universe!

    👉 CONTINUE READING

  • His Defiant Mate: The Lycan King’s Chosen Luna by MAINUMBY

    His Defiant Mate: The Lycan King's Chosen Luna by MAINUMBY
    👉 READ NOW

    I was waiting at the Registry Hall to formalize my mate bond with Gabe, my childhood sweetheart and the Alpha of our pack.

    He was thirty-two minutes late.

    When I finally found him in a private VIP lounge, his hands were buried in my cousin’s hair, their lips locked together.

    Hailee was supposed to be my maid of honor.

    Instead of apologizing, Gabe looked me dead in the eye and used his Alpha authority to publicly reject me.

    The severing of our ten-year bond tore my soul apart, but the nightmare didn’t stop there.

    My grandfather immediately called, demanding I clean up a mess Hailee had made.

    When I refused, he disowned me on the spot, froze every single one of my bank accounts, and stripped me of my family name.

    Within hours, my entire pack erased my existence, gleefully announcing Hailee as their new Luna.

    I had given my entire life to a family and a man who discarded me like worthless trash the second I became inconvenient.

    I was left broken, humiliated, and utterly penniless in the blink of an eye.

    But as I stumbled out of that sterile hall, a terrifyingly beautiful stranger stepped out of the shadows, radiating a primal power that made my knees weak.

    He was Caden Sinclair, the ruthless Lycan King, and he was dodging a forced political union of his own.

    “You need a shield. I need a wife. Marry me.”

    Without hesitation, I signed the Eternal Vow.

    👉 READ NOW

    His Defiant Mate: The Lycan King’s Chosen Luna Chapter 1

    Audriana POV:
    “I’m sorry, Ms. Sullivan, but Mr. Black’s appointment was for half an hour ago.”
    The clerk’s voice was polite, but his eyes held a pity I refused to acknowledge. I glanced at the sleek watch on my wrist. Thirty-two minutes. He was thirty-two minutes late.
    “He’s on his way,” I said, my voice smoother than I felt. My stomach was a tight knot of cold dread.
    I stepped away from the polished walnut desk, the scent of lemon cleaner and old paper filling my nose. The North American Inter-Pack Alliance Registry Hall was designed to be imposing, with its marble columns and vaulted ceilings, meant to impress upon werewolves the gravity of the contracts signed here. Today, it just felt cold.
    The air conditioning ghosted across my bare arms, raising goosebumps. I unconsciously twisted the delicate silver chain bracelet on my wrist, a nervous habit I’d had since I was a child. The tiny links were cool against my skin.
    My phone buzzed in my clutch. A message from my assistant, Maya.
    ‘Apex Ventures deal is ready for your final review. They’re getting antsy.’
    I typed a quick reply, my fingers flying across the screen.
    ‘Tell them to hold their breath. I’m handling something personal.’
    Personal. That’s what this was supposed to be. The final step. Gabe and I, registering our intent to bond, a formality before the ceremony that would tie our packs, our families, our futures together.
    I closed my eyes for a second, focusing, trying to pull his scent from the air. It was a game we used to play as kids. I could always find him. That familiar, comforting scent of pine and damp earth.
    But all I could smell now was a cacophony of strangers-stale coffee, cloying perfume, the metallic tang of anxiety from a dozen other wolves waiting in this sterile hall. A wave of nausea rolled through me. Something was wrong.
    My phone buzzed again. Not a work message this time. An unknown number.
    The message was short, brutal.
    ‘VIP Lounge 3. He’s waiting for you.’
    My breath hitched. VIP Lounge 3. I knew the layout of this building. It was at the end of the private corridor, reserved for Alphas of significant standing. Gabe’s father had used it last year to finalize a trade agreement.
    My fingers tightened around my phone. It was a trap. A cruel joke. It had to be.
    But the knot in my stomach pulled tighter, a cold, hard certainty.
    I pushed open the heavy glass door that separated the main hall from the private corridors. The sound of the bustling hall was instantly muffled by the thick, plush carpet. My heels sank into the crimson pile with each step, silencing my approach.
    As I moved down the hallway, a new scent cut through the sterile air.
    Cherry blossom. Sickly sweet and artificial.
    Hailee’s scent.
    My steps slowed. My heart, which had been hammering against my ribs, gave a painful lurch and then seemed to stop altogether. It couldn’t be. She was my cousin. She was supposed to be my maid of honor.
    I reached the door. Room 3. It was heavy, dark redwood, and slightly ajar. Just a crack.
    Through the gap, in the dim, intimate lighting of the lounge, I saw them. Two figures, tangled together on a leather sofa.
    Gabe.
    His hand was buried in her blonde hair, the same way he used to touch mine. Hailee’s head was thrown back, her laughter a low, throaty sound that made my blood run cold.
    The world narrowed to that sliver of a view. The sound of my own blood roaring in my ears drowned out everything else.
    I didn’t think. I acted.
    My hand shot out and slammed the door open. It crashed against the interior wall with a sound like a gunshot.
    They sprang apart, their faces a blur of shock and panic. Gabe scrambled to his feet, his shirt rumpled, his face flushed.
    “Audriana! What the hell are you doing?”
    Hailee, true to form, immediately dissolved into a picture of terrified innocence. She shrank behind Gabe, her eyes wide and already filling with tears. “Audri, it’s not what it looks like.”
    A laugh escaped my lips, but it was a harsh, ugly sound. “Not what it looks like? You’re half an hour late to our registration, and I find you with your tongue down my cousin’s throat. Please, Gabe. Enlighten me.”
    “You were following me?” he roared, his voice bouncing off the wood-paneled walls. He took a step forward, trying to use his Alpha presence to intimidate me, to make me shrink. It was a tactic that had stopped working years ago.
    “Don’t be stupid,” I snapped, my voice like ice. “I can smell her on you. You reek of cheap perfume and betrayal.”
    Hailee let out a sob. “We couldn’t help it! The bond… it’s just so strong between us. We never meant to hurt you.”
    The bond. She dared to speak of the bond.
    I ignored her, my eyes locked on Gabe. On the man I had loved since we were children. The man my wolf had recognized. The man who was supposed to be my future.
    “Give me an answer, Gabe,” I said, my voice dangerously quiet. “A real one. Now.”
    He looked from my face to Hailee’s tear-streaked one. She gave a little whimper and tugged on his arm, the perfect damsel in distress. And in that moment, I saw his decision. His jaw tightened. His eyes, which I once thought held the whole world, turned to stone.
    “I, Gabe Black, Alpha of the Blackwater Pack,” he began, his voice formal and loud, ringing with the ancient power of the rite.
    The air in the room crackled. The words were a physical force, slamming into me.
    “Reject you, Audriana Sullivan, as my mate.”
    Pain. It wasn’t emotional. It was physical. A spear of white-hot agony that started in my chest and ripped through every nerve in my body. It felt like my soul was being torn in two. My breath was stolen from my lungs. My knees threatened to buckle.
    I bit down on my lower lip, hard. The coppery taste of blood filled my mouth. I would not scream. I would not cry. I would not give them the satisfaction.
    My fingernails dug into the soft leather of my clutch, the leather groaning under the pressure.
    For a flicker of a second, I saw something in Gabe’s eyes. A flash of regret. Of pain. But it was quickly smothered by the cold, hard wall of his decision. Hailee’s hand was on his arm, a triumphant possessiveness in her touch.
    I forced myself to stand taller, to straighten my spine, even as the world tilted around me. I met his gaze, and I let him see the abyss that had just opened between us.
    I cleared my throat, my voice a raw, broken thing. But it was steady.
    “I, Audriana Sullivan,” I rasped, each word costing me a piece of my shattered soul, “accept your rejection.”
    The bond snapped.
    It was a sound no one else could hear, but for me, it was a cataclysm. A final, brutal severing. The pain intensified for a blinding moment, then settled into a deep, hollow ache that I knew would never truly leave.
    Behind Gabe, Hailee’s lips curved into a small, victorious smile.
    I looked at them, and in that moment, the labels fell away-fiancé, cousin, family-until all that remained were two strangers, standing on the ruins of my life. Two pieces of trash I had found on the side of the road.
    Worthless.
    Without another word, I turned my back on the wreckage of my life. I walked out of the room, my steps even and measured, down the long, silent corridor, and away from the man who had just ripped my heart out of my chest.

    His Defiant Mate: The Lycan King’s Chosen Luna Chapter 2

    Audriana POV:
    Each step down the corridor was a battle. The plush carpet that had silenced my approach now felt like quicksand, trying to drag me down. The soul-tearing pain of the rejection was a physical weight, settling in my bones, making my legs tremble. I stumbled, my shoulder hitting the cool, unforgiving wall. I pressed my palm against the patterned wallpaper, steadying myself, forcing air into lungs that felt like they were lined with broken glass.
    My phone vibrated in my hand, a vicious little buzz against my palm. I didn’t need to look. I knew who it was. I flipped it over. Hailee. A picture of her and Gabe, his arm wrapped around her, her head nestled on his shoulder. They were smiling. The photo was taken in the lounge, just moments after I’d left.
    A cold, sharp laugh, devoid of any humor, escaped my throat. I didn’t delete it. I blocked the number. The action was swift, clinical. A tiny, insignificant act of control in a world that had just spun violently out of it.
    I pushed off the wall and continued my march, my focus narrowed to the exit sign glowing at the far end of the hall. Just get out. Disappear.
    That’s when I felt it. A gaze. Heavy. Intense.
    In the shadows of a recessed archway, leaning against a massive Roman column, a man stood watching me. He was tall, impossibly so, dressed in a dark, impeccably tailored suit that seemed to absorb the dim light around him. I couldn’t see his face clearly, but the sheer force of his presence was a physical thing, a change in the atmospheric pressure of the hallway. His knuckles rapped a silent, impatient rhythm against the cold marble.The name ‘Caden Sinclair’ echoed in my mind—a name whispered with a mixture of fear and reverence in the upper echelons of the business world. I had seen his picture in financial journals before, always in passing, but never in person. The Sinclair family owned half the continent; whatever position he held, his power was undeniable.
    Before I could process his scrutiny, a new disturbance shattered the quiet.
    “Caden! Don’t you dare walk away from me!”
    A woman with fiery red hair and a dress the color of spilled wine came storming down the intersecting corridor. Her heels clicked angrily on the marble floor. She was beautiful, furious, and heading straight for the man in the shadows.
    “Juliana,” he said. His voice was low, a deep baritone that rumbled with arctic cold. It was not a greeting. It was a dismissal.
    “Don’t ‘Juliana’ me!” she shrieked, her voice echoing. “Our families have an agreement! You can’t just ignore me. You can’t just decide you’re not interested!”
    The man, Caden, finally moved out of the shadows. He stepped into a pool of light from an overhead sconce, and my breath caught. He wasn’t just handsome; he was terrifyingly beautiful. Sharp, aristocratic features, dark hair swept back from a high forehead, and eyes so dark they seemed to swallow the light. They were eyes that held the cold stillness of a frozen lake.
    He barely glanced at her. His brow furrowed in a minute expression of extreme displeasure.
    “The agreement,” he stated, his voice devoid of any emotion, “is cancelled. All business between Sinclair and Beaumont is terminated. Effective immediately.”
    Juliana gasped, her face paling. “You can’t do that.” She reached for his arm, her manicured nails flashing.
    He moved with liquid grace, a subtle shift that put him just out of her reach. A man who had been standing silently behind him, an assistant of some kind, stepped forward, placing himself between Caden and the hysterical woman.
    “Ms. Beaumont,” the assistant said calmly. “Perhaps we can discuss this at a later time.”
    Juliana dissolved into ragged sobs, her fury collapsing into a messy, public spectacle. Staff members down the hall were starting to stare.
    Caden didn’t even look back. He turned, and his gaze, deep and penetrating, landed directly on me. He had been aware of me the entire time. The observer had become the observed.
    I just wanted to get past. To escape this hallway of public humiliations. I kept my eyes fixed on the exit, trying to make myself small, to slide by the edges of his powerful orbit.
    But as I drew level with him, it happened.
    A scent hit me like a physical blow. Not perfume or cologne. It was something elemental. Snow-covered pines and the clean, sharp scent of ice just before a storm. It was cold, powerful, and utterly intoxicating.
    His eyes, which had been cold and distant, flared. His pupils dilated, turning his dark irises into black pools. I saw his jaw clench, a muscle twitching violently. A low growl rumbled in his chest, a sound so deep I felt it in my own bones.
    Mine.
    The word wasn’t spoken. It was a primal roar that crashed through my mind, a violation of my innermost thoughts.
    My own body betrayed me. A jolt, like a live wire, shot up my spine. My legs went weak, a strange warmth pooling low in my belly, a stark contrast to the icy ache of Gabe’s rejection. It was the recognition. The fated mate bond, a thing of myth and legend for most, a cruel joke for me, happening now, in the worst possible moment of my life.
    He moved before I could react. One long stride and he was in front of me, a wall of muscle and power, blocking my escape. The air crackled between us, thick with a tension that was both terrifying and thrilling.
    I took a half-step back, my guard slamming up. I tilted my head to look up at him, my neck aching from the angle. “Excuse me,” I said, my voice tight.
    His gaze swept over me, taking in my pale face, my trembling hands, the faint scent of my own tears that I was trying so hard to hold back. He saw everything. He saw my weakness.
    He didn’t waste time with pleasantries. He didn’t ask my name.
    “You need a shield. I need a wife,” he stated, his voice a low, magnetic rumble that vibrated through me. “Marry me.”
    I stared at him, dumbfounded. The world tilted on its axis for the second time in less than an hour. The pain from Gabe’s rejection was still a raw, open wound, and this stranger, this impossibly powerful Alpha, was proposing? I must have been hallucinating. The pain was making me crazy.
    “You’re insane,” I breathed.
    He took a step closer, invading my personal space, his sheer size overwhelming. His scent was a dizzying cloud around me.
    “Am I?” he murmured, his voice dropping even lower, meant only for me. “You were just publicly rejected. Your pack will see you as damaged goods. Your family will either hide you in shame or sell you off to the highest bidder to salvage some value.”
    Each word was a cold, hard slap of truth.
    He gestured with his chin towards the sobbing Juliana, still being placated by his assistant. “I am being pressured into a union I have no interest in.” His eyes flicked back to the direction of the VIP lounge I had just fled. “We both have a problem. A marriage of convenience provides a solution for us both.”
    My mind, usually sharp and analytical, was a chaotic mess. But through the fog of pain and shock, his words cut through. A shield. A. He was right. My grandfather would be furious. My family would see me as a failed investment. They would try to marry me off to some old, decrepit Alpha to forge a new alliance, to squeeze some last drop of use out of me.
    This man… he was dangerous. The raw power rolling off him in waves was unlike anything I had ever felt. It was an inferno to Gabe’s flickering candle. That power could be a cage, or it could be a fortress.
    But it was a choice. My choice.
    And right now, it was the only weapon I had.
    I took a deep breath, the scent of him filling my lungs, steadying me. I met his dark, intense gaze.
    “Okay,” I said, my voice clear and firm. “I will.”
    A flicker of something-surprise? satisfaction?-crossed his features, so fast I almost missed it. Then his face was a mask of cool indifference again.
    He simply nodded. “Follow me.”
    And he turned, expecting me to obey. I watched him for a second, then fell into step behind him, walking towards the registration desk, towards a future that was even more terrifying and unknown than the one I had just lost.

    His Defiant Mate: The Lycan King’s Chosen Luna Chapter 3

    Audriana POV:
    We walked side-by-side, a strange and silent pair cutting a path through the registry hall. The few wolves still lingering stared, their eyes drawn to the raw power Caden radiated. He ignored them as if they were furniture. I tried to do the same, focusing on the rhythmic click of my heels against the marble, a sound that grounded me in the surreal haze.
    We stopped at the central registration desk, the same one I had stood at less than an hour ago, my heart full of hope. The old clerk, a wizened Beta named Elmsworth, looked up over his spectacles. His eyes widened slightly as he took in Caden, then flickered to me, a flicker of recognition and confusion in their depths.
    “We need to register a binding,” Caden said. His tone left no room for questions.
    Elmsworth pushed his glasses up his nose. “Of course, sir. The preliminary paperwork, if you please…”
    Caden didn’t bother with paperwork. He reached into the inner pocket of his suit jacket and produced a slim, black card made of some unidentifiable metal. He slid it across the polished walnut. It made no sound.
    Elmsworth took the card, his hand trembling slightly. He swiped it through a scanner attached to his terminal. The screen beeped, and the clerk’s face went from professionally placid to pale with what looked like pure, unadulterated fear. He shot a terrified glance at Caden, his mouth opening and closing like a fish.
    He stood impassive, but he subtly shifted his body, his broad shoulder blocking my view of the monitor, obscuring whatever damning information was displayed there.
    He turned his head slightly, his voice a low murmur meant only for me. “My family has certain privileges within the Alliance. It expedites the bureaucracy.”
    It was a gross understatement, and we both knew it. This wasn’t privilege; this was power on a scale I couldn’t comprehend. But I just nodded, filing the information away.
    Elmsworth, now sweating visibly, fumbled beneath the counter and produced two scrolls of what looked like actual sheepskin parchment, tied with a silver cord. He unrolled them with reverent hands. These weren’t the standard digital forms. This was the old magic. The kind that couldn’t be broken.
    “The Eternal Vow,” he whispered, his voice trembling.
    Caden took the offered quill without hesitation. I accepted the other, its feather cool against my fingers. I stared at the intricate, glowing runes that lined the edges of the contract. This was real. This was happening. For a heartbeat, my hand faltered. The memory of Gabe’s rejection, the searing pain, was still a fresh wound. Was I really about to chain myself to another Alpha, a stranger, so quickly?
    Caden’s senses were as sharp as his features. He felt my hesitation.
    “Second thoughts?” he asked, his voice low and smooth, but with an undercurrent of steel that suggested backing out was not an option.
    I lifted my head, my eyes meeting his. I thought of Hailee’s triumphant smile. I thought of my grandfather, already calculating how to sell me off. I thought of a life spent as a pariah, a rejected mate.
    My resolve hardened. This was not a chain. This was a sword.
    I dipped the quill into the inkpot and signed my name-Audriana Sullivan-at the bottom of the parchment. The ink flared with a soft, golden light as it touched the runes. My handwriting was sharp, angry.
    Caden followed suit, his signature a bold, authoritative slash of black.
    “Your hands,” Elmsworth instructed, his voice barely a whisper.
    We placed our palms simultaneously over the large, embossed Alliance seal in the center of the contract.
    A soft, silver light pulsed from the seal, warm and alive. It flowed up our arms, a tingling sensation that was both unnerving and strangely pleasant. The light coalesced at our wrists before sinking into our skin, leaving a faint, shimmering mark that looked like two intertwined wolves, barely visible unless you knew to look for it. A mate mark. A binding mark.
    The skin on my wrist burned, a constant, physical reminder of the vow I had just made.
    Caden’s hand moved, his long, warm fingers closing around my wrist. His thumb brushed over the new mark, a gesture of casual ownership that sent a jolt of pure electricity through my system. It was the spark of recognition, magnified a thousand times by physical contact.
    I snatched my hand back as if I’d been burned, my breath catching in my throat. My heart hammered against my ribs, a wild bird trapped in a cage.
    His eyes darkened, a flash of possessive heat in their depths, but it was gone as quickly as it came. He turned back to the clerk, his face once again an impassive mask.
    Elmsworth, looking relieved to have survived the ordeal, quickly stamped the documents and handed Caden two small, leather-bound booklets. Our official certificates of binding.
    “It is done,” the clerk breathed.
    Caden passed the booklets to his silent assistant, who had materialized at his side, without a second glance.
    We turned to leave. As we reached the massive doors of the hall, Caden stopped.
    “This arrangement,” he said, turning to face me. “It remains between us for now.”
    I raised an eyebrow, waiting for the explanation.
    “My family… is complicated,” he said, the corner of his mouth twitching in what might have been a grimace. “The transition of certain responsibilities is at a delicate stage. I do not wish for you to be drawn into it prematurely.”
    It was a plausible lie, and one that suited me perfectly.
    “Good,” I said, my relief palpable. “I’m in the middle of a major acquisition at work. The last thing I need is my personal life becoming a distraction.” I pushed it a step further. “And with my current workload, moving in together would be… inconvenient.”
    His eyes narrowed, studying me, assessing my attempt to draw a boundary. I expected an argument, a command. As my Alpha, my husband, he had the right to demand it.
    But he surprised me. He gave a slow, deliberate nod. “Inconvenient,” he repeated, tasting the word. “Very well. We will maintain separate residences. For now.”
    The unspoken words hung in the air between us. I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. My shoulders, which had been tensed up to my ears, relaxed a fraction.
    He pushed open one of the heavy glass doors, holding it for me. The cool evening air rushed in, a welcome relief from the charged atmosphere of the hall. He gestured for me to go first, a simple act of courtesy that felt strangely protective.
    I stepped out into the twilight, leaving the registry hall behind, bound to a man whose name I had only just learned, a man who was now my husband.

    👉 CONTINUE READING

  • Moon-Born Outcast: The Alpha’s Broken Mate by Ghostly Mode

    Moon-Born Outcast: The Alpha's Broken Mate by Ghostly Mode
    👉 READ NOW

    Fear follows Alpha Samson wherever he goes. As the ruthless leader of the Blackthorn pack, he and his beast, Savage, bow to no one. But when a haunting scent leads him to a neighboring pack’s dungeon, he finds his fated mate-bloody, broken, and chained to the wall.

    Alora is a half-wolf, half-witch hybrid falsely accused and left to die. But her abusers made one fatal mistake: they touched the mate of a monster.

    Rescued by the fierce Alpha, Alora begins a journey of healing that uncovers a lifetime of lies. She isn’t just a survivor; she’s a weapon. Together, Samson and Alora will unleash hell on those who wronged her, unearthing dark family secrets and claiming the crown that was stolen from her birth.

    👉 READ NOW

    Moon-Born Outcast: The Alpha’s Broken Mate Chapter 1

    ALORA

    (16 years old)

    I struggle against the guards, and they force me further into the cells.

    The smell alone makes my stomach churn. Between the dead bodies and blood, it is hard to work out, which is worse.

    As we approached the end cell gate, there stood my father and his chosen mistress of the month. My father’s stare was blank, but that was how he had ever since that night. I hated him after what he did to my mother. The way he treated her and me and everything was all because she couldn’t give him a son.

    The guards guided me to the gate and launched me into the cell, like I was nothing. I landed with a hard thud on the ground and rolled until I hit the wall. I groan as my back it the wall hard.

    The worst part is that it reopened some old wounds that my father’s mistress gave me a few hours ago.

    Blood sank through the old top I had on.

    There was a thud, which only made my father growl as I heard footsteps coming toward the cell. “What the hell, alpha?” he boomed as he got nearer. He stopped and looked inside as I looked up. His eyes narrowed in on me but softened when he saw me.

    “She’s just a child,” he shouted, only for my father to grip him by the neck. “Enough, gamma,” he gritted out. “She stole from Madaline. She needs to pay.”

    My eyes shot to his mistress, who had a sinister smirk. She knew how to wrap my father around her finger. She was his favourite, but that soon could change.

    My father was a ruthless alpha and worse father. I was born into a werewolf pack, only to have half of wolf abilities, but no wolf. But I was also part of something else. This part was meant to be told to me by my mother, but that never came as my father and the woman, who stood before me, had killed her when I was ten.

    I saw everything and was forced to live in the basement of the pack house. I was never tyo leave unless I had someone with me at all times. So, me stealing something from my father’s whore was outstretched at best. He locked me away like I was nothing.

    Over the years since I was born, my mother and I were placed into a section of the house away from the pack members. With only the Gamma family to rely on, as that was their job, it was just us. We had a small apartment that had very little to do, but we managed.

    Moving up slightly and leaning on the wall to ease the pain in my back, I stare at the pair.

    Gamma Ryan has been loyal to my mother and me since birth, and I know I can rely on him. He was the only one who bought me new clothes and books to read. I had nothing to my name, and I mean nothing.

    My father’s face turned and glared at me. “You will stay in here till I see fit,” he growled.

    “But alpha, she couldn’t have done anything,” Gamma Ryan pleaded. “She was locked up in the basement. I heard from one of the guards that they had to kick down the door to get her.”

    My father turned his attention to Gamma Ryan and launched at him, pinning him to the wall behind him. My eyes widened as he growled. “Enough,” he gritted out. “She may not have stolen anything but deserves to live in this place.”

    I felt my heart sink. How could my father be so cruel?

    Madaline looked over at me, giving me an evil look. “I think we should tell them, babe,” she whispered, making my father look at her in awe.

    I felt sick.

    My father let go of Gamma Ryan and turned around to face me. His eyes switched from his wolf to his again, as always. “Madaline is pregnant,” he said, keeping his eyes on me.

    My stomach tightened. Pregnant? No, that means…

    Madaline’s smile grew as she knew it sunk in what that meant. “It means I will have an heir for the alpha,” she said cheerfully. “Unlike your mother, I will give him a son. Not a pathetic daughter, wolfless too.”

    Madaline giggled, placing her hand on her stomach. “This will be the son of the alpha,” she said.

    I snigger.

    “Do you think your child would be accepted as an heir?” I blurt out. “What if you have another girl? We both know how he treats them when he has them.”

    Madaline’s face goes white as she looks at my father. But he ignores her as he glares back at me. “You ungrateful bitch,” he grits out. “I gave you a home. I never hurt a child.”

    “No, you let your guards do it,” I muttered.

    My father takes a few steps inside the cell. My eyes stay focused on him, but out of the corner of my eye, I see Gamma Ryan pleading with me to stop.

    My father crouches and places his finger under my chin to make me see him. “You ever talk back to me again,” he grits out. “Now, this will be your own little room. You will never leave here ever. I have control over you, and no one, and I mean no one, will save you. You have no one.”

    I felt my heart sink deep in my chest as a lone tear escaped.

    My father moves up and walks back until he exits the cell. He turns around, pins Gamma Ryan against the wall, and releases his alpha aura. I watched as my father used a command that even broke my heart.

    “You will never serve her,” my father commanded. “You will do your gamma duties, and that is it. You will never see or speak to her again. Is that understood?”

    Gamma Ryan tries to fight the command, but he can’t and agrees.

    My father let go of him and stared. “Now, go and train the pack members,” he said.

    I watched as Gamma Ryan left without looking back at me.

    My eyes moved to the two people who were left.

    Madaline grinned as my father wrapped his arm around her waist. “We will have a son,” he said, leaning into her neck and looking at me. “Beck will be the one who will give you some food. As for punishments, they will be dealt with by me and whoever I have with me. You are never leaving this place, daughter.”

    I watched as my father and Madeline left.

    My heart breaks. I was alone once again.

    No one will save. How could they? No one knew I existed. My father made sure of that.

    When my mother had me, he announced that I had died at birth and that Luna was recovering. It never stopped him from trying to conceive another child with her, but when my mother could only have girls. When she did have a boy, he died after twenty weeks. My father called her everything.

    Whenever he came to see her, I had to hide.

    Another tear escaped as I looked around the small cage to be my home from now on.

    I would be living in hell, even though I was already there.

    The only hope I had left was my mate finding me, and now even that was a stretch. Who would want someone like me?

    Moon-Born Outcast: The Alpha’s Broken Mate Chapter 2

    ALORA

    (5 years later)

    My eyes stay on the ceiling as the breeze from the gap in the window whistles, rippling over me, making me cold.

    Moving the thin fabric over me, even though it doesn’t keep me warm. I shudder slightly when it hits my arm’s recent new whip mark, making it sting. I grip the sheet tighter as I move my legs up and wrap my arms around my legs to try and keep warm.

    Five long years have passed since I was placed in this damn cell, and five years I have been tortured more than my fair share. I don’t think any rogues have been through the same fate as me. To be honest, I think they have better treatment than I do. They would kill them as soon as they put them in a cell, or they would make them suffer.

    The screams some made, made my ears bleed. Many gave in after the first few attempts and died. Whoever came in here, they never leave. I always wondered about my fate, but it has been five years. Something told me that I wouldn’t know until it was too late.

    Madaline, my father’s chosen mate now instead of his mistress, gave birth to a son. I haven’t met him, and I don’t want to. It would probably be evil if the baby were like my father or her.

    I heard a noise outside the window, but it was hard to tell what was happening. It has been very noisy here lately. Guards who watch over me, Beck mainly, but they don’t talk to me. They stay quiet and even participate in the torture that Madaline puts on me.

    No one cares for me; they don’t know who I am. My father made sure of it. He told the guards that I was a stupid human who wandered onto the pack grounds, and he didn’t know what to do with me. It should shatter me with the way he speaks about me, but why should I now? He didn’t want me in the first place.

    Beck was left to guard me for the last five years. He never speaks to me, but I have grown on him over the last five years. Whenever Madaline tortures me, she makes him step outside, but afterward, he comes in and cleans my wounds the best he can. Beck was the one who gave me this fabric sheet to cover myself with when it gets cold here.

    Another bang came from outside, making me flinch as my eyes stayed on the window.

    What the hell was that? I tried to listen to what was happening, but hearing anything with the wind was hard.

    I may have no wolf, but I do have some characteristics of one, such as heightened senses and hearing. I don’t know if I have anything else, but they are the only two I know I have.

    Another noise comes from outside the window, and a meow comes through as a little black fur head sticks through the window’s opening, and its eyes look at me.

    Moving slightly, I smiled as the little four-legged fur creature came toward me and climbed into the little opening between my legs and stomach.

    This little black ball of fur has kept me company for the last few months. Who would have thought a cat would wander into a wolf pack and survive? I sure as hell didn’t think so, not when my father was in charge. He would have had it for supper.

    The cat snuggled into me, letting her heat sink into me as she tried to warm me up.

    “Thank you,” I whispered, placing my hand on her head and giving her a gentle smooth. “You shouldn’t be in here, you know that.”

    I sigh as the cat moves and sticks its head under my chin, rubbing along my jaw as it starts to purr. I smooth over its smooth fur till it settles down to sleep. My eyes go to the cat, who looks back at me with its bright green eyes. “What do I call you?” I whispered as I stroked its head.

    The cat let out a little meow, which only made me sigh.

    “I can’t keep calling you cat or pussy,” I muttered. “It’s silly. How about I say a name, and you nudge my hand when you like a name.”

    The cat bored its eyes at me. Damn, I felt stupid talking to it.

    “Let’s see…” I said and started to roll off names. “Angel, Lucky, Poppy, Aero…” The cat doesn’t move as I groan. “What about…” I said, but stopped when a film I watched as a kid with my mum flooded my mind—The Lion King. I remember when Gamma Ryan brought it one day. I must have watched it so many times over the years, but it was the best thing I had from anyone.

    “What about Simba, Nala—” I said, but the cat nudges its head as I say Nala.

    I smile.

    “Nala,” I murmured. “Perfect for a gorgeous cat like yourself.”

    Nala purred as it settled back against me.

    The door to the cells opens, which doesn’t make her move as we hear the footsteps come closer. I place the thin fabric over her little head as I look to the gate when Beck comes into view. He stares at me but looks toward the way he came from. He moves closer and kneels. I watch as he moves something from his pocket and puts his arm through the barrier till he places an apple on the ground.

    I stare at it momentarily, thinking I was dreaming as the last time I had food was two days ago. Beck only brings what he can, but it’s never enough.

    I look up at him, and he nods as he moves up from the ground and turns around. I watched as he got into the position of guarding me.

    Moving slightly and trying not to disturb Nala, I grabbed it and bit into it. The taste of apple was sweet, something I missed every day when I was with my mother. She used to make an apple pie every Sunday in our little kitchen, and it was when the Gamma family came to see us. They would bring what we needed that week and leave after an hour. It was unconventional to say, but they were the only family I had besides my mother.

    I ate the apple quietly, and once I finished it, I placed it in the next cell so it looked like it was from whoever it was in there last.

    Madaline doesn’t want me to feed. She stated that was my father’s rule, but Beck had broken it several times. The only thing I am allowed on a daily basis, which Beck does every morning and evening, is fresh water. It has to be used for drinking and even washing. I hate washing in it as it is freezing, and Beck has to watch me, which is unnerving.

    I bet servants get treated better than I do, and that says a lot about this pack. Many omegas are mistreated; I used to watch through the basement keyhole or the window. Omegas would be pushed around and beaten if they stepped out of line.

    Gamma Ryan never laid a finger on them, but it was mainly my father or his Beta.

    Beta Logan and my father have been friends since high school. He follows his every word, including mistreating me. I know what my father told him, and many pack members all believed him. Who wouldn’t? He was the Alpha. After all, he doesn’t tell lies about anything except when it comes to me.

    There was silence around the cell until I heard the door open again.

    Nala sticks her head up and looks over the sheet, but I push her back inside and flip it off, keeping her covered as I move it under the bed. I knew who was coming, and it was inevitable that she would be here, like clockwork.

    “Wake up!” she screeches as I stumble from the bed and lean against the wall. My eyes move to her as she steps into view.

    Madaline, ever since the first day I saw her, hasn’t changed one bit. Only the wrinkles by her eyes give away her age now, and she also looks like she has added pounds to her weight. Whereas I am so skinny, if anyone saw me now and picked me up, I would be nothing in weight.

    Madaline stares at me as a sinister smile appears on her lips. “Good, you awake,” she said as she stood by the gate. “I have some news for you. Later this evening, we are being visited by alphas from all packs close to us,” she said as I stood still and froze slightly as the cold air swiped into the cell. As much as I want to put the sheet over me, I know I can’t, or Madaline would take it away. She knows it’s there, but she hasn’t done anything about it. I didn’t want to add anything to the fuel of what she did to me.

    Madaline looked at me and smiled. “Tonight, your father is declaring that our son, Michael, will be the next in line to the alpha position,” she said, making my stomach churn. I know that role was meant to be mine, but after everything I have been through within this pack, I would rather die than be anything to them. “Do you know what that means?”

    I shook my head as Madaline’s smile grew. “Oh, let me tell you,” she said. “That means after tomorrow, when everyone has left to return to their packs, your father and I will get to kill you.”

    My heart sank.

    My eyes darted to Beck, who seemed to stand straighter than normal.

    “You will die,” she said, sounding happy. “But I must admit, I will miss these little chats and the punishments.”

    I said nothing.

    Punishments are what she called the torture she inflicted on me. I never knew why she came down here until one day last week when she screamed out in pain. I watched it happen as she gripped her chest, like my mother. My father was doing what he did to my mother to her; he was with another. I used to watch my mother suffer every damn day when he was with her, and now she was getting the same treatment. I don’t know whether it was karma, but when she witnessed her in pain, the torture she inflicted on me was unreal. I couldn’t get up for days with the marks I had all over my body. Some are scars today, which are hideous.

    “Saying that…” she said, pulling me from my thoughts and looking at her wide-eyed, but she laughed. “Na, I will wait till later. I have to get the pack ready before all the alpha’s come,” she said. “I am Luna, after all.”

    It took everything in me not to roll my eyes. The role was my mother’s, not hers. After Madaline gave my father the heir he wanted, he marked her and made her his Luna.

    Being away from all the gossip around the pack has left me wondering what he has told them about my mother, but it may have something to do with me.

    “I will see you tomorrow for your death,” she hissed as she turned and looked at Beck. “You can leave now. You don’t need to be down here at all.”

    Beck looked at me but moved away. There was nothing but a blank expression on his face as he walked away.

    My heart sinks again as they both leave. I can hear the excitement in Madaline’s voice as she tells Beck that she will be the one to kill me like she did her mother.

    What the hell was I going to do now?

    There was no denying it now, and I had to accept my fate. I would die tomorrow in the same hands as the ones who killed my mother.

    I closed my eyes as a lone tear escaped. I prayed over the years to the moon goddess, the same moon goddess that was supposed to watch over me, but ever since my mother died, I was made to live in isolation away from everyone. Why would I put all my trust in her now?

    I was done for.

    There was no one to save me now. I had to accept that I was going to die.

    Moon-Born Outcast: The Alpha’s Broken Mate Chapter 3

    ALPHA SAMSON

    The car goes over the bump, which makes me bang my head on the roof. I let out a low growl. “Careful,” I grunt as I glare at my driver through the rear view mirror. His eyes widen and looks back at the road ahead of him.

    “Calm down,” Jenson, my beta said. “He is trying to get us there sooner like you wanted. You’re the one who wanted to get there and leave early.”

    I huff as I look out the window and watch the forest pass us.

    As an alpha to the largest pack in the state, I had to attend alpha ceremonies for young alpha’s who would be taking the reins after their fathers handed them over to them. But this was all new to me. The alpha in question was staking a claim that he had a son and would be the one who would take over from him, whatever age.

    “I still think it’s strange that they are doing this,” Jenson mumbles, making me look at him. “The child is barely five. Why would he announce this now? The child won’t even have his wolf yet, let alone know how to fight anyone.”

    I said nothing as Savage, my wolf, grunted. He hated any form of celebration, even if it meant that he would find our mate one day, but that has been scarce over the years. I’m now twenty-eight and what you call our kind old, but we are not. If we were any other alpha, some elder would come to the pack and force the rule of picking a chosen mate, but they are scared of me; we are not your average wolf. We are bigger than all wolves, bigger than you can imagine.

    Our pack is the biggest and most feared due to Savage and me. No wolf will dare to go up against savage, whereas no human will go against me. I stand at six foot nine and weigh over three hundred and fifty pounds.

    Shaking my thoughts away, I looked at him. “Well, Alpha Karl hasn’t had much luck with his family,” I muttered. “He lost his mate and unborn child. He had to choose someone, and now they have one. They are not taking no chances.”

    “There is taking a chance,” Jenson muttered. “Then there is taking it all too far. Five years old tho, what did you do at five?”

    “Not the same,” I grunted as I pulled the sleeve of my jacket into place. I was wearing a suit for this damn ceremony, and I hated it. Nothing fits me due to my size. “My parents had me at a young age, and not the same for Alpha Karl.”

    Jenson stared at me, but his eyes softened. I knew why he did that—my parents. I felt my heart sink at the mere thought of them. My mother died in a rogue attack, and my father died shortly after from heart failure. Some pack members believe that he died of a broken heart. He didn’t take my mother’s death well and locked himself away. It was hard to watch. Sometimes I wish I never met my mate as I don’t want to have the same fate.

    “We won’t,” Savage grunted as he came closer. “Our mate will be special.”

    I look back at him with an arched eyebrow. “Special, huh?” I asked. “How would you know that?”

    Savage’s dark brown eyes bored back into mine but said nothing. Lately, he hasn’t been himself, but as soon as the invitation came, he was all for going, and I felt pressured into going by him, which is uncalled for. When has a wolf ever wanted to do a human thing? Never.

    When I received the invitation, I was shocked to learn that the young alpha was not even old enough to agree to the terms, but underneath Alpha Karl stated that he wanted to know that he had a son who would take over the pack when he was old enough. He wanted all the alpha’s to attend so they could be happy for the pack.

    Part of me could understand the scenario and why he was doing it, but there was another part of me that there was something more at play. Alpha Karl had been a constant thorn in my side, asking me to turn up and see his pack. He is one of many allies I have around here, and he was one of them. I was initially unsure what to make of the pack, as there seemed to be more power play than what they could offer me. I want fighters and people I can trust that will be there if I need them someday, even though it is the other way around. Many wanted us to be there for them when they needed us, but Alpah Karl never asked when rogues attacked his pack.

    Alpha Karl asked for advice about what he could do to make things better, and I suggested asking for some trainers to come to help from other packs. He asked me to send some, and I did, but the trainers came back with a different outlook. Most of his pack was scared of Alpha Karl, but there were loads of rumors floating around about him. Some were hard to register as true. I wanted to leave early and get there so I could see for myself.

    Jenson and I planned to stay longer, leaving my gamma Oliver to keep things running with the pack back home. All I had to do was pretend to help out , while I kept Alpha Karl busy; Jenson would go around and try to find out the truth before I made a decision about sticking with Alpha Karl. I didn’t need him. It was the other way around. I hated alphas who never respected their pack members. Pack members are what holds and makes a pack what it is. I might be ruthless as they come, but I respect every member of my pack, including all omegas. No one is left out.

    “Samson,” Jenson called out, making me look at him as he sighed. “The plan will be in motion when we get there. Do you think he will do anything?”

    I shook my head and leaned back in my seat. “Hardly,” I muttered. “I think he will be nice, possibly too nice for his good, or maybe have all the single she-wolves ready to pounce, I don’t know.”

    Jenson’s lips curled up into a grin at the mere mention of she-wolves, which only made me groan. “Keep your dick in your pants,” I grunted. “We are not here to get laid.”

    “Speaking of the one who would rather have blue balls than have a tight cunt wrapped around his cock,” he chuckled.

    Savage roars into laughter in my head as I keep my mouth shut for a moment while glaring at my best friend. “At least I won’t get a disease or something,” I muttered, which made him look at me with an arched eyebrow. “You went there, huh?” he muttered.

    I said nothing as I looked through the window again.

    There was no reason for the lack of women on my part; many threw themselves at me, and I liked it, but being as big as I am, it is hard to find someone who can tame a savage beast like my wolf, who seemed to want to be rough. Many women would endure it until they couldn’t take it anymore.

    “We need mate more,” Savage piped up in my head as he listened in on my thoughts, which I hated him doing. “Mate will take us. She will be a perfect fit for us, too.”

    I said nothing and shook my thoughts away; I watched as we approached Alpha Karl’s pack.

    “I am so not looking forward to this,” Jenson muttered, making me look at him. His eyes were on the opposite window. “I hate all the falseness of these alphas. They show no shame when they want your attention.”

    I couldn’t help but agree with him on that. Many alphas have done weird things, remembering one incident in particular where an alpha let their daughter come into my bedroom at night while I stayed, which didn’t help her as Savage was on one, especially being woken up from his sleep. He hates being disturbed. That was a mistake and half; the alpha tried to make me take his daughter as my Luna, which was not for me. If anyone were going to be my Luna, it would be my mate, not a hot-headed bimbo who thinks everything should be pink and sparkle. Others have tried to play games with me and lost. It’s a stupid alpha thing for me to see who is true to their word or who would swipe a rug from underneath me where I stand.

    I said nothing to him as I turned my attention to the gates that were being opened for us. This was it. There was no going back now. I came here to do what I had to do, and no one was going to stop me.

    👉 CONTINUE READING

  • From Wolfless Omega To The Rival Alpha’s Queen by Jun Shangye

    From Wolfless Omega To The Rival Alpha's Queen by Jun Shangye
    👉 READ NOW

    For three years, I poured my blood, sweat, and tears into building Blackwood Group for Alec, my Alpha and the man I thought was my mate.

    But on the day of our work anniversary, I stood outside his office door and heard him talking with his Beta, shattering my entire world.

    “Kay is just a wolfless Omega, useful for paperwork,” Alec sneered coldly.

    “The bonding ceremony is just a show for the elders. The real Luna, the one who carries the bloodline that matters, is Breanne. I’m transferring all of Kay’s core project files to Breanne tomorrow. Let her take the credit.”

    He even texted me later, telling me to wear a blue dress to the upcoming gala because it made me look “obedient.”

    I had turned down a Wharton scholarship for this man. I had spent countless nights fixing his mistakes, building his empire, and giving him my youth.

    Yet to him, I was nothing but a disposable placeholder, expected to smile and bow while another woman stole my life’s work and my place by his side.

    The agonizing pain in my chest didn’t break me; it forged me into ice.

    I didn’t cry, and I certainly didn’t beg.

    Instead, I wiped his servers clean of every strategy I had ever created, left a wax-sealed resignation on his desk, and accepted a job offer from his most ruthless rival.

    👉 READ NOW

    From Wolfless Omega To The Rival Alpha’s Queen Chapter 1

    Kay POV:
    I stood outside the frosted glass door of the Alpha’s office, my fingers locking around the cardboard tray until the paper cups groaned.
    As the official project lead for Blackwood Group’s expansion in Chicago, I was used to managing multi-million-dollar logistics. But today, my hands trembled. Inside the cups were two lattes—extra vanilla syrup for him, just the way he liked it. It was a small, devoted detail I had kept up for seven years, ever since I had sacrificed my full scholarship to Stanford to help Alec Collins build his empire.
    I was a wolfless Omega—a broken, shifting-less anomaly in a world ruled by bloodlines and teeth. Alec was the blood-born Alpha of the Blackwood Pack, the powerful CEO of the conglomerate, and, unofficially, the destined mate I was supposed to bind with next month.
    Now, standing in the quiet corridor, my sharp ears picked up the low, serious murmur of voices from behind the cracked door.
    I recognized them instantly: Alec, and his loyal Beta, Ethan Hayes, the second-in-command of our pack.
    “Are the preparations for the bonding ceremony finalized?” Ethan’s voice was low, laced with a tension I couldn’t place.
    A sharp, impatient sound—a scoff from Alec—cut him off.
    “It’s a formality, Ethan. A show for the elders to secure the final votes for the merger. You know that.”
    The cardboard tray in my hands suddenly felt flimsy. Hot coffee sloshed over the rim, scalding my skin, but I barely felt it.
    My breath hitched. A formality?
    “But Alec,” Ethan pressed, his voice dropping lower. “Kay has been by your side for seven years. She literally designed the entire market strategy that saved our expansion. She’s earned the title of Luna.”
    “Earned what?”
    Alec’s voice was laced with a chilling amusement that made my stomach clench. “The privilege of being my Luna? She’s a wolfless Omega, Ethan. She should be grateful I even look at her. Her devotion is expected. It’s the least a defective creature like her can do to prove her worth to this pack.”
    The words hit me like a physical blow, stealing the air from my lungs. Wolfless. The dirty little secret the pack pitied and scorned me for, now spoken by my destined mate as a measure of my uselessness.
    “Her work on the acquisition strategy was brilliant,” Ethan argued, a hint of desperation in his voice.
    “Her work was adequate,” Alec corrected him coldly. “It was a good way for her to contribute, to make up for… other deficiencies. And now that Breanne is back…”
    Breanne Weiss. The name was a whisper of silk and old money. A true-blooded, noble Omega who possessed the perfect bloodline and the inner wolf I lacked.
    “Breanne is who I want.” Alec’s voice was raw, stripped of all pretense. “She is the Luna this pack deserves. Her bloodline, her grace… she is my equal.”
    My equal. The words echoed in the sudden, roaring silence of my mind. If she was his equal, what was I?
    A placeholder. A tool. A seven-year-long convenience.
    “So, the plan is still to reject Kay after the merger is finalized?” Ethan asked.
    “I can’t risk the instability now.” Alec said, his voice hardening again, becoming the Alpha. “We’ll go through with the ceremony to appease the elders. Once everything is settled, I’ll handle the rejection. She’s weak, Ethan. She’ll cry, but she won’t fight it. Where would she even go without us?”
    A wave of nausea washed over me. The phantom mate bond on the back of my neck, the one-sided connection I had cherished, flared with a white-hot, agonizing pain.
    “And her project? The Phoenix Initiative?”
    “I’m giving it to Breanne.” Alec said, the casual cruelty of it knocking me back a step. “A welcome home present. Let her put her stamp on it.”
    My project. My baby. The one I had built from the ground up.
    A bitter, metallic taste filled my mouth. It was the taste of betrayal. Of my own foolishness. I had given up a full scholarship to an Ivy League school for him. I had believed his promises, his whispered words in the dark, his assurances that my lack of a wolf didn’t matter to him.
    Lies. All of it.
    “I’ll pick Breanne up from the airport this weekend.” Alec continued, his voice shifting, becoming lighter. “We’ll have dinner.”
    This weekend. Saturday. My mother’s birthday—the one he had promised we would celebrate together.
    It was over. The perfect, fragile illusion I had built my entire adult life around had just been shattered into a million pieces.
    I heard the scrape of a chair inside the office. Footsteps. Ethan was leaving.
    My body moved before my mind could catch up. There was no conscious thought, only a primal instinct for survival. I couldn’t let him see me. I couldn’t let them know I’d heard.
    I spun around, my movements swift and silent. The trash receptacle, a sleek stainless steel cylinder, was three feet away. In one fluid, decisive motion, I tipped the tray. The two vanilla lattes, the symbols of my pathetic, hopeful love, dropped into the bin with a soft, final thud.
    Not a single drop spilled on the pristine carpet.
    I didn’t look back. I didn’t wait to hear the office door open. I slipped into the adjacent doorway, pushing open the heavy metal door to the fire escape.
    It slammed shut behind me, the boom echoing in the concrete stairwell, plunging me into dim, dusty silence.
    The sound finally broke my paralysis.
    I slid down the wall until I was sitting on the gritty steps, my corporate suit jacket bunching around my waist.
    No tears came. Only a vast, cold emptiness.
    My phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out with a trembling hand. The screen lit up, showing my wallpaper: a smiling photo of Alec and me from last year’s pack gala. His arm was around me, his eyes crinkling at the corners. He looked so happy. He looked like he loved me.
    A cold, hard fury, something I hadn’t felt in years, began to burn through the shock. It started in my gut and spread through my veins, chasing away the ice.
    My fingers moved with a new, chilling precision. I went into my settings and changed the wallpaper to the phone’s default, a bland, abstract swirl of blue. The photo of us vanished.
    I opened my notes app. I created a new, encrypted file. I titled it: “Extraction Protocol.”
    Another buzz. An email notification flashed across the top of the screen. It was from HR.
    Subject: URGENT: Venue Confirmation for Collins-Silva Bonding Ceremony.
    The email asked for my digital signature to confirm the booking.
    A laugh escaped my lips. It was a harsh, ugly sound in the quiet stairwell.
    I tapped the notification. The email opened. At the bottom were two buttons: “Approve” and “Reject.”
    My thumb hovered over the screen for a single, heartbeat. Then, I pressed “Reject.” A confirmation box popped up. “Are you sure you want to reject this request?”
    I pressed “Yes”.
    And then, for good measure, I deleted the email.
    I closed my eyes. I didn’t pray to the Moon Goddess for strength or guidance. I made her a promise. I would not be the weak, crying Omega Alec expected. I would not accept this sham of a bond. I would not be his fool.
    After a few minutes, the shaking stopped. The cold fury settled into a block of ice in my chest. I stood up, brushing the dust from my skirt. I straightened my jacket, smoothing the wrinkles with methodical, detached movements.
    I pushed the fire escape door open and stepped back into the plush, silent hallway. The air was no longer filled with promise. It was just recycled, sterile air.
    I didn’t go back to my desk. I didn’t go to the restroom to fix my face.
    I walked directly to the elevator bank and pressed the down button.
    The elevator descended. As it passed the lower floors, I made a decision. I wasn’t just going to leave. I was going to erase myself from his life and his company so completely that it would be as if I had never existed.
    The doors opened onto the lobby. The cold Chicago wind hit me as I pushed through the revolving doors, a blast of reality that felt like a baptism. It didn’t make me shiver. It made me feel awake.
    I didn’t walk to my car. I walked to the curb, raised my hand, and hailed a cab.
    As I slid into the back seat, giving the driver my address, I knew exactly what I had to do first.

    I was going to draft my formal notice of mate rejection.

    From Wolfless Omega To The Rival Alpha’s Queen Chapter 2

    Kay POV:
    The taxi ride back to my apartment was a blur of steel-grey buildings and headlights, but my mind was operating with the cold, clicking precision of a high-end server.
    I had spent seven years building a fortress for a man who planned to tear me down; now, it was time to dismantle it brick by brick.
    Inside my apartment, the silence was absolute. I didn’t turn on the lights. I walked straight to my home office, my steps even and measured, illuminated only by the faint city lights of Chicago cutting through the blinds.
    I woke up my MacBook. The cool, blueish light reflected off my face, devoid of any expression.
    First things first.
    My fingers flew across the keyboard, navigating through firewalls and encrypted servers with a muscle memory honed over seven years. I accessed the Blackwood Group’s central database. My database. The one I had designed.
    I began the download. Every project file, every financial model, every marketing strategy, every piece of intellectual property I had ever created for them. The ones with my name on them, and more importantly, the ones without. It was a massive amount of data. The progress bar crawled. It would take hours.
    My phone, sitting face down on the desk, lit up. It buzzed once.
    From: Alec
    Don’t forget the charity gala tomorrow night. 7 pm. The Vanderbilts will be there. Be ready.
    No “hello.” No “how was your day.” Just a command. The casual entitlement of it, the sheer arrogance, sent a fresh wave of cold fury through me. He was ordering me around while planning my replacement.
    I stared at the message, the name “Alec” at the top seeming alien. A corner of my mouth lifted in a sneer. I didn’t reply. I just flipped the phone back over, silencing it.
    I opened a new Word document.
    The words came easily, stripped of all emotion. It was a legal document, not a breakup letter.
    NOTICE OF MATE REJECTION
    Pursuant to the sacred laws upheld by the Moon Goddess and recognized by all packs, I, Kay Silva, formally and irrevocably reject you, Alec Collins of the Blackwood Pack, as my fated mate.
    This rejection is final and absolute.
    Let this document serve as the complete and total severance of the bond between us.
    I typed my name at the bottom. As my finger hovered over the last key, a faint, sharp sting pricked the back of my neck, right over the spot where his mark should have been. It was the bond, a phantom limb, protesting its own amputation.
    I ignored it and hit “Print.”
    The whirring of the printer was the only sound in the apartment. It was the sound of a life being unmade. The paper slid out, warm to the touch. I didn’t reread it.
    To ensure it couldn’t be dismissed as a prank or a fit of pique, I found one of the Blackwood Group’s official letterhead envelopes I kept for work. It had the embossed wolf seal. I folded the notice, slid it inside, and sealed it with a firm press of my thumb. Official. Undeniable.
    I wouldn’t give it to him myself. That would lead to a confrontation, to him trying to use his Alpha presence to force me into submission. No. I would give it to Ethan. Let the Beta deliver the news.
    With the letter lying on my desk like a verdict, I turned my attention back to the future. I opened my LinkedIn profile. It was painfully out of date. I started drafting a new summary, my mind already shifting from the past to the practicalities of survival.
    As I navigated to my inbox to clear out old messages, I saw it. An unread email, sent three days ago. The subject line made my heart skip a beat.
    From: Hamilton Jarvis, CEO, Vertex Group
    Subject: Strategic Consultant Inquiry
    Vertex Group.
    The name alone was enough to make any Alpha in the Midwest break a sweat. They were Blackwood’s biggest rival on the East Coast, a shadowy, powerful conglomerate run by a man spoken of only in whispers. Hamilton Jarvis. A Lycan. A creature of legend, more powerful, more ancient than any Alpha.
    My hand trembled slightly as I clicked the email open.
    Ms. Silva,
    Your work has come to my attention. Specifically, your unsigned strategic analysis on the Sterling-Cross acquisition and the risk-mitigation model for the Tundra Logistics merger. They were… impressive.
    Vertex Group is expanding its operations. We require a strategist with your unique foresight. I am prepared to offer you the position of Chief Strategic Advisor.
    The compensation package will be triple your current salary at Blackwood. Relocation to our Manhattan headquarters will be fully covered.
    I believe your talents are being wasted. Let’s rectify that.
    H.J.
    A cold shock went through me. Hamilton Jarvis knew. He had bypassed Alec’s public credit-stealing and pierced the Blackwood corporate veil to find the true brain behind the empire. A profound sense of validation—something I had been starved of for seven years—bloomed in my chest.
    I didn’t reply immediately. This could be a trap, a corporate espionage play. I spent the next hour researching Vertex Group’s recent market activity, cross-referencing their known holdings with their latest SEC filings. It was all legitimate. They were poised for a massive move into the Midwest. They were coming for Blackwood.
    *
    The next evening, I stood in front of the mirrors at the hotel ballroom. I had chosen a simple, severe black sheath dress.
    It wasn’t designed to attract attention. It was armor.
    I walked into the glittering ballroom, took a glass of champagne from a passing waiter, and retreated to the shadows near the grand entrance.
    I spotted them instantly.
    Alec was in the center of the crowd, holding court like a king. And clinging to his arm was Breanne Weiss, wearing a blood-red gown that left nothing to the imagination. She laughed, a high, tinkling sound, and did a pathetic, theatrical wobble on her high heels, collapsing against his chest.
    Alec didn’t push her away. He smiled, his hand coming up to steady her, his fingers splayed possessively across the small of her back.
    I watched them, my hand holding the champagne flute perfectly steady. I felt nothing. No jealousy. No pain. Just a profound, pitying disgust for the woman I used to be, the one who would have been shattered by this sight.
    “They look perfect together, don’t they?”
    I turned.
    Chloe Sullivan, my childhood best friend, stood beside me. She had known every sacrifice I had made for Alec, yet her eyes held a malicious glint of triumph. She was already aligning herself with the winning side—the new, noble Luna.
    “A true Alpha and his noble Luna,” she said, her voice dripping with faux admiration. “It’s what the pack has always needed.”
    I looked at her, really looked at the cheap ambition in her eyes.
    “You’re right,” I said, my voice quiet, flat, and lethal. “They are a perfect match.”
    I paused, holding her gaze.
    “A bitch and a dog usually are.”
    Chloe’s face went white, her mouth opening and closing like a fish landed on concrete. Before she could recover from the sheer venom in my tone, I turned my back on her, leaving her sputtering.
    I navigated the edge of the ballroom and spotted Ethan Hayes near the restrooms, coordinating security on his phone. I waited.
    When he finished, I stepped into his path.
    He frowned when he saw me. “Kay. You should be with Alec. The Vanderbilts are asking for you.”
    “I have something for you,” I said, my voice devoid of warmth. I held out the thick, sealed envelope with the gold wolf seal.
    He looked at it, then at me, his brow furrowed in confusion. “What’s this?”
    “Give it to him,” I said. It wasn’t a request. It was an order. I pushed the envelope against his chest until his fingers automatically closed around it.
    Before he could ask another question, I turned and walked toward the exit. I didn’t look back.
    The cool night air of the city street was a relief. I took a deep breath, the scent of exhaust fumes and damp pavement filling my lungs. It was the smell of freedom.
    I pulled out my phone, my fingers no longer trembling. I opened the email from Hamilton Jarvis. My thumb hovered over the reply button.
    Then, with a decisive tap, I began to type.
    Mr. Jarvis,

    I accept your invitation for a meeting.

    From Wolfless Omega To The Rival Alpha’s Queen Chapter 3

    Kay POV:
    The Uber glided through the steel and glass canyons of Manhattan. I watched the city blur past, a stark contrast to the familiar, almost provincial feel of Chicago’s business district. Here, ambition was a physical presence, humming in the air.
    The car stopped in front of a skyscraper that seemed to scrape the clouds. A single, minimalist silver word was etched into the black marble facade: VERTEX.
    I took a deep breath, smoothed the front of my dark blue suit, and pushed through the revolving glass doors.
    The lobby was a cathedral of cold, gray minimalism. Polished concrete floors, a massive, raw-stone reception desk, and a ceiling so high it felt like open sky. There was no gold, no mahogany, none of the opulent, almost gaudy luxury that defined the Blackwood Group headquarters. This place wasn’t trying to look rich. It just was. It exuded a quiet, terrifying confidence.
    “Kay Silva for Hamilton Jarvis,” I said to the receptionist, a woman with a severe haircut and an earpiece.
    I gave her the appointment code from the email. Her eyes widened fractionally as she scanned it. Her professional demeanor instantly warmed with a deep, ingrained respect.
    “Of course, Ms. Silva. Right this way.”
    She didn’t point. She personally escorted me to a private elevator bank, a sleek, unmarked panel that slid open at her approach. Inside, there was no button for the top floor. She pressed her thumb to a biometric scanner.
    “Mr. Jarvis will meet you in his office,” she said, her voice a respectful murmur. “The elevator will take you directly there.”
    The doors slid shut, and the elevator ascended with a stomach-dropping speed. A faint sense of pressure built in my ears. I gripped the railing, my knuckles white, my heart hammering against my ribs. This was it. The point of no return. I forced myself to let go, to stand straight, to breathe.
    The elevator slowed to a smooth stop. The doors opened not onto a reception area, but a long, wide hallway. At the far end, a single set of massive, dark walnut doors stood closed.
    I walked the length of the hall, my footsteps silent on the dark wood floor. I reached the doors and hesitated for a half-second, my hand raised to knock.
    Before my knuckles could touch the wood, a soft green light glowed on a panel beside the frame. With a near-silent hiss, the heavy doors slid open, retracting into the walls.
    The office was vast. One entire wall was a floor-to-ceiling window offering a breathtaking, god-like view of Manhattan.
    A man stood with his back to me, his hands clasped behind him, looking out over the city he seemed to own.
    He was tall, broad-shouldered, and dressed in a bespoke dark suit that fit him like a second skin. He didn’t turn immediately. He let the silence stretch, a subtle assertion of power.
    I stepped inside. The doors slid shut behind me.
    At the sound of my footsteps, he turned.
    The air in the room crackled. It was like a sudden drop in barometric pressure. A wave of pure, undiluted power washed over me, a force so immense it was almost a physical weight. It was the presence of a Lycan. Primal. Ancient. Absolute.
    My Omega instincts screamed at me to lower my eyes, to bow my head, to show submission. My knees felt weak.
    I locked them. I lifted my chin and met his gaze.
    His eyes were a startling shade of gray-blue, the color of a stormy sea.
    A flicker of something-surprise? respect?-passed through those cold eyes.
    “Ms. Silva,” he said. His voice was a low, resonant baritone that vibrated in the air. It held no warmth, only a deep, calm authority. “Please, sit.”
    He gestured to one of the two leather armchairs positioned in front of a massive, clean-lined desk. I walked forward, my back straight, and sat down. The leather was cool against my skin.
    He didn’t move to sit behind his desk, the throne of his power. Instead, he walked to a discreet wet bar built into the wall.
    “Water? Something stronger?”
    “Water is fine,” I said.
    He retrieved a bottle of sparkling water and a glass. He didn’t pour it over ice. He poured the room-temperature water into the glass and brought it to me, placing it on the small table beside my chair.
    It was a small thing, but it was a calculated one. He had noticed. He had noticed the slight tremor in my hand, the tension in my shoulders. An Omega in distress, especially one who had just severed a mate bond, would be physically and emotionally chilled. Ice water would have been a shock to the system.
    This wasn’t just a CEO. This was a predator who noticed every detail.
    He finally moved to his side of the desk, settling into his large chair. He steepled his long fingers, his gray-blue eyes fixed on me.
    “The Sterling-Cross acquisition,” he began, dispensing with any pleasantries. “Your strategy was to create a shell corporation to buy up their debt anonymously, forcing them to the negotiating table at a fraction of their market value. Alec Collins took the credit, but the idea was yours.”
    It wasn’t a question. It was a statement of fact.
    “Why are you so interested in a wolfless Omega from a rival pack, Mr. Jarvis?” I asked, my voice steady. I had to know. I had to understand the angle.
    A low chuckle, devoid of humor, rumbled in his chest. “I am not interested in your bloodline, Ms. Silva. Or the lack of it. I am interested in results.”
    He slid a thick file across the polished surface of the desk. It stopped perfectly in front of me.
    “Blackwood Group has seen a seventeen percent growth in their portfolio over the last three years,” he said. “All of it tied to initiatives that bear the hallmarks of your strategic style: aggressive, unconventional, and meticulously planned. But your name is on none of them.”
    He leaned forward, his presence intensifying. “I don’t care if you’re wolfless. I don’t care if you’re a rogue. I care that you have a mind capable of dismantling my competition from the inside out. And I want that mind working for me.”
    He laid his cards on the table. “Vertex is preparing a hostile takeover of key territories in the Midwest. Blackwood is the primary obstacle. I need a Chief Strategist who knows their playbook, their weaknesses, their every move. I need you.”
    This was more than a job offer. It was a declaration of war. And he was handing me the sword.
    A part of me, the vengeful, wounded part, wanted to scream yes. But the strategist in me, the part he was hiring, took over.
    “I am still, technically, in a separation period with the Blackwood Pack,” I said carefully. “There are legal and pack-law sensitivities. A non-compete clause. The mate bond severance isn’t finalized until the rejection is formally accepted.”
    He leaned back, a ghost of a smile touching his lips. “Vertex Group’s legal department is… formidable. They will handle any and all external obstacles. Consider your non-compete clause a historical artifact. As for the rejection… let Mr. Collins worry about that.”
    His confidence was absolute. He was offering me not just a job, but a shield. A fortress.
    I looked into his eyes and saw something I had never, not once, seen in Alec’s.
    Respect.
    He saw me not as a broken Omega, not as a mate or a possession, but as an asset. An equal.
    “My terms,” I said, my voice gaining strength, “I need one month for the transition, to completely sever my ties. And when I assume the role, I require absolute autonomy on strategic deployment. No interference.”
    He didn’t hesitate. He didn’t consult a lawyer or a subordinate. He simply reached for a pen on his desk-a heavy, black Montblanc. He pulled a pre-printed contract from a drawer, uncapped the pen, and signed his name at the bottom with a flourish of sharp, decisive strokes.
    He pushed the contract and the pen across the desk to me.
    “Welcome to Vertex, Ms. Silva.”
    I picked up the contract. The terms were even more generous than he had stated in the email. The salary was astronomical. The autonomy I’d requested was spelled out in iron-clad legal terms.
    My last shred of doubt evaporated.
    I took the pen he offered. My own signature, next to his powerful scrawl, looked almost delicate. But as I signed my name, I felt a lifetime of being underestimated fall away. I was no longer Kay Silva, Alec Collins’s wolfless mate.
    I was Kay Silva, Chief Strategic Advisor for the Vertex Group.
    He stood up, and I followed suit. He extended his hand across the desk. It was a large hand, the fingers long and elegant, the knuckles prominent. A hand that held immense power.
    I placed my hand in his.
    The moment our skin touched, a jolt, sharp and electric, shot up my arm. It was so intense it made me gasp, a wave of heat washing through my entire body. Sparks seemed to dance on my skin. My heart hammered against my ribs, and for a dizzying second, the world seemed to narrow to the point of contact between our hands.
    I saw his eyes darken, his pupils dilating. He felt it too. His grip tightened for a fraction of a second, a possessive, instinctual reaction.
    Then, as quickly as it came, it was gone. He masked his reaction, his expression becoming impassive again. He released my hand, his touch lingering like a brand.
    “My assistant will show you out,” he said, his voice a little rougher than before.
    I nodded, unable to speak. I picked up my copy of the contract, my fingers still tingling, and walked out of the office on unsteady legs.
    The elevator doors closed, and as I descended from the heavens of his office, I clutched the contract to my chest. I didn’t know what that electric shock was.

    A fluke? Static electricity?

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