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Tag: Female-Centered

  • My “Broke” Fake Boyfriend Is A Secret Hockey God novel by Escritor apalacio

    My

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    I spent the entire afternoon baking a chocolate lava cake to surprise my boyfriend of two years for his birthday.

    But when I quietly unlocked his apartment door, I found him tangled in the sheets with my inseparable best friend.

    They didn’t even scramble apart. Mason just glared at me with pure annoyance, treating me like an unwelcome intruder who had ruined their intimate moment.

    Kennedy shamelessly hid behind his back, wearing his shirt and whimpering that it “just happened.”

    I smashed the birthday cake directly into his cheating face, threw my apartment key at his feet, and ran out into the freezing night.

    Right then, my mom called, cheerfully urging me to hurry up with our wedding plans. Her words were like salt poured into my shattered heart. I had wasted two years of my life on two dogs.

    Crying behind the wheel, I nearly ran over a tall, arrogant stranger walking on the highway in the pouring rain. He was freezing and penniless, so I impulsively brought him back to my apartment for the night.

    The next morning, a frantic pounding echoed through my front door.

    “Harper! Open up! Mom’s here to see you!”

    My mom had made a surprise visit, and she thought I was still happily engaged to Mason.

    Desperate, I grabbed the handsome stranger’s arm.

    “Please, pretend you’re my boyfriend!”

    The penniless man looked at my panicked face and smirked.

    “Fine. But you owe me.”

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    My “Broke” Fake Boyfriend Is A Secret Hockey God Chapter 1

    HARPER’S POV:
    My hand trembled violently as I pushed the half-open bedroom door wide.
    The scene that met my eyes didn’t just break my heart; it shattered my entire reality into jagged, bleeding pieces.
    They were bathed in the soft glow of the bedside lamp. Mason was hovering over her, his broad, muscular back flexing as he moved. His hands—the hands I knew so well, the hands that had held mine just days ago—were gripping Kennedy’s hips with a desperate, hungry possession. Kennedy’s head was thrown back against the pillows, her fingers tangled in his dark hair, her lips swollen and parted as she pulled him down for a deep, lingering kiss. The raw, undeniable heat between them was suffocating.
    My boyfriend. And my best friend. The two people I trusted most in this world, destroying me together.
    A strangled, pathetic gasp escaped my throat.
    Kennedy shrieked, a sharp, panicked sound, violently shoving Mason off her and fumbling to drag the duvet over her bare chest.
    Mason’s head snapped toward me. The heavy-lidded passion on his face instantly curdled into shock. “Harper? What are you doing here?”
    A roaring sound filled my ears, drowning out the world. I stared at the man I had loved for two years, the man I thought I would marry. Then I looked at Kennedy—the girl who was like a sister to me, knew all my secrets.
    A wave of pure, acidic nausea churned in my gut. I couldn’t breathe.
    The walls felt like they were closing in on me. I turned on my heel without a word and stumbled blindly down the hallway.
    I made it to the kitchen, my movements stiff and robotic. My tear-filled eyes landed on the pristine white bakery box sitting on the kitchen island.
    Six hours.
    Just an hour ago, I had been so incredibly happy. I had spent six grueling hours in my kitchen, tossing out a burnt first batch and meticulously tempering dark chocolate for the second, all to create the perfect chocolate lava cake for Mason’s twenty-sixth birthday.
    He had canceled our last three dates, blaming exhausting hockey practices and endless team meetings. Captain’s duties, he had texted, brushing off my disappointment. But I had foolishly told myself today would be different. I just knew he’d carved out this one night for us.
    I had slid my spare key into his apartment door, my heart hammering a frantic rhythm of anticipation. I had slipped inside, quiet as a mouse, whispering a soft “Surprise” to the empty, dim living room.
    But instead of Mason’s boyish smile, I was greeted by an unfamiliar perfume—a rich, intoxicating blend of vanilla and sandalwood. Kennedy’s signature fragrance.
    Then I saw her familiar denim jacket tossed carelessly over the sofa.
    I had tried to rationalize it, telling myself she just dropped off a gift early.
    But then came the soft, breathless moans. The low, gravelly murmurs. The discarded clothes on the floor.
    I had walked into this apartment overflowing with love, only to be suffocated by the stench of their betrayal.
    “Harper, wait!”
    Mason’s voice, laced with panic, snapped me back to the agonizing present.
    He came running out into the kitchen, a towel wrapped hastily around his waist, his chest still heaving. “Harper, listen to me. It’s not what you think.”
    “Not what I think?” A bitter, jagged laugh tore from my throat, scraping my vocal cords. “What is it, then? Were you two practicing your hockey checking techniques in bed?”
    Kennedy appeared in the hallway behind him, clutching one of Mason’s oversized button-down shirts around her trembling frame. Tears streamed down her face, a pathetic picture of fake innocence. “Harper, please… it was an accident! We didn’t mean for this to happen. It just… it was a mistake!”
    “An accident?” I repeated, the sheer audacity of the word leaving a metallic taste of blood in my mouth. My sorrow instantly hardened into blinding, white-hot rage. “You accidentally stripped naked and fell into my boyfriend’s bed?”
    I looked down at the cake box again. Six hours of love, patience, and blind trust. Wasted on a lie.
    Without a second of hesitation, I opened the box, lifted the heavy, perfectly baked pastry, and smashed it directly into Mason’s face.
    Rich, dark chocolate and warm lava filling exploded across his stunned features, splattering onto his bare chest and the hardwood floor. Kennedy let out a horrified gasp, jumping back.
    “Happy birthday, Mason,” I said, my voice as cold and dead as the future I had just lost.
    “We’re done.”
    I didn’t look back. I wrenched the front door open and ran into the night.

    My “Broke” Fake Boyfriend Is A Secret Hockey God Chapter 2

    HARPER’S POV:
    The biting night air slapped my face, and only then did I realize hot tears were streaming down my cheeks.
    A yellow cab sped past. I waved my hand frantically, but it didn’t even slow down.
    “Harper!”
    Mason’s voice cut through the traffic noise. I turned to see him jogging toward me, wearing nothing but hastily zipped jeans, his bare chest exposed to the freezing wind.
    He reached me, his hand clamping down on my wrist with a tight, bruising grip. “Just let me explain!”
    “Don’t touch me!” I ripped my arm out of his grasp, my nails scraping hard against his skin. “You disgust me.”
    Kennedy hurried up behind him. She was wrapped tightly in that new denim jacket. She looked small, shivering, and utterly pathetic. “Harper, please don’t be like this. Mason, he…”
    “Shut your mouth,” I snarled, every ounce of my polite upbringing vanishing into the cold night. “You don’t get to say my name. Not anymore.”
    A few passersby slowed down, their eyes lingering on the spectacle we were making. I didn’t care. Let them look.
    Mason took a step closer, a flicker of genuine impatience crossing his handsome face. “Is it really necessary to make such a scene out here? We’re adults, Harper.”
    His words sliced into me, a fresh, agonizing wound. “Adults?” I let out a harsh, breathless laugh. “So adults get to screw their girlfriend’s best friend and feel completely justified about it?”
    Kennedy’s face crumpled, and she started to cry. “It was my fault,” she wailed, clutching the collar of the jacket. “I seduced him. Please, don’t blame him, Harper. Blame me.”
    I stared at her, the girl who had held my hair back when I was sick, the girl who knew my deepest fears. The betrayal crashed over me, heavy and suffocating. Her pathetic, self-sacrificing act was laughable. She wasn’t protecting him; she was marking her territory, showing me they were already a team.
    “Save the performance, Kennedy,” I spat, the irony tasting like ash in my mouth. “You two deserve each other.”
    I spun on my heel and walked briskly toward the subway station, desperate to escape the toxic air around them.
    Halfway down the block, my phone buzzed in my coat pocket. The screen glowed in the dim streetlights with a single word: Mom.
    My throat instantly tightened. I sank onto a nearby bus stop bench, taking a deep, shuddering breath before answering. I had to keep my voice steady.
    “Hi, Mom.”
    “Honey, are you with Mason?” her cheerful, oblivious voice chirped through the speaker.
    I opened my mouth, but no sound came out.
    “I was just calling to ask how the wedding plans are coming along!” she continued. “Your Aunt Susan’s daughter is getting engaged next month, you know. You and Mason need to get a move on!”
    Each word was like coarse salt poured directly into my open, bleeding heart. Just this morning, I had been looking at flights, planning to finally bring Mason home for Thanksgiving to officially meet my parents. I had spent weeks imagining the proud look on my mom’s face when I introduced the man I was going to marry.
    Now, that beautiful future was nothing but a grotesque joke.
    I glanced down the street. Mason and Kennedy were still standing there, watching me from a distance like I was some tragic street-side entertainment.
    A sudden, fierce spark of anger ignited in my chest, burning away the tears. I wouldn’t let them see me break. I wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of watching me run away like a defeated victim.
    “Mom, I have to go,” I interrupted, my voice suddenly hard. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”
    I hung up before she could reply.
    Instead of heading down into the subway, I turned around and marched right back to where they stood.
    Mason looked relieved for a split second, probably thinking I had come back to talk. But I didn’t look at his face. I dug my hand into my purse, my fingers wrapping around the cold metal of the spare key to his apartment—the one he had given me six months ago, calling it a “milestone.”
    I pulled it out and threw it hard at his feet. It bounced off his shoe and clattered onto the concrete.
    “That’s the last piece of you I’m carrying,” I said, my voice eerily calm. “Stay out of my life.”
    Mason stared down at the key, his jaw clenching, his face hardening into an unreadable mask.
    Kennedy opened her mouth, fresh tears welling in her eyes, but I silenced her with a single, icy glare that made her snap her mouth shut.
    I didn’t wait for a response. I turned my back on them for the final time, walked down the stairs into the subway station, and didn’t look back.
    Inside the rattling train car, I leaned my head against the cool, vibrating glass, watching the city lights blur into streaks of neon. I felt utterly, devastatingly alone.
    With trembling hands, I took out my phone.
    One by one, I deleted every photo of me and Mason. The vacations, the birthdays, the lazy Sunday mornings.
    Then, I went to my albums and deleted every photo of me and Kennedy. Two years of friendship, erased in a matter of minutes.
    When the screen finally showed No Photos, a hollow emptiness settled deep in my chest.
    Two years of my life. Wasted on two dogs.

    My “Broke” Fake Boyfriend Is A Secret Hockey God Chapter 3

    BECKETT’S POV:
    Rain lashed against the floor-to-ceiling windows of the study, the violent storm outside matching the suffocating tension inside.
    I stared at my father, Beckett Montgomery III. He sat behind his massive mahogany desk like a king on his throne, dictating the lives of his subjects.
    “I’ll say it one last time,” I said, my voice dangerously quiet, though my jaw was tight enough to crack my teeth. “I am not marrying Victoria Carlisle.”
    He slammed a thick, leather-bound file onto the desk. “This isn’t a request, Beckett. It’s an order! The Carlisle merger secures our controlling stake in the new arena. This is about the family’s future!”
    A surge of pure, unadulterated frustration boiled in my veins. I was so sick of being treated like a pawn in his corporate chess games. “The family’s future, or your business empire?” I shot back. “My marriage is not a bargaining chip for your board meetings.”
    “Everything you have, I gave you!” he roared, his face flushing purple as he pointed a trembling finger at me. “Your status, your contract, that damned ‘C’ on your jersey! Without my influence, you are nothing! You cross me on this, and I’ll make sure you never step foot on the ice again. You can kiss your hockey career goodbye!”
    That hit a nerve. The anger I’d been holding back finally snapped.
    “I earned that ‘C’ with my own blood, sweat, and broken bones!” I yelled, stepping closer to the desk. “You didn’t skate those grueling drills. You didn’t take those hits against the boards. Hockey is mine. You don’t own it, and you sure as hell don’t own me.”
    I met his furious gaze without flinching. “So go ahead. Take it all away.”
    For a second, genuine shock flickered in his cold eyes, quickly replaced by a deeper, vindictive rage. “You think I won’t?”
    He snatched the phone from its cradle and dialed a number. “It’s me. Freeze every credit card, bank account, and trust fund under the name Beckett Montgomery IV. Yes, all of them. Effective immediately.”
    He hung up and stared at me, a cruel smirk playing on his lips. “As of now, you are disowned. Let’s see how long you survive in the real world without the Montgomery name.”
    I expected to feel panic. Instead, a heavy weight lifted off my chest. I felt no fear. Only a fierce, burning relief. “Suits me just fine.”
    I turned on my heel and walked out of the study, the heavy oak doors shutting behind me with a final thud.
    In the grand foyer, our longtime butler, Thomas, tried to stop me. He held out a set of keys, his eyes full of worry. “Mr. Beckett, please. It’s pouring outside. At least take the car…”
    I reached out instinctively, but then I stopped. A bitter, mocking laugh escaped my lips. “Oh, right. He bought the car, too.” I shook my head and tossed the keys back to Thomas. “Whatever. He can have it all back.”
    I shrugged off the suffocating, custom-tailored suit jacket I was wearing, letting it drop carelessly to the pristine marble floor. Dressed in just a thin white dress shirt and trousers, I pushed open the front doors and walked out into the raging storm.
    The freezing rain soaked me instantly, plastering my shirt to my skin, but as I walked down the long, winding driveway of the estate, leaving the golden cage behind, I felt freer than I had in years.
    I didn’t know where I was going. I didn’t care. I just needed to put as much distance between me and that house as possible.
    I kept walking along the shoulder of the dark highway, the rain blurring my vision. Cars sped past, their tires splashing icy, muddy water onto my already freezing body.
    My phone vibrated in my pocket. It was Gino, my teammate. I ignored it. I didn’t want to talk to anyone. I just wanted to walk.
    But after two miles, the adrenaline began to wear off. I was soaked to the bone, shivering violently, and my stomach growled with a hollow ache. A sharp sliver of regret pricked at my frozen skin. 
    Damn it. Maybe I should have kept the jacket. Or at least called an Uber before he cut off my phone plan. Pride was a warm concept, but it did absolutely nothing against a torrential downpour.
    Just as I was cursing my own impulsiveness, blinding headlights washed over me from behind.
    A piercing screech of tires on wet asphalt ripped through the night. The car fishtailed, sliding wildly before slamming to a halt mere inches from my legs. I could feel the aggressive heat radiating from its engine.
    Before I could even process how close I had just come to getting run over, the driver’s door flew open, and a woman stormed out into the pouring rain.
    “Are you insane?” she screamed, her voice cutting through the thunder. “Are you trying to get yourself killed?”
    I squinted, my eyes adjusting to the harsh glare of the headlights. Through the heavy downpour, I saw a small, furious figure marching toward me.

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  • The Unwanted Northern Heiress Shines Again novel by Yan Huo

    The Unwanted Northern Heiress Shines Again novel by Yan Huo

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    I had managed the Castro estate for three years, supporting my husband, Lord Brian Castro, while he fought on the battlefield.

    But the moment he returned victorious, he coldly announced that the King had granted him permission to marry the powerful Dragon Knight, Lady Brittaney Kirk.

    “I expect you to show grace, accept this, and prepare the best rooms for her.”

    He commanded me like a glorified servant, expecting me to continue running the household for his new bride.

    His mother also mocked my Dragonless bloodline, telling me my honor was tied to them and I should be grateful to even stay.

    In my last life, I cried and begged him not to abandon me, hoping my devotion would win him back.

    But my compliance only allowed them to build their glory on my misery, and my entire family—House Serrano—was slaughtered by assassins in a single night.

    Until I died, I didn’t understand why my years of sacrifice were met with such cruel betrayal, or why my brave father and brothers had to die in pools of blood just to pave the way for Brittaney’s rise.

    Opening my eyes again, I was back on the night Brian arrogantly announced his new marriage.

    This time, I didn’t shed a single tear.

    I packed up my massive dowry, gathered my eighty loyal servants, and went straight to the Dragon King to demand a Rejection Ritual.

    I would leave them with nothing but an empty shell.

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    The Unwanted Northern Heiress Shines Again Chapter 1

    Elaine Serrano POV:
    “Elaine, take off the ancestral Dragon-bone ring of House Castro. Brittaney is my true Fated Mate, and from today on, you will step down and serve as a lowly personal maid.”

    Bang. The heavy oak door of my bedchamber was violently kicked open.

    The freezing, ruthless voice of my husband, Lord Brian Castro, shattered the silence of the night.

    I sat before the mirror in a delicate silk gown, looking at my own reflection. Just a few moments ago, I had opened my eyes to find myself reborn—brought back in time to the exact night Brian returned from his year-long war, the night I had prepared to offer myself to him as a welcome-home gift.

    In my previous life, I was foolish enough to let my love for him blind me. When he shattered my heart with his cruel declaration, I had cried, begged, and eventually swallowed my pride, accepting the humiliation of becoming his lowly personal maid just to stay by his side. But my pathetic compromise only led to a horrifying end: they drained every last copper coin of my dowry, butchered the loyal servants I brought from my homeland, and finally, Brittaney burned me alive in a freezing dungeon with her dragonfire!

    Now, looking at the man I had once loved with all my heart, I felt nothing but a sickening wave of pure disgust and a bone-deep thirst for vengeance.

    He strode in, but he wasn’t alone. Next to him stood Brittaney Kirk, a tall, striking female Dragon Knight. Brian’s arm was wrapped tightly around her waist. His deep blue eyes, looking at her, burned with a raw, fiery devotion he had never, ever shown me.

    “She is the new Lady of this Dragon Court,” Brian declared, his gaze shifting to me with absolute zero warmth.

    He paused, clearly waiting for my hysterical breakdown, my tears, and my desperate pleas.

    But I simply sat there, my face as calm as a frozen lake.

    My utter lack of reaction seemed to irritate him. A flash of annoyance crossed his handsome face. He closed the distance between us in two large strides. His large, calloused hand gripped my jaw with bruising force, forcing me to look up into his eyes filled with pure, unadulterated repulsion.

    “Are you deaf, or just too stupid to understand?” he snarled, raking his gaze over my silk gown with a vicious sneer. “Did you really think a cursed Dragonless like you could keep me? Let’s be honest! The only reason I married you was because you used your family’s wealth to force my hand! Look at yourself—a cold-blooded Earthbound who can’t even produce a spark of dragonfire. Hugging you is like hugging a freezing corpse!”

    My fingernails dug so fiercely into my palms that warm blood began to drip onto the carpet.

    “And don’t look at me with that dead expression!” Brian tightened his grip on my jaw, his voice dripping with venom, deliberately weaponizing my deepest trauma. “What are you now? Your father and brothers were arrogant fools! Their bloodline was so weak their dragonfire was extinguished by the enemy, getting your entire family butchered like pigs! You are a jinx with a broken Dragon Core! Asking you to stay in my castle as a personal maid is an act of profound charity!”

    Three years ago, my father and six brothers died in battle. Shortly after, enemy spies infiltrated my homeland and brutally slaughtered my mother and the entire household of the old, the weak, women, and children! Simply because my father and brothers had been the strongest shield against the enemy nation, they annihilated my entire bloodline! Every single person was hacked with seventy-two sword strikes. Even my third brother’s newborn son was butchered and dismembered so horribly his tiny body wasn’t left intact.

    Even in a second lifetime, hearing him weaponize my slaughtered family against me again made the maddening urge to kill scream in my veins. If looks could kill, Brian would have been torn into a thousand bloody pieces right then and there. But the phantom sensation of being burned alive by dragonfire flared in my bones, an agonizing reminder of what reckless anger would cost me.

    I masked the lethal sharpness in my eyes perfectly. Patience, I told myself. Before I destroy them, I need to take back every single copper coin I own.

    “Oh, Brian, please don’t be so harsh on her,” Brittaney sighed, stepping forward to wrap her arms around his waist from behind, deliberately pressing her breasts against his armor. She flashed me a condescending, venomous smile over his shoulder. “Elaine, please don’t be sad. Since you have nowhere to go, you can stay. I loathe doing chores anyway. From now on, you can draw our bathwater, and… oh, you can wash our bedsheets every morning. It will give a fragile, magic-less thing like you a sense of purpose.”

    “What is all this screaming?” The harsh voice of my mother-in-law, Lady Icie, echoed from the hallway. She walked into the room, drawn by the commotion. She was wearing the expensive, gold-threaded silk I bought for her, yet when she saw me, her face twisted with absolute disdain.

    “Have you no shame, Elaine?” Icie spat. “Brittaney is a true Winged warrior. Her fiery dragon breath cured my illness and brought me immense joy. You just smell of earth and death. It is the Court that feeds you! Brian is merciful enough to let you serve him. Learn to know your place and be grateful!”

    Grateful?

    When Brian left for war, Icie was dying. I exhausted my massive dowry to hire a Royal Dragon Healer. I, a Dragonless, used my own body heat to keep her warm through freezing nights. Every single bite of food these dragons ate, the chandeliers above their heads, the very castle they were standing in—all bought with my wealth!

    And now, they were standing on the bloody corpses of my slaughtered family, calling me a freezing corpse, and demanding I wash their dirty bedsheets?!

    In my last life, this injustice had suffocated me. But now, it only brought a bone-chilling, terrifying calm.

    I slowly stood up. With agonizing slowness, I slid the heavy, ancestral Dragon-bone ring off my finger. The metal clinked sharply as I dropped it onto the table.

    “If that is the Lord’s command,” I lowered my eyes, completely masking the lethal, venomous sharpness hidden in my gaze. “I step down.”

    Brittaney’s lips curled into a victorious smirk. Brian let out a long breath of relief, letting go of my jaw and looking at Brittaney with deep affection. My complete surrender fully satisfied his arrogant Dragon pride.

    Smoothing the invisible wrinkles on my silk gown, I gave them one last, perfect curtsy befitting a lowly personal maid.

    But the moment I turned my back and walked out of the room, a twisted, bloodcurdling sneer finally broke through the fragile mask on my face.

    Enjoy your Fated Mate, Brian.

    I can’t wait to see your arrogant Dragon pride shatter into bloody pieces. Let’s see how deep your Fated Flame burns when you realize your glorious Dragon Court doesn’t even have moldy scraps to eat… once I cut off every single penny of my money.

    The Unwanted Northern Heiress Shines Again Chapter 2

    Elaine Serrano POV:
    The heavy oak door of my bedchamber clicked shut behind me, but it couldn’t completely muffle the laughter and celebration coming from the main hall. In the dim corridor, my loyal personal maid, Phoebe, stood trembling in the shadows.

    Without a word, she hurried to my side, draping a warm shawl over my shivering shoulders, and fell into step behind me as we walked down the freezing stone corridor.

    The commotion had already drawn the night staff out of the woodwork. The servants, who used to bow so low their noses nearly touched the floor whenever I passed, now openly lined the hallway, not even bothering to hide their gloating stares or their malicious whispers.

    “Did you hear? Lord Brian stripped her title. She’s just a personal maid now,” a scullery maid whispered loudly.

    “About time. She’s just a cursed Dragonless jinx anyway,” a guard snickered, his eyes shamelessly raking over my silk gown.

    I felt Phoebe shaking with rage behind me, but I didn’t stop. In my past life, these whispers were like knives to my heart. Now, they were just the buzzing of flies destined for the slaughterhouse.

    When I finally pushed open the door to my own chambers, the biting cold hit me instantly. The dragon-crystal heater was completely dead. Not a single spark of energy had been provided for the night.

    The moment the door clicked shut, sealing us inside, Phoebe finally collapsed to her knees.

    “My lady… how could he? How could Lord Brian do this?!” Phoebe sobbed, her fingers digging desperately into the cold floorboards. “He knew how much that night destroyed you! How could he use the slaughter of your family as a weapon to humiliate you in front of everyone?!”

    Looking at Phoebe, my childhood companion who shared my deepest trauma, the last trace of patience in my heart vanished.

    “Stand up, Phoebe,” I said, my voice dropping to an eerie, frozen whisper. I knelt and gently wiped the tears from her face. “Tears cannot wash away the blood of our families. Brian said House Serrano is nothing but a dead graveyard. Then it is time we show him how the ghosts from that graveyard feast.”

    I stood up and walked to the row of massive dowry chests in the corner of the room. They were made of ironwood, unique to the North, and branded with my family’s snow-wolf sigil.

    This was everything I had brought from House Serrano. It was also my ticket out of this disgusting cage.

    I opened one of the chests and took out a heavy ledger from a smaller box. My mother had left it to me. It recorded all the assets and connections of House Serrano.

    By the light of the dragon-crystal lamp, I began to carefully inventory my dowry.

    House Serrano. Once the strongest shield of the North, guarding the realm for the Raymond dynasty for generations.

    Three years ago, my father and six brothers died on the southern battlefield. Their dragonfire was extinguished when they were heavily surrounded. Shortly after, Veskarian assassins slipped through the broken defense line like ghosts, infiltrating our homeland. My mother, my sister-in-laws, and all the old and weak were brutally slaughtered in pools of their own blood.

    The official story was that it was a mad act of revenge by the enemy for my father and brothers’ past victories.

    I had believed it. But now, in my second life, I knew it wasn’t that simple.

    Brittaney Kirk… her shadow loomed over that tragedy. Back then, it was Brittaney’s elite Winged squadron that was supposed to reinforce my father. But they were mysteriously “delayed.” Their delay cost the lives of my father and brothers, which allowed the assassins to breach the North.

    In my past life, I thought it was a tragic accident. But after being burned alive by her dragonfire, a chilling realization crept into my mind: what if she had intentionally let my family die?

    A sharp pain shot through my chest. I gripped the edge of the chest, gasping for breath. The fire of vengeance burned in my veins.

    But it wasn’t time for that. First, I had to escape this cage.

    It wasn’t just these material goods in the ledger. There were also eighty servants who had come with me to the Castro estate. They were born into the service of my house, loyal only to me.

    Brian and the Castros all assumed that once I married into their family, these people and properties naturally belonged to them.

    They were wrong.

    According to the laws of the kingdom, a wife’s dowry belongs to her and her alone, unless she willingly gifts it away.

    And the “Rejection Ritual” was the only form of marital dissolution that allowed the female to leave with her entire dowry, no questions asked.

    It required the consent of both parties, or… a direct command from the Dragon King himself.

    Brian wanted his new bride and his glory. I wanted my freedom and my dignity. We would settle this the old-fashioned way, the dragon way.

    I closed the ledger and put it back. The plan was clear in my mind.

    The Castros thought they controlled everything, but they didn’t know that my father, Corbin Serrano, had been one of King Aurthur’s most trusted Dragon Lords. He had even saved the King’s life when His Majesty was a boy.

    The Castros didn’t know about that favor. But the King would remember.

    All I needed was a chance to see him.

    “Starting tomorrow morning,” I ordered Phoebe, my tone absolute and merciless. “Send our hidden guards to every Serrano-owned business, farm, and mine. Cease all fund transfers to the Castro estate. Cut off their food supplies, their winter clothing, their weapon shipments, and the Royal Dragon Healer’s fees. Freeze every single copper coin.”

    Phoebe’s eyes ignited with a fierce, vengeful fire. “You mean… we cut them off completely?”

    “Completely,” I turned to face her. “Since Brittaney loathes the ‘petty chores’ of managing a Dragon Court, let’s see how her glorious dragonfire conjures bread out of thin air.”

    “Prepare ink and parchment,” I said, my gaze shifting toward the distant, towering spires of the Dragon Palace. “I am writing to the Dragon King.”

    After the last word was written, I blew the ink dry, folded the letter, and sealed it with the Serrano family crest—a snow-wolf forged in blood and iron.

    “Find the most reliable messenger among our loyal guards,” I ordered, handing the heavy envelope to Phoebe. “Ride through the night. Deliver this straight to the Dragon Palace.”

    The Unwanted Northern Heiress Shines Again Chapter 3

    Elaine Serrano POV:
    Two days had passed since my letter was dispatched. The Dragon Palace hadn’t replied yet, but I wasn’t anxious. A petition of that magnitude took time.

    For the past forty-eight hours, I had barricaded myself in my freezing chambers. Whenever the Castro servants pounded on my door, demanding I come out and scrub the new Lady’s bedsheets, I simply ignored them.

    Bang, bang, bang!

    The heavy oak door to my quarters shuddered under an impatient fist. Hazel, the personal maid of the dowager, Lady Icie, stood in the hallway with her nose pointed at the ceiling.

    “Elaine,” Hazel announced, deliberately dropping my title. “Lady Icie requests your presence in the grand solar. Immediately.”

    Phoebe bristled beside me, but I simply gave her a calming glance. I smoothed out the non-existent wrinkles on my elegant, dark velvet gown. I knew exactly why I was being summoned. The financial freeze had finally hit them where it hurt.

    When I stepped into the lavish solar, Icie Castro was sitting in the center of a plush chaise lounge. Standing right next to her was Brittaney Kirk, wearing a sheer morning gown, her arms crossed as she glared at me.

    “Elaine, my dear child, come sit,” Icie cooed, suppressing her obvious panic and forcing a tone of artificial, sickening affection.

    “I heard you froze the estate accounts out of a little… childish jealousy,” Icie began, her tone soft and placating. “I know you feel wronged. But you must understand, you’ve managed this household for three years, and you’ve done it well. Unfreeze the accounts. Pay the Royal Dragon Healer and the merchants for tomorrow’s ceremony. As long as you hold the purse strings, you will always be the true mistress of this Dragon Court in my eyes.”

    I watched her perform, my heart cold and detached. In my past life, I had believed these honeyed words, only to be drained dry.

    I gave a small, flawless smile, my eyes wide and perfectly innocent.

    “Mother, you misunderstand,” I said, my voice soft, respectful, and dripping with absolute compliance. “How could I possibly freeze the accounts out of jealousy? I am merely following Lord Brian’s strict orders.”

    Icie frowned. “What orders?”

    “Two nights ago, Lord Brian made it very clear that I am stripped of my title and am now nothing but a lowly personal maid,” I explained, blinking gently. “According to the kingdom’s customs, a personal maid has no right to manage the noble finances of a Dragon Court. It would be a severe overstep of my bounds. I wouldn’t dare touch the accounts.”

    Icie’s face stiffened. She hadn’t expected me to use Brian’s own vicious words as a shield.

    I turned my gaze to Brittaney, offering her a respectful, subservient curtsy. “Since Lady Brittaney is the true Fated Mate and the new Lady of this house, it is only natural that I make way for her. It is my duty as a servant.”

    “You…!” Icie switched tactics, her voice rising in panic. “Brittaney is a noble Dragon Knight! She will be busy with her training. How could she have time for these trivial matters? You must continue to manage the household. That is an order!”

    “I’m afraid I cannot, Mother,” I refused gently, maintaining my perfect, harmless smile. “If outsiders were to find out that a glorious Dragon Court relies on the dowry of a cursed, magic-less Dragonless to feed its warriors and pay its Healers, wouldn’t that make Lord Brian and Lady Brittaney’s Fated Love a laughingstock across the entire kingdom?”

    I paused, letting the humiliation of that truth sink into their arrogant bones.

    “I am doing this to protect House Castro’s honor,” I added smoothly. “I have already instructed my stewards to prepare the handover of all estate management. Lady Brittaney, with her powerful dragonfire, will surely have no trouble conjuring bread and paying the merchants for tomorrow’s ceremony, right?”

    Brittaney’s face turned ashen in an instant. Her arrogant glare shattered into pure panic. She knew how to swing a sword, but she didn’t have a single copper coin to run a massive estate.

    “You… you dare!” Icie shot up from her chaise lounge, the sudden movement causing her to cough violently. She pointed a shaking finger at me, her face purple with rage, completely unable to speak.

    👉 CONTINUE READING

  • The Dragon Lord’s Rejected Wife novel by Escritor apalacio

    The Dragon Lord's Rejected Wife novel by Escritor apalacio

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    For five years, I held House Ward together with my own two hands—a Dragonless wife managing an ancient dragon-blooded estate, counting the days for my husband to come home from the war.

    He came home with a pregnant mistress on his arm and a son who wore his eyes.

    He petitioned the Dragon King to make her his legal co-consort, and entered their bastard into the bloodline registry as his heir.

    His family doted on the boy and treated me like a ghost—until the boy shoved a bowl of scalding soup onto my hand at dinner.

    “A Dragonless woman is worthy of a physician’s time?” the matriarch sneered, hugging the grinning child.

    So I summoned my own physician. Paid from my own gold. And I smiled.

    Because I finally saw the game they were playing.

    I handed every key and every ledger to his clueless mistress—the very ledgers that prove House Ward is a gilded, crumbling shell held upright by my dowry alone.

    I accepted his co-consort. But I set one condition: the Rejection Ritual. A severance more final than divorce.

    They think I’m surrendering.

    They don’t know I’ve already lit the fuse.

    Let the glittering house burn. I’m done being his wife.

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    The Dragon Lord’s Rejected Wife Chapter 1

    Delphine Winters POV:
    “He’s here!”
    The shout echoed through the grand hall of Ward Manor, and my heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic drumbeat of anticipation.Five years I had lived as a widow in all but name—my husband gone to a war that never sent him home—and today, that long winter was finally over.
    I smoothed the front of my silk gown. It was a magnificent creation, the color of a twilight sky, a gift from my mother. Its cost could have fed a village for a year, yet it bore no shimmering scale patterns, no threads of woven dragon-fire. A silent, constant reminder of my status: Delphine Winters, the Dragonless wife, a wealthy merchant’s daughter who had married into the ancient, dragon-blooded House Ward.
    The air smelled of dragon’s breath incense and burning oak, a scent unique to the halls of dragon-kin nobility. Across the room, the massive dragon-head fireplace roared, its controlled flames casting a warm glow on the cold stone walls. The firelight danced over the Ward family’s war banner hanging above, the red-gold threads of its dragon sigil proclaiming their heritage as Half-Blood dragons.
    My mother-in-law, Eleanor, raised a goblet toward me. The wine inside had been warmed by dragon-fire, a privilege of the nobility. Her smile didn’t reach her eyes. I knew she saw me not as a daughter, but as the treasury that kept this house from crumbling.
    From the high-backed chair at the head of the room, the family matriarch, Matilda, watched me with a critical gaze, as if I were a piece of furniture that didn’t quite match the decor.
    A horn blast from outside shattered the tense quiet. The lord had returned.
    My breath caught.
    The heavy oak doors swung open. And there he was. Erwin Ward. He stood silhouetted against the fading light, taller and harder than I remembered, the cold edge of the battlefield etched into the lines of his face. He wore the uniform of a Dragon Marshal—the battlefield rank the King had granted him for the northern campaign, worn over his hereditary lordship of House Ward—its dark fabric adorned with the family’s red-gold dragon crest.
    Cheers erupted. “Welcome home, Lord Ward!”
    I moved through the crowd, my own joy a silent song. Five years of waiting, of holding this house together, were about to be rewarded with his embrace.
    His eyes met mine across the hall. But there was no joy in them. No relief. Only a flicker of something complex and evasive. My steps faltered.
    He didn’t move toward me. Instead, he stepped aside.
    And revealed the person standing behind him.
    A woman. Young, dressed in a simple linen dress that was utterly out of place among the silks and velvets of the court.
    One of her hands was held tightly in Erwin’s. The other rested protectively on her swollen belly. She was heavily pregnant.
    My mind went blank. The cheering of the crowd became a distant, muffled roar, as if I were underwater.
    Beside the woman stood a little boy, no older than four or five. His eyes were a perfect, startling copy of Erwin’s.
    Erwin cleared his throat, his voice taking on a formal, proclamatory tone I had never heard before. “This is Beryl King,” he announced. “And our firstborn son, Theo.”
    My gaze swept the room. Eleanor avoided my eyes. Matilda, however, had a look of grim satisfaction. The other family members were watching me, their faces alight with cruel curiosity.
    They all knew.
    This welcome wasn’t for me. It was for her.
    I was the last to be told, in the most humiliating way possible. I was the punchline to a joke I didn’t even know was being told.
    The blood in my veins turned to ice. My body, which the dragon-kin called “cold-blooded” because I had no dragon-fire of my own, finally felt the part.
    Erwin looked at me, his lips parting as if to speak. “Delphine, I know this is sudden, but I hope you can…”
    I didn’t let him finish.
    Slowly, gracefully, I gathered the hem of my skirt. I sank into the most perfect, most distant curtsy I could manage.
    “Welcome home, Lord Ward,” I said, my voice as still and dead as a frozen lake. “And welcome to your guests.”
    I deliberately called them “guests.” It was the only weapon I had.
    Erwin’s brow furrowed. He hadn’t expected this calm.
    Beryl flinched, shrinking behind him and looking at me with wide, wet eyes, as if I were the villain in this story.
    The boy, Theo, showed no such fear. He peeked out from behind Beryl’s legs and made a face at me.
    I turned away from them, my back straight, and walked step by step into the shadows at the edge of the hall. The light was dim there, just like my heart.
    I could feel every eye in the room on my back. Pity. Glee. Contempt.
    I lifted my chin. My pride would not let me fall apart here. I was a Winters, not some wilting flower to be trampled.
    Erwin started to follow, but a sharp look from his mother stopped him. Eleanor then moved to greet Beryl, her voice warm and welcoming, as if she were the true lady of the house.
    Watching the farce, the last wisp of warmth I held for this family vanished.
    From this day forward, I live only for myself.
    And Erwin Ward, along with his entire house, would pay for what they had done today.

    The Dragon Lord’s Rejected Wife Chapter 2

    Delphine Winters POV:
    I stood in the shadows, a ghost at my own husband’s homecoming feast. I watched as Erwin was surrounded by his family, Beryl clinging to his side like a frightened rabbit. The boy, Theo, was already perched on Matilda’s lap, being fed a piece of dragon-flame baked pastry.
    That should have been for the child I was never able to bear him—the child we might have had, had he ever truly come home to me.A sharp pain lanced through my chest, but I forced my face to remain a mask of indifference.
    Finally, Erwin broke away from the crowd and walked toward me, holding two goblets. They were made of dragon-crystal, shimmering in the firelight, vessels only dragon-kin nobility were permitted to use. He offered one to me.
    I didn’t take it. “I’m not thirsty, Lord Ward.”
    His face hardened. “Delphine, we need to talk.”
    “I think we have nothing to talk about.” I turned to leave.
    He grabbed my wrist. His hand was hot, like a brand. “Don’t be like this.”
    I looked down at his grip, my voice dripping with ice. “Please let go. Your partner is waiting for you.”
    Erwin took a deep breath, his voice low and urgent. “Beryl and Theo will be living here now. I need you to give them the Lakeview Pavilion.”
    The Lakeview Pavilion. The most beautiful, spacious residence on the entire estate. By tradition, it was the home of the lady of House Ward. I had lived there for five years. Now he was asking me to give it to another woman.
    I laughed. It was a soft, brittle sound. “Of course. It won’t be my place for much longer anyway.”
    He stared at me, stunned by my easy agreement, completely missing the meaning behind my words.
    I pulled my arm from his grasp, not giving him another glance, and walked toward the corridor that led to my own residence, the Whispering Willow Court. I could feel his gaze burning into my back, but I didn’t turn around. The moment he walked through that door with her, everything between us had turned to ash.
    When I reached my rooms, my maids, Clara and Mina, were waiting anxiously.
    “My lady,” Clara whispered, her eyes red. “They are too cruel!”
    I sank wearily into a chair as Mina poured me a cup of hot tea. “It’s useless to say that now.”
    “So we just accept it?” Mina asked, her voice tight with indignation.
    “Of course not,” I said, lifting the cup and watching the steam curl into the air. “But not now.”
    My plan would require time. Patience. And the perfect moment.
    A hurried knock came at the door. It was Erwin’s personal manservant.
    “My lady,” the servant panted. “Lady Eleanor has requested Lord Ward’s presence. The lord is… in a temper. But he asked me to inform you that he is coming to your court.”
    I raised an eyebrow. Erwin, coming here? Forced by his mother, no doubt.
    A few moments later, I heard his heavy footsteps. He hesitated outside my door before finally pushing it open. He had changed out of his uniform and into a casual tunic embroidered with the red-gold dragon of his house. It made him look less like a soldier and more like a man consumed by irritation.
    He waved my maids away, leaving us alone.
    He didn’t look at me, pacing to the window instead. “My mother sent me to explain.”
    “Explain what?” I asked, my voice flat. “How you found ‘true love’ on the battlefield? Or how you can live comfortably on my family’s wealth while supporting a mistress and child elsewhere?”
    He spun around, his face a mask of fury at being so accurately called out. “It’s not like that! Beryl…”
    He bit back his words, the anger dissolving into a frustrated sigh. “Delphine, I know I owe you. But you can’t deny there’s been no affection between us for a long time.”
    “So that’s your excuse for betrayal?” I scoffed.
    He had no answer, only pacing the room like a caged beast.
    This was all going as I’d predicted. Eleanor, that clever woman, knew where the lifeblood of House Ward truly lay. She was afraid I would cut off the funds in a fit of anger, so she forced her selfish son to come here and offer false comfort.
    A pity for them. It was too late. My heart had died the moment I saw that woman.
    Erwin finally stopped pacing. He stood before me, reaching for my hand. I pulled it away.
    “Delphine,” he said, his voice strained. “Just give me some time. I’ll handle this.”

    The Dragon Lord’s Rejected Wife Chapter 3

    Delphine Winters POV:
    I watched Erwin’s hand freeze in mid-air. A flicker of hurt crossed his face, but it stirred no sympathy in me.
    “Handle this?” I repeated, my voice laced with undisguised mockery. “Is your way of handling this to ask me to give the mistress’s residence to your lover?”
    His expression turned ugly, a mixture of guilt and impatience. “Delphine, it’s different! Beryl… she saved my life!”
    He finally said it. The great, noble reason.
    “In the Blackwood of the North,” he began, his voice low and colored with memory, “I was ambushed by enemy dragon-fire. My Dragon Core was nearly shattered. The burns of enemy flame could not be healed by any herb in the borderlands, and my shattered guards lay dead around me. I should have died in that snow. But Beryl—a Dragonless woman with nothing—found me bleeding and burning, and she refused to let me die. She dragged me back from the brink and kept me alive for three months.”
    He did not say it, but I understood what he was leaving out: a common herb gatherer could not heal a wound of dragon-fire. What Beryl had saved was his body—the fever, the bleeding, the broken bones of a fallen dragon. The rest, the Dragon Core he said was “nearly” shattered, his own dragon’s constitution must have clawed back from the edge on its own, slowly, over those three months. She had kept him alive long enough for his soul to survive. That was the debt he owed her—not a cure, but a life.
    I listened silently. I listened as he described her bravery, her gentleness. I listened to the undisguised love in his voice.
    Every word was a shard of ice driving into my heart. And then I realized my heart was already numb. I couldn’t even feel the pain anymore.
    “So, to repay her for saving your life, you destroy our five-year marriage? You destroy my five years of waiting?” I asked calmly.
    “I’m not destroying it!” he retorted, his voice rising. “I can take her as my second partner! Delphine, among dragon-kin, a lord may take more than one partner—this is permitted!”
    “Permitted is not the same as normal.” I cut him off. “It is a rare thing, and a shameful one, and it is not normal. Not for me.”
    “It’s not up to you!” His patience finally snapped. He pulled a scroll from his tunic and threw it on the table.
    It was bound in black leather, stamped with the golden sigil of the Dragon God. I recognized it. A command from the Dragon King.
    “A co-partner must be entered into the bloodline registry—it touches the succession and the inheritance of my house—so I have already petitioned the King and received his permission,” he announced, his voice dripping with condescension, trying to crush me with the weight of royal authority. “By this decree, Beryl King will be a legal co-partner of House Ward, and Theo our registered firstborn.”
    I stared at the Dragon King’s Command. It was a death sentence for my love, my dignity.
    I started to laugh. I truly laughed, so hard that tears pricked my eyes.
    Erwin was bewildered. “What are you laughing at?”
    “I’m laughing at myself, for being such a fool.” I stopped, my gaze turning cold. “Erwin Ward, have you forgotten who pulled House Ward back from the brink of bankruptcy five years ago?”
    “Who filled your empty vaults with chests of Winters family gold? Whose dowry allowed you to maintain the facade of a Dragon Lord, to afford to even go to that damned war?”
    Every question I fired made his face grow paler.
    “I bought your family’s honor with my family’s wealth. And what did I get in return? I waited for five years like a widow, only for you to bring home a pregnant mistress and an illegitimate son, and to use a royal command to tell me I must share my husband!”
    My voice grew louder, five years of humiliation and rage pouring out of me.
    “You are using my money to raise your lover and your bastard, and you expect me to be grateful for the arrangement? Erwin Ward, is your face made of dragon scales?”
    He staggered back under the force of my words, his face a mottled mess of red and white. He couldn’t form a single sentence.
    “Delphine, I…”
    “Get out,” I said, pointing to the door. My voice was quiet, but it held the unshakeable force of a final judgment.
    He stared at me, his eyes wide with shock and disbelief. In his mind, I had always been the docile, obedient wife.
    We locked eyes, the air crackling with tension.
    This was the first time in our five years of marriage that we had truly fought. And it was the first time I had ever told him to get out.
    He looked like he wanted to argue, but I just turned my back on him, a gesture of final dismissal.
    Another word from him would make me sick.
    Finally, he stormed out, slamming the door so hard the windows rattled in their frames.
    The room fell into a dead silence. I slowly sank to the floor, a deep chill seeping into my bones.
    Clara and Mina rushed in, helping me to my feet.
    “My lady, are you alright?”
    I shook my head, steadying myself on the table. The Dragon King’s Command lay there like a venomous snake, its golden sigil mocking me. The break was complete. It had already begun.

    👉 CONTINUE READING

  • Too Late, Mr. Billionaire: Watch Me Shine novel by Juline Walden

    Too Late, Mr. Billionaire: Watch Me Shine novel by Juline Walden

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    I spent a whole year trying to melt my billionaire husband’s icy heart, carefully planning our grand wedding reception.

    Then a trending news alert popped up: Augustine was spotted at the airport, intimately holding his childhood sweetheart, Bianca.

    When I frantically called him, he declined it and sent a cold text.

    “Don’t call.”

    At the family estate, he didn’t even acknowledge my existence. Instead, he announced that our wedding reception was canceled.

    “Bianca and I discussed it,” he stated flatly, as if she were the real wife.

    His aristocratic family just sneered at me. His aunt called me a classless gold digger, and his grandmother demanded I endure the humiliation to protect their public image.

    They even moved Bianca into our penthouse, redecorating the suite for her while I was barred from his office.

    For a year, I gave up my career and dreams, desperately molding myself into the perfect Mrs. Rhodes.

    I thought my devotion would eventually earn his respect, but to them, I was just a pathetic, temporary replacement keeping the seat warm.

    When I saw he had completely blocked me on social media, erasing me with a single click, my heart finally died.

    I didn’t cry or beg for his affection anymore.

    I packed my bags, walked out of that suffocating gilded cage, and sent him a simple text.

    “Let’s get a divorce.”

    I am done playing the tragic clown. This time, I’m taking my life back.

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    Too Late, Mr. Billionaire: Watch Me Shine Chapter 1

    “Mr. Rhodes’s family crest will be hand-carved by a Michelin three-star chef.”
    The wedding planner, Mr. Price, gestured toward an illustration of an elaborate ice sculpture. His voice was slick with a practiced reverence that made Eve’s stomach tighten.
    She sat alone at a long polished table in the Vera Wang VIP suite. Spread before her were blueprints for a life she was supposed to want: samples of “ocean heart” themed china, photos of white roses flown in from France, fabric swatches for tablecloths.
    Across from her, an empty velvet chair seemed to mock her. It was where Augustine was supposed to be.
    “It looks perfect,” Eve said, forcing a smile that felt brittle on her lips. “Let’s go with that plan.”
    Mr. Price glanced at the Patek Philippe on his wrist. “Will Mr. Rhodes be joining us today? There are a few seating arrangements for the guests that require his personal confirmation.”
    Eve’s fingers tightened around her porcelain coffee cup. The heat did nothing to warm them. “He has an international conference call. He couldn’t get away.”
    The lie was smooth, practiced.
    “I can decide on the seating,” she added, her voice quiet but firm.
    A flicker of understanding—and something like pity—crossed Mr. Price’s face before it was masked by a professional smile. “Of course. You are the lady of the house.”
    He said the words, but his hand subtly pushed a guest list marked “Top Priority” to the center of the table. The message was clear. Some decisions were above her pay grade.
    Eve’s gaze swept over the names. Vanderbilt. Rockefeller. The weight of centuries of old money pressed down on her. The air in the room felt thin.
    She took a slow breath and began. “The Astors will be at table three, with the Carnegies. They summer together.”
    She moved through the list, her memory sharp, her arrangements flawless. Mr. Price’s eyebrows lifted in surprise.
    Two hours later, every detail was finalized. Augustine’s phone had gone unanswered the entire time.
    Then, a text.
    I’m busy. You decide.
    The words were cold, efficient. A tiny, sharp pain pierced through the numbness in her chest.
    She typed out a reply: Okay. Rest early.
    Her thumb hovered over the send button. The sentence looked pathetic. Needy.
    She deleted it.
    OK.
    She hit send.
    Outside, the cool New York evening air was a welcome shock to her skin. She dismissed the driver, needing to walk, to feel the hard pavement under her feet.
    Fifth Avenue’s glittering windows showcased jewels and gowns, each one a silent testament to a fantasy she was failing to live.
    She ducked into a small café, the warmth a temporary comfort. Her phone buzzed. It was her best friend, Chloe Hayes.
    You okay, honey? Don’t wear yourself out.
    Eve typed back a smiling emoji. I’m fine. Everything’s going smoothly.
    She opened her news app, scrolling to the finance section. It was one of the few ways she tried to understand Augustine’s world.
    A push notification flashed across the top of her screen. An entertainment headline.
    Billionaire Augustine Rhodes, Wedding Imminent, Spotted with Mystery Blonde at Airport!
    Her breath caught. It had to be a mistake. Clickbait.
    She tapped the link.
    The air left her lungs. Her blood turned to ice.
    The photo was brutally clear. Augustine, in the VIP airport terminal, wearing the dark grey overcoat she had picked out for him that morning. But he wasn’t wearing the tie she’d matched with it.
    He was angled slightly, shielding a woman from the imagined press. His hand rested on the small of her back, a gesture of casual, confident possession.
    The woman, a cascade of brilliant blonde hair, wore sunglasses but her smile was radiant. She was pressed against his side, a perfect fit.
    Eve knew her instantly. Bianca Cherry.
    Augustine’s childhood sweetheart. The one the Rhodes family had always wanted for him. The one who had left for Paris three years ago.
    The caption beneath the photo read: A source reveals Ms. Cherry’s return may be to reclaim what was rightfully hers.
    The warm café air grew thin, suffocating. A wave of dizziness washed over her. The phone slipped from her grasp, clattering onto the small table.
    Heads turned. Eve didn’t notice. Her world had shrunk to that single, damning photograph and the words: reclaim what was rightfully hers.
    She scrambled to her feet, grabbing her purse and phone, and stumbled out of the café, desperate to escape the unseen eyes, the silent judgment.
    She dialed Augustine’s number.
    This time, it didn’t just ring.
    It was declined.
    A second later, a text from him appeared.
    Don’t call.
    Eve stood frozen on the bustling sidewalk, the city’s vibrant life a blur of noise and light. She was a clown in a tragedy only she was performing in.
    She remembered their wedding day, a year ago. The contract. “Our marriage is a business arrangement,” he had told her, his blue eyes as cold as a winter sky. “Don’t have any expectations of me.”
    She had been so naive, thinking she could melt the ice.
    Now she understood. The ice wasn’t meant to be melted. His spring just belonged to someone else.
    Her phone rang again. The caller ID read: Mrs. Davis. The housekeeper.
    Her hand trembled as she answered.
    “Ma’am?” Mrs. Davis’s voice was hesitant. “Will you be returning for dinner? Mr. Rhodes… he will not be coming home tonight either.”

    Too Late, Mr. Billionaire: Watch Me Shine Chapter 2

    The morning sun streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, illuminating dust motes dancing in the silent air. Eve sat on the sprawling white sofa, a cashmere throw clutched around her shoulders. The coffee on the table in front of her was cold. She hadn’t slept.
    The penthouse was so quiet she could hear the ticking of the minimalist clock on the wall. The door to the master bedroom, his bedroom, remained closed. An unbreached fortress.
    She picked up her phone. The screen glowed with yesterday’s news. She mechanically refreshed the page.
    More photos had appeared. A video.
    Augustine and Bianca at a Michelin-starred restaurant. Bianca, laughing, reached across the table to adjust his tie. He didn’t pull away.
    The comments section was a viper’s nest.
    “OMG, they look so perfect together!”
    “Who is this Eve Clarke person? A temporary replacement?”
    “Poor girl. Just another casualty of a dynastic marriage.”
    The word “replacement” made her stomach clench. She shut off the phone, the screen going dark like a closing eye.
    She stood up and walked into the kitchen. Her body moved on autopilot, pulling out the ingredients for Augustine’s breakfast. Freshly squeezed orange juice. The specific brand of Irish oatmeal he preferred. It was a pathetic, ingrained habit, a ritual for a god who never showed up.
    Mrs. Davis entered the kitchen, her kind face etched with worry. “Ma’am, you…”
    “I’m fine, Mrs. Davis,” Eve said, her voice a hollow echo of itself. “Just a bad night’s sleep.” She packed the oatmeal into a thermal container. “If Mr. Rhodes comes back, please make sure he eats this.”
    The housekeeper’s eyes were filled with a deep, sorrowful pity. “Of course, ma’am.”
    Eve went to the walk-in closet to get dressed. Her clothes occupied one side, his the other. A stark, physical representation of their lives. Separate. Untouching.
    She decided to go to his office. It was something she had never done before, showing up unannounced. A violation of their unspoken rules.
    At the gleaming lobby of Rhodes Tower, the receptionist stopped her with a polite, impenetrable smile. “I’m sorry, Ms. Clarke. Without an appointment, I can’t let you up. Mr. Rhodes is in a very important meeting.”
    “I’m his wife,” Eve said, the words tasting like ash in her mouth.
    The receptionist’s smile didn’t waver. “We’re aware, but company policy is absolute.”
    It was the ultimate humiliation. His wife. Barred from entry like a common stranger.
    Just as she was about to turn away, defeated, Augustine’s executive assistant appeared. He was impeccably dressed, his expression neutral.
    “Ms. Clarke,” he said smoothly. “Mr. Rhodes asked me to convey a message. He said that all wedding matters are at your discretion. He has complete faith in your taste.”
    The words were a perfectly constructed wall, blocking any possibility of a real conversation. He was managing her. Handling her.
    Eve walked out of the building, the city’s noise a dull roar in her ears. She felt like a joke. The whole world knew her husband was with another woman, and she, the wife, couldn’t even get past his front desk.
    She sat in her car for a long time, the engine off. Her phone vibrated.
    The screen read: Eleanor Rhodes.
    Augustine’s grandmother. The matriarch.
    Eve took a deep, steadying breath and answered. “Grandmother.”
    Eleanor’s voice was warm, like aged whiskey. “Eve, my dear. I saw the news. Don’t you pay it any mind. Augustine has his moods, and men will be men. Your wedding is what’s important.”
    The words were meant to be soothing, but they felt like ice water. Eleanor wasn’t concerned about Eve’s pain. She was concerned about the wedding. The family’s image.
    “This weekend, I want you to come to the estate,” Eleanor continued, her tone shifting from gentle to commanding. “We’ll have a family meeting. Settle these details once and for all.”
    It wasn’t a request.
    “Yes, Grandmother,” Eve murmured.
    Hanging up, a profound sense of powerlessness washed over her. In this marriage, everyone cared about the title “Mrs. Rhodes.” No one cared about Eve.
    On the drive home, she passed a newsstand. The front page of a tabloid featured a large photo of Augustine and Bianca, side-by-side. The headline screamed: OLD FLAME RETURNS, WHERE IS THE NEW WIFE?
    Eve slammed on the brakes, pulling the car over to the curb. She rested her forehead against the steering wheel, her shoulders shaking with silent, wracking sobs.
    After a few minutes, her phone rang again.
    The name on the screen made her heart leap with a stupid, desperate hope.
    Augustine.
    She snatched it up. “Hello?”
    His voice was low and devoid of any emotion. “I heard you came to the office today.”
    Her lips parted. She wanted to scream, to ask about the photos, about Bianca, about where he was last night.
    But all that came out was a weak “I… I just wanted to talk to you.”
    “There’s nothing to talk about,” he cut in, his voice sharp with impatience. “Don’t do that again. It’s disruptive. I won’t be home tonight. Make your own arrangements.”
    The line went dead.
    Eve held the silent phone to her ear, staring blankly through the windshield. The last, flickering ember of hope had been extinguished.

    Too Late, Mr. Billionaire: Watch Me Shine Chapter 3

    The Rhodes family estate on Long Island was a monument of old stone and older money. When the butler led Eve into the grand drawing room, Augustine was already there, seated in a wingback chair, coolly flipping through a financial journal.
    He didn’t look up. He didn’t acknowledge her existence.
    The familiar sting of his indifference was dulled by a growing numbness. Eve sat on a sofa as far away from him as possible, her posture rigid.
    A moment later, Augustine’s aunt, Caroline Rhodes, descended the grand staircase. She was a severe woman in a Chanel suit, her face a mask of perpetual disapproval. Her eyes, sharp as a hawk’s, raked over Eve from head to toe, lingering on the simple, off-the-rack dress Eve wore. A faint, contemptuous smile touched her lips.
    Finally, Eleanor Rhodes entered, leaning lightly on a silver-handled cane. She took her seat at the head of the room, and an immediate, heavy silence fell.
    “I’ve had the public relations team handle the news,” Eleanor began, her gaze sweeping over Augustine and Eve. “Augustine, be more discreet in the future. The Rhodes family cannot afford any negative press before this wedding is finalized.”
    Her words were a reprimand for Augustine, but Eve heard the true emphasis: before the wedding is finalized. The act itself didn’t matter, only the timing.
    Augustine grunted in assent, his eyes still fixed on his journal.
    Caroline let out a sharp, derisive laugh. “You’re too soft, Grandmother. Some people are simply not fit to carry the Rhodes name. If she can’t even keep her own husband in line, what good is she?”
    Eve’s body went rigid. Her nails dug into the soft skin of her palms. She knew Caroline was talking about her.
    She said nothing, just lowered her gaze to her lap, where her hands were clenched into tight, white-knuckled fists.
    Her silence seemed to infuriate Caroline further. “Can’t even speak for herself. Utterly lacking in breeding.”
    “That’s enough,” Augustine said, finally lowering his journal. His brow was furrowed, not in defense of Eve, but in annoyance at the disruption.
    He turned his cold, blue eyes on Eve. His voice was flat, like a CEO announcing a corporate restructuring.
    “Bianca and I have discussed it. To prevent further media speculation, we’ve decided that the wedding reception… will be postponed indefinitely.”
    Indefinitely. A polite word for canceled.
    The reception she had spent months planning, the one that was supposed to celebrate their union, was being erased by a single sentence. A decision he had made with her.
    Eve’s mind went blank. She stared at him, her voice a disbelieving whisper. “You discussed it with who?”
    “Bianca,” he replied, his expression unreadable. “She is one of the parties involved in the media narrative. It was logical to get her input.”
    Caroline let out a triumphant little scoff. “Did you hear that? Auggie discusses his decisions with Bianca. They are a team. What are you?”
    The blood rushed to Eve’s head, then drained away, leaving her hands and feet icy cold. Her wedding. Her husband. Discussing its cancellation with another woman. The humiliation was a physical blow.
    She stood up, her legs trembling slightly. She looked directly at Augustine. “So, in your mind, she is your family, isn’t she?”
    A flicker of something—annoyance, perhaps—crossed his face. He looked away, refusing to answer.
    His silence was the most brutal confirmation of all.
    Eleanor tapped her cane on the thick Persian rug. “Enough. The matter is settled. A postponement is wise. It will prevent further complications.”
    Eve looked around the opulent room. The cold husband, the vicious aunt, the calculating grandmother. She was an intruder in their world, a laughable, temporary fixture.
    She didn’t say another word. She turned, straightened her spine, and walked out of the suffocating room.
    Behind her, she heard Caroline’s parting shot, “No manners at all.”
    The winter sun outside felt as cold as the drawing room. She got into her car, started the engine, and pressed the accelerator, fleeing the gilded cage.
    Only when she was on the highway did she realize her vision was blurred by tears.
    She pulled over onto the shoulder, dropped her head to the steering wheel, and finally let the sobs come. Months of quiet desperation, of forced smiles and swallowed pain, erupted in a raw, ragged storm.
    When the tears subsided, she looked at the diamond ring on her left hand. It was a beautiful, brilliant lie. It mocked her.
    With a choked cry of frustration, she yanked it off her finger. Her hand flew up, ready to hurl it out the window. But it stopped, trembling, halfway.
    Defeated, she unclenched her fist and shoved the ring deep into the pocket of her coat.
    After the storm of tears came a vast, hollow emptiness. She wiped her face, her eyes strangely calm. She started the car again.
    But she wasn’t driving back to the penthouse.
    She was driving to the one place she hadn’t been in a year. Her grandmother’s house.
    As she made the turn, a feeling she hadn’t experienced in a long time washed over her.
    Relief.

    👉 CONTINUE READING

  • I Reject You: The Broken Luna’s Royal Destiny novel by Superstition

    I Reject You: The Broken Luna's Royal Destiny novel by Superstition

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    I was the fated mate of Brannon Hoffman, the powerful Alpha heir, devoting five years of my life to him.

    But he coldly demanded I voluntarily renounce my claim, insisting his lover, Elenore, was dying of Moon Sickness and needed his bond to survive.

    In my past life, I was completely shattered.

    Elenore put on a sickening show of pity, while Brannon threw me away without even a formal rejection ritual, sparing himself the pain of the bond snapping.

    He trapped me with Pack Law-a loophole only the elders could unlock-so I could never leave, never be free, never stop being the “pending” nothing he’d made me.

    Worst of all, he used his Alpha command to drag away my dying grandmother’s only doctor, all to treat Elenore’s faked, blood-stained cough.

    They left my grandmother to die in agony, then paraded their “true love” at a high-society charity gala.

    I died in dark isolation, my heart broken and my family utterly destroyed.

    Opening my eyes again, I was back in Brannon’s study, breathing in the scent of cedar right as he asked me to step down.

    This time, I didn’t weep. I didn’t beg. I named my own terms.

    “I won’t voluntarily renounce you.”

    I looked at his arrogant face and smiled coldly.

    “I will formally reject you-on the full moon, before every elder and every wolf in the Pack.”

    But I knew his games wouldn’t end there. So I walked into the palace of the crown itself, seeking a power he could never command.

    And there, the crippled, “short-lived” Prince Gideon-the man the whole kingdom had written off as a ghost-looked at me and offered a way out no one saw coming.

    A royal mate bond. A prince’s protection. A throne’s shadow.

    I accepted his hand.

    Because this time, I’m not running from the game.

    I’m the one setting the rules.

    👉 READ NOW

    I Reject You: The Broken Luna’s Royal Destiny novel Chapter 1

    Alanna’s POV:
    “Renounce your claim as my mate.”
    Brannon Hoffman’s Alpha aura crashed over me like a wave, dominance meant to drive any Omega to her knees. My legs shook, but I lifted my chin and answered, “And if I refuse?”
    The study went still. The air was thick with the scent of old books, leather, and the sharp, clean smell of cedar that clung to him. It was the scent I had breathed in for five years in my past life, the scent that had followed me to my death.
    He sat behind a massive mahogany desk like a judge about to pass sentence. His handsome face was a mask of cold impatience, his tailored black uniform screaming his status as the heir to the Hoffman Pack.
    “You know about Elenore’s condition,” he continued, his tone void of any warmth. Elenore Gay—the daughter of a minor Pack’s Beta, a woman of no rank or mate-bond to her name—had somehow become the center of my husband’s world. “The Moon Sickness is consuming her. The doctors say she needs the bond of a powerful Alpha to have any chance of survival.”
    I listened silently. There was no storm in my chest, no frantic pounding of my heart. The Alanna of my past would have been shattered by these words, her world crumbling. But the woman standing here now only felt a bitter irony. Moon Sickness? A lie so flimsy even a third-rate Pack healer could see through it.
    He saw my silence as the same old submission. His tone softened, laced with a condescending superiority. “I know this is unfair to you. But as an Alpha, I have a duty to protect my Pack, and the people most important to me. I need you… to voluntarily renounce your claim as my official mate.”
    He paused, delivering what he thought was a merciful blow. “You can still remain in the Pack as my second. I’ll ensure you and your family are cared for.”
    I lifted my head, truly seeing him for the first time without the fog of love. He was handsome, powerful, and profoundly selfish. His brown eyes held no guilt, only a fanatical devotion to Elenore and a self-righteous satisfaction in his own “great sacrifice.”
    My hands didn’t tremble. My breath didn’t catch. I ran my thumb over the small, faint scar on my right index finger, a relic from my work restoring ancient artifacts. It was my only comfort in my last life, and the source of my strength in this one.
    “No,” I said. The word was soft, but it cut through the heavy air.
    Brannon’s brow furrowed. Surprise, then annoyance, flickered across his face. “What did you say?” His voice turned to ice, the oppressive weight of his Alpha aura pressing down on me.
    My legs trembled; a cold sweat broke across my back. Every wolf’s instinct should have bowed me, but I had no inner wolf to obey, and that hollow emptiness—the very flaw he so despised—was what kept my spine straight.
    I met his gaze, my own clear and steady. “I said, no. I will not voluntarily renounce my claim, and I will certainly not be your second.”
    His cold impatience cracked, a flicker of disbelief crossing his features before it hardened into raw fury. “Alanna Cruz! Don’t be a fool! You’re a wolfless Omega. Without me, you are nothing!” His roar echoed in the room, making my ears ring.
    Wolfless. No inner wolf, no mind-link. It was my greatest “flaw” as an Omega, the reason he had always looked down on me. The old me had shrunk into nothingness under that word.
    But I knew now that this “flaw” was also my shield. It insulated me from his emotional manipulation, allowing me to think with perfect clarity.
    I took a deep breath, the words I had practiced a thousand times ready on my tongue. “I won’t ‘voluntarily renounce’ you, Brannon. I will ‘formally reject’ you.”
    The air in the room froze. The anger on his face solidified into pure disbelief.
    “According to Pack Law, Article Seven, the dissolution of a mate bond requires a formal Rejection,” I stated, my voice as calm as if I were reciting a recipe. “‘I, Alanna Cruz, reject you, Brannon Hoffman, as my mate.’ Then, you must respond, ‘I, Brannon Hoffman, accept your rejection.’ Only then is the ceremony complete.”
    “Are you insane?” he finally snarled, finding his voice. “Do you know what that means? The severing of the bond! The pain will be ten times worse for you! Your Omega body won’t survive it!”
    Yes, I knew. In my past life, Elenore had pretended to plead for me, and Brannon had simply cast me aside, letting me wither away in isolation without the formal ritual. He had spared himself the discomfort of the bond-snap.
    “I’m well aware,” I said, a small, cold smile touching my lips for the first time since my rebirth. “But I don’t care. I have only one condition.”
    He watched me, wary now, as if seeing a stranger. “What condition?”
    “The ceremony must take place on the full moon, ten days from now, in front of all the Pack elders and members.”
    I leaned forward slightly, my voice dropping but gaining weight. “And until that ceremony is complete, Elenore Gay is not to set foot in this main house, nor is she to be presented under any title of a ‘future Luna’.”
    I had thrown the problem back at him. If he wanted to legitimize his relationship with Elenore, he had to endure the public humiliation of being rejected by me.
    Brannon’s chest heaved, his Alpha rage threatening to crack the very ceiling. He stared at me, his eyes burning holes into my soul. He thought he held all the cards, but he didn’t know that from the moment I woke up in this life, I was the one setting the rules of the game.
    A suffocating silence stretched between us. I could feel the war inside him—the fury, the confusion, and the sting of a challenged ego.
    Finally, he ground out the words through his teeth. “Are you sure you want to do this?”
    “I am absolutely certain, Mr. Alpha,” I replied with a slight nod, my quiet tone holding an unshakeable force.
    He slammed his fist on the desk. The sharp crack echoed through the study. A silver inkwell jumped, rolling off the edge. He flinched back from it—a small, instinctive recoil, the way every wolf shrinks from silver, even an Alpha—and the dark ink bled across the rich carpet.
    “Fine! Alanna, you asked for this!” he roared, rising to his full, intimidating height. “Ten days. I hope you don’t regret it!”

    I Reject You: The Broken Luna’s Royal Destiny novel Chapter 2

    Alanna’s POV:
    I shut the door to my chambers, the solid wood a welcome barrier against the curious stares of the servants in the hallway. In my past life, this room was a cage of tears and despair. Now, it was my war room.
    My personal maid, Livia, rushed in with a glass of warm milk. She was a gift from my mother, loyal to the core. Her eyes were red-rimmed. “My lady, I heard… How could he do this to you!”
    I took the glass, the warmth seeping into my cold fingers. I patted her hand. “Livia, don’t worry. Everything will be alright.”
    “But…” she started, her voice trembling.
    I cut her off gently. “Go and get me the Pack codex. The full version, the one that hasn’t been edited.”
    Livia looked confused but nodded immediately. She knew that while I appeared soft, my decisions were final.
    Soon, a heavy, leather-bound book sat on my desk. I opened it, the pages smelling of dust and time, and turned directly to the section on mate bonds. I had never paid attention to these laws before. Now, every word could be the key to my survival.
    The next day, Brannon sent his attendant, Milo, to deliver his “agreement.” Milo strutted in with the swagger of a beta grown drunk on his Alpha’s favor, sneering down his nose at the wolfless Omega he had been ordered to serve.
    The man’s tone was arrogant, as if he were bestowing a great favor upon me.
    He handed me a formal notice for the rejection ceremony. I took the parchment and read it carefully.
    It stated the time and place, and it agreed to my condition that Elenore would not enter the main house before the ritual. Everything seemed to be as I had demanded.
    But I knew Brannon. He was an Alpha obsessed with control. He would never allow an Omega to lead him by the nose.
    My eyes scanned every word, every punctuation mark. Livia stood beside me, holding her breath.
    Then I found it. At the very bottom of the notice, in tiny, almost unnoticeable script, was a reference to a supplementary clause of the codex.
    I immediately flipped to the corresponding article in the heavy book. “Supplementary Clause 3.1.5: To protect the stability of the Pack, any change in the mate bond of an Alpha heir requires the ‘blessing’ of at least two elders from different families before the ceremony, to certify that it is in the Pack’s long-term interest.”
    A cold dread washed over me. It was a trap. It was a snare, and I was the wolf who had walked into it. The elders of the Hoffman Pack were gray-muzzled old wolves who had bowed their necks to Brannon’s father for so long they had forgotten how to straighten them. They would never “bless” a ceremony that brought public shame upon the heir.
    Brannon had agreed to the public ceremony on the surface, but in reality, he could control the elders and ensure the ritual was never legally permitted to happen.
    He could delay it forever, using the excuse that “the elders have not yet consented.” I would be trapped indefinitely in this humiliating status of “pending rejection,” unable to leave, unable to start a new life.
    What a vicious, brilliant move. I almost had to applaud his cruelty.
    Livia saw the color drain from my face. “My lady, what is it?”
    “It’s nothing,” I said, folding the document. My gaze hardened. “He wants to play with the rules. So, I’ll just have to leave his game board entirely.”
    I knew then that I could not win this war from inside the Hoffman Pack. I needed an outside force.
    A few names flickered through my mind, but I dismissed them one by one. They were either too close to the Hoffmans or not powerful enough to challenge a major Alpha Pack.
    I needed someone of high enough status, with no ties to the Hoffmans, and… with a reason to help me.
    I stood and walked to the window. The perfectly manicured gardens of the Hoffman estate spread out below, a beautiful prison. I couldn’t be trapped here any longer.
    “Livia, prepare a simple dress for me, and a discreet carriage.”
    “My lady, where are you going?” she asked, her voice filled with alarm.
    “To visit my family,” I lied. In my past life, my brother had been framed and killed in the wilderness for trying to defend my honor against Brannon. In this life, he was dead too, gone before I could save him, leaving only his five-year-old son, Leo, in my grandmother’s care. This time, I would not drag what was left of them into my fight.
    I would protect it. But “visiting my family” was the perfect excuse, a reasonable and sentimental reason that no one could deny.
    I needed to get out of here. I needed to go to the capital.
    To see the one person who could break this stalemate.
    I looked at my reflection in the mirror. My face was still pale, but my eyes were different. The girl in the mirror was no longer Alanna Cruz, the lamb for slaughter. But to win this war, I had to continue playing the part of one.
    Brannon, you think you can trap me with your rules? You will soon learn that a person with nothing left to lose but a thirst for revenge follows no rules at all.

    I Reject You: The Broken Luna’s Royal Destiny novel Chapter 3

    Alanna’s POV:
    The day before I was set to leave, an unexpected event disrupted my plans. Elenore Gay sent “gifts.”
    Her personal maid, Rose, a woman with the same smug eyes as every bully I’d ever known, arrived at my door with several servants carrying large chests.
    The estate’s housekeeper, Mrs. Gable, followed close behind. She had always been a staunch supporter of Elenore, and her face was alight with malicious glee.
    “Miss Cruz,” Rose said, her voice dripping with false sweetness as she gave a mocking curtsy. “Our Lady Elenore sends these. She says thank you for your ‘generous’ sacrifice of the Alpha’s love. This is a small token of her appreciation.”
    The servants opened the chests. Inside were all the personal items I had made for Brannon over the years.
    A combat tunic with the Pack emblem I had spent nights embroidering. A pair of wolf-shaped cufflinks I had saved for months to buy. Even the calming balm I had personally blended to soothe his Alpha temper.
    Every single item was a monument to my past life’s foolish devotion. Now, Elenore was returning them to me like garbage.
    It was the ultimate humiliation. She was telling me that everything I had cherished was worthless to Brannon.
    Livia trembled with rage, ready to lunge forward, but I stopped her with a look.
    I stared at the items, my heart a frozen lake. The old me would have shattered. The new me found it laughable.
    I walked to the chests and picked up the combat tunic, my fingers tracing the emblem I had stitched with so much love.
    Rose and Mrs. Gable exchanged a smirk, thinking I was lost in sentimental memories.
    I looked up at Rose and smiled faintly. “Please thank Lady Elenore for me.”
    “However,” I continued, my smile vanishing as my eyes turned to ice, “it seems she has made a mistake.”
    I turned to Mrs. Gable. She was slightly taller than me and always looked down on me.
    “Mrs. Gable,” I began, my voice quiet but carrying an authority that silenced the corridor. “Please tell me, according to Pack law, what is my official status until the rejection ceremony is complete?”
    Mrs. Gable froze, clearly not expecting this question. “You… you are still the Alpha’s mate, Miss Cruz,” she stammered.
    “Good.” I nodded, my gaze sweeping over the assembled servants. “Which means I am still the future lady of this estate. The future Luna of the Hoffman Pack. Is that correct?”
    No one dared to answer, but their silence was an affirmation.
    “Then, what is the punishment for an outsider who disposes of the future Luna’s personal property, and has it delivered by a servant’s servant as an insult?” My voice rose, sharp and commanding.
    Mrs. Gable’s face turned white. She finally realized her grave error.
    I ignored her and turned to the stunned Rose. “And you, a mistress’s maid, dare to be insolent to the future Luna. Who gave you the audacity?”
    I raised my hand and, without a flicker of hesitation, slapped her hard across the face.
    The sharp crack echoed down the hall. Everyone, including Livia, stared in shock. They had never seen me like this.
    Rose clutched her cheek, her eyes wide with disbelief. “You… you hit me?”
    “Hit you? Mrs. Gable, tell her. According to the rules, what is the punishment for insubordination?” I asked coldly, my eyes fixed on the trembling housekeeper.
    Mrs. Gable’s lips quivered. “Twenty… twenty lashes, and banishment from the estate.”
    “Did you hear that?” I said to Rose, who had crumpled to the floor in fear. “I’m in a good mood today, so I will spare you the whip. Now get out. Go back and tell your mistress that I have received her ‘gratitude.’ And remind her that as long as I am Brannon Hoffman’s mate, she has no right to throw her weight around in this house!”
    I turned to Livia. “Take everything in these chests and burn it. Leave nothing.” These things were my foolish past. I needed to be rid of them completely.
    The servants scrambled to haul the chests away, and Rose was dragged off. Mrs. Gable stood frozen, her face ashen, unable to meet my eyes.
    This little drama only strengthened my resolve. I wasn’t just going to leave. I was going to a place where I could gain enough power to protect myself and my family.
    The capital city. Princess Theodora’s palace. It was my only choice.

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  • The Defective Mate’s Hidden Royal Bloodline novel by Superstition

    The Defective Mate's Hidden Royal Bloodline novel by Superstition

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    For years, I endured the mockery of being a “wolfless” outcast, acting as the perfectly devoted mate to Alpha Julian.

    But just weeks before his Mating ceremony with the noble Isabella, I overheard him call me a mere “placeholder” and a temporary “bed warmer.”

    He didn’t just break my heart; he crushed my dignity. He forced me to iron Isabella’s wedding gowns. When Isabella faked an allergic reaction to a cake I baked, Julian didn’t even investigate.

    “Something made with such vile intentions belongs in the garbage, just like you!”

    He roared, throwing my cake into the trash and demanding I apologize to the woman who was parading around with my stolen family heirloom.

    Looking at his cold, judgmental eyes, the lingering illusion of our bond evaporated into a vast, silent wasteland. How could I have been so foolish to love a man so utterly blind?

    I didn’t shed a single tear.

    “Consider this my apology.”

    I smiled, picking up a glass of ice water and throwing it directly into Isabella’s perfectly made-up face.

    Locked away in the Ancestral Hall as punishment, I didn’t panic. Instead, I calmly began plotting with his rival cousin, setting a trap for Isabella’s powerful family. I no longer wanted his love; I wanted my absolute freedom.

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    The Defective Mate’s Hidden Royal Bloodline novel Chapter 1

    Nora POV:

    “Part your thighs for me, Nora. I’m going to take you hard tonight, mark you deep, and make you truly mine.”

    Julian’s husky, lust-filled voice vibrated against the sensitive skin of my neck, his hot, sour, alcohol-laced breath making my stomach churn violently.

    He had me pinned against the cold, unyielding wall of my small, dimly lit room, his heavy, muscular body pressing aggressively into mine. His hands, rough and demanding, gripped my waist, his fingers digging into my flesh as he pulled me tighter into his stifling, inescapable embrace. The overwhelming scent of his Alpha pheromones, which used to make my knees weak with desire, now felt like a toxic cloud suffocating my very soul.

    Instead of melting into my mate’s touch like an obedient Omega, my entire body went rigid. I felt nothing but a suffocating wave of disgust and intense, clawing resistance. I used to be a proud aristocratic lady, the cherished daughter of the prestigious Hayes Pack, before my family tragically fell from grace. I was raised to be a noble Luna, not a secret, shameful plaything.

    Mark me? Make me his?

    “Isabella’s position is completely untouchable. She has the backing of the powerful Sinclair Pack. As for Nora, she’s just a fallen aristocrat. A criminal’s daughter. A convenient hole to warm your bed.”

    His cruel words from the other night echoed in my mind, perfectly overlapping with the heavy, animalistic pants of the man currently grinding his hips against me. A violent shudder of pure revulsion rolled through my spine, freezing my blood.

    “You smell so incredibly sweet,” he mumbled, his wet, eager lips trailing down my collarbone, biting and sucking at my skin, completely oblivious to my freezing demeanor. “Don’t be shy, Nora. You know how much I crave this body.”

    Shy? My heart was bleeding out on the floor, yet he was completely blind to it. The affectionate touch I had craved for years now felt like crawling, venomous insects on my skin. I squeezed my eyes shut as my agonizing heartbreak over the man who once loved me rapidly rotted into a chilling, horrifying unfamiliarity. This man pressing against me was no longer my devoted lover. He was a ruthless, calculating heir who would do absolutely anything for power and status. I had to protect my remaining pride. I had to escape this golden cage.

    We had been engaged since childhood, a match made in heaven. But when I was eight, my family was framed for treason, and all the men in my clan were exiled to the barren wastelands. My mother died of severe depression shortly after. I only survived the purge because of my grandfather’s desperate, last-minute interventions.

    I thought our engagement would be immediately canceled, but Julian fought everyone to keep me. Yet, right after our private mating ceremony, his mother declared my family guilty and my status utterly unworthy. I was strictly forbidden to be his Luna. I was stripped of my dignity and became his hidden, shameful mistress.

    “You know I have to marry Isabella for the sake of the Pack’s future,” he had promised back then, stroking my tear-stained cheek with false tenderness. “An Alpha of my high status will naturally have many women, but don’t be jealous, my sweet Nora. You are the only one who truly has my heart. Just be a good girl, stay in my bed, and I will always take care of you.”

    I had been foolish enough to believe him. I had stayed by his side in the shadows for four long years, nameless, hidden, and utterly devoted.

    And now, knowing he was officially going to marry Isabella Sinclair next month, his eager, wandering hands on my body felt like the ultimate insult. He didn’t want a true, equal mate; he just wanted an obedient, pathetic bed warmer who would never say no.

    “No!” I gasped, finding a sudden, desperate surge of strength to shove his heavy chest away. My hands shook violently as I wrapped my arms around myself, creating a physical barrier between us. “Please, Julian. You are drunk. You should go back to your own room and get some proper rest.”

    Julian stumbled back a step, his dark eyes flashing with a dark, impatient anger. He wasn’t used to me rejecting him. “What are you afraid of? We are going to be husband and wife in every way that matters sooner or later. Stop acting like such a prude!” he grumbled, his Alpha aura flaring in a pathetic, domineering attempt to submit me to his will.

    But my inner wolf wasn’t there to cower anymore, and my human heart was already entirely dead to him.

    Husband and wife? He had never fulfilled a single sweet promise he made to me.

    “I’m not feeling well,” I lied, keeping my head down so he wouldn’t see the intense hatred brewing in my stormy gray eyes. “My stomach hurts terribly. If you force me now, you’ll only end up cleaning sick off your expensive Italian leather shoes.”

    He stared at me, his jaw clenched so tight a muscle ticked in his cheek. The rejection clearly bruised his fragile, inflated Alpha ego. He scoffed, running a frustrated hand through his messy brown hair, completely turned off by my uncooperative words.

    “Fine. Suit yourself, you ungrateful bitch,” he spat coldly, turning his broad back toward the door. But before he stepped out into the hallway, he paused and looked back at me over his shoulder, his gaze completely devoid of the warmth he once showed me.

    “Come to my study tomorrow morning. There is something important I need to tell you about your new arrangements.”

    The heavy oak door slammed shut, leaving me completely alone in the deafening, oppressive silence of the room.

    I stood frozen for a long moment, listening to his heavy, fading footsteps echoing down the hall. Slowly, I lowered my trembling arms and walked over to the vintage dressing table.

    I looked at the pathetic, broken girl in the mirror. My dress was wrinkled, my hair a messy tangle, but my gray eyes were completely dry and hard.

    I thought I would cry a river for my lost love, but I didn’t. The hollow, agonizing ache in my chest was rapidly being replaced by a hardening, impenetrable ice.

    Eleonora Hayes, you are a complete and utter fool, I told my reflection.

    Hope was dead. Love was dead. He had made his cruel choice, and now, I would make mine.

    I wiped away a single, stray tear that had managed to escape my iron control. From this night on, I would not shed another tear for Julian Montgomery. I would live only for myself. But just as I made this silent, unbreakable vow, a sharp, urgent knock on my door shattered the silence, bringing a visitor I completely did not expect at this late hour.

    The Defective Mate’s Hidden Royal Bloodline novel Chapter 2

    Nora POV:

    The next morning, I walked into Julian’s study just as he had ordered the night before.

    He was standing behind his heavy mahogany desk, as handsome as ever. His short brown hair was perfectly styled, and the powerful scent of his Alpha pheromones rolled off him in waves. The scent that once made me weak now only made me feel suffocated.

    He stepped around the desk and closed the distance between us, his gaze sweeping over my pale face with chilling indifference.

    “You look terrible,” he stated, his voice completely devoid of concern. He spoke as if inspecting a tarnished piece of property, not even bothering to ask why I was exhausted. “But your feelings don’t matter right now. Just listen. There are some new arrangements regarding your placement that I need to make clear.”

    I stood silently, my hands folded in front of me. It was the submissive posture I had perfected over the years. Today, for the first time, I was consciously performing it.

    Julian reached out, his strong fingers gripping my chin, tilting my head side to side as if evaluating an object. His thumb rubbed my lower lip in a possessive, degrading manner. “At the full moon next month, I will be holding the Mating ceremony with Isabella Sinclair.”

    He said it bluntly, with no preamble, entirely absorbed in his own monologue.

    Even though I already knew, hearing the words from his own mouth made my chest tighten painfully. I lowered my eyes, letting him think I was too devastated to meet his gaze.

    “It’s important for the Pack,” he continued, his tone like he was explaining a business merger. “Our union will bring powerful allies and a stable future.”

    He leaned closer, his hot breath brushing my ear. “But do not worry, Nora. I need you to understand your place. After the ceremony, you can still remain here. As my companion. My private bed warmer. I have already prepared a secluded room for you in the east wing. You will stay out of sight.”

    He chose the words carefully to remind me of the massive gap between us. He was a noble Alpha with pristine blood, and I was merely the descendant of exiled sinners. To him, I wasn’t a partner; I was a convenient asset to be tucked away in a dark corner.

    A wave of bitter irony washed over me. I had never wanted to provoke him in the first place. I could have chosen a different path, found a quiet life far away from this Pack. But he was the one who had made those sweet promises. He was the affectionate lover who swore to protect me. Now, he had finally evolved into a ruthless heir, willing to sacrifice everything for power, turning my trust into a foolish, unrequited fantasy.

    “I will protect you, Nora,” he murmured, his hand sliding down to grip my waist tightly. “You just need to be obedient. Do not harbor any delusions about a status that does not belong to you. And most importantly, do not cause any trouble for Isabella. She has a bit of a temper.”

    He not only betrayed me but now expected me to behave like a well-trained pet for his new mate.

    But I didn’t lash out. I didn’t scream or cry like he clearly expected me to. I simply wanted to get rid of him as fast as possible.

    I let a single tear fall perfectly on cue, nodded meekly, and whispered, “I understand, Alpha.”

    The formal title made Julian pause. He frowned slightly, his fingers tightening on my waist as if testing my reaction. He searched my face for any sign of jealousy, anger, or desperate begging—the reactions he was used to.

    But he found only a hollow, polite submission. My eyes were like dead water.

    The silence stretched. The complete lack of emotional response seemed to unnerve him. I wasn’t acting like the devoted lover he owned; I was acting like a lifeless doll. The realization didn’t please him; it irritated his fragile Alpha ego.

    His grip slowly loosened, the charming mask slipping to reveal a cold, annoyed expression. “Get out,” he said, his voice flat and dismissive, though his jaw was clenched. “Go back to your room and reflect on your duties.”

    I gave a slight bow and left the study without a backward glance. The moment the heavy oak door clicked shut, the fragile expression on my face vanished, leaving my eyes as cold as ice.

    When I returned to my room, Ruby Walsh, the head Omega servant, was already there with my breakfast. She saw my swollen eyes and her face filled with sympathy.

    She set down the tray, hesitated, and then spoke in a low voice. “Miss, you have heard the news?”

    I nodded.

    Ruby sighed, her voice dropping to a near whisper. “Miss, you must be careful. Especially… do not get pregnant right now.”

    A chill went through me. I looked at her, my full attention captured.

    “There are unwritten rules in the Pack,” Ruby said, her eyes wide with fear. “A child born from an unmarked union is seen as a stain on the Alpha and Luna’s bloodline. They usually do not survive.”

    The blood drained from my face. My world turned cold. I had never considered this, because I had always believed I would be Julian’s true, marked mate.

    My hand instinctively went to my flat stomach. There was no life there, but the possibility of it filled me with absolute dread.

    This was no longer about my dignity or my broken heart. This was about a potential, innocent life.

    Seeing my ashen face, Ruby did not dare say more. She gave a quick bow and hurried out.

    I stood frozen in the middle of the room. The cruelty of Julian and the coldness of the Pack were an unbearable weight crushing my spirit.

    I couldn’t stay here.

    I had to escape.

    At any cost.

    A thought began to grow in my mind, a desperate, wild plan. It was full of risks, but it was the only way out.

    The Defective Mate’s Hidden Royal Bloodline novel Chapter 3

    Nora POV:

    Before I could even begin to form the details of my escape plan, an unexpected, ominous summons threw me completely off balance.

    The Luna, Genevieve Montgomery, Julian’s formidable mother, wanted to see me immediately.

    I followed the silent, judging maid who brought the message through the vast estate. Unlike the modern, minimalist west wing where Julian resided in luxury, the main residence was filled with old-world, suffocating luxury and an oppressive atmosphere. The dark oak walls were lined with massive, intimidating portraits of past Montgomery Alphas and Lunas, their painted, lifeless eyes seeming to judge me, the disgraced outsider, with every step I took.

    I was led into Genevieve’s private sitting room. The air inside was thick and heavy with the scent of expensive white lilies, a sweet fragrance that couldn’t quite mask the cloying, underlying sense of moral decay.

    Genevieve sat rigidly on a plush velvet sofa, dressed in an impeccably tailored, deep purple suit that screamed power and wealth. Her sharp, calculating dark eyes locked onto me the moment I entered. She had always looked down on my fallen status, viewing my family’s exile as a personal insult to her Pack’s purity. But because Julian was so stubbornly obsessed with me, she had no choice but to tolerate my existence in the shadows. Now that Julian was finally taking a proper, high-born wife, the rules of the game had drastically changed.

    “Sit,” she commanded. Her voice was flat and devoid of emotion, but it carried a heavy, Alpha-blood authority that permitted absolutely no argument.

    I perched carefully on the very edge of the antique chair opposite her, keeping my posture humble and my eyes lowered.

    Genevieve didn’t waste time with pleasantries. She gestured sharply to a senior maid standing beside her, who immediately brought forward a silver tray. On it sat a delicate, intricately carved silver cup filled with a dark, bubbling brown liquid that gave off a strong, pungent herbal scent.

    “Our Montgomery family prides itself on excellent breeding, pure bloodlines, and strict discipline,” Genevieve said, her sharp eyes locking onto me like a hawk zeroing in on its prey. “We absolutely do not allow the Alpha to leave illegitimate seeds scattered around like a common rogue. Much less allow a disgraced mistress to potentially bear an heir before the true Luna. This is a highly potent sterilization potion. It will ensure you never conceive, without harming your overall physical health. Drink it now. Then you can quietly stay by Julian’s side and live a peaceful, comfortable life as his obedient pet.”

    My gaze fell on the silver cup. The bitter smell confirmed her cruel words. My insides turned to solid ice, Chloe’s earlier warning ringing loudly in my ears. They all thought of me as nothing but a breeding risk, a threat to be neutralized.

    I looked at the bubbling potion, then slowly, deliberately lifted my head to meet Genevieve’s cold gaze. “My Luna, I did not share a bed with the Alpha last night. Nothing happened between us. There is no need for this.”

    Genevieve’s expression turned instantly hostile, her refined mask slipping to reveal pure malice. She thought I was being restless, desperately trying to get pregnant to steal the Luna position using Julian’s blind love.

    “You ungrateful, scheming little wretch,” she spat, her voice dripping with absolute disgust. “Do you really think a pathetic descendant of sinners, with your filthy, tainted blood, could ever be worthy of standing beside my glorious son? You are nothing but a dirty stain on his perfect record!”

    A profound wave of sorrow and exhaustion washed over me. I finally understood that my very existence was seen as a dirty mark on Julian’s perfect life. I was a disease they wanted to manage. I did not reach for the cup.

    “No, my Luna, I am not trying to threaten you or your noble family,” I said, my voice trembling slightly as I slid from the chair and knelt submissively on the expensive Persian rug. “I know my presence here is a mistake. I am begging you to let me go.”

    I looked up, my face wet with genuine tears, my voice broken and self-deprecating. “I don’t want to be a stain on Julian’s and Miss Sinclair’s beautiful union. I don’t want to be a joke in everyone’s eyes anymore. Please, allow me to leave the Pack peacefully. Let me go live as an un-mated, low-ranking lone wolf, to fend for myself in the wild.”

    This was my only chance. I had to make her believe I was so utterly broken that I was seeking a form of suicide. Only then would she consider the one official way to sever my ties to Julian completely: The Rejection. I couldn’t mention the sacred ritual myself; that would reveal my cold determination, not my despair. To leave a Pack without being formally rejected by a mate was a deep shame, marking you as a rogue outcast hunted by all.

    Genevieve stared at me, genuinely shocked, as if seeing me for the very first time. The blazing anger in her eyes was slowly replaced by a complex, calculating, political look.

    She had fully expected me to fight for my position, to cry and beg to stay. She never imagined I would be begging for my own demise. For a wolfless female to leave the protection of a powerful Pack was a guaranteed death sentence.

    She had tried to solve her problem with a simple potion. I had just handed her a much bigger one: a suicidal ex-mate-to-be who could cause a massive public scandal. Letting me go without a word was a disgrace. An un-rejected mate wandering free was a direct insult to the Montgomery name. But keeping me here… my defiance today proved I was no longer a mindless pawn she could easily control.

    I could almost see the gears turning in her strategic mind. A formal Rejection ceremony, while a temporary blow to Julian’s and the Pack’s reputation, would solve the problem of me permanently. It would appease Isabella and her powerful family once and for all, securing the alliance.

    She fell into a long, incredibly tense strategic silence.

    I remained kneeling on the floor, my head bowed, waiting for her verdict. This was my first real move on the chessboard. I was betting my life that her cold, political mind would win out over her maternal anger.

    After what felt like an absolute eternity, Genevieve finally spoke, her voice dry and measured. “This is a serious matter that concerns the Pack’s honor. I need time to consider.”

    She hadn’t agreed. But crucially, she hadn’t refused.

    She said she would consider.

    It meant I had won the first round.

    But the sudden, forceful, and loud opening of the sitting room doors instantly shattered the tense silence, making my heart leap into my throat.

    👉 CONTINUE READING

  • Divorcing My Alpha Husband For His Uncle by YOLO

    Divorcing My Alpha Husband For His Uncle by YOLO

    👉 READ NOW

    How to manage a cheating husband when he’s got a 3 year old child out of it?

    Althea’s world comes crashing down when she finds out her husband of five long years has been sleeping with her sister-in-law/best friend.

    Not only was she a defective, wolfless, and barren Luna, but one who couldn’t even handle her own marriage. Everything was against her, even life itself.

    So what would happen when she gets imprisoned by her pack for requesting divorce?

    Or when she tries to escape but gets hitched into a contract marriage to her greatest, but sexiest nightmare- Alpha Alaric Darkmoor

    Her husband’s estranged Uncle.

    A man she should never desire this badly while bearing a mating mark for another.

    Behind his “charming” reputation lies a deadly secret and a mate bond he never expected.

    Will Althea let herself get claimed yet again?

    Or would she rather nail herself to the wall if it would prevent her from falling into the arms of the one man her body so desperately craves?

    👉 READ NOW

    Divorcing My Alpha Husband For His Uncle Chapter 1 The Betrayal

    ‎~Althea’s POV
    ‎
    ‎
    ‎”Shush… don’t wake our boy…”
    ‎
    ‎The words drifted through the slightly closed door, slicing through my chest. The pregnancy test I was holding slipped from my trembling fingers and fluttered soundlessly to the floor. ‎I clamped a shaky hand over my mouth, but the gasp still tore free, ripping through my lungs. My feet buckled, as I staggered back a step.
    ‎
    ‎What…what is happening? ‎Tears welled up instantly, blurring my vision until the corridor swam, I shook my head in disbelief. My knees went weak, and my body swayed as if the world had tilted without warning.
    ‎
    ‎No. How…how did I get here? ‎I backed the door, then faced it again in confusion. The test report is long forgotten on the floor as hot tears streamed down my cheeks as the memory crashed into me.
    ‎
    ‎~
    ‎
    ‎Today was my day. Our day.
    ‎
    ‎I was pregnant. ‎Just hours earlier, I had sat on the edge of the healer’s bed, my fingers digging into the fabric of my skirt as anxiety twisted low in my stomach. ‎Then she smiled at me, a gentle and knowing expression. She spoke of cycles and moon signs, of the life stirring inside me. My chest tightened painfully as her words replayed in my mind.
    ‎
    “You’re two weeks gone, Luna.”

    ‎Her words echoed in my ears even now, unreal and dazzling. I had walked out of the healer’s quarters clutching the test report like a miracle, my heart so full that it hurts. ‎I gave him everything. Nolan’s child. Our child.
    ‎
    ‎What have I done?

    ‎I shouldn’t have come here. ‎I steadied myself against the wall, my feet refusing to leave the spot. ‎I had only wanted Vespera to help me plan the surprise, my best friend. She’s a mother after all, she’d know what to do. ‎I imagined us whispering excitedly together planning a surprise reveal to Nolan, laughing over baby names the way we once laughed over girlhood dreams.
    ‎
    ‎That was why I came here first.
    ‎
    ‎I remembered hurrying through the pack estate, my steps light despite my nerves. Every breath I took filled me with renewed hope. ‎Until I reached her door, ‎at first, I thought I was mistaken, but a soft gasp slipped through the walls, followed by a low husky voice that was painfully familiar.
    ‎
    ‎My steps slowed instinctively. The air felt tight and heavier, pressing against my chest as it thudded loudly for no reason. Or so I thought. ‎I even told myself it was nothing. That I was tired and strained from the jog down here and that I was imagining things, but ‎then I heard another sound. A deep, same familiar breathless chuckle
    ‎
    ‎Then my heart sank, so deep that it sent a strange chill over my skin. ‎I moved closer, every instinct screaming at me to turn back even as my feet carried me forward, betraying me. They never listen, do they?
    ‎
    ‎I stopped before the door, my hand hovering just inches from the handle. Through the narrowed crack, I saw them.
    ‎
    ‎Nolan. ‎Vespera.
    ‎
    ‎Then I heard a crack. The sound of my soul breaking maybe. ‎The world shattered silently around me. ‎They were tangled together in her bed, wrapped in a cocoon of blankets, bare skin against bare skin. His hands were on her waist in a way I knew too well. ‎I couldn’t breathe. ‎My mouth just hung open with trembling lips, no words. Nothing.

    ‎Her fingers were clutching his shoulders as if she had every right to be there. Nolan’s face was fixed at the crook of her neck leaving kisses. ‎As he’d done to me just this morning. ‎The sight was so wrong that my mind initially rejected it. Refusing to name what my eyes clearly saw-My husband and ‎my best friend. Together?
    ‎
    ‎The betrayal pierced straight through me, sharp and merciless, like a long shard of cold glass driven into my heart. My breath came in short, shallow puffs, my chest burning as if I’d been running for miles. ‎I wanted to scream, to storm in and demand an explanation. To shatter the illusion with my voice. But, I couldn’t move. ‎While I stood frozen in the shadows, her voice came again- soft, in an airy moan as she stifled a giggle.
    ‎
    ‎”Be gentle… don’t make too much noise,” she murmured. “Be careful not to wake our precious boy.” ‎My stomach lurched violently as bile rose up my throat.

    Our… boy?
    Our boy…
    ‎
    ‎The words echoed in my head, over and over, until they drowned out everything else. Nausea surged up my throat, my vision narrowing. A child. Not only an affair. Not just his betrayal. Then it hit me, they’d been going on for years. ‎The boy everyone believed was my late brother-in-law’s son, the quiet child who called me Aunt with innocent eyes was Nolan’s flesh and blood.
    ‎
    ‎I tasted bile now. But still, the nightmare wasn’t done with me. ‎Nolan’s voice followed, calm and assured, as if he were promising her the world.
    ‎
    ‎”I’ll arrange everything soon,” he said. “He’ll be the heir. The only one. Don’t worry.” Vespera hummed in satisfaction.
    ‎
    ‎”I made sure of it,” Nolan continued, his words casual, yet cruel. “She won’t be a hindrance. I’ve been giving her contraceptives for years.”
    ‎
    ‎The corridor spun. ‎My vision went black with my ears ringing loudly in a deafening whoosh, I thought I might collapse. ‎Five years. ‎Five years of mockery, pitying looks, and my own silent shame for failing to conceive. ‎It was never my fault. ‎It had always been his wicked plan. ‎My hand pressed against my lower abdomen instinctively, terror and grief crashing into me all at once. The child inside me-my miracle-felt suddenly fragile, and unbearably precious.
    ‎
    ‎I stumbled backward. ‎I don’t remember deciding to leave. My body just moves on its own, finally retreating step by step, as if guided by an invincible force alone. ‎Each movement sent sharp pain, slicing through my chest. My breathing was erratic, my heart pounding wildly as the weight of it all crushed down on me. I couldn’t stop the flow of tears that had been going on for the past… I don’t know.
    ‎
    ‎The floor seemed too far away and the walls felt too close. But I kept moving, stumbling through the corridor with no destination in mind. Then an unbearable pain bloomed suddenly in my abdomen, very unforgiving and violent. I gasped, clutching myself as a warm terrifying sensation spread between my thighs.
    ‎
    ‎My legs buckled. No. ‎Not now. Please…
    ‎
    ‎Please, not my baby.
    ‎
    ‎The last thing I felt was the cold stone beneath my knees and the sound of my own heartbeat roaring in my ears. ‎Darkness surged up to claim me, ‎I didn’t fight it.
    ‎
    ‎And then…
    ‎
    ‎Nothing.

    Divorcing My Alpha Husband For His Uncle Chapter 2 Miscarriage

    ‎I woke to the steady beeping of a machine and the sharp sting in my arm. ‎The smell of antiseptic and the crushing weight of silence pressed down heavily on my chest. ‎For a moment, I didn’t remember where I was. The ceiling above me was plain white and unfamiliar. ‎I turned my head slightly and saw a thin tube connected to my arm, feeding clear liquid into my veins. That was where the sting came from.
    ‎
    ‎My body felt hollow, aching in a way that went deeper than flesh. Then the pain came. Not the physical kind-though it was there, as a dull, persistent throb low in my abdomen- but the other pain. The one that tore through me, so violently I couldn’t breathe. ‎Then the beeping grew restless and erratic.
    ‎
    ‎The sound of footsteps rushed closer, then the door was pushed open. The healer hurried to my side, her movements quick but hesitant and her expression was gentle, but grim. A look of pity crossed her eyes and that made my heart sink even before she said anything.

    ‎”My Luna…” she hesitated. “I’m sorry. The shock was too much. The child… could not be saved.”

    Her words came out softly, ‎but the impact was anything but soft. ‎It felt as though a clawed hand ripped straight through my chest, splitting my heart open. I gasped, clutching the sheets as agony surged through me in violent waves. My vision blurred instantly as tears spilled down my temples, soaking into the pillow beneath my head.
    ‎
    ‎Gone. ‎My baby was gone. ‎The little life I had carried for such a brief, precious moment. The only proof that I wasn’t broken, that I was worthy was gone, just like that. ‎A broken sound tore out of my throat before I could even stop it. I turned my face away, curling inward, in a ball, as if I could somehow contain the emptiness tearing me apart. ‎The healer just stood there, helplessly watching me break into a million pieces.
    ‎
    ‎Memories crashed into me all at once.
    ‎
    ‎The door.
    ‎The voices.
    ‎The bed. Their words.
    ‎
    ‎Our boy.
    ‎I’ve been giving her contraceptives for years. My hands shook badly.
    ‎
    ‎No.
    ‎
    ‎I couldn’t lie here. I wouldn’t let this be the end of it. ‎Nolan Darkmoon would look me in the eyes. He’d hear what he had done. To me, to us and to our child. ‎He’d see what he’d destroyed. ‎I forced myself upright despite the healer’s protest, my body screamed in pain as I swung my legs over the side of the bed. The ache that seared through my abdomen was sharp but it grounded me, anchoring me to something solid.
    ‎
    ‎Fury.
    ‎
    ‎I left the clinic wrapped in a cloak that felt far too heavy for my own fragile body. ‎Whisperers followed me as I passed through the pack grounds.
    ‎
    ‎”She lost the child…”
    ‎”No wolf, and no heir…”
    ‎”Poor Luna… or maybe cursed.”
    ‎
    ‎Some glances held looks of pity, while others held poorly hidden contempt, a few didn’t even bother hiding their satisfaction at all. ‎My spine stiffened with every step I took. Yes, I was wolfless from birth. But I lifted my chin anyway, refusing to bow under their stares, even as my heart bled with every of their murmured word. ‎I didn’t stop walking until I reached Vespera’s residence.
    ‎
    ‎And then-
    ‎
    ‎I froze. ‎The door opened and Nolan stepped out first, beside him was Vespera, and between them, held carefully, was the little boy. Their son, ‎they looked like a perfect little family straight out of a magazine. My breath hitched painfully as something twisted deep in my chest, ‎it should have been us. ‎The sight was so cruel, it seemed absurd. I swallowed forcefully.
    ‎
    ‎Vespera noticed me first. ‎Her eyes widened, and she gently released the boy’s hand, stepping toward me, concern etched on her beautiful face.
    ‎
    ‎”Althea,” she said softly. “Oh my goodness… are you alright? We heard you collapsed-”
    ‎
    ‎I laughed. ‎The sound was hollow, brittle, nothing like my joy-filled ones.
    ‎
    ‎”Don’t worry,” I said coldly. “I wouldn’t dare interrupt family time.”
    ‎
    ‎Her lips parted, her expression faltering for just a fraction of a second. Nolan stepped forward then, his face carefully composed, concern painted on it like a second skin.
    ‎
    ‎”Baby,” he said evenly. ‎The word nearly broke me all over again.

    ‎”This isn’t what you think.” ‎I looked at him-really looked at him-and something in me crumbled.
    ‎
    ‎”Isn’t it?” I asked quietly, my voice cracked. “Because it looks to me like my husband walking hand in hand with his lover and their child.”
    ‎
    ‎Vespera gasped softly, tears instantly pooling in her eyes.
    ‎
    ‎”Please don’t say things like that.” She pleaded, her voice quivering. “You’re misunderstanding everything. My marriage was miserable, Althea. You know that. Nolan has only ever helped me out of kindness.”
    ‎
    ‎She reached for my hand but I ripped them away. Nolan nodded, seizing the opportunity. “She’s my late brother’s wife. And the child is his son. I’m only taking care of my family.”
    ‎
    ‎As he spoke, he reached out and wrapped an arm around Vespera’s shoulders, pulling her gently against his side. To comfort her, the absurdity of it almost made me dizzy. Anger surged through me violently, hot, blinding, and overwhelming. My hand rose before I even realized it, trembling as I moved to strike him. ‎But it never reached him. ‎A firm grip closed around my wrist painfully.
    ‎
    ‎”Nolan,” his Beta said sharply, stepping between us, his eyes warning. “This isn’t appropriate.”
    ‎
    ‎He dropped my hand uselessly to my side and ‎Nolan’s gaze hardened.
    ‎
    ‎”Enough, Althea,” he said coldly. “Stop imagining things that never happened. All this pain you’re feeling is in your head. Don’t drag innocent people into your delusions.”
    ‎
    ‎So something inside me went utterly still. The final string of hope snapped neatly. ‎I looked at the man I had been utterly in love with for five long years. The man I had centered my existence around, and saw him clearly at last.
    ‎
    ‎A stranger.‎
    ‎Liar.‎
    ‎A cheating bastard.
    ‎A monster wrapped in authority and charm.
    ‎
    ‎The weight of silence in the courtyard rushed through my ears. ‎I knew what I was about to say next would shatter everything. ‎Us. And it was only just the beginning, but I didn’t care anymore.
    ‎
    ‎”I want a divorce.”

    Divorcing My Alpha Husband For His Uncle Chapter 3 Divorce

    ‎For the first time, Nolan looked surprised. His widened eyes stared at me in disbelief.
    ‎
    ‎”Wh…what?”

    ‎”I want a divorce.” My voice broke the quiet courtyard, it was like everyone present was holding their breath. For a heartbeat, no one spoke. Nolan’s expression was still frozen, not in anger, I didn’t even see any sign of hurt and it broke me.
    ‎
    ‎The brief crack of surprise vanished almost instantly from his face, replaced by a calm so controlled it made my skin crawl. Then he smiled, the way I used to drool over. But now I see it, it never reached his eyes, it was all measured and calculated. Why didnt I see it before?
    ‎
    ‎”Take her back to the Alpha’s residence,” Nolan said, his voice smooth and authoritative in that Alpha manner. “My Luna isn’t feeling well.”
    ‎
    ‎I stiffened. “I’m staying right here.”
    ‎
    ‎Vespera moved first, stepping closer with soft concern painted perfectly across her face, but her eyes spoke otherwise. “Althea, please,” she said gently. “You’ve been through so much. Losing a child would break anyone. You shouldn’t be making such decisions in this state.”
    ‎
    ‎Her hand hovered near my arm as if she might steady me. ‎I flinched away on instinct and watched as Nolan’s gaze swept the onlookers-elders, guards, servants, pack members- their gazes lingering too long. “You all heard the healer,” he said coolly. “Shock, emotional instability. She needs rest, not conflict.”
    ‎
    ‎The words settled over the crowd like a judge’s verdict. His words were law, apparently, and I was the one who fed that to him. ‎Some nodded, while others looked away. ‎My body shook in exhaustion as I felt the shift immediately, the subtle reordering of loyalty. My grief, my pain, turned into a convenient weakness he could use.
    ‎
    ‎”I’m not unstable,” I said, my voice steady despite the tremor in my hands. “I know exactly what I’m asking for.”
    ‎
    ‎Nolan finally looked directly at me with a tight smile. “You don’t.”
    ‎
    ‎He then turned to Vespera. “Take the child inside.”
    ‎
    ‎She hesitated, eyes flickering to me with something that looked almost like triumph, before guiding the boy away. The moment they disappeared, Nolan gestured toward the inner hall.
    ‎
    ‎”Come,” he said. “We’ll discuss this privately.”
    ‎
    ‎The door closed behind us with a soft thud. Silence stretched between us, heavy and suffocating. Nolan loosened his cuffs slowly, as if we were about to engage in pack finances instead of the ruin of my life. And to think I used to find that sexy.
    ‎
    ‎”You saw things you shouldn’t have,” he started at last. “And now you’re unraveling.”
    ‎
    ‎I laughed quietly. “Don’t insult me by pretending, dear husband.”
    ‎
    ‎He spoke, not bothering to deny it. ‎”Yes,” Nolan said flatly, as if already tired of the conversation which made me scoff.
    ‎
    ‎”I’ve been with Vespera for years. The boy is mine and he’ll inherit this pack.”
    ‎
    ‎He just said those words carelessly, without shame. Like facts anyone would accept. ‎My chest tightened. “You let everyone believe he was your brother’s.”
    ‎
    ‎”I let them believe what was convenient.”
    ‎
    ‎”And me?” My nails dig into my palms. “What was I supposed to believe?”
    ‎
    ‎He studied me for a moment, expression distant but something that looked like guilt crossed his eyes briefly.
    ‎
    ‎”You were always supposed to do what you’ve always done, Althea. Smile, manage the pack, and be useful.”
    ‎
    ‎”Useful,” I repeated, the word clawing out of my throat. “Is that all I was to you”?
    ‎
    ‎”Yes.” He stated matter-of-factly.
    ‎
    ‎The simplicity of it hurts more than the rage ever could.
    ‎
    ‎”Then why,” I asked hoarsely, “why did I never conceive?” I knew what I heard, but it’s like a part of me chose to still have little faith in him. ‎He wouldn’t do something so horrible like that, not to me.
    ‎
    ‎Something like amusement flickered across his face. Like he was reminiscing.
    ‎
    ‎”Because I made sure you didn’t,” Nolan said. “Moonroot extract. Although mild, and tasteless, but very potent. The healer never even noticed!”
    ‎
    ‎He jollied like a scientist drunk on his favorite experiment. The room tilted, my arms catching air as I tried to steady myself.
    ‎
    ‎”You-” My breath caught. “You drugged me.”
    ‎
    ‎”I controlled variables,” he corrected. “A wolfless Luna carrying an Alpha’s heir would have complicated things.”
    ‎
    ‎”No one loves to be a laughing stock, Althea. I mean…except you ofcourse.” He shrugged, a smirk tugging at his lips. ‎I stared at him, the pieces clicking together with sickening clarity. Five years. Five years of the shame I carried alone. Why didn’t I notice? He was never bothered about my not being able to get pregnant.
    ‎
    ‎He was just… there. Nutting inside me while I secretly hoped it would work each time we made love. He watched it register, then added calmly, “You were never meant to bear a child, Althea.”
    ‎
    ‎My vision blurred, the tears I had been holding so forcefully spilled, but he continued relentlessly.
    ‎
    ‎”You’re just a decoration,” he said. “A little side piece to make me look good. A wolfless body meant for appearance and pleasure, not legacy.”
    ‎
    ‎The words sliced through me one after another, so cruel.
    ‎
    ‎”Useless,” he went on and I just stood there. My legs are doing that thing it always does, refusing to let me flee. “Except for what you represent.”
    ‎
    ‎I finally took a step back, my spine hitting the table behind me.
    ‎
    ‎”You loved her,” I said, it wasn’t a question, more like to myself.
    ‎
    ‎Vespera never had to fight. Nolan had already chosen her.
    ‎
    ‎”Yes,” Nolan replied without hesitation, pride shining in those brown eyes I despise now.
    ‎
    ‎”Vespera is the woman I love.”
    ‎
    ‎”And me?” Why do I keep asking these when I already know the answer? Maybe a little part of me still hopes. Even if it was just a little, affection.
    ‎
    ‎”I chose you because you weren’t a threat,” he said. “For your bloodline and obedience. Your status helped me become Alpha remember?”
    ‎
    ‎I shook my head, something breaking loose in my chest. “All those years- you let me believe…”
    ‎
    ‎”Oh come on now Althea,” he tsked. “Don’t tell me you actually believed you were capable of being loved.” He cut in.
    ‎
    ‎”Sweetie, that was your delusions. And those don’t get you anywhere.”
    ‎
    ‎I swallowed hard. “I’m asking for a divorce.”
    ‎
    ‎His expression finally hardened.
    ‎
    ‎”And I said, No.”
    ‎
    ‎”You can’t force me-”
    ‎
    ‎”I can,” Nolan declared calmly. “Mate bond law forbids dissolution without the Alpha’s consent. The pack needs stability. And I’m the Alpha.”
    ‎
    ‎”You’re keeping me against my will.”
    ‎
    ‎”I’m keeping what’s mine.”
    ‎
    ‎Those words sent a chill through me.
    ‎
    ‎”Letting you go would weaken my rule,” he continued, stepping closer to me while I planted my back firmly on the table. ” And frankly…” he paused, eyes narrowing, looking down my body. “I don’t want to.”
    ‎
    ‎I felt something inside me collapse completely. The last fragile hope, some foolish belief that he might let me walk away, died right there. ‎I don’t want to be a prisoner here, to him. He stepped even closer, invading my space. I could smell him, the once familiar comforting smell now made my stomach churn.
    ‎
    ‎”You should be grateful,” Nolan said quietly. “A woman like you had no right to ask for more.”
    ‎
    ‎The sentence struck deeper than a blow and before I could speak, the door opened and two guards stood waiting, with their heads bowed. ‎My eyes frantically pleaded with Nolan’s as I shook my head.
    ‎
    ‎”Escort my Luna to her quarters,” Nolan ordered. “Don’t let her leave them, for her own protection.”
    ‎
    ‎Hands closed around my arms, not roughly, but firm enough to contain my thrashing and twisting.
    ‎
    ‎”Nolan- Nolan!”
    ‎
    ‎I screamed as they dragged me away, my voice cracking as more tears streamed down my face uncontrollably. ‎He just sent a little wave before turning his back on me, because there was nothing left to see. ‎And I understood with chilling clarity.

    This wasn’t a marriage anymore.‎

    ‎It was a cage.

    👉 CONTINUE READING

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

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

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

    👉 READ NOW

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

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

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

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

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

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

    But now, standing here with trembling hands…

    How could our certificate possibly be fake?!

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

    “Ms. Smith? Aria Smith?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    A woman’s voice.

    “Ethan-yes-right there-“

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

    Clara. My best friend.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    I didn’t wait to hear more.

    I shoved the door open.

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

    It made me want to throw up.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    I moved.

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

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

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

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

    The words hit harder than the fall.

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

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

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

    I turned and walked out before either could respond.

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

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

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

    Silence for two seconds.

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

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

    “My office then. This afternoon?”

    “I’ll see you at three.”

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

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

    But it was over now.

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

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

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

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

    Domestic bliss.

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

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

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

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

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

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

    I turned slowly. “About you and Clara?”

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

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

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

    “Then what is?”

    “Marcus needs to be taken care of.”

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

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

    Of course. Because she was his real mother.

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

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

    “There’s nothing to discuss.”

    “Bad woman!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

    I jerked away. “Don’t touch me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    “Come in.”

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

    “How are you feeling?”

    “Fantastic. Your son has quite the arm.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

    He was still lying. Still manipulating.

    Fine. Let him think he’d won.

    “I have a condition,” I said.

    Wariness flickered across his face. “What kind?”

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

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

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

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

    “Fine. Consider it an early birthday present.”

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

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

    “Happy birthday,” he said flatly.

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

    He pocketed his phone. “Clara stays.”

    “Clara stays,” I agreed.

    He nodded and left.

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

    Balance: $15,150,000.00

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

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

    How pathetic.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    I didn’t accept it.

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

    He burst into tears.

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

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

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

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

    That shut her up.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    I was halfway to my car when footsteps followed.

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

    “I’m not going to the office.”

    “What? We have the meeting with-“

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

    “What other plans?”

    “I’m going to look at a house.”

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

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

    Now I just needed furniture.

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

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

    Perfect.

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

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

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

    “I’m sorry?” I said.

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

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

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

    “Should I?”

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

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

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

    They moved toward me. I tensed.

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

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

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

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

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

    The showroom went silent.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    “An apology is enough. You can go.”

    She practically fled, her guards scrambling after her.

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

    Then I faced Harrison. “Quite an entrance.”

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

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

    “Where are we going?”

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

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

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

    What was meant to come would come eventually.

    👉 CONTINUE READING

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    👉 READ NOW

    Dump One Loser, Gain Six Husbands. Chapter 1

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

    Dump One Loser, Gain Six Husbands. Chapter 2

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

    Dump One Loser, Gain Six Husbands. Chapter 3

    Anja read the appointment details again. The words mandatory and compulsory were highlighted in a severe, official red. Failure to attend would result in an indefinite freeze on her matching rights and a suspension of some of her newly acquired federal benefits.
    They weren’t asking. They were telling.
    “Mistress,” Unit 01’s voice chimed in, a flicker of something that might have been urgency in its synthesized tone, “You may wish to view the GalacticNet. Your status change has been… noted.”
    “Show me,” Anja said.
    The large window overlooking the garden dimmed, turning into a massive screen. It displayed the landing page of the most popular news network in the Commonwealth. Her own face stared back at her from the headline banner.
    ANJA COMPTON, HEIRESS OF HOUSE COMPTON, TERMINATES BETROTHAL. RETURNS TO UNBONDED STATUS.
    Below the headline, a ‘Trending Topics’ sidebar was dominated by her name. AnjaIsFree. ComptonConsortium. NewHopeForAlphaPlus.
    The screen began to populate with comments from a live public forum. Thousands of them, scrolling by in a dizzying cascade.
    “Finally! I knew Mcdaniel wasn’t good enough for her!”
    “An untested female from a noble line! This is the biggest news of the year!”
    “The matching pool is about to get a lot more interesting…”
    “Please, Mistress Compton, if you ever consider new consorts, review my profile. Class A psionic ability, five million credits, and I cook.”
    Anja stared, dumbfounded. It was one thing to read about the value of females in the abstract. It was another to see this raw, desperate, public thirst for her attention. The old Anja had wasted years crying over one mediocre male who didn’t want her, while thousands across the Commonwealth were practically begging for her attention. What a joke.
    She accessed the original Anja’s memories, searching for context. The Commonwealth was plagued by a low-level genetic corruption that affected all males. It was a slow-acting poison, a consequence of their psionic abilities, that caused irritability, aggression, and eventually, a descent into feral madness. The only cure, the only way to soothe the corruption, was the purifying psionic energy of a female. Males who lacked a female to purify them were forced to rely on suppressants—agonizing injections with devastating side effects.
    The demand was infinite. The supply was critically low.
    And an untested female, especially one from a good family, was the ultimate wild card. She could be a useless F-Grade, or she could be a world-changing A-Grade. The uncertainty, the sheer potential, was intoxicating. It was like a lottery where the jackpot was salvation.
    “Unit 01,” she said, her voice hard. “What’s the fastest way to get to the testing center in Capital Prime?”
    “The journey by private shuttle would take approximately forty-five minutes, Mistress. However, it appears alternative arrangements have been made.”
    Before Anja could ask what that meant, a low, powerful thrumming sound vibrated through the floor. It grew rapidly into a deafening roar, the sound of massive engines displacing a huge volume of air. The delicate curtains on her window whipped inward as a powerful downdraft hit the side of the house.
    Anja rushed to the window, peering up into the sky.
    A ship was descending. It wasn’t a sleek, civilian shuttle. It was a beast of a machine, matte black and brutally angular, a military transport vessel designed for assault landings. The official, silver crest of the Eugenics Directorate was emblazoned on its side.
    It settled onto the main lawn with a final, ground-shaking whump, its landing struts sinking inches into the perfectly manicured grass. A ramp hissed open at its rear. Twelve soldiers marched out in perfect synchronization. They were clad in black tactical armor, their faces hidden behind reflective visors, and they carried heavy-looking plasma rifles. They moved with terrifying efficiency, forming two perfect lines of six leading from the ramp towards the front door of the estate.
    A voice, amplified and resonant, boomed from the ship’s external speakers. It was deep, respectful, and utterly commanding.
    “Mistress Anja Compton. On behalf of the Commonwealth Eugenics Directorate, we are your designated escort to the Capital Prime Testing Center. Please prepare for immediate departure.”
    Anja stood frozen, her heart hammering against her ribs. This wasn’t a taxi. This was a military operation. For her. Was she being escorted to a testing center or to a war zone?
    “Mistress, I have taken the liberty of selecting an appropriate outfit for the occasion,” Unit 01 said, its voice cutting through her shock. A panel on the wall of her closet slid open, revealing a simple but elegant outfit: dark, well-fitted trousers, a cream-colored silk blouse, and soft leather boots. It was understated, comfortable, but undeniably expensive. “I would advise you to change quickly.”
    Numbly, Anja did as she was told. She dressed with fumbling fingers, her mind still reeling from the sight of the armored ship on her lawn. This was real. This was happening.
    Guided by Unit 01’s soft light prompts, she walked through the silent, cavernous halls of the estate to the grand front entrance. She took a deep breath, her hand resting on the cool metal of the door handle. She thought about the comments she had just read—males begging for her attention, showing off their credits and their abilities. And then she thought about Kenny’s parting words: “Even if I die, even if I get exiled to a barren mining planet, I will never form a bond with you.” A small, bitter smile crossed her lips. He had spent years convincing her she was nothing. In a few minutes, the entire Commonwealth would know the truth.
    Then she pulled it open.
    The force of the soldiers’ collective gaze was a physical thing. They stood perfectly still, rifles held at a parade rest, but she could feel the intensity of their focus. It wasn’t threatening. It was… worshipful.
    The man at the front of the line, clearly the captain, took a step forward. He was taller than the others, his armor bearing subtle markings of rank. He removed his helmet, revealing a stern, handsome face with a sharp jaw and piercing gray eyes. He held the helmet under his arm and then, to Anja’s utter astonishment, he dropped to one knee before her on the stone steps.
    “Mistress Compton,” he said, his head bowed, “It is an honor. We have prepared a sterilized walkway for your convenience.”
    As he spoke, a thin, metallic carpet unrolled from the base of the ship’s ramp, gliding silently across the lawn to stop at her feet. It was a simple, practical measure to keep her boots from getting damp from the morning dew. It was also the most ridiculously reverent gesture she had ever witnessed.
    “Th-thank you, Captain,” she managed, her voice barely a whisper.
    The captain’s head dipped lower. “The honor is all ours, Ma’am.”
    Feeling as though she were in a dream, Anja stepped onto the walkway. She walked between the two lines of silent, armored sentinels, and she could feel that beneath their visors, their gazes devoutly tracked her every move. The air buzzed with their restrained energy.
    She stepped up the ramp and into the ship’s interior. It wasn’t the spartan, utilitarian hold she expected. It was a VIP cabin, furnished with plush, cream-colored leather chairs, polished chrome accents, and soft, indirect lighting. It looked more like the inside of a private jet than a military transport.
    The ramp hissed shut behind her, sealing her inside and cutting off the outside world. A small, silent service droid glided up to her, offering a chilled glass of champagne on a silver tray.
    Anja sank into one of the chairs, the leather sighing under her weight. She took the glass, the crystal cool against her trembling fingers. Through the cabin’s reinforced viewport, she watched her new home, her new life, shrink below as the ship ascended with breathtaking speed.
    A timer appeared on a small screen embedded in the armrest of her chair.
    Estimated Time to Arrival: 12 minutes.
    She stared at the descending numbers, her heart beating a frantic rhythm against her ribs. There was no going back now.

    👉 CONTINUE READING

  • Untouchable: The Alpha’s Miracle Doctor by Yue Rujing

    Untouchable: The Alpha's Miracle Doctor by Yue Rujing
    👉 READ NOW

    I was the wolfless disgrace of the pack, traded like cattle to a dying monster.

    When a royal decree stripped away my engagement, my own father gave my fiancé to my cruel sister, Charly. My punishment for being born without a wolf? A forced marriage to Demetri Contreras—the crippled, disgraced Alpha left to rot from silver poison.

    They threw me into a frozen, forgotten estate, waiting for my new husband to die so I could be buried as a silent widow.

    Charly laughed as she stole my life, my mate, and my future. My family discarded me, just like they murdered my mother years ago.

    They thought this exile would break me. They thought I was a helpless pawn.

    They didn’t know that inside this fragile body lived the soul of the top interstellar miracle surgeon.

    Looking at the ruined, festering Alpha bleeding on my wedding bed, I didn’t see a corpse. I saw the deadliest weapon in the realm.

    The fallen Alpha needs a miracle to survive. Lucky for him, I am the miracle.

    I will drag this monster back from the gates of hell—and together, we will burn my enemies to ash.

    👉 READ NOW

    Untouchable: The Alpha’s Miracle Doctor Chapter 1

    Haven Kramer POV：
    The silence in the living room was thick, but it didn’t weigh on me. I sat comfortably on the edge of the silk armchair, my hands resting loosely in my lap, calmly observing the theater playing out around me.
    My father, Alpha Gordon Kramer, stood by the mantelpiece with his back to me, staring into the unlit fireplace. His rigid posture was a performance of grim authority, but to my trained eyes, the overextension of his shoulder muscles betrayed pure, anxious tension. He was nervous. I found that amusing.
    A heavy tread on the marble floor signaled the arrival of the King’s envoy.
    A severe-looking wolf with graying temples stepped into the room, clad in the King’s formal uniform. His face was a mask of absolute neutrality. The air in the room crackled with tension, but my heart rate remained a steady, resting sixty beats per minute.
    My father finally turned, his expression a carefully constructed mask of solemn welcome. “Emissary,” he said, his voice a low rumble. He pointedly did not look at me. It was a classic evasion tactic. He thought he was breaking my heart; in reality, he was just confirming his own cowardice.
    The envoy gave a curt nod, wasting no time on pleasantries. He drew a parchment scroll tied with a royal blue ribbon from his inner pocket and unrolled it with a soft crackle.
    “By decree of the Alpha King,” the envoy began, his monotone voice echoing in the vast room. “Regarding the union between the houses of Contreras and Kramer.”
    I leaned back slightly.
    “It is noted that Alpha Darren Contreras is an exemplary heir, beloved and strong. And it is noted that his brother, Alpha Demetri Contreras, was grievously wounded by silver in the Western War, his connection to his wolf severed, leaving him a broken shell.”
    The formal descriptions of the two brothers hung in the air. One a golden boy, the other a crippled outcast.
    “It has been confirmed by the council that Haven Kramer is wolfless,” the envoy continued, casting a brief, pitying glance my way. “A wolfless mate is an unacceptable match for a future leader. Therefore, the betrothal between Alpha Darren Contreras and Haven Kramer is hereby declared null and void.”
    Beside the mantelpiece, my father’s expression remained placid, his eyes distant. He looked exactly like a merchant watching a trade deal close. To him, I was just damaged goods being offloaded at a steep discount to preserve an alliance.
    “In her stead,” the envoy read, “her sister, Charly Kramer, a true wolf of good standing, shall be joined with Alpha Darren Contreras. And to honor the original alliance, Haven Kramer shall be given to the crippled Alpha, Demetri Contreras.”
    “The weddings will be held simultaneously in three days’ time,” the envoy concluded, neatly rolling the scroll and handing it to my father. With a curt bow, he turned and walked out.
    The silence returned. My father finally looked at me, likely bracing himself for the hysterics, tears, or begging that the “old” Haven would have provided.
    Instead, I stood up smoothly, smoothing down the skirts of my dress.
    “Three days,” I said, my voice cutting through the quiet room, entirely devoid of tremor. “I will be ready.”
    Before my father could recover from his visible shock, I turned on my heel and walked up to my lavish bedroom.
    I was sitting at my vanity, listening to the quiet night outside, when my door opened without a knock. The cloying scent of sweet pea perfume, heavily laced with unearned triumph, announced her arrival.
    My sister, Charly.
    “Oh, my poor sister,” she cooed, her voice dripping with fake sympathy as she glided into the room, wearing an expensive white lace dress. She came to stand behind me, her fingers reaching out to stroke my hair as if comforting a pet. “I was so heartbroken to hear the news.”
    I remained perfectly still, watching her reflection in the dark glass of the window.
    When I gave her no reaction, her facade quickly cracked. The corner of her mouth twitched into a smug smirk. “But you know, being wolfless, you were never worthy of Darren anyway. This is for the good of the family.”
    She leaned in close, her breath warm against my ear, dropping her voice to a venomous whisper. “Besides, Darren was always mine. You were just keeping his spot warm.”
    I slowly lifted my head, meeting her gaze in the mirror. My eyes were completely flat, cold as chips of ice.
    Charly flinched, the triumphant smile freezing on her face. She took an involuntary step back, unnerved by the lack of tears.
    Slowly, deliberately, I rose from the chair. I picked up a heavy, silver-backed comb from the vanity and began to rhythmically, elegantly pull it through my hair.
    “Marrying a broken man is better than marrying a piece of trash,” I said softly, my voice even and calm.
    The color instantly drained from Charly’s face. “You—”
    “Our wedding is in three days, isn’t it?” I turned to face her directly, letting the full weight of my detached, icy gaze fall upon her. “Go plan your ceremony, Charly. I accept the arrangement completely.”
    Charly stood there, utterly baffled. I thought she had come prepared for tears, hysterics, and a desperate sister she could kick while she was down. My utter lack of distress disarmed her entirely.

    Untouchable: The Alpha’s Miracle Doctor Chapter 2

    Haven Kramer POV:
    Charly’s shock quickly curdled back into anger. My composure was a greater insult than any screaming match could ever be. Her face flushed a blotchy red.
    “Accept? What choice do you have?” she spat, her voice sharp and brittle. “A filthy wolfless. Marrying into the Contreras family at all is a gift from the Moon Goddess you don’t deserve!”
    I ignored her, turning my back to walk to my wardrobe. I began to sift through the dresses, my movements unhurried. As if I were merely choosing an outfit for a mundane dinner party.
    This utter dismissal was more than she could stand.
    She lunged, grabbing my arm. Her nails dug into my skin. “I’m talking to you! Are you deaf?”
    Her face was inches from mine, her expression twisted with vicious glee. “Do you know why Father agreed so easily? The Contreras family paid a fortune! Your ‘funeral trousseau’ has secured our family’s prosperity for the next decade!”
    The words were meant to crush me, to remind me of my worthlessness. She leaned closer still, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial hiss. “And Father already knows Demetri is dying. The silver poison is in his bones. The healers say he won’t last the month. You’re marrying him to be his widow. To spend your life guarding a corpse and an empty title.”
    I still didn’t give her the satisfaction of a breakdown.
    Frustrated by my absolute silence, Charly’s face distorted with pure malice. She shoved me roughly, shouting in my face, “Why aren’t you crying? You think you’re still the precious eldest daughter? Your mother was nothing but a low-born old bitch, and you’re just a little bitch!”
    That was the line.
    My movements ceased.
    Slowly, inch by inch, I turned my head. The ice in my eyes was gone. In its place, a fire blazed, so hot and furious it felt like it could melt steel.
    Charly saw the sudden murder in my gaze and her hand flew from my arm as if she’d been burned.
    Before she could process what was happening, I moved.
    My speed was a blur. My hand shot out and clamped like an iron vice around her throat. With a surge of overwhelming strength, I slammed her backward against the solid oak of the wardrobe.
    Thump.
    The impact rattled the heavy wood. Charly’s head cracked against the surface, and a strangled gasp escaped her lips as the air was forced from her lungs.
    Her eyes, wide with terror, stared at me. The face she had known for twenty years was now a stranger’s mask, a harbinger from hell. This was not the weak, yielding sister she loved to bully.
    My fingers were bone-white from the force of my grip, but my expression was eerily calm. The contrast was monstrous.
    “Apologize,” I said. My voice was a raw, cold rasp, like a blade scraped over stone. “Apologize to my mother.”
    Charly’s face was turning a horrifying shade of purple. She clawed frantically at my wrist, her throat making wet, gagging sounds. She couldn’t form a single word.
    “Say it again,” I whispered, tightening my grip just enough to cut off her pathetic whimpers. “Say another word about her.”
    Her struggles weakened. Tears of pure terror streamed down her face. She began to beat a weak tattoo against the wardrobe with her free hand, a desperate, silent plea for help.
    Seeing her pathetic, sniveling state cooled the inferno in my chest. Killing her here would be too quick. Too merciful.
    I released her.
    Charly slid down the wardrobe like a discarded doll, landing in a heap on the floor. She clutched her throat, coughing and retching, desperately sucking in air. Snot and tears smeared her perfect makeup. She looked up at me, her eyes filled with a new kind of fear. A primal fear.
    I stood over her, my own expression one of utter disgust.
    “Get out,” I said. One word.
    She scrambled to her feet, a clumsy, pathetic mess of limbs. She didn’t dare look at me again. She stumbled to the door, fumbling with the handle. Just before she pulled it open, she risked a final, hateful glare over her shoulder.
    “You’ll regret this!” she choked out, the threat utterly hollow.
    A cold smile touched my lips. It sent a visible shiver down her spine.
    She yanked the door open and fled, her footsteps pounding down the hall.
    The door slammed shut, leaving me in silence once more. I leaned against the wall, my body trembling slightly from the rush of adrenaline. I lifted my hand, staring at my fingers. They were steady now.
    Tonight, they had tasted violence for the first time.
    And it was only the beginning.

    Untouchable: The Alpha’s Miracle Doctor Chapter 3

    Haven Kramer POV:
    The silence that followed Charly’s flight was absolute. I walked to the window and watched her frantic, scurrying figure disappear across the manicured lawns. My expression was flat, my heart a cold, steady drum.
    I uncurled my hand, palm up. The feeling of her throat under my fingers lingered—a foreign sensation of power that sent a cold thrill through my veins. I knew Charly. She was already running to our father, spinning a tale of victimhood. There would be consequences.
    But I no longer cared. If they wanted to push me into the abyss, I would claw my way back out from hell itself and drag them all down with me.
    My gaze fell upon a small, locked wooden box on my nightstand. It was the only thing I had left of my mother, Elara Beaumont. After I was born, my mother died in a so-called “hunting accident.” A convenient fall from a cliff. I believed it was murder.
    I walked to it, my steps measured. From a chain around my neck, I pulled a small, tarnished key. The lock clicked open with a sound that seemed to echo in the quiet room.
    Inside, there were no jewels, no gold. Just a few faded, leather-bound diaries and a single, thick vellum envelope.
    I lifted the envelope, unfolding the paper soft with age. It was a letter written in my mother’s elegant, flowing script, its words of love underlined with a deep, aching sorrow. She told her story—how she had used her family’s resources and her own strength to help Gordon Kramer challenge and win the title of Alpha. But once he had the power, he grew ashamed of her and began an affair with Concetta, Charly’s mother.
    My dearest Haven, the last lines read, if you are reading this, I am gone. Do not trust Gordon Kramer. Do not trust any of them. Survive. At any cost, you must survive.
    A single, hot tear finally escaped and fell onto the page, smearing the ink. My heart broke for my mother.
    But I would not share her fate.I was not helpless.
    I had knowledge from another world, memories of a life where I held power not in bloodlines, but in skill. That was my weapon.
    Yes. Two lifetimes.
    Seven days ago, I almost lost my life to betrayal. Back then, I was deeply and innocently in love with my betrothed, Alpha Darren Contreras. But Gordon Kramer, swayed by Concetta’s malicious scheming, forced me to hand over my beloved and my entire future to my sister, Charly. To me, Darren was my world. Unable to endure the suffocating grief, the humiliation, and the sight of my sister stealing the man I loved, I chose to end my own life.
    Perhaps the Moon Goddess took pity on me, because I did not die.
    During the seven days I lay in a coma, my soul traveled to a highly advanced interstellar world called Astraea. Although I was born an orphan there, living in a crowded shelter, that technologically superior society allowed me to graduate from the top Imperial Medical Academy through my own relentless efforts and the help of a kind benefactor. After I repaid my debt of gratitude to that benefactor, I threw myself entirely into the work of saving lives, mastering the complex biological structures of various humanoid and beast-kin species. My surgical skills reached a level that commanded absolute reverence. In the final years of my long and fulfilling life there, the patients I had cured bestowed upon me a legendary title—”The Miracle Healer.”
    When I closed my eyes for the last time on Astraea, I thought my journey had ended. Yet, I woke up back in the werewolf realm, returning to this body exactly seven days later.
    My past infatuation with Darren means nothing to me now. But my lingering resentment and my mother’s tragic fate remain. Since fate has granted me a second chance, I will use it to collect every single debt. Everything they owe me, everything they owe my mother, I will take back piece by piece. Those who deceived and humiliated me will face retribution. I am a healer, and I possess a merciful heart. But that mercy will never be granted to my enemies.
    I carefully folded the letter, placed it back with the diaries, and locked the box. This box would go with me. It was my anchor and my mission.
    I wiped my eyes. When I looked up, my reflection in the vanity mirror was a stranger. Pale face, green eyes, a mane of brown hair. But behind the eyes, the soul of a surgeon who had stared down death a thousand times was now fully in control.
    The faces flashed through my mind, a gallery of smiling betrayers. The last face was one I’d never seen, only imagined: the pale, ruined face of Demetri Contreras. The dying Alpha.
    Choosing to marry the crippled Alpha was an act of survival forced upon me by the council. But it was also the first calculated step of my grand design. He was the hell they were sending me to, but his broken body was a patient only a master surgeon could rebuild. A powerful, indebted Alpha, brought back from the brink of death by my hand, would be the sharpest blade I could possibly wield against the Kramer family.
    After he was healed? A cold smile touched my lips. I trusted no one, least of all powerful men. This was a transaction. My skills for his power. A platform for my revenge.
    A soft, respectful knock came at the door. A maid’s voice, timid. “Miss, the Alpha requests your presence in his study.”
    Charly’s tears had worked their magic. Gordon was ready to deliver his judgment.
    Even though I forced myself to remain detached, a tight knot of nerves twisted in my stomach as I stood up.
    But I quickly smoothed my dress, my expression shifting, melting back into the mask of a meek, fragile girl. The avenger vanished, hidden deep inside.
    “Of course,” I called out, my voice soft and pliant. “I’ll be right there.”

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