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  • He Chose Her, I Chose Myself novel by Xiu Luo

    He Chose Her, I Chose Myself novel by Xiu Luo

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    Just a few weeks before my wedding to Hudson, his ex-girlfriend moved in next door to us.

    She constantly made a huge deal out of the fact that her father had sacrificed his life to save Hudson, and even destroyed my wedding dress, yet Hudson just stood by and comforted her.

    Just as I secretly found out I was pregnant, he publicly announced that he was going to hold a “fake wedding” with her, claiming it was for her psychological therapy.

    This news quickly went viral online, sparking the fury of netizens who even ganged up to attack me, causing me to fall to the ground and bleed heavily.

    I lost our child, and the doctor told me that my hopes of ever becoming a mother again were almost completely destroyed.

    As I lay in the hospital bed, my heart completely dead inside, Hudson appeared in the ward.

    “Please understand why I have to hold this fake wedding for her.”

    He begged me to support his fake wedding, and my heart was thoroughly shattered.

    After he left, I immediately packed my bags, contacted the wedding venue, and changed the groom’s name to the man who had always stood by me through thick and thin.

    When he found out about this, he actually went crazy trying to win me back at all costs!

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    He Chose Her, I Chose Myself novel Chapter 1

    Caitlin’s POV
    Just a few weeks left until my wedding, but a wave of icy dread gripped me tightly. It all started the day Bella Peterson moved into our apartment building.
    Of course, I knew her name. My fiancé, Hudson Rice, had always harbored a deep sense of guilt toward her—her firefighter father had sacrificed his life to save Hudson years ago.
    That afternoon, I was walking my golden retriever in the apartment building’s private garden. Suddenly, it excitedly broke free from the leash, ran over to the rose bushes, and nudged out a shivering white stray cat with its nose.
    As I gently stroked its fur, I noticed a small silver tag on its collar. Engraved on the silver tag was the word, “Snowflake.”
    I flipped the tag over, and sure enough, there was a number engraved on the back, along with a brief message: “This is my kitty. If found, please contact me, thank you so much. —Bella.”
    My breath hitched. Bella? The name echoed in my mind, and I had a very bad premonition.
    “Snowflake!” A soft voice broke the tranquility of the garden.
    I looked up. A few yards away stood a woman with long, jet-black hair. She was younger than I had imagined, possessing an almost fragile quality.
    “Oh, Snowflake, my little baby!” She gathered the cat into her arms, hugging it tightly. The cat let out a loud purr, clearly enjoying the feeling of being back in its owner’s embrace.
    “Thank you, thank you! I was so worried. I just moved in here, and she ran out. I didn’t even know what to do.”
    “It’s nothing. She is a beautiful cat.”
    “I’m Bella Peterson.”
    “Caitlin Norris.” I wore an increasingly stiff smile, my mind in utter chaos.
    Bella Peterson. This couldn’t be a coincidence. This was Hudson’s ex-girlfriend, whose father had died saving him.
    “It’s nice to meet you, Caitlin,” Bella said, her eyes still fixed on the cat in her arms. “You are so kind.” She looked up, her gaze meeting mine. “Norris… that last name sounds a bit familiar. Do you live nearby?”
    “Yes, I live here.”
    We walked toward the apartment building entrance together, but the unease in my heart grew heavier.
    “I just moved back from abroad and rented a unit in this building.”
    “Rented an apartment in this building?” I asked, unable to stop myself from taking a sharp breath. This building was one of the most luxurious apartments in the whole city, and the rent was terrifyingly high.
    Bella smiled, a fragile smile that seemed to hide an unspeakable sorrow. “Yes. This building is beautiful. And… it’s close to my past.” She paused, her eyes dimming.
    “You wouldn’t happen to know Hudson, would you?” I tried to make my voice sound casual, but my curiosity was intense.
    Bella just offered a small, meaningful smile. “Yes, and Hudson has actually mentioned you to me, saying you are very understanding.”
    “Oh, really?” I forced a very strained smile.
    The elevator doors opened, and we both simultaneously pressed “15.”
    “Well, I’m here.” She walked toward the door of 1503, but just as she reached it, the door of 1502 opened.
    Hudson stood there, dressed in casual clothes, his hair slightly messy. He held a bag of groceries in his hand, a small smile on his face.
    He looked at me, and then his gaze landed on Bella.
    His smile vanished, and he was so surprised that the grocery bag almost slipped from his hand.
    Seeing Hudson, Bella froze in place. Snowflake, still in her arms, let out a soft meow.
    Bella’s eyes filled with tears, and her lower lip began to tremble.
    Time seemed to stretch out. I stood between them, feeling like a redundant outsider. The silence was suffocating.
    “Hudson,” I said, my voice flat. “You know Bella, right?”
    Hudson blinked, as if waking from a dream. He looked at me, then at Bella, a complex and conflicted expression surfacing on his face. “Bella, what are you doing here?”
    Bella nodded, a tear slipping down her cheek. “Yes, Hudson.”
    “I need to lie down for a bit,” I said, my hands trembling as I unlocked my apartment door. Shaking, I closed the door behind me, shutting out that oppressive scene.
    Through the thick door, I heard Bella go from soft sobbing to heart-wrenching, agonizing wailing.
    “Bella, shh, it’s okay now.” I heard Hudson’s voice, deep and gentle.
    The crying gradually subsided, turning into soft whispers. The hallway finally fell silent.
    I don’t know how much time passed before I gently cracked the door open. The hallway was empty, and the door to 1503 was shut tight. Hudson and Bella were inside, a lone man and a lone woman.
    The future I had so carefully planned completely collapsed in this very moment.

    He Chose Her, I Chose Myself novel Chapter 2

    Caitlin’s POV
    Despite the world outside turning upside down, I desperately tried to maintain a pathetic sense of dignity inside the apartment. The wedding was fast approaching, and my wedding dress was still waiting for my final fitting.
    I clung desperately to these anchors of the future, constantly brainwashing myself: Hudson is just acting out of survivor’s guilt. He won’t abandon me. As long as he helps Bella stabilize her emotions, we can get back on track.
    Late that night, Hudson finally returned to the apartment. I pretended to be asleep, listening to him tiptoe into bed, my body stiff and my breathing heavy.
    The next morning at the breakfast table, I decided to break the ice. “So, Bella moved in next door to us.”
    Hudson’s hand trembled, and he nearly spilled his coffee. He didn’t dare look at me, his face full of guilt. “Yeah, it’s… it’s complicated, Caitlin.”
    “Indeed. She cried terribly yesterday, and you were busy comforting her next door.” My tone was sharp.
    Hudson ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “She had an emotional breakdown yesterday, it was really serious! Her therapist suggested she move somewhere she feels safe. She had no idea we lived here.”
    “Her therapist suggested she move next door to the ex-boyfriend whose life her father saved?” I raised an eyebrow, the skepticism in my tone barely concealed.
    Hudson finally looked at me, his eyes full of pleading. “Caitlin, please. She’s not doing well, her mental state is very fragile. We can’t just abandon her. Her father… he sacrificed himself to save me. I owe her.”
    “You do owe her.” I gritted my teeth, forcing myself to maintain that “understanding” facade he had praised. “But what about our wedding? The final fitting for the wedding dress is next Tuesday. Are you still going?”
    He hesitated for a long second, a second so long it made my skin crawl. “Of course,” he finally promised. “Everything goes according to plan. Bella will get better, we just need to take care of her feelings a little bit.”
    I nodded, but my heart shattered piece by piece. That night, Hudson tossed and turned in his sleep, muttering a name under his breath. I couldn’t hear it clearly, but I knew for a fact it wasn’t “Caitlin.”
    Next Tuesday, I arrived at the bridal boutique with anxious anticipation. It was an ivory silk wedding dress designed specifically for me, with hand-sewn pearls and lace perfectly matched.
    The moment I put it on, I felt as if I saw the reflection of happiness once again.
    The boutique owner, Mrs. Albright, looked at me with absolute awe. “It’s too beautiful, Caitlin! Hudson is going to be head over heels for you.”
    Just as I was handing the dress back, my phone buzzed. A text from Hudson came in: “Going to be late. Bella had another episode, I have to rush over to her now.”
    My heart plunged into an ice cellar. Bella again. Always Bella.
    Then, Bella stood in the middle of the store. Her eyes were bloodshot, her gaze frantic, and in her hand, she tightly gripped a pair of sharp, heavy tailor’s scissors. Mannequins around her were knocked over, and high-end fabrics were scattered all over the floor.
    “She wants to destroy everything!” Bella screamed, her eyes locked onto the wedding dress hanging on the rack.
    The next second, her eyes ignited with the mad fire of jealousy. “What right do you have to have him! What right do you have to steal our life!”
    Before I could react, she lunged forward like a lunatic. The owner screamed and dodged out of the way, while I froze in place.
    The cold steel of the scissors flashed.
    Riiip—
    The silk was slashed, the lace was torn, and pearls bounced all over the floor. Bella frantically wielded the scissors, shredding the wedding dress of my dreams into pieces, cut by cut.
    “Stop!” I finally screamed at the top of my lungs, but it was too late.
    After the destruction was complete, the scissors clattered to the floor. She fell to her knees amidst the shredded fabric, trembling all over as she began to sob delicately.
    Bang! The door burst open, and Hudson rushed in, looking panicked. He surveyed the chaotic store, me standing with the shredded dress, and Bella kneeling on the floor.
    His gaze briefly met mine, revealing a fleeting trace of helpless apology.
    But that look vanished in an instant. His eyes immediately darted to Bella. “Bella! Are you okay?” He knelt beside her, pulled her into his arms, and comforted her.
    “We have to call the police,” the owner said, trembling.
    “No need.” I was surprisingly calm, my cold gaze locked on Hudson and Bella. He was still holding her, and Bella had buried her face in his shoulder, crying pitifully. He was heartbroken, but his heartbreak existed only for her.
    Customers around us gathered and whispered, and some even took out their phones to record. I had become the most pathetic clown in this farce.
    “Caitlin, I can rush to make you a new dress, or try my best to repair this one…” the owner suggested cautiously.
    “No need.” I cut her off decisively. What was destroyed wasn’t the dress, it was this damn marriage. “I will pay for all the damages, settle the bill for me.”
    Without any lingering attachment, I turned and walked out of the bridal boutique. The cold wind hit my face, and not only did it fail to blow away the pain in my chest, but it also made me completely sober.
    I didn’t return to that so-called home. I didn’t want to hear any of Hudson’s hypocritical apologies and excuses.
    I took a taxi straight to an unfamiliar private hospital.
    A nameless fear haunted my heart, making me instinctively place my hand over my still-flat lower abdomen.
    I had to confirm whether my child was still safe and sound.

    He Chose Her, I Chose Myself novel Chapter 3

    Caitlin’s POV
    The cold white fluorescent lights of the clinic buzzed overhead. I lay on the examination table, my heart pounding with anxiety. Dr. Evans finally straightened up, a gentle smile appearing on her face.
    “Caitlin, although it’s still very early, everything is completely normal.” She pointed to the blurry image on the screen. “Here is the heartbeat. It’s strong and steady.”
    A sense of profound relief brought tears to my eyes instantly. My child, this fragile little life, was still stubbornly surviving after experiencing the chaos, the betrayal, and the shredded wedding dress.
    “Thank you, Doctor,” I choked out. “Thank you so much.”
    Dr. Evans handed me a tissue. “Congratulations, this is wonderful news. Have you told the child’s father?”
    The smile on my face froze. Tell Hudson? Share this sacred joy with him? It felt like an absolute fantasy. All of his attention, sympathy, and his entire being had already been completely swallowed up by Bella.
    How could I dare entrust this precious secret to a man who couldn’t even protect my wedding dress or my dignity?
    “Not yet,” I said, my voice dropping. “Too much has happened, I’m not ready yet.”
    Dr. Evans nodded, her eyes showing understanding, but she also became more serious. “Take your time. But given your past medical history, you must avoid any stress or physical exertion. We will monitor your condition closely.”
    Her reminder awakened my deepest fears. Two heartbreaking miscarriage experiences. When I lost the first one, Hudson held me and cried for days; but the second, late-term miscarriage a few years later almost drained all of our energy.
    Since then, a layer of cautious distance had grown between us. I was afraid to embrace hope again, and perhaps he was afraid of facing loss again.
    Her reminder awakened my deepest fears, two heartbreaking miscarriage experiences. When I lost the first one, Hudson held me and cried for days; but the second, late-term miscarriage a few years later almost drained all of our energy. Since then, a layer of cautious distance had grown between us. I was afraid to embrace hope again, and perhaps he was afraid of facing loss again.
    And now, with a new life awakening inside me, I couldn’t bear another blow.
    Especially right now, with Hudson deeply entangled in Bella’s drama and completely ignoring me, it was highly likely he would treat this child as an unmanageable burden.
    Leaving the clinic and returning to the apartment building, I didn’t go upstairs. Instead, I hid in the lounge area. I needed time to digest all of this.
    My phone buzzed. It was a news push notification. Glancing at the screen, I started shaking with anger.
    My face—that face covered in tear stains and shock inside the bridal boutique—was glaringly displayed on the cover of a viral video.
    The video clearly captured the footage of Bella frantically shredding my wedding dress, and the most piercing scene of all: Hudson holding Bella tightly to comfort her, while I was left hanging to the side like a pathetic joke.
    The title was highly inflammatory: “Homewrecker Caitlin Finally Gets Her Just Desserts! Bella Fights Back to Reclaim True Love Hudson!”
    With stiff fingers, I scrolled through the comment section. The internet had thoroughly nailed me to the pillar of shame.
    “Oh my god, poor Bella! She’s been through so much. Caitlin is obviously a gold digger trying to steal Hudson away.”
    “Hudson and Bella are a match made in heaven. Caitlin should step aside.”
    “Look at Caitlin’s expression, she’s so damn cold. Bella is clearly heartbroken. This woman is simply a monster.”
    “Her father sacrificed himself to save Hudson! How can Caitlin be so cold-blooded?”
    The direction of public opinion was ruthless and twisted.
    Netizens quickly dug up Bella’s tragic background: the daughter of a hero firefighter, a genius artist deeply traumatized by her father’s sacrifice. Rumor had it she had received psychological treatment abroad and had now returned covered in scars, only to face the vicious woman who had stolen her high school sweetheart.
    Bella, the tragic hometown goddess. Hudson, the hero tortured by conflict, forced to bear a debt of gratitude he could never repay. And me, Caitlin Norris, the vicious homewrecker.
    The comments grew increasingly malicious, demanding that I leave, slapping all sorts of labels on me, and even starting to send threatening messages. An online campaign to support Bella had already begun.
    Late that night, Hudson finally came back. He saw me sitting alone in the unlit living room, the cold light of my laptop screen reflecting those vicious insults.
    Looking utterly exhausted, he sat down next to me. His hand hovered in mid-air, but ultimately, he didn’t touch me. “Caitlin, I’m sorry about today. Bella completely broke down. Her therapist just finished checking her into the hospital.”
    “So you were with her the whole time,” I stated coldly.
    He sighed. “She kept crying and calling my name, refusing to let go. This building is too triggering for her, and seeing you made her break down even more. She misunderstood everything, thinking you wanted to steal me away from her.”
    “Misunderstood?” I laughed out of pure anger. “She shredded the wedding dress we were going to use for our marriage! And you held her in your arms, leaving me alone to watch my future turn into a pile of rags!”
    Hudson rubbed his face in agony. “I know how bad this looks! But she’s sick, and she only feels safe when she’s by my side! I know this is unfair to you, but I’m begging you, can you please just endure this for a little longer? Once she stabilizes, I promise everything will go back to normal. We will get married, I swear.”
    Looking at this face full of guilt, my heart hardened bit by bit.
    “Alright, Hudson,” I said in a low voice, a cold tear quietly slipping down. “I will endure it.”
    He let out a long sigh of relief, hugged me tightly, and pressed a kiss to the top of my head. “Thank you, Caitlin, you are the most understanding woman I have ever met.”
    I closed my eyes in his embrace, letting my tears soak his shirt.
    He was so immersed in his “great responsibility” that he didn’t notice my despair at all. As long as Bella remained his first choice, I would always be the dispensable one!

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  • Reborn As The Cold Alpha’s Secret Mate novel by Liz Nozic

    Reborn As The Cold Alpha's Secret Mate novel by Liz Nozic

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    My fiancé, Caleb Tucker, told me it was the last thing I could do for him.

    Then, he sold me to a cruel, greedy old man just to curry favor for his own political ambitions.

    I was branded like livestock, treated as nothing more than a vessel and a broodmare for a man I despised.

    When I desperately tried to resist this horrifying fate, I was beaten and left to bleed out in the biting cold.

    “Seraphina, it’s the last thing you can do for me.”

    His words were colder than the winter air as my life drained into the pristine white snow, his handsome face twisted with false regret.

    I died a miserable, invisible Omega servant, my blood staining the freezing ice while he secured his future.

    Until my last breath, I couldn’t understand how the man I loved could trade my life for a little bit of status, leaving me to die like a discarded piece of trash.

    Opening my eyes again, the searing pain of the branding iron was just a ghost on my unbroken skin.

    I was back in my cramped servant’s cell in Silvermoon Keep, right on the morning the Matriarch was choosing a breeder for the Alpha heir.

    This time, I wouldn’t run. I would willingly offer myself to Gideon Carlisle, the most powerful and cold-hearted Alpha of them all, and use him to secure my survival.

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    Reborn As The Cold Alpha’s Secret Mate novel Chapter 1

    SERAPHINA’S POV:
    “Take off your dress.”
    My fingertips trembled slightly, and a flush crept up my neck. Obeying the Matriarch’s command, I untied the rough sash at my waist. The coarse linen pooled at my feet, leaving me in nothing but a thin, white undergarment that barely covered my body.
    As I shifted my weight, the fabric rode up, exposing the pale curve of my waist. In the dim morning light, my skin looked like fine porcelain.
    Yet, Isadora Carlisle, the Pack’s Matriarch, and her stern lady-in-waiting, Agatha, didn’t even glance at my waist. Their sharp eyes were fixed entirely on my hips, which were noticeably fuller than those of the other Omega servants. Suddenly, their eyes lit up.
    “Matriarch, I believe Seraphina is a fine choice,” Agatha said, a calculating smile on her lips. “She has the wide hips of a strong breeder, perfect for bearing pups. Moreover, she’s been trained in your quarters for years. She knows her place and won’t try to bewitch the Alpha heir.”
    “Indeed, your eyes are as sharp as ever, Agatha,” Isadora said, a satisfied smile appearing on her well-preserved face. “Seraphina, prepare yourself. You will serve the Alpha heir tonight.”
    I was one of her personal servant girls, and the more she looked at me, the more satisfied she seemed. She had made her decision.
    I knelt obediently on the cold stone floor, but as I heard her words, a wave of dizziness washed over me.
    In my past life, I had knelt in this exact spot. Except then, I was fully dressed. When the Matriarch ordered me to undress for the breeding inspection, I had refused without hesitation. “I already have a mate chosen, Caleb Tucker. I beg for your mercy, Matriarch.”
    The Pack usually treated their servants decently. Though displeased, Isadora had granted my release and handed me my freedom papers. I thought I could take my saved coins, return to Caleb, and live a simple life. But instead, Caleb and my family broke my leg and sold me to Jedediah Hicks, a cruel, eighty-year-old merchant, just to curry favor.
    And then… the biting snow, the blood, the agonizing death. Just thinking about it made my chest tight with suffocating pain.
    My eyelashes fluttered. I quickly pressed my forehead to the floor, forcing my voice to tremble with overwhelming gratitude. “Thank you, Matriarch, for this immense honor!”
    Seeing that I didn’t show the desperate, ambitious greed of other foolish Omegas, Isadora’s approval deepened.
    “Seraphina, the Alpha heir has been mated for three years but remains childless,” Isadora said, her voice dropping. “If you can give birth to a strong Alpha male pup, he will be the next heir of Silvermoon Keep.”
    She paused, watching me. I made sure to widen my eyes just a fraction, projecting the perfect blend of reverence and naive yearning. She nodded, completely satisfied. This was what she wanted: an Omega who would dedicate her life to serving the heir and continuing the Carlisle bloodline.
    “You are a maid from my own courtyard. Even the Luna will not dare to look down on you,” Isadora continued, sliding a heavy silver moonstone bracelet from her wrist and placing it onto my arm.
    I looked at her with tear-filled eyes. “Thank you for your grace, Matriarch. I swear to serve the Alpha heir with my life and ease your burdens.”
    After I bowed one last time, she dismissed me.
    Once I stepped out of her quarters, the feigned reverence vanished from my eyes, replaced by a bone-chilling coldness. I caught the envious glares of the other Omega servants in the corridor, and a mocking smile touched my lips.
    If I had a choice, I would gladly trade places with them. I had absolutely no desire to be a lowly breeder. I just wanted to survive until I was old enough to leave the Keep and live in peace.
    Gideon had been mated for three years. Neither his Luna nor his two chosen females had produced a pup. Either there was something wrong with the Alpha himself, or there was a deadly game of sabotage being played among his mates. Having a pup in that environment would be practically impossible.
    Even if I did miraculously get pregnant, given Isadora’s ruthless nature, it was highly likely she would take the pup and dispose of the mother. I could lose my life anyway. If I wasn’t driven into a corner by my past, I would never willingly become a breeder.
    But right now, I needed to use Gideon Carlisle’s formidable power as a shield to destroy Caleb and those greedy bastards from my past. To do that, I had to play the long game. And the first hurdle was surviving tonight.
    Gideon was a man of strict discipline. If he refused to touch me tonight, I would become the laughingstock of the Keep by morning, and Isadora might just throw me out. Remembering Caleb and the old merchant waiting outside these walls, I took a deep breath. No matter what methods I had to use, I had to make the Alpha heir claim me tonight.
    Late into the night, I was led to the Heir’s Quarters. Bathed and dressed in a sheer, whisper-thin silk nightgown, I knelt quietly by the edge of the massive bed.

    Reborn As The Cold Alpha’s Secret Mate novel Chapter 2

    SERAPHINA’S POV:
    The gossamer fabric clung to my curves, and my pale skin glowed faintly in the candlelight. With my naturally cold and timid demeanor, I looked like a fallen moon spirit—a sight meant to entice.
    The guards had said the Alpha Heir was still working in his study. I waited for a full two hours before heavy footsteps echoed outside.
    The doors swung open. Gideon Carlisle stepped into the room. Earlier today, his mother, Matriarch Isadora, had mentioned sending a servant to his bed, but he clearly hadn’t expected to find me already waiting in his private chambers. His dark brows furrowed slightly.
    I looked up at exactly the right moment. My violet eyes were shimmering, carrying a perfect balance of shyness and submission, meeting his gaze directly.
    But Gideon just stood there. He looked at me with the same calm indifference one might use to appraise a piece of furniture. There was no lust, no surprise in his eyes—only a cold, almost detached scrutiny.
    His oppressive Alpha aura made my chest tighten. Biting my lip, I forced myself to stand. “Alpha Heir… please allow me to help you out of your clothes.”
    As I approached him, a flush warming my cheeks, Gideon actually took a step back.
    Everyone in the Pack knew he was a man who lived by rules. He visited his Luna, Eleanor, during the full moon, and his other females on strictly scheduled days. I knew that if he accepted me, a breeder Omega, it would mean adding another exhausting obligation to his routine.
    Rutting without purpose drained energy, and Gideon was clearly unwilling. Just as he opened his mouth, undoubtedly to dismiss me, a knock came at the door.
    Agatha’s voice filtered through. “Alpha Heir, the Matriarch ordered me to bring you the Elk-Blood and Moon-Herb elixir.”
    It was a potent Alpha stamina brew. It was Isadora’s way of forcing his hand.
    Gideon let out a quiet sigh. It was no secret how obsessed his mother was with getting a grandson, especially since his younger half-brother already had two pups, parading them around the Keep daily to flaunt in front of the Matriarch.
    “Leave the elixir, Agatha. Tell my mother I understand,” Gideon replied, his voice deep and resigned.
    Agatha’s receding footsteps sounded almost cheerful; she clearly knew her master would never outright defy his mother’s wishes regarding the Pack’s lineage.
    Once she was gone, Gideon turned his cold gaze back to me. “Let’s get to bed, then.”
    He raised his arms, waiting for me to undress him.
    Having served in the Matriarch’s quarters, I was used to this. I stepped forward, my hands moving deftly to remove his heavy outer coat, secretly studying him as I did.
    In my past life, I had never dared to look at him. The other maids always whispered about his god-like beauty. Seeing him up close now, the rumors were true. Sharp jawline, eyes like midnight, a physique carved from granite. If I had to endure this to change my fate, at least the man I was serving was breathtaking.
    After removing his shirt, I gently untied my own sheer outer robe. It slipped to the floor, leaving me in nothing but a crimson silk camisole embroidered with delicate lace.
    The vibrant red contrasted sharply with my milky skin. My chest heaved slightly, the delicate curves of my body fully exposed—a living, breathing painting of temptation.
    Any other male in the Pack would have lost their minds and tackled me to the rugs. But Gideon wasn’t a normal man. He barely spared my body a glance, his eyes quickly returning to their icy calm.
    Just as I was frantically wondering what my next move should be, he reached out, grabbed my wrist, and pulled me under the heavy furs of the bed.
    Under the heavy velvet canopy, I threw my arms around Gideon, pulling him close.
    I was actually quite pleased at this moment. Secretly, I slipped a small, specially treated piece of white cloth under the pillows—my proof of the night. Even though, as a designated breeder Omega, I wasn’t strictly required to present proof of consummation to the Matriarch or his official mate, my past life had taught me to always leave a backup plan. Even when serving the Alpha Heir, I couldn’t afford to leave any loopholes for my enemies.

    Reborn As The Cold Alpha’s Secret Mate novel Chapter 3

    SERAPHINA’S POV:
    Gideon didn’t say anything as he positioned himself over me. My smile was still plastered on my face, but a second later, it completely vanished.
    His posture was rigid, almost more textbook than a medical manual. Those glacial blue eyes held absolutely zero lust or emotion. It made my entire body stiffen.
    Wait… do his mates not require any tenderness at all?
    I’ve been given a second chance at life. Is it too much to ask to enjoy this at least a little bit?
    With that thought in mind, I put on my most affectionate gaze and reached out to grasp Gideon’s large hands.
    This was clearly the first time the Alpha Heir had ever been interrupted during his “duty.” He stopped immediately, looking down at me with a mixture of confusion and growing impatience.
    “Alpha Heir,” I forced my voice into a syrupy, sweet register—so high and cloying my throat practically burned. “You work so hard for the Pack all day. Let your servant take care of you tonight. I want to… do it myself. Please, indulge me just this once?”
    He stared at me without a word, his dark, stormy eyes making it impossible to guess what he was thinking.
    Did I piss him off?
    Not daring to delay any further, I gave him a seductive smile of thanks and boldly looped my arms around his neck.
    He had clearly never seen such aggressive initiative from an Omega before. He froze for a split second, allowing me to slip into his guard. I could almost hear him thinking: What kind of unruly Omega did the Matriarch send me?
    He reached out, pinning my shoulders down to stop my movements, his face darkening as he growled softly, “Insolent!”
    A flicker of Alpha satisfaction crossed his face as he saw the mist of tears welling up in my eyes.
    I let out a tiny, exaggerated shudder at his bark, stopping my movements instantly and staring up at him like a frightened little deer. But a second later, I brazenly grabbed his hand again.
    “What are you doing?” he snapped.
    I looked up at him innocently, laughing inwardly. Sure enough, a man’s fingers are always sensitive, and this Alpha Heir is no exception.
    I immediately swapped my expression to one of absolute, starry-eyed worship, cooing in my most delicate, breathy voice, “Alpha Heir, the outsiders always say you rely on the Matriarch’s power for your status. But feeling the thick calluses on your knuckles and fingertips… I know you earned all your glory through your own blood, sweat, and battles!”
    Being looked at with such sheer adoration clearly stroked his ego. I could see the subtle shift in his demeanor—he felt validated, yet he kept his face stern and scolded, “Speak properly. Do not try to curry favor.”
    “Yes~” I purred, dragging the word out with enough twists and turns to make an Alpha’s bones itch.
    Looking into my wide, innocent eyes, Gideon seemed to know damn well I was doing it on purpose. Annoyed, but undeniably aroused, he crashed his lips down to silence my mouth.
    Seeing that my tactic worked, I immediately took the initiative. I have to admit, the experience turned out much better than I had initially expected.
    When it was over, I lay on the massive bed with a hidden look of disgust. If I sleep on this overly ornate, stiff bed all night, I’ll wake up with a sore back. I’m just here to do a job, not to play true love with the Alpha Heir. Whoever wants to suffer this bed can have it.
    Thinking of this, I dutifully crawled out from under the covers, dressed myself quickly, and grabbed my proof of the night. I gave Gideon a flawless, respectful bow. “Alpha Heir, I will not disturb your rest any longer. I shall take my leave.”
    Without waiting for his response, I turned and walked out.
    My swift departure seemed to catch Gideon completely off guard. As I walked away, I knew I had likely shattered whatever preconceived notions he had about me. He probably thought I was just another well-trained Omega sent by his mother, expecting me to be like those ambitious females who always begged to stay the night after the act, or worse, ignored his exhaustion to demand a second round just to secure favor. By leaving gracefully, I had spared him that annoyance, perhaps even earning his silent forgiveness for my earlier “unruly” behavior.
    Honestly, I didn’t care at all about Gideon’s attitude toward me. The mission was accomplished, and I just wanted a good night’s sleep.
    I hurried back to the modest servant’s quarters assigned to me, scrubbed myself clean with warm water, and collapsed onto my own bed, limbs spread wide like a starfish.
    I calculated in my head: With this, I won’t have to worry about failing the Matriarch’s inspection tomorrow. My position in the Pack is secure for now.
    I let out a long sigh, my tense nerves finally relaxing, and fell into a deep, peaceful sleep.
    That was, until the early hours of the morning, when a maid named Daisy frantically shook me awake.
    “Seraphina, wake up! It’s time to go to the main estate and pay your respects to the Luna!”

    👉 CONTINUE READING

  • From Brokenness to Bliss: My Peaceful Choice novel by Kinship

    From Brokenness to Bliss: My Peaceful Choice novel by Kinship

    👉 READ NOW

    On the night before my wedding, I opened an anonymous message card, only to find out that my fiancé had been cheating on me with my maid of honor for four years.
    The engagement ring on my hand was actually a cheap reject that she didn’t want; her so-called “emergency business trip” was actually to cover up the fact that she had just given birth to his child last week.
    What sent the worst chills down my spine was that his entire family knew about this perfectly well, yet they still happily watched me meticulously prepare for this scam of a wedding.
    When I canceled the wedding and confronted them, his mother actually slapped me across the face.
    “You’re nothing but a poor girl clinging to my son. Camilla is the one he truly loves.”
    And my fiancé didn’t even defend me. Instead, he pushed me to the ground, causing me to hit my head, all just to comfort his crying mistress.
    I spent eight years by his side, accompanying him from having nothing to where he is now, only to realize I was nothing but a convenient placeholder.
    I took off that discarded ring, blocked all of them, and bought a one-way ticket to Oregon, USA.
    This time, I decided to leave forever and never look back.
    But now, he’s going crazy begging for my forgiveness!

    👉 READ NOW

    From Brokenness to Bliss: My Peaceful Choice novel Chapter 1

    Isla Simmons’s POV
    The moment I read that anonymous card, my life instantly collapsed. It brought not wedding blessings, but Harding’s lies.
    It was the rehearsal dinner the night before the wedding. My bridesmaids and close friends were sitting around the table. My fiancé, Harding, the man I had loved for eight years, was at another table discussing business with his parents.
    As for my maid of honor, Camilla, she was supposedly unable to attend due to a sudden business trip.
    “Alright, Madam Bride!” bridesmaid Sarah excitedly held up a beautifully decorated box. “Everyone wrote a blessing card for you. Let’s see what advice they have to pass on!”
    Smiling, I reached into the box and pulled out a thick white card. I thought it would be sweet words, but as my eyes swept over the text, my smile instantly froze.
    “He and she have been secretly sleeping around behind your back for four years.”
    Right below it was a line: “Your maid of honor.”
    Camilla.
    That was my childhood best friend, the “sister” I had entrusted my life to.
    A freezing terror seeped into my bones. This had to be a prank. With sweating palms, I eagerly pulled out a second, light blue card.
    “The engagement ring he gave you? He actually bought it for Camilla first. But four years ago, she rejected him, saying she wasn’t ready for marriage. You are just his backup.”
    I instinctively touched my left ring finger. It turned out Harding had taken the ring Camilla didn’t want and pretended to carefully select it for me.
    I hurriedly pulled out a third, cream-colored card, trying to find evidence to refute this.
    “Remember your anniversary trip in college? You found suspicious texts on Harding’s phone and cried in the bathroom for hours. He wasn’t chatting with a client then; he was in the hotel room right next to yours, celebrating his one-month anniversary with Camilla.”
    The shame and pain of the past surged over me. That night, he comforted me as I cried, making me believe it was a misunderstanding.
    With trembling hands, I pulled out the last card, a thick, dark green one.
    “Camilla isn’t on a business trip. She is at the ‘Serenity Postpartum Retreat Center.’ She just gave birth to Harding’s child a week ago. They want to wait until your wedding is over to go public. Surprise.”
    My world completely overturned. They even had a child behind my back!
    I felt like I had fallen into an ice cave. I stared at the handwriting on the green card; it was Harding’s mother, Karen Frank. His entire family was involved in this scam.
    Eight years of dedication and compromise were nothing but a carefully woven joke. I took off that piece of trash that belonged to Camilla and threw it hard onto the table. The diamond hit a wine glass with a sharp clink.
    The surrounding conversations stopped. Everyone looked over in shock. Harding looked up, a smile still hanging on his face.
    I walked toward him. “Harding, what is Camilla Gillespie to you?”
    His smile instantly vanished. He glanced at his mother, then at me. “Isla, what are you talking about?”
    I held up the green card. “I’m talking about your child, Harding. The one born just last week.”
    The air froze. Harding’s face turned deathly pale, and Karen gasped. The relatives who were just laughing a moment ago now mostly stood with their mouths hanging open, and some even wore knowing smirks.
    I immediately shouted, “I announce that this wedding is canceled!”
    Harding walked over to the table, picked up the ring, and spoke in a low voice, “Isla, don’t be so dramatic. We can postpone the wedding and solve this problem. Don’t make a scene here.”
    “Solve what?” I sneered. “Solve you cheating with my best friend for four years, or your whole family helping you hide the truth?”
    He finally looked at me. There was no remorse in his eyes, only shrewd calculation. “It’s complicated. Camilla is very fragile right now; she needs my support.”
    “She’s fragile?” I raised my voice. “What about me? What about my eight years, my dignity!”
    “You’re strong, Isla. But Camilla has been through a lot, having a baby, keeping secrets…” He defended her casually.
    My hand swung out before my brain could process it. With a loud, crisp slap, Harding’s face was violently thrown to the side, a red mark surfacing.
    He didn’t fight back, but his eyes turned dark. “You think getting physical changes anything? Camilla is pregnant with my child. And you… are just you.”
    My rage was instantly replaced by despair. In his eyes, I was just a convenient alternative.
    “We are done.” I turned and walked away.
    “Isla, please, we can talk about this!” he shouted from behind, his tone still carrying that self-righteous desire for control.
    I ignored him. Walking past the flowers and tables I had spent months meticulously arranging, every detail now felt like a cruel joke.
    As I reached the door, my phone vibrated. It was a text from Camilla:
    “Isla, I’m so sorry! My business trip got suddenly extended. So sad I can’t attend your big day! I’ll contact you when I’m back!”
    I stared at the screen and typed a reply:
    “Enjoy your postpartum confinement. I hope the baby is healthy. Harding will be by your side to support you; he’s really good at that.”
    Hitting send, I blocked Camilla, Harding, Karen—blocked all of them, completely.

    From Brokenness to Bliss: My Peaceful Choice novel Chapter 2

    Isla Simmons’s POV
    My phone vibrated all night long. I didn’t answer any calls, just stared numbly at the ceiling. The first rays of dawn spilled in. Today was supposed to be the happiest day of my life, but right now, there was only coldness.
    Urgent knocking came from the door. Then, the sound of a key turning in the lock.
    Harding pushed the door open, leading a team of florists and makeup artists. He was wearing a brand-new white shirt, acting as if nothing had happened last night.
    “Isla, what are you doing?” he asked impatiently. “The makeup artist will be here any second, you need to get ready.”
    I slowly sat up from the bed. “Harding, I told you last night. The wedding is canceled.”
    He ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “Stop messing around! You can’t break the contract a few hours before the wedding. You have to think about the guests, the expenses, and our reputation!”
    “Your reputation?” I scoffed. “Didn’t you lose your reputation when you cheated with my best friend for four years and had a baby with her?”
    “That’s not fair! It’s complicated. Camilla is in poor health, and she just had a baby.” He raised his volume.
    “So I should just pretend nothing happened, marry you, and fulfill this ridiculous fairy tale?”
    “We will fix this! You’re just too emotional right now.” He took a step forward, stubbornly insisting.
    Just then, the main door was pushed open violently. Camilla stood there panting, pale-faced, hair messy, wearing loose casual clothes. Her eyes were red and swollen, and a frantic desperation filled her gaze.
    “Isla!” She rushed over, trying to grab my hand. “Please listen to me, it’s not what you think!”
    I dodged her touch with disgust. “Then what is it? You slept with my fiancé and had his child. What else am I supposed to think?”
    “No! It was a terrible mistake!” she cried and begged.
    “A four-year mistake? Camilla, is that newborn baby at the ‘Serenity Postpartum Care Center’ a mistake too?”
    She jerked her head up, shocked that I knew such specific details, while Harding stood to the side, looking guilty.
    “How long have you been lying to me? Was there ever a single ounce of truth in our friendship?”
    She couldn’t make a sound, only shaking her head through her tears.
    At that moment, I caught sight of the gold bracelet on her wrist. It was exactly the same as the one Harding gave me for our fifth anniversary—he had sworn it was a one-of-a-kind design.
    I suddenly remembered two years ago, when Harding lost the leather bracelet I gave him and replaced it with a new one. Right now, on his other hand, he was wearing the matching couple’s bracelet to Camilla’s.
    It turned out he had already built a parallel reality for them long ago, and I was nothing but the smokescreen.
    Camilla was sobbing and trembling all over. Harding immediately walked over and pulled her into his arms, gently stroking her hair. He didn’t dare look at me, but his eyes were full of heartache for her.
    My gaze fell on the expensive limited-edition diaper bag on Camilla’s shoulder.
    “Harding, how much money have you spent on this secret life?” My voice was freezing, almost broken. “Am I just the cheap spare tire you kept around for stability?”
    “Enough, Isla!” Harding finally roared at me. “You’re going too far! Camilla is very fragile right now, and you’re agitating her!”
    “I’m agitating her?” I laughed out of sheer anger. “You two betrayed me, and somehow I’ve become the villain?”
    I stood up, forcing my trembling legs to walk toward the door. I had to leave this suffocating room.
    Just as I reached the entryway, the door was pushed open again. Karen Frank stood there in an elegant suit. She glared at me sternly. “What is going on here? The wedding cars will be here any minute, why aren’t you dressed yet?”
    “There won’t be any wedding cars, Karen. The wedding is canceled.”
    Karen’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Did you just say you canceled the wedding? Do you have any idea how much of a scandal this will cause for Harding?”
    As soon as the words left her mouth, she finally noticed Camilla, who was sobbing and trembling, curled up in Harding’s arms, looking weak and in pain.
    Karen’s anger vanished instantly. She walked right past me, her eyes full of concern for Camilla.
    “Camilla, sweetheart! Why aren’t you resting at the retreat center?” Karen exclaimed, then turned to scold Harding. “Why is she so heartbroken? What did Isla do to her now?”
    Watching this utterly absurd scene, my heart turned completely cold. Harding, Camilla, his mother—they were all accomplices.

    From Brokenness to Bliss: My Peaceful Choice novel Chapter 3

    Isla Simmons’s POV
    Karen Frank didn’t even look me in the eye. She pushed right past me, grabbed Camilla’s hand, her face full of artificial concern.
    “Sweetheart, why did you come running over here?” she chided hypocritically. “You just had a baby, you should be resting well. Harding, how could you let her run out?”
    Camilla whimpered softly, burying her face into Harding’s shoulder, but she quickly stole a glance at me, her eyes full of provocation.
    “Isla, what exactly did you do?” Karen spun around and interrogated me, her voice shrill. “What right do you have to upset her? She just gave birth!”
    “Whose child?” I asked coldly. “Isn’t it your son’s? Isn’t it the child your whole family knew perfectly well about, yet kept treating me like a fool while I planned a wedding?”
    Karen sneered with utter contempt. “Don’t play the saint. You’re nothing but a poor girl after money, latching onto my son. Camilla comes from a prominent family; she is the one truly worthy of Harding.”
    “I latched onto him?” I raised my voice in disbelief. “When he had nothing, I worked two jobs to help pay the rent for his rundown apartment! And now you’re telling me I latched onto him?”
    “You were never good enough for him.” Karen became even more vicious. “We only tolerated you back then because Harding found you somewhat novel. Camilla is the one who can give him a future, not some penniless girl from a single-parent home like you.”
    Her insult toward my mother stabbed me deeply.
    “He loves her, yet he wanted to marry me?” I retorted, suppressing my rage. “Loved her enough to let her secretly give birth outside while making me plan the wedding? That’s not love, that’s shameless!”
    Before I could finish speaking, a loud smack rang out. Karen slapped me hard across the face. My cheek burned with pain.
    “How dare you speak about my son that way!” she shrieked.
    “Mom, don’t do that,” Harding finally spoke up, though his tone was weak and powerless.
    “Mind your own business!” Karen snapped at him. “This is what happens when you let lower-class girls like this through the door—absolutely no breeding. Camilla is a true socialite; she would never cause a scene like this.”
    Camilla was still sobbing. She pulled back slightly from Harding’s embrace, looking at Karen with teary eyes. “Karen, please don’t. It’s not Isla’s fault. I… I made a mistake too.” Her voice was so low it could barely be heard, performing her frailty perfectly.
    Karen’s tone instantly softened. “Sweetheart, you’re just too kindhearted, that’s why you get bullied by this woman.”
    Camilla turned to me again, reaching out a hand, her voice perfectly mimicking fragile remorse. “Isla, I am truly, from the bottom of my heart, sorry. I never thought it would turn out like this.”
    I stared at this hand that had once promised me a lifelong friendship.
    “Are you sorry for getting caught, or are you sorry for destroying my life?” I asked coldly.
    She flinched. “I… I just wanted to be loved. Harding was too good to me.”
    “Now you’ve gotten what you wanted—him, and his child. Are you satisfied?”
    She shook her head, tears raining down. “No! I never wanted to hurt you!”
    I could no longer bear to watch this nauseating performance. I turned and walked toward the door.
    “Isla, wait!” Harding chased after me and grabbed my arm. “Don’t go. We need to fix this.”
    “Fix what?” I violently shook off his hand. “Your mother just hit me, humiliated me, and you stood there like a piece of garbage. We are done.”
    “She was just overly emotional!” he pleaded desperately. “She just wants what’s best for me.”
    “And who cared about me?” I fired back sharply. “When have you ever stood up to protect me?”
    He stared at the floor, speechless.
    “I spent eight years giving you everything. I trusted you, supported you. And what I got in return was betrayal, and a family that looked down on me from the very beginning.”
    I walked out the door without looking back, leaving Harding’s shouts, Karen’s roaring, and Camilla’s fake sobbing far behind me, completely walking out of those absurd eight years of my life.

    👉 CONTINUE READING

  • Too Late For Regret, Mafia Capo novel by Janna Lemay

    Too Late For Regret, Mafia Capo novel by Janna Lemay

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    I was about to marry Dante, a ruthless New York Mafia boss.
    However, just three blocks away from the cathedral, his ex-wife sent a text message saying their son was coughing up blood.
    This was the third time, and Dante abandoned me at the altar once again, transferring a hundred million dollars to me as compensation instead.
    I accepted the money, but his ex-wife did not stop there. She moved into my home with her son, faked an illness, and tried to force me out.
    The last straw that broke me happened at the airport, when the little heir, instigated by his mother, viciously pushed me from behind.
    I fell hard onto the cold marble floor and lost the child I did not even know I was carrying.
    As I lay in a pool of my own blood, Dante’s mother coldly gave an order over the phone:
    “The child is dead. You need to protect the living heir and Isabella’s status.”
    Dante looked at me, his face full of guilt, but eventually, he turned and walked away with them.
    To compensate for the child I lost, he threw a massive business empire at me, expecting me to continue waiting in the shadows while he enjoyed his family’s bliss.
    I finally understood that in the face of his mafia bloodline, my loyalty meant absolutely nothing.
    With a steady hand, I signed the asset transfer documents and did not hesitate to liquidate all the properties he had given me.
    Then, I boarded a private cartel jet flying to Switzerland.
    This time, I am going to build an empire of my own!

    👉 READ NOW

    Too Late For Regret, Mafia Capo novel Chapter 1

    Valentina’s POV
    The bulletproof car idled quietly in the shadows of an old apartment building, three blocks away from the cathedral where I was supposed to have my wedding.
    At that moment, my fiancé’s burner phone let out a low, urgent vibration.
    It was a text message from his ex-wife: “Dante, Leo is coughing up blood again. Come quickly, or your son will die before you say your vows.”
    I stared at the faintly glowing screen. The hum of the engine transmitted through the floorboards into my bones, feeling like a heavy tremor.
    Sitting beside me was Dante Salvatore, the head of a New York Mafia family, a man who commanded a ruthless empire.
    His daily routine consisted of nothing more than fighting for street turf and brutal expansion.
    Yet, inside this cramped cabin, the air was thick with the scent of his cologne. Beneath the heavy aroma of sandalwood, there was a faint trace of whiskey and gunpowder, adding an atmosphere of mystery and danger.
    His gaze was heavy, as if it could press down the surrounding air, possessing a power that could make even the toughest men bend their knees.
    Dante stared at the text message, all the color draining from his face until his bronze skin looked like wax-covered bone.
    His large, scarred hands tightly gripped the leather armrest, forming a sharp contrast against the dark material.
    I looked at him, then looked down at my custom-tailored wedding dress. I had been looking forward to this wedding so much.
    Even though this was already the third time.
    Three times we had been ready to take our vows before the priest, and three times his ex-wife Isabella had called due to a sudden critical emergency with their son, Leo.
    I had a very strict rule: three strikes, and after the third time, it is over.
    I understood that our world was transactional, and I knew the Mafia demanded loyalty, blood, and sacrifice.
    But I never expected that I would be the one sacrificed time and time again for the sake of his past.
    Dante looked at me, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Valentina…”
    I didn’t let him finish. Putting on the perfect, considerate posture of a Mafia woman, I forced a stiff smile.
    “Go.”
    Dante let out a shaky breath and reached out to grip my hand tightly.
    “I will make it up to you,” he promised. I simply nodded and signaled the driver to pull over.
    The heavy lock clicked open. I stepped out of the car and stood on the cold, dark curb. A biting, freezing wind blew off the river, hitting my bare shoulders and making me shiver involuntarily.
    I stood there, watching the convoy of black SUVs swiftly pull a U-turn. The tires shrieked against the asphalt.
    Then, they disappeared in the opposite direction. They had completely abandoned me, leaving me standing alone on this grime-covered sidewalk, wearing a wedding dress.
    I raised my hand and hailed a passing yellow cab. The driver looked at me through the rearview mirror, his eyes full of silent questions.
    My phone vibrated in my clutch. I took it out and saw a notification from my offshore bank account, a wire transfer had just cleared.
    One hundred million dollars. That was laundered “blood money” from the Salvatore family accounts.
    The screen’s phosphorescent glow stung my retinas; that long string of zeros looked piercingly cold and white in the darkness of the cab.
    I accepted the money without hesitation; as my protector, Dante no longer held any value.
    I opened an encrypted underground social network on my phone and found that the Mafia gossip forum had already exploded. Someone had leaked a blurry photo of me hailing a cab in my wedding dress.
    The comments flooded in. They called me a pathetic stray dog, mocking how the Mafia boss had abandoned this “gold digger” for the third time, leaving her hanging at her own wedding.
    They ridiculed my complete failure to secure the ultimate symbol of Mafia power.
    I scrolled through these mocking words expressionlessly, decided not to read any further, and simply turned off my phone.
    When I finally returned to my private penthouse, I took off the heavy wedding dress, letting the expensive silk fall carelessly onto the floor, and changed into a simple pair of sweatpants and a loose T-shirt.
    Walking into the kitchen, I boiled a pot of water and made a simple bowl of pasta, adding nothing but a little olive oil.
    I placed the bowl on the cold marble countertop, took a picture, and posted it to my private feed without any caption.
    Within minutes, the women from other Mafia families left a string of sarcastic comments. They mocked my cheap meal and laughed at my miserable life.
    My phone vibrated again. It was another bank notification. Dante had transferred another three million dollars, with only a short sentence in the memo: “Take care of yourself.”
    The corner of my mouth curled into a cold, ruthless smile.
    Five years ago, on the night of Dante’s first divorce from Isabella, when he showed up at my tiny apartment exhausted and covered in bruises, this simple pasta was exactly what I had cooked for him.
    But he had long forgotten its meaning; he only knew how to use money to cover up his guilt.
    Suddenly, my private encrypted phone rang. I answered it and heard Camila’s voice. She was my longtime mentor and a legend in the underground world, having successfully married the head of a Swiss banking cartel.
    “Valentina, are your psychological defenses still holding up?” Her voice was clear and cold, without a trace of pity.
    “I am calculating my next move, but I regret getting involved in his power games.”
    A soft sigh came from the other end of the line.
    “Switzerland has a higher level of power and security,” Camila said. “I can get you out and give you sanctuary in Zurich. There is no need for you to stay here and be his sacrificial lamb.”
    I looked down at the simple bowl of pasta, quickly calculating my new wealth and my odds of winning, just like I always did.
    “Make the arrangements.”

    Too Late For Regret, Mafia Capo novel Chapter 2

    Valentina’s POV
    Dante didn’t return to the penthouse that night, nor the next day.
    The apartment was unusually quiet. Taking advantage of this rare peace, I opened my laptop and began organizing the assets under my name.
    Over the years, Dante had gifted me numerous properties, luxury cars, and shell companies. I contacted hidden brokers, requesting to legally liquidate all assets. I needed untraceable, liquid cash.
    On the fourth day, the sound of a key turning in the lock came from the front door. I calmly closed my laptop and slid it under a magazine.
    Dante walked in, looking haggard. Behind him was Isabella, tightly holding the hand of a pale seven-year-old boy, Leo, the heir to the Salvatore family.
    “Leo’s condition is unstable,” Dante said in an unquestionable tone. “Isabella has a fever, and the estate is too far from the clinic. They are staying here temporarily.”
    He didn’t ask for my permission; he simply issued an order.
    I looked at Isabella. She was wearing a soft cashmere sweater, her shoulders slightly hunched as if she were chronically cold, and her eyes remained cast downward.
    I nodded silently, accepting the Don’s order without a single word of rebuttal.
    Seeing my obedience, Dante visibly breathed a sigh of relief. Carrying the faint scent of hospital disinfectant, he kissed me gently on the forehead and walked toward the kitchen to call his men.
    That night, as I sat on the edge of the large bed in the master bedroom, the door creaked slightly, and Isabella slipped in quietly.
    She offered a forced, polite smile, looking extremely strained.
    “Sorry to intrude, Valentina,” she said softly.
    I didn’t answer.
    She walked over to my nightstand and pointed to a silver-framed solo photo of Dante.
    “Leo is having trouble sleeping,” she said. “He needs to look at his father’s picture to feel safe.”
    She reached out and took the frame. I simply showed cold apathy toward her action.
    Isabella clutched the photo tightly to her chest and closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them again, an unusual glimmer of tears flashed beneath her eyelashes.
    “I am so jealous of you,” she whispered. “I am jealous that you get to sleep in his bed.”
    Before I could respond, the hurried sound of little footsteps came from the hallway, and Leo rushed into the bedroom, his face flushed red.
    “You’re bullying my mom!” he yelled at me.
    He lunged at me and forcefully pushed my shoulder.
    Caught off guard, I was pushed a step back. My ankle accidentally tripped over the edge of the floorboards, and a piercing pain shot up my calf straight to my brain.
    I fell heavily onto the smooth floor. The impact made my entire body go numb, and the palms of my hands stung as I braced my fall.
    Taking advantage of this, Isabella immediately let go of the photo frame, letting it smash onto the floor with a sharp shattering sound. Then she grabbed Leo and shielded him behind her.
    “Valentina, I am so sorry!” Isabella cried out in a panicked voice, deliberately raising her volume as if trying to make sure someone at the end of the hall could hear. “Please don’t hurt him! He is just a child!”
    Leo instantly dropped his innocent disguise and gave me a cold, contemptuous smile.
    “Just wait until we go back to the main estate, my dad will definitely back me up,” he said through gritted teeth. “Then I will never have to look at your ugly face again.”
    Just then, steady footsteps came from the hallway. Dante emerged from the shadows.
    His pitch-black eyes immediately narrowed as he scanned the chaotic scene before him. His gaze shifted from me, sitting on the floor, to the scattered glass shards.
    Isabella immediately knelt beside me, hovering her hands over my arms in a fabricated display of helpless panic.
    “Dante, I am so sorry!” she sobbed with a trembling voice. “The photo triggered Leo’s trauma, and Valentina was just trying to take it back.”
    In between her sobs, she quickly cast a glance at Leo, passing a hidden signal through her eyes.
    Catching the hint, Leo immediately let out a loud scream, clutched his chest tightly with both hands, rolled his eyes back, and collapsed heavily onto the floor, starting to convulse.
    “Dad!” he shrieked.
    All the color vanished from Dante’s face. He shoved me aside, causing my already bruised shoulder to slam hard against the nightstand.
    He scooped up the convulsing Leo and rushed out of the room.
    “Isabella, go get the medical kit!” Dante roared.
    Isabella wiped her dry cheeks and quickly chased after him.
    With a heavy slam, the door shut, and silence descended upon the room once again.
    Dante had completely ignored me, not even stopping to ask if I was hurt.
    I sat alone in the quiet room. Slowly, I stood up, limped into the master bathroom, and calmly applied ointment to my sprained ankle.
    Just then, my phone vibrated on the marble counter. It was a text from Dante.
    “Leave the penthouse for now. Your presence is causing the child stress. I have transferred the deed to the luxury safehouse in the West End into your name. Go there.”
    I stared at the glowing words on the screen, and the anger that should have been in my heart turned into pure calm.
    With steady fingers, I typed my reply and hit send.
    “Understood.”

    Too Late For Regret, Mafia Capo novel Chapter 3

    Valentina’s POV
    The private dining room of the Mafia club was dimly lit. The air was thick with the rich aroma of truffles, mixed with the faint scent of old money that carried a touch of corrupt sweetness.
    Today was my birthday.
    Dante had booked the entire VIP section, promising me that tonight would involve absolutely no “family business.”
    He sat across from me, wearing a dark suit, looking breathtakingly handsome.
    He reached across the pristine white tablecloth, gently took my hand, and fastened a heavy, cold bracelet around my wrist.
    I looked down. It was a string of priceless “blood diamonds,” tied to violence and exploitation.
    “Valentina, I’m sorry I haven’t been around much lately. I know this period has been very hard for you.”
    I forced a smile and looked up at him. “It’s fine.”
    Right at that moment, the heavy mahogany door was pushed open silently.
    Isabella stood in the doorway, pulling a visibly reluctant Leo. Her hair was a mess, and she looked perfectly panicked.
    “Dante!” she gasped for air, as if she had just run a long distance. “Leo is sick, and his special medicine is missing from the estate!”
    The string quartet in the corner immediately stopped playing.
    The accompanying “family members” and their wives in the hall turned their heads, and whispers spread outward like ripples.
    They gossiped, their voices clearly audible, saying that the head of the family had actually abandoned his sick heir to have dinner with his mistress.
    Leo broke free from his mother’s hand and ran straight to Dante.
    “Dad, my chest hurts so much!” Leo cried, throwing himself into Dante’s arms.
    Suddenly, he pointed a trembling finger at me.
    “It’s her! She’s stealing you away!” he screamed, his face full of resentment.
    In the next second, Leo grabbed a glass of expensive red wine from the table and threw it fiercely at me.
    The dark red liquid splashed all over my chest, slowly dripping down my skin.
    The muscles in Dante’s jaw twitched slightly.
    He stood up abruptly. The chair made a loud bang against the hardwood floor before tipping over.
    “Apologize to Valentina immediately!” Dante commanded, his voice carrying a chilling authority.
    Leo stubbornly crossed his arms and glared at me fiercely, refusing to apologize.
    Isabella immediately stepped forward, her posture slightly bent as if bearing immense pressure.
    She lowered her head and began to sob.
    “Don’t yell at him, Dante,” she said between sobs. “It’s all my fault. I didn’t raise him right. I’m a terrible mother.”
    I looked around, feeling the critical gazes of the family wives darting through the open door.
    I waved my hand, my tone calm and composed.
    “Go take care of your family, Dante,” I said peacefully.
    Dante looked hesitant. He looked at my stained dress, then at his crying ex-wife and sick child.
    Ultimately, he yielded to duty. He picked up the boy and hurriedly left the restaurant, with Isabella following closely behind.
    I sat alone at the dining table.
    Picking up a napkin, I calmly wiped the wine stains from my skin, refusing to let a single tear fall.
    I looked over at the musicians, who stood frozen in the corner.
    “Keep playing,” I ordered.
    After dinner, I used my own black card to pay the exorbitant bill.
    A waiter approached me nervously.
    “Miss Rossi, would you still like your birthday cake?” he asked cautiously.
    “Bring it,” I replied.
    They brought out a small, delicate cake, and I lit the single candle.
    I made a silent wish in my heart.
    I wished for complete freedom, to be rid of all chains.
    After blowing out the candle, I took a picture of the cake and uploaded it to the family’s secure network.
    I didn’t add any caption.
    As I walked out of the club, my phone vibrated.
    Dante had sent a long text message, desperately apologizing for what just happened.
    Immediately following that was a bank transfer notification. He had wired another three million dollars into my account.
    That night, I sat on the couch in the new safehouse.
    The room was completely silent. What broke the quiet was not a sound, but a subtle shift in air pressure.
    Then, the hinges let out a faint friction sound.
    My hand instinctively reached into the crevice of the sofa cushion, my fingertips touching the cold, hard grip of a gun.
    The dim yellow light from the hallway spilled through the crack in the door as the lock turned and the door slowly pushed open.
    Dante walked in, holding a brown paper bag containing my favorite takeout.
    He placed the food on the coffee table, sat down next to me, and tried to pull me into his arms.
    “Leo’s heart rate spiked suddenly, and I had to take him to the clinic. You have to understand me, Valentina.”
    I calmly placed my hand on his chest and pushed him away.
    “No explanation needed,” I said.
    Dante frowned, a flash of obvious panic in his eyes.
    He sensed a fundamental shift in my attitude.
    “You are too quiet,” he said. “Why aren’t you arguing with me?”
    “Because I don’t care anymore,” I replied coldly.
    Dante stared at me, clenching his jaw, his expression turning dangerous.
    Before he could probe further, I quickly appeased his ego, reaching out to gently touch his cheek.
    “You are a good father, Dante. I admire that about you.”
    Dante let out a long breath, leaning into my palm.
    “I swear on my life, once the boy recovers, we will have a grand wedding, and you will become my wife.”
    Right then, his burner phone rang, the harsh ringtone shattering the brief, fragile moment.
    He glanced at the screen. It was Leo.
    He answered the phone and pressed it to his ear.
    “Dad, I want to hear a bedtime story!” the child’s voice came through the phone, thick with tears.
    In the background, Isabella’s voice could be heard softly humming a lullaby, with that kind of softness that carried a manipulative undertone.
    Dante showed a hesitant expression again, turning to look at me with pleading eyes.
    I stood up and waved toward the door. “Go.”
    Dante stood up, dropped a kiss on my cheek, grabbed his coat, and hurried out of the room.
    He left in such a rush that the phone remained connected.
    I stood in the center of the empty living room, listening to his footsteps gradually fade in the hallway, eventually completely cut off by the muffled thud of the heavy fire door.
    A moment later, a low-frequency vibration came up from the floorboards. It was the sound of an engine starting on the street below.
    On the other end of the line, the woman’s lullaby still hadn’t stopped.
    I picked up the phone, pressed the end-call button, the screen went black, and the entire apartment was left with only the low hum of the refrigerator.

    👉 CONTINUE READING

  • Our CEO Daddy! Triplets in a Mission by ferocearcadia

    Our CEO Daddy! Triplets in a Mission by ferocearcadia

    👉 READ NOW

    A reckless playboy CEO is forced to marry Harte, a quiet orphan, to save him from a dangerous mafia after his scandalous affair. Their cold marriage slowly turns complicated as buried emotions surface-but it all ends in heartbreak and divorce, with Harte walking away without revealing she is pregnant.

    What he doesn’t know is that she isn’t just carrying his child… she’s carrying triplets.

    👉 READ NOW

    Our CEO Daddy! Triplets in a Mission Chapter 1 The Playboy CEO

    Griffin’s cellphone rang repeatedly on the bedside table. Half-asleep, he reached for the device without even opening his eyes. Who the hell had the nerve to interrupt his sleep this early?
    “Hello-”
    Before Griffin could finish speaking, a voice loud enough to rival a megaphone blasted through the line.
    “Griffin, where are you? Did you forget that today is Mom and Dad’s 30th wedding anniversary? I went to your condo and your office, and you’re nowhere to be found!”
    Griffin grimaced and immediately pulled the phone away from his ear. “Jesus Christ, Harte. Lower your voice. Are you trying to blow out my eardrums?”
    “Get home right now! If you don’t come home this instant-”
    He didn’t bother waiting for her threat to finish. He already knew she’d just keep nagging until he got a headache.
    “I’m on my way,” he said quickly before ending the call.
    He rubbed his temples before glancing at the woman still fast asleep beside him. He’d spent the entire night f*ck*ng her-giving her a break only long enough before taking her again.
    Griffin got out of bed and picked up his clothes scattered across the floor. He got dressed without caring whether the woman woke up or not. He didn’t leave a message or even a goodbye. He simply walked out of the room and left her behind.
    The moment he stepped into the hotel lobby, the receptionist greeted him right away. The hotel belonged to his godfather Dawn, his father’s best friend, so the staff already knew Griffin by face.
    “Good morning, Sir Griffin,” the valet attendant greeted with a smile as he tossed Griffin the keys to his sports car. Griffin caught them easily before pulling out his wallet. He took out five thousand dollar and handed it over as a tip. The man gave a playful salute in return.
    Griffin climbed into the car and quickly drove off.
    While cruising down the highway, he noticed a white van that seemed to have been tailing him for a while now. To make sure, he stepped harder on the gas and swiftly overtook a red car ahead of him. Almost immediately, he saw the van speed up as well just to keep up with him.
    “What the f*ck is that? Are they after me?” he muttered to himself, his eyes fixed on the rearview mirror.
    But before he could make a move to shake them off, the white van suddenly turned in the opposite direction. Griffin frowned, wondering if it had all been a coincidence-or if the people inside had only been sizing him up.
    He finally arrived at the mansion after thirty minutes of driving. In the garage, he spotted his grandparents’ familiar cars-a sign that the whole family had already arrived.
    The Bowens had always made it a tradition to gather for Sunday lunch, and today was even more special because it was his parents’ 30th wedding anniversary.
    Griffin parked in the garage and quickly headed inside the mansion.
    “Good morning, Sir Griffin!” Cecelia, their longtime housekeeper, greeted him cheerfully.
    “Good morning, Ate Cecelia. You’re looking extra blooming today, huh?” he teased with a wink.
    Cecelia jokingly swatted at him with the broom she was holding, but Griffin dodged it easily while laughing.
    “You really are such a smooth talker!” Cecelia said with a laugh, pointing toward the kitchen. “Your mother’s been waiting for you. Go on now before she gets even madder at you.”
    Still chuckling, Griffin walked toward the kitchen and found his mother, Scarlett, pulling a tray out of the oven while wearing an apron. Even at fifty-four, she was still stunning and sophisticated. One of the qualities he looked for in a woman was someone like his mother.
    “Mmm… smells amazing,” he complimented, breathing in the aroma of whatever she had baked.
    Scarlett placed a hand on her hip and gave her son a serious look. “And where have you been? Lavender and Harte went to your condo, but you weren’t there.”
    Griffin laughed softly and stepped closer to hug his mother. “Mom, I went out to relax and unwind. Meridian is at the top worldwide, and I think I deserve to relax and unwind. I can’t spend all my time working.”
    Scarlett pointed the tongs she was holding at Griffin and narrowed her eyes at him. “I know exactly what you’ve been doing out there, son. One of these days, I wouldn’t be surprised if women start lining up outside this house claiming you got them pregnant. Or worse, someone might sue you and say you took advantage of her. Honey, why don’t you just get a girlfriend, settle into a serious relationship, and get married already?”
    “Mom, Mom… it’s family day, not lecture day,” he replied playfully as he grabbed the tray from her hands and set it down on the table. “I’ll go call everyone and tell them lunch is ready,” he added, quickly steering the conversation elsewhere. He was referring to his father, Darius, and his grandparents, who were currently relaxing by the pool area.
    He hurried out through the kitchen’s sliding door, leaving his mother shaking her head at his antics.
    He really did want a serious relationship. Who wouldn’t want to find the right person for them? But every time he tried dating, it always ended the same way. Most women were only after his money, and nearly every woman he went out with just wasn’t his type. There had been one relationship he genuinely took seriously, but she had chosen her career abroad over him and eventually broke things off.
    Griffin let out a quiet sigh. He was about to head toward his father and grandparents when he noticed Harte sitting by the edge of the pool.
    A smile spread across his face as he quietly approached her. Harte was the daughter of Greg, his father’s loyal assistant. Her mother had died giving birth to her, so she had grown up in their household ever since she was little. Griffin had practically watched her grow up. She had just graduated from college last month and was planning to work at Meridian as well.
    “I seriously don’t get his taste in women. If they’re not wearing pounds of makeup, then they’re completely insane,” Harte muttered to herself while absentmindedly plucking flower petals and dipping her feet into the pool.
    Griffin raised an eyebrow. Looks like Harte was annoyed with some guy.
    Maybe she had a crush on him?
    “So annoying! Out of all the men in the world, why did I have to fall for him?”
    Yep, he was right. She definitely liked a guy who probably liked someone else.
    Griffin grinned, another mischievous idea already forming in his head. He moved closer to Harte and, when the timing was perfect, suddenly tapped her shoulder.
    Harte whipped around in surprise, her eyes widening the moment she saw him. But before she could even say anything, Griffin shoved her straight into the pool.
    “Griffin!” Harte shouted furiously before completely disappearing underwater.
    “Why are you jumping in there? Haven’t you showered yet?” Griffin burst out laughing, clutching his stomach.
    The noise caught the attention of his father, Darius, as well as his grandparents. Harte’s father, Greg, even paused from grilling a large fish, though he merely shook his head and didn’t bother stepping in. Everyone in the family was already used to the two acting like cats and dogs whenever they were together. Griffin’s day never felt complete unless he found a way to tease her.
    “Get over here and I’ll shave that head of yours bald!” Harte snapped through gritted teeth as she quickly climbed out of the pool.
    But as Harte stepped onto the pool ladder, Griffin’s laughter slowly faded. His eyes drifted over her figure. The thin white dress she was wearing had turned nearly transparent from the water, clearly outlining the red underwear beneath it. Griffin swallowed hard as he caught sight of the curves of her body.
    He had always seen her as a kid-a little sister.
    He never realized she had grown into such a beautiful young woman.
    Because he was so distracted, Griffin didn’t notice Harte had already reached him. She quickly grabbed him by the hair and dragged him toward the edge of the pool.
    “Ow! Harte, what the hell! Ow! Ow!” he complained repeatedly while trying to pry her hand away. “Harte, stop it!”
    The moment she let him go, Harte flashed him a smug grin before kicking him hard, sending Griffin crashing straight into the water.

    Our CEO Daddy! Triplets in a Mission Chapter 2 Welcome Back

    Griffin grimaced as he roughly dried his wet hair with a towel. The only thing he wore was a white towel wrapped low around his waist, exposing his toned physique.
    “D*mn. She’s stronger than most men. Feels like she ripped half the hair off my head,” he muttered to himself, annoyed yet amused at the same time.
    But suddenly, he froze.
    The scene from earlier flashed through his mind again-the way Harte’s body had looked as she climbed out of the pool, the outline of the red fabric beneath her soaked white dress. The image refused to leave his head.
    Griffin shook his head and lightly slapped his own cheek. He went back to drying his hair before throwing on a simple black T-shirt and a pair of pants.
    When he went downstairs to the kitchen, he found his family already gathered around the table. The atmosphere was lively, filled with laughter and the mouthwatering smell of delicious food.
    He pulled out a chair beside his twin sister, Lavender, and sat down. One thing their mother, Scarlett, absolutely hated during family lunches was talking about work. So throughout the meal, their conversations stayed light and random.
    After eating, they all moved to the living room for dessert while watching Lavender’s newest television drama series.
    Unlike the rest of the family, his sister hadn’t followed in their parents’ footsteps. She had no interest in business whatsoever. So when she announced she wanted to enter show business and pursue acting, all they could do was support her.
    “Goodness, that slap looked painful, sweetheart. Your face didn’t swell up, did it?” his grandmother Elene asked dramatically and with concern after seeing Lavender’s character get slapped by the villain on screen.
    Lavender laughed and shook her head. “Grandma, we always ask permission from each other before filming scenes like that. Although it really hurt-you can tell, right? It makes the scene more effective for the audience.”
    While everyone watched the show, Griffin noticed Harte busy on her phone instead of paying attention to the television. A few moments later, she quietly stood up and slipped out of the living room with her head lowered.
    One of Griffin’s eyebrows lifted.
    He quickly got to his feet and followed her. Thanks to his long strides, he caught up to her near the garage.
    “You’re going somewhere?” he asked, making the young woman stop in her tracks.
    Harte quickly turned to look at him. “I’m just meeting someone at the convenience store. I’ll be back right away.”
    “Hmm… a friend?” Griffin didn’t know why he had suddenly become so interested in where she was going.
    “A former classmate,” she answered shortly before turning her back on him.
    Griffin watched Harte’s retreating figure as she walked out through the gate. He even saw her say something to the security guard before finally disappearing from sight.
    He headed back inside but didn’t return to the living room. Instead, he went straight to his room to grab his car keys. When he came back out to the garage, he signaled for the guard to open the gate before quickly climbing into his car.
    He drove fast and soon spotted Harte walking along the side of the road. A mischievous grin spread across his face before he repeatedly honked the horn at her.
    Griffin burst out laughing when Harte jumped in shock and nearly dropped her phone.
    At the same time Griffin rolled down the car window, Harte whipped around to glare at him, practically fuming with irritation. In pure annoyance, she picked up a rock almost the size of her head and raised it as if she were about to smash it against the hood of his sports car.
    “You’re seriously insane!” she shouted.
    Griffin blinked and immediately panicked. He quickly pulled the car over beside her.
    “Harte, don’t you dare!” he warned, leaning toward the open window. “Put that down. Get in the car.”
    Harte scoffed before violently tossing the rock onto the roadside. “And why would I get in there?”
    “I’m driving you wherever you’re going. Get inside already.” He opened the passenger door and pushed it wider with his foot. “The sun is freaking brutal, Harte. Just get in.”
    Harte glared at him for a few more seconds before finally walking around to the other side of the car and climbing in. She slammed the door shut on purpose, clearly making sure he felt how annoyed she was.
    “Hurry up. The person I’m meeting has been waiting for a while,” she snapped at him as if he were her personal chauffeur.
    If any other woman had spoken to him like that, he probably would’ve yelled at her-or kicked her straight out of the car.
    But this was Harte.
    The same way he treated his mother and his twin sister Lavender with respect, he treated Harte the same way. He might bully and tease her nonstop, but he would never allow anyone else to do the same to her.
    “Yes, Ma’am,” he replied sarcastically with a grin. He sped up and soon arrived at the convenience store she had mentioned.
    Harte unbuckled her seatbelt and quickly stepped out. Griffin immediately followed after her, making her eyebrows knit together.
    “I thought you were just giving me a ride?” She even crossed her arms over her chest. “Why are you following me?”
    “I’m buying something,” Griffin excused casually before stepping ahead to hold the door open for her.
    Just as the door swung open, a woman wearing sunglasses and a coat dress despite the blazing heat stepped out from inside the store. Griffin and Harte were about to walk past her when the woman removed her shades and suddenly blocked their path.
    “Oh my God, Griffin? Is that really you?” the woman exclaimed, her eyes lighting up the moment she saw him.
    Harte’s gaze shifted back and forth between the woman and Griffin, while Griffin himself frowned slightly, forcing a smile as he tried to remember where exactly he knew her from.
    “Ah, yes… and you are…?”
    The woman extended her hand toward him. “I’m Chelsea! We were blockmates in college! Don’t you remember me?”
    Griffin quickly took her hand and laughed. “Of course I remember you,” he lied smoothly, even though he genuinely had no clue who she was. “It’s been a while. How have you been?”
    “I’m doing great. I just got back to the New York,” the woman gushed excitedly, almost blushing.
    “Looks like she just got back too. You can tell from the outfit,” Harte muttered under her breath.
    Griffin overheard it and secretly smiled.
    “Oh, by the way, I’m throwing a welcome-back party. It’s also my birthday.” Chelsea hurriedly rummaged through her handbag before handing Griffin a calling card. “I’d love for you to come, if that’s okay. And here’s my calling card. Call me later, okay?”
    Harte suddenly fake-coughed, making Chelsea finally notice her. The woman’s brows slowly furrowed. “And this is…? Is she your girlfriend?”
    Griffin took the calling card. “She’s my little sister,” he answered quickly.
    Chelsea’s smile widened immediately after hearing that. “Oh, hi!” she greeted Harte before turning all her attention back to Griffin again. “I’m in a hurry. I wanted to talk longer, but I’m really hoping you’ll call me.”
    “Of course I will,” Griffin replied with a smile, openly flirting back.
    The woman waved goodbye before finally leaving.
    “No matter where you go, women just keep appearing around you,” Harte clicked her tongue before walking farther inside the convenience store.
    “But you didn’t see me approaching any woman,” Griffin defended himself immediately. “They’re the ones approaching me. I’m just being nice.”
    And honestly, it was true.
    He was never the one chasing women-they always came to him first. And with the kind of charm he had, who was he to refuse?
    “Harte!”
    Both of them turned toward the voice coming from the other side of the store. A man stood there, nearly as tall as Griffin. He looked like the nerdy type because of his glasses, but his muscular arms made it obvious he spent plenty of time at the gym.
    “You never said you were meeting a guy,” Griffin said, his tone suddenly serious. The playful grin on his face vanished instantly, replaced by narrowed eyes.
    “That’s because you never asked,” Harte replied before leaving him behind and walking straight toward the man.

    Our CEO Daddy! Triplets in a Mission Chapter 3 Mysterious White Van

    Griffin watched Harte as she walked toward the man, whose smile stretched from ear to ear. A humorless laugh escaped him when the guy suddenly pulled Harte into a hug-and what irritated him even more was that Harte didn’t push him away. She simply let it happen.
    He had never seen her this close to any guy before.
    This was the first time.
    An unfamiliar heat stirred in Griffin’s chest as he watched the two of them together.
    When the man noticed him staring, he whispered something into Harte’s ear that Griffin couldn’t hear. Harte glanced back at him, her brows instantly knitting together before she gestured with her chin for him to leave already and stop butting in.
    Annoyed, Griffin turned on his heel and left the two of them inside the store. He climbed into his car and sped all the way back to the mansion.
    The moment he arrived, he found his father, Darius, standing outside. The serious look on the older man’s face immediately made Griffin step out of the car and approach him.
    “Dad,” he called.
    Without saying a word, Darius handed his phone over and showed Griffin a text message.
    “They need you at the office. The new materials from Spain finally arrived. Check them yourself.”
    Griffin nodded in response. Even though he was still irritated by what he had seen at the convenience store, business came first.
    Darius gave his son a pat on the shoulder, and Griffin immediately headed inside to change into more formal clothes before driving straight to Meridian Investment Partners.
    His secretary, Madonna, greeted him the moment he stepped into the building lobby. The urgency on her face reflected how important the newly arrived shipment was.
    “Where are the items?” Griffin asked authoritatively without slowing his pace toward the elevator.
    “They’re already in your office, sir,” the woman replied, struggling to keep up with his long strides.
    Griffin loosened his necktie slightly before stepping into the elevator.
    The shipment consisted of high-grade obsidian and rare marble tiles that would be used for their newest luxury corporate skyscraper project in Bonifacio Global City. The materials would define the image of their premium office spaces, which was why Griffin insisted on personally inspecting the quality himself.
    The moment he entered his office, he immediately began examining the materials.
    This was already the supplier’s second shipment. He had rejected the first one outright because of its poor quality. Although this batch was noticeably better than the last, it still failed to meet his exacting standards.
    “Tell them to send all of this back. This is not what I asked for,” Griffin said sharply through clenched teeth as he pointed at the samples. “Tell them to find something that matches the sample I gave exactly. And if they can’t do that, then let them know we’ll start looking for a new supplier.”
    Madonna immediately pulled out her phone and called the Supplier Manager. Griffin could clearly hear the tension in their conversation while he waited for an answer.
    “They said they’ll try to find materials identical to the sample you provided, sir,” Madonna reported after ending the call. “But they’re asking for another month to produce it.”
    “Another d*mn month?! This project has already been delayed for two f*ck*ng months because of their incompetence!” Griffin snapped as he slammed himself back into his chair.
    Madonna quickly called the supplier again to relay Griffin’s ultimatum-half a month, or the contract was over.
    When she ended the call, a seductive smile slowly appeared on the secretary’s lips. She walked closer and perched herself on top of Griffin’s luxurious desk, deliberately showing off her long legs.
    “You look stressed, sir. Did something happen before you got here?” she asked sweetly.
    As she spoke, her hand slowly slid over her chest, gently caressing herself in front of him.
    Madonna had been working for him for two years. And during those two years, whenever Griffin lost his temper, she was always the one who calmed him down. He had never forced her into anything-she had been the one to make the first move and show interest in him.
    “Nothing happened,” Griffin answered stiffly.
    His eyes stayed fixed on Madonna’s hand as she slowly unbuttoned her blouse, revealing a black lace bra barely capable of containing her curves.
    Griffin’s restraint snapped instantly.
    He rose abruptly from his swivel chair and captured Madonna in a rough, hungry kiss. His hand gripped her chest firmly as he felt the rapid pounding of her heart beneath his palm.
    “Ah… S-Sir… easy…” Madonna whimpered breathlessly between kisses.
    But Griffin wasn’t in the mood to be gentle.
    He turned Madonna toward the desk and positioned her with her back facing him. With a rough tug, he pulled down her skirt and underwear.
    “Lean on the table. Don’t move,” he ordered in a low, commanding voice.
    When it was over, Griffin leaned back against his desk, finally feeling lighter, as though all the irritation from earlier-both from work and from Harte-had disappeared.
    He didn’t stay long at the office after that. Once his lust had subsided, he left everything for Madonna to handle and headed out. He wasn’t in the mood to return to the mansion, so he decided to drive straight back to his condo instead.
    As he drove along the dimly lit road, he noticed the familiar white van once again in his rearview mirror.
    It was the same vehicle he had seen earlier before heading to the mansion.
    “Persistent bastards,” he muttered as he stepped harder on the gas.
    But in an instant, the van sped up as well and slammed into the back of his sports car without warning. Griffin’s vehicle lurched violently out of balance, and before he could recover, the van rammed into his side again.
    Then came the rapid gunfire.
    The windows shattered as bullets tore through the body of his car. While trying to dodge the attack, Griffin lost control of the steering wheel completely. His car veered off the road and flipped several times before finally coming to a stop, completely wrecked.
    Griffin hung upside down inside the crushed vehicle.
    The world spun around him, and the only thing he could hear was the roaring of his own blood in his ears. He tried to move, but a blinding surge of pain shot through his leg.
    A sharp piece of metal from the mangled chassis had pierced through him. He could feel the warmth of blood steadily pouring from the wound.
    He fought to stay conscious, but darkness slowly began swallowing him whole.
    Before his eyes finally closed, he saw the silhouettes of several men stepping out of the white van and walking toward the wreckage.

    👉 CONTINUE READING

  • Guest User: My Marriage’s Betrayal by CHRISTINE ROBINSON

    Guest User: My Marriage's Betrayal by CHRISTINE ROBINSON

    👉 READ NOW

    I sacrificed my career and endured agonizing IVF treatments, all just to give my husband’s wealthy family an heir.

    But when I checked the smart ring app his company had launched, I discovered my personal profile was labeled as a “Temporary User”—all data automatically wiped every 90 days.

    And positioned right above me, the name of his junior employee, Katerina, was glaringly listed as the “Primary User,” complete with a detailed log tracking her 24-week pregnancy.

    When I confronted him, Calvin didn’t apologize. Instead, he brought his pregnant mistress home.

    He actually demanded that I act as her caretaker, while his mother sneered, calling me a disposable ornament and ordering me to leave the marriage with nothing.

    My husband had merely used my painful fertility struggles to beta-test his algorithms, while secretly using our marital assets to fund his new family.

    In this marriage, I was nothing but a temporary data point.

    They thought I would silently accept being treated as a disposable “guest.”

    But I handed over the evidence of his severe data privacy violations to a shrewd, ruthless lawyer, and then decisively exposed the truth to the world.

    👉 READ NOW

    Guest User: My Marriage’s Betrayal Chapter 1

    Allison Benson’s POV

    The doctor’s appointment was scheduled for ten in the morning. I needed to download my three-month health report from the smart ring app. Dr. Chen specifically requested a detailed data report covering my menstrual cycle regularity, sleep patterns, and stress levels.

    Calvin, my husband, had insisted I wear his company’s prototype product—the “Aura” smart ring—claiming it was to “support my IVF journey.” He said my data was crucial for optimizing their women’s health algorithms.

    I opened the Aura app on my tablet. The company’s logo flashed on the screen, a glowing, stylized feminine symbol. My finger hovered over the “Download Report” button. Right at that moment, an unexpected window popped up on the screen—”User Selection.” It listed two names: my name, Allison Benson, and right below it, another name: Katerina Copeland.

    Katerina Copeland. The name struck me like a bolt of lightning. She was a junior product manager at Calvin’s company, AuraTech.

    I had seen her at a few company events. Young, smart, and always impeccably dressed. But why was her name on my app? This was my ring, my data. An icy wave of unease washed over me.

    Almost involuntarily, my finger tapped Katerina’s name. A brand-new page loaded. It was her personal profile, detailed and comprehensive.

    My eyes scanned the data: cycle records, sleep scores, activity levels. Her data logs stretched back for months, continuous and complete, far exceeding what I saw in my own account.

    I kept scrolling, past various charts. The final entry was highlighted in a glaring green. It wasn’t a standard cycle log, but a status update, clear and piercing—”Pregnancy Log: Week 24.” My vision began to blur. Week 24, six months, a baby. Her baby, Calvin’s baby.

    My hands shook violently. I quickly navigated back to my own profile page. My data was there, but sparse and fragmented. A few weeks here, a few days there, leaving massive blank gaps.

    My cycle logs, my desperate attempts and efforts to get pregnant, had been reduced to these incomplete fragments. I noticed a nearly invisible little tag under my name: “Temporary User. Data auto-clears every 90 days.”

    A Temporary User, a temporary placeholder.

    My mind was in utter chaos. He gave me the ring, saying it was for us, for our shared dream of a family. But in reality, he was just treating me as a temporary data tester, a disposable account that could be tossed aside at any moment.

    And Katerina was the “Primary User.” All the way to delivery. His system had clearly defined our roles. I was the temporary guest, and she was the permanent resident.

    It was absolutely sickening!

    Calvin’s late nights at work, his sudden “business trips,” the absent-minded look in his eyes whenever I talked about IVF treatments.

    They had planned it all along, how they were going to replace me.

    The doctor’s appointment now felt like a sick joke. I grabbed my phone, found the appointment, and deleted it without hesitation.

    An intense urge to flee surged within me; I wanted to escape this life.

    I looked around the luxurious living room. Every piece of furniture, every decoration felt tainted; I stood up, walked into the bedroom, pulled a small duffel bag from the closet, and haphazardly stuffed a few clothes inside. I had to leave. I needed air.

    The sound of the front door opening echoed through the silent house. Calvin was back, earlier than usual. My heart raced, like a drum pounding wildly against my ribcage. He never came home this early unless he thought I wasn’t here.

    “Allison?” His voice sounded light, tinged with surprise. “You’re home?”

    He walked into the living room, briefcase in hand, and stopped. His eyes swept the room and finally landed on me and the half-open bag. He frowned slightly. “What’s going on? Did you miss your appointment?”

    “No.” My voice was flat, devoid of emotion. “I canceled it.”

    He took off his coat and casually draped it over a chair. “Why? Is everything okay? Weren’t you really anxious about this checkup?” He didn’t wait for my answer, walking straight into the kitchen and tossing his keys onto the marble counter with a sharp clink. “I’m starving. I’ve been busy all day, didn’t even get to eat lunch.”
    He opened the fridge, looking down to rummage for food, and hastily took a few bites; I watched him. This man was actually sleeping around with another woman!

    He returned to the living room holding a bottle of water. “I need a shower, today’s meetings were exhausting.”

    A few minutes later, he walked out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel, drying his hair as he walked. He looked refreshed and completely oblivious. “So,” he said, running a hand through his damp hair, “ready to go get some dinner? I was thinking we could try that new Italian place.”

    “Calvin,” I started, my voice perfectly calm, without a single ripple of emotion, “are you going to come with me to my next IVF checkup?”

    He paused, the towel still in his hands. His shoulders stiffened almost imperceptibly. “Another checkup? Allison, we just did one last week. You know how swamped I am right now; the Series C funding is urgent.” His voice was gentle, but I could hear the underlying impatience. “This is a critical time for AuraTech, you understand that, right?”

    “This is critical for us too.” I raised my voice slightly. “This is for our baby, Calvin. This is our last cycle, and if it fails, we have to re-evaluate everything. You promised you’d be there for me.”

    He walked over and placed a hand on my arm. “Of course, honey. I’ll try to make time. I’ll see if I can rearrange my schedule, it’s just… work is absolutely crazy right now. You understand, right?”

    “No, Calvin. I don’t understand why Katerina Copeland is listed as the ‘Primary User’ on the Aura app, and why her profile says ‘Pregnancy Log: Week 24,’ while I am just a ‘Temporary User’ whose data gets wiped every 90 days.”

    Calvin froze. A flash of panic crossed his usually confident eyes. He took a step back.

    “What are you talking about, Allison? What app? Are you snooping through my things again? That is company property, you have no right to look at internal data.”
    My heart was beating frantically, but a strange calmness settled over me. This was his playbook. Manipulate, deflect.

    He had always done this, but today was different. I recalled the countless times he accused me of being paranoid or overreacting whenever I questioned his overly intimate texts with Katerina, or the necessity of him “mentoring” her late at night. He always brushed me off like this.

    “She’s new, Allison. She needs extra guidance.”

    “She’s smart, Allison. I need her on this project.” That was his explanation when I found Katerina’s name repeatedly popping up on his personal phone.

    And I, like a fool, always apologized for my “insecurities,” thinking it was my problem.

    “No, Calvin, I was just checking my own health report—the data report on the ring you gave me specifically for the IVF. And I found Katerina’s profile, a ‘Primary User’ account, logging 24 weeks of pregnancy.”

    His eyes narrowed as he tried to find any sign of wavering on my face. “Allison, that… that’s a system glitch. I can explain it to you.”

    I let out a cold laugh, heavy with sarcasm. “A glitch? A ‘glitch’ that turns a wife who has poured everything into realizing our dream of a family into a ‘Temporary User,’ while making your subordinate the ‘Primary User’?”

    He ran a hand through his hair. “Allison, stop talking nonsense. You are my wife. This is just… a technical error. It has nothing to do with us.”

    “Does it really have nothing to do with us?” A wave of nausea hit me. “Does your ‘technical error’ also include bringing Katerina home? Into our house?”

    His eyes darted around the room, as if looking for hidden cameras. “She… she wasn’t feeling well, she got dizzy suddenly. I just brought her back to rest for a bit before taking her home.” He stammered.

    “And are the ‘special notes’ in her pregnancy log about ‘high risk, continuous monitoring required’ and ‘prenatal care expenses paid from shared account’ also technical glitches, Calvin?”

    He exploded. “Allison, you’re crazy! This is internal company business! You are clearly unstable and making things up!” He pointed at me, his face flushing red. “I have a board meeting tomorrow, I don’t have time to listen to your baseless accusations!”

    He turned to leave, fleeing to his usual safe haven—”work.” “We’ll talk when you calm down. Maybe you need to go see Dr. Evans again and get your stress levels adjusted.”

    I stepped in front of him, blocking his path. “There won’t be a ‘later,’ Calvin. And I won’t ‘calm down.’ I am leaving you!”

    He tried to push past me. “Allison, move! You are being utterly unreasonable!”

    I stood my ground, unmoving, but inside, I had completely woken up!

    Guest User: My Marriage’s Betrayal Chapter 2

    Allison Benson’s POV

    The next morning, Calvin left, slamming the door hard. He didn’t even look at me.

    His usual routine of a hurried morning kiss on the cheek and a mumbled “love you, honey” was gone. He just walked straight out, leaving behind an empty silence and the lingering scent of his cologne.

    Right before walking out, he had paused, turned around, and put on a forced smile. “Listen, Allison, about Katerina. Maybe you’re right, maybe I’ve been too invested. I’ll keep my distance. It really is just work-related, you know how crucial the company is right now.”

    He made a placating gesture with his hands. “Let’s just stop obsessing over the past, okay? Focus on our next steps. That’s what really matters.”

    “Our next steps? Is that the plan where you expect me to keep trying to get pregnant? While in the meantime, you’ve already gotten her pregnant?”

    I took a step forward, staring right at him. “Tell me, Calvin, who is the father of Katerina’s baby?”

    His eyes widened, then narrowed again, and he shifted his stance uneasily. “What does that matter, Allison? She is an adult, her private life is her own business.”

    “Then why would you list her pregnancy logs as a ‘Primary User,’ and why are her prenatal checkup fees listed under our ‘marital assets’ expense reports? Are you really standing there telling me you don’t know who the father is?”

    He was visibly annoyed now. “Allison, you’re being irrational. This isn’t how we communicate.” He was trying to regain control of the narrative, trying to make me doubt myself. “You’re losing control of your emotions. You need to calm down.”

    I laughed again. “Irrational? Losing control of my emotions?” I slowly shook my head. “Tell me, Calvin, what role did you want me to play in this meticulously woven farce? The loyal, understanding wife? Or the ‘barren woman’ who silently accepts her husband’s illegitimate child? What exactly do you want from me?”

    He didn’t answer. He just stood there, jaw clenched, avoiding my gaze. The silence was like a massive boulder, heavy and suffocating.

    “Allison, you’re just too stressed out, it’s the hormones from the IVF. You aren’t yourself right now.”

    I wanted to scream, wanted to smash something, but I held back, continuing to stare at him, never looking away for a second. He couldn’t face my anger; he just wanted me to go back to being the quiet, submissive wife.

    He sighed. “I have to go. We’ll talk later.” Saying that, he turned and left, leaving me standing alone in the hallway.

    Talk later? There would be no “later.”

    The morning sunlight streamed through the windows, illuminating the dust motes dancing in the air, as if narrating a broken story.

    I walked back to the tablet. The “Aura” app was still open. I clicked on Katerina’s profile again. Her diet, moods, and doctor’s appointments were all meticulously detailed, clearly having taken up a lot of time.

    I recalled the day he first brought the ring home. “This is state-of-the-art tech, Allison. My team did a fantastic job. It tracks everything—sleep, heart rate, ovulation. It’s going to revolutionize women’s health. And it will help us too, honey. For our baby.” He had slipped the ring onto my finger with such ceremony.

    But it was just a prototype, a data collection device. And I was just a convenient, temporary test subject. I was the “Guest User” whose data would “automatically clear every 90 days.”

    The doorbell suddenly rang, interrupting my thoughts. I jumped, walked to the door, and looked through the peephole. Calvin’s mother, Bobbie Brooks, stood on the porch, her designer bag looped over her arm, a dark expression on her face.

    I slowly opened the door. Without even a greeting, she pushed her way in, her eyes scanning the living room. “Allison, what is this mess? Why is the house so quiet? Where is Calvin?”

    “Calvin went to work.” I replied calmly, my tone flat.

    She turned around, her eyes boring into me. “And you? Why didn’t you go to the doctor? Dr. Chen called me and said you canceled your appointment. What’s going on, Allison? Are you giving up? I told Calvin ages ago that this IVF nonsense wasn’t reliable, you need to give the Brooks family an heir.”

    I looked at her, this woman who had tormented me for years over my fertility issues, who constantly humiliated me for “failing” to give her a grandson. This woman who secretly enabled her son’s affairs and supported his plan to replace me.

    “I canceled it,” I said in a low but firm voice. “I have stopped the IVF treatments. There is no longer a need.”

    Her eyebrows shot up, her face twisting into a mix of shock and anger. “Stopped? What do you mean, Allison? You can’t just give up! You have a duty to this family! What about our heir?”

    “You already have an heir, Bobbie.” I looked her straight in the eye, my voice calm but sharp. “Katerina Copeland is twenty-four weeks pregnant, and Calvin is the father.”

    The color instantly drained from her face, her jaw dropping slightly. In that split second, I saw pure panic in her eyes, which confirmed my absolute worst suspicions.

    She knew everything all along.

    Quickly, she regained her composure, the mask of anger slipping back into place. “Allison, what kind of nonsense are you spouting? Are you crazy? Katerina is a bright young thing, yes, but there is absolutely nothing between her and Calvin. They are just colleagues.”

    “Really?” I asked with a cold smirk. “Then why were you so desperate to ensure the ‘Brooks name’ was carried on? Why were you so obsessed with making me have a baby when you already knew Calvin had a child with Katerina?”

    “You cannot cause a scandal, Allison.” Bobbie’s voice held a threat, her eyes ice-cold. “It would ruin Calvin and destroy the Brooks reputation. That child will be a Brooks. You must accept it and remain silent.”

    My blood ran cold. “Accept it? Remain silent?” I slowly shook my head, my movements resolute. “What am I in this house, Bobbie? A breeding tool that gets tossed aside because she can’t conceive? An insignificant guest in my own home?”

    She stared at me, confusion written all over her face. “What are you talking about? A guest? Allison, what nonsense are you babbling?”

    I picked up the tablet. The screen still displayed Katerina’s profile. I pointed at the “Primary User” label, then to my “Guest User” status. “This is how Calvin’s system defines me, Bobbie. Temporary, disposable. While Katerina is permanent. The mother of the heir.”

    Bobbie looked at the screen, then back at me, her eyes filled with disgust. “You’ve lost your mind. You are completely crazy. I will not tolerate this. You will not ruin my son’s career because of your hysteria. You have until Calvin gets home to pack your things. You will leave quietly. Otherwise, you will regret it!”

    She marched toward the door, her heels clicking furiously against the hardwood floor. Without waiting for a reply, she threw the door open and stormed out, leaving me alone once more.

    I stood in the middle of the living room, gripping the trembling tablet with both hands. My knees gave out, and I slumped onto the floor. Tears finally cascaded down my face. All these years of sacrifice, and I was nothing but a temporary stand-in.

    My parents had warned me about the arrogance and prejudice of the Brooks family, the hubris born from generations of wealth. But I loved Calvin then, and I believed him.

    And now, I saw the truth. I had never truly been accepted by them.

    However, the tears dried quickly, replaced by a cold determination. I absolutely refused to be a “Guest User” in my own life.

    They wanted me to leave quietly? They wanted me to accept the betrayal? Never! I wouldn’t cover for them anymore. I was going to fight for myself!

    Guest User: My Marriage’s Betrayal Chapter 3

    Allison Benson’s POV

    Calvin didn’t come home that night. Around midnight, I received a text: “Very busy today. Staying overnight at the office, don’t wait up.”

    I thought about all those other similar nights. The nights I lay in bed staring blankly at the ceiling, my mind doing backflips guessing where he was and why he had grown so distant. Now, it all made sense.

    “Allison, you just don’t understand my stress. This company is everything to me. It’s all for our future.” And I had always believed him, always trying to play the supportive wife, suppressing my own anxiety. I had learned to bury the loneliness deep inside, carrying the weight of our supposedly shared dreams all by myself.

    But it was different now. His absence actually felt like a release.

    I went into the bedroom, pulled out my largest suitcase, and started packing. Not just clothes, but documents, financial statements, my old work laptop… everything that proved my independence outside of “us.”

    Just as I zipped up the suitcase, I heard a key slide into the lock.

    My heart jumped, and for a fleeting moment, I actually felt something akin to hope. Had he come back for me? Had he realized his mistake? My brain had momentarily reverted to the past, to the “old Allison” who longed for his affection and desperately wanted to believe in his love.

    The front door opened. Calvin stood there, his clothes rumpled, but he didn’t look exhausted. He looked anxious. A second later, Katerina Copeland stepped out from behind him.

    Her hand rested lightly on his arm. She was pale, her eyes slightly red, and she was wearing one of Calvin’s oversized dress shirts, draped loosely over her pregnant belly.

    My breath caught in my throat, the air suddenly turning thin. The image of them standing there shattered whatever lingering doubts and hopes I had into a million pieces.

    Calvin’s eyes landed on my packed suitcase. He grew even paler. His gaze darted back and forth between the suitcase, me, and Katerina.

    “Allison, I… I can explain. Katerina… she fainted again. The doctor said she needs complete bed rest. She didn’t have anywhere else to go. I just brought her here to stay for a few days until we figure something out.”

    Katerina took a small step forward, her lips trembling. She looked up at Calvin, unshed tears welling in her eyes, looking like a frightened fawn, totally helpless.

    Calvin turned to me, his tone pleading. “Allison, please. She needs help. And you… you’ve always been understanding and compassionate. Can you just… take care of her for a few days? Just a few days, until I figure things out.”

    “You expect me, in my own home, to take care of your pregnant mistress, and look at the belly carrying your child?” This was so far beyond my imagination.

    “Allison, don’t say that!” he snapped suddenly, a sharp edge to his voice. “She isn’t my mistress. She is a colleague who needs help. Yes, she is pregnant with my child. But she’s in a dangerous condition right now, she needs a stable environment, a home.”

    Katerina let out a soft sob, leaning her face slightly against Calvin’s shoulder as if seeking comfort, sneaking a glance at me with feigned vulnerability.

    “You actually expect me to take care of the woman who stole my husband and my future?” My voice rose, filled with incredulous fury. “Do you think I’m crazy, Calvin?”

    “Allison, calm down.” He stepped closer, trying to grab my arm. “You don’t have a job right now, you have plenty of time. It’s just temporary, for the health of the baby.”

    I forcefully shook off his hand, my movement full of disgust and anger. “No,” I said, my voice shaking, speaking through gritted teeth. “Absolutely not. I will not be your pregnant mistress’s nanny. Get her out of my house, Calvin. Right now!”

    Katerina let out a soft whimper and pulled away from Calvin slightly. “Maybe I should just go,” she said in a weak, frail voice, taking a step back, pretending she was going to leave.

    “No, Katerina, you are staying!” Calvin’s voice suddenly boomed. He pulled her back to his side, shielding her protectively. He turned to me, absolutely furious. “This is my house, Allison! My family! I decide who gets to stay!” He pointed at my suitcase. “If you can’t handle it, then you can leave!”

    Those words hit my heart like a massive boulder, heavy and final. “My house, my family, my decision.” His words were a knife twisting deep into my chest. The pain was excruciating, as if I had been hollowed out.

    Katerina looked up, a smug smile barely playing at the corners of her lips. “Allison, I am so sorry. I never meant for things to turn out this way.”

    Calvin let out a cold laugh, mocking. “She never meant for it to turn out this way? Allison, this is all your fault! You’re the one being unreasonable! Now, are you leaving or not?”

    I sneered. “Oh, I’ll leave, Calvin. And when I do, I am taking every single thing that belongs to me. Don’t think you’ll get to keep a dime. Sooner or later, you will pay for what you’ve done!”

    I walked right past him toward the bedroom and grabbed my packed suitcase.

    He didn’t try to stop me. He just stood there, Katerina clinging tightly to him, a hint of fear in her eyes.

    As I headed for the front door, Bobbie Brooks suddenly stepped out from the shadows of the hallway.

    She shot a glance at my suitcase, a gleam of satisfaction flashing in her eyes, before quickly looking away and walking straight toward Calvin and Katerina.

    “Oh, sweet Katerina, are you feeling better, darling? Don’t worry. You are safe here now. This is your home.”

    She put an arm around Katerina’s waist, pulling her closer. “Katerina, you are carrying our heir. You are part of our family now. I will protect you, we will all protect this child.”

    I stopped at the threshold, her words echoing in my ears. “You are part of our family now.”

    That phrase, which I had so desperately craved, now sounded like the death knell of my old life.

    👉 CONTINUE READING

  • The Hideous Wife Is A Billion-Dollar Princess by Star Dust

    The Hideous Wife Is A Billion-Dollar Princess by Star Dust

    👉 READ NOW

    Leyla sacrificed her face to save Kristopher, only to endure three years of humiliation in a loveless marriage.

    Her last hope died when she learned the “vitamins” he gave her were contraceptives-and watched him lavish money on his returning first love.

    She demanded a divorce and walked away with nothing. Then her true identity stunned everyone: she was the cherished daughter of a royal-level dynasty, backed by three powerful brothers.

    On the very first day of her divorce, a limo picked her up. her second brother had worked his magic-her scarred face was restored to its former radiance. And at the first banquet she attended, she made such a stunning entrance that jaws dropped across the room.

    As for her ex-husband-the one who’d never given her a second glance-he was completely blindsided. For the first time in his life, Kristopher felt the sharp bite of regret. Now, he was desperate to win her back.

    👉 READ NOW

    The Hideous Wife Is A Billion-Dollar Princess Chapter 1 Betrayal

    At the hospital, Leyla Thorpe tightly clutched her test results as she handed them to the doctor. “Am I pregnant?” she asked, her voice tinged with hope.

    The doctor scanned the report, his brows knitting together. “Of course you’re not. You’ve been taking birth control regularly. There is no way you could get pregnant.”

    A wave of cold swept through Leyla.

    Birth control?

    Every month after they slept together, her husband, Kristopher Gordon, would give her what he claimed was a multivitamin pill.

    He would always say, “You’re too fragile. You need to take better care of your health.”

    For three years, she had been touched by his thoughtfulness.

    Only now did she realize the truth—he had been giving her contraceptive pills.

    An invisible hand seemed to squeeze the air from Leyla’s lungs, making it hard for her to breathe. Trembling, she pulled out her phone and called Kristopher.

    The call went unanswered.

    Just then, a breaking news notification popped up on her screen.

    The bold headline read, “The Gordon Group CEO Kristopher Gordon Spends 100 Million on ‘Angel’s Heart,’ Winning It at an Auction for His Girlfriend!”

    Leyla stared blankly at the words, her pupils contracting.

    Beneath the headline was a photo taken at the auction.

    Dressed in a tailored black suit, Kristopher sat in the front row. His sharp features and composed expression gave him an air of effortless elegance.

    He was looking at the woman seated beside him, his attention fixed entirely on her.

    She wore a pale yellow evening gown, her long hair flowing over her shoulders, while a faint smile softened her delicate profile.

    It was Phoebe Brooks—Kristopher’s friend since childhood.

    She had gone overseas to study three years ago and, according to rumors, had only recently returned.

    Leyla blinked against the burning sensation in her eyes, yet there were no tears in them.

    A hollow laugh escaped her lips.

    She found the situation ridiculous.

    Phoebe was the woman Kristopher truly cherished, while she was nothing more than the wife he had hidden away from the world.

    Three years ago, when Kristopher had been in danger, she hadn’t hesitated to shield him.

    She had taken a knife meant for him, getting her face ruined in the process.

    Even as the blade sliced through her skin, she never cried out in pain.

    Afterward, he had promised to marry her and take care of her for the rest of her life.

    True to his word, they had become husband and wife.

    Yet throughout their marriage, he remained consumed by the heartbreak of Phoebe leaving the country.

    For three long years, she devoted herself to being the perfect wife, believing that one day, he would finally notice her devotion, understand her suffering, and perhaps even come to love her.

    She had foolishly believed that having a child might finally bring them closer.

    Instead, he had quietly made sure she would never have that opportunity.

    Now, watching him openly shower another woman with affection, she finally accepted the truth. His heart had always belonged to someone else.

    There had never been a place for her in it.

    The realization tore through Layla bit by bit, each moment more agonizing than the last.

    She made up her mind. She was going to divorce him.

    ***

    Leyla returned to Prime Estate, her home with Kristopher.

    The moment she walked through the front door, the housekeeper, Helen Miller, approached her with a frosty expression. “Mrs. Gordon, you’re becoming quite impossible. You’ve stayed out for so long.”

    Though she was only the housekeeper, she had taken care of Kristopher since he was young and had always considered herself above the rest of the household staff.

    Leyla knew exactly why Helen dared to speak to her so disrespectfully; Kristopher allowed it.

    In the past, desperate to win Kristopher’s affection, she had gone out of her way to please everyone around him.

    But not anymore.

    Leyla’s palm struck Helen’s face with a sharp slap, her voice as cold as ice. “You’re nothing more than a servant. What gives you the right to speak to me that way?”

    Helen covered her burning cheek, staring at Leyla in stunned disbelief. “H-how dare you hit me? I practically raised Mr. Gordon, you know! You should show me some respect!”

    “I am his wife,” Leyla shot back, every word crisp and unwavering. “Whatever your history with him may be, you’re still a paid employee of this household.”

    Helen shook with fury but didn’t dare utter another word.

    Without sparing her another glance, Leyla turned and headed upstairs.

    Behind her, Helen muttered venomously, “What’s there to be so proud of? Now that Miss Brooks is back, it won’t be long before she becomes Mr. Gordon’s wife.”

    Leyla paused for the briefest moment when she heard that.

    Even the housekeeper knew who truly held Kristopher’s heart.

    It seemed everyone knew except her.

    For the past three years, she had been the only fool deceiving herself.

    But none of that mattered anymore.

    She was the one choosing to leave Kristopher now.

    Back in her bedroom, Leyla opened the wardrobe and pulled out a small suitcase she had prepared long ago.

    After three years of marriage, everything she owned fit inside this single suitcase.

    Her gaze swept across the room.

    She had personally decorated every inch of it, yet not a single thing truly belonged to her.

    Pressing her lips into a thin line, she scrolled to a phone number she hadn’t called in years. She tapped the call button and lifted the phone to her ear.

    “I want to go home now.”

    The Hideous Wife Is A Billion-Dollar Princess Chapter 2 Let’s Get A Divorce

    A faint sound from the entryway shattered the stillness of the night.

    Leyla had just stepped out of the bathroom, droplets of water clinging to her damp hair. Looking toward the door, she said softly, “You’re back.”

    Kristopher stood in the doorway with his sleeves rolled up to his forearms, his expression as cold and unreadable as ever.

    Instinctively, Leyla gripped the sleeve of her nightgown. “I need to talk to you about something—”

    Before she could finish, Kristopher strode over and seized her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze.

    The scar that ran from her left eyebrow to her cheek caught the light, its jagged edges standing in stark contrast to the delicate beauty she had once possessed.

    “You want to talk?” Kristopher’s voice was quiet, but every word carried a chilling edge. “Leyla, since when did you learn to play these little games with me?”

    “I wasn’t…” Leyla tried to explain.

    She never got the chance to finish. Kristopher caught her wrist and pulled her toward him. She lost her balance and slammed into his chest.

    With his free hand, Kristopher grabbed the collar of her nightgown and tore it open. Buttons flew in every direction, bouncing across the polished floor.

    Startled, Leyla shoved against him with all her strength. “What are you doing? Stop!”

    “Enough with the performance.” Kristopher’s lips curled in disdain as he looked at her as if she were beneath him.

    “Why else would you insist on me coming home tonight? Isn’t this exactly what you’ve been after? One night with me every month—that’s what you’ve asked for, isn’t it?”

    Leyla froze.

    So, that was what the matter meant to him. Just another monthly obligation.

    Three years of swallowing her pride and sacrificing everything, yet she had never earned even the smallest trace of his affection.

    If this was all their marriage amounted to, there was no reason to keep holding on.

    “Kristopher,” Leyla said quietly, her eyes meeting his, “let’s get a divorce.”

    Kristopher’s movements stilled for a second. A faint crease formed between his brows. “What did you just say?”

    Without wavering, Leyla repeated, “Let’s get a divorce.”

    Kristopher tugged impatiently at his tie, annoyance flashing across his face. “A divorce?” His voice was emotionless, almost mocking. “Leyla, what ridiculous stunt are you pulling this time?”

    “I’m being serious.” Leyla’s tone remained calm and unwavering. “The woman you truly love is back. I’m giving you your freedom. You can be together with her.”

    Kristopher’s expression darkened instantly, his eyes turning dangerously cold. “Stop pretending. You don’t even have the courage to walk out of this house. If we divorce, where exactly can you go?”

    His words struck with brutal precision.

    To everyone else, she was nothing more than the scarred woman he kept hidden from the public—someone locked inside a gilded cage.

    She had no career, no social life, no financial independence.

    She didn’t deserve to be with him at all.

    Leyla lowered her gaze before answering evenly, “That’s my concern, not yours.”

    Kristopher narrowed his eyes.

    For three years, she had always been gentle and obedient.

    This composed, distant version of her was completely unfamiliar to him.

    “Leyla,” Kristopher warned, his tone growing colder, “this little game of playing hard to get has gone on long enough.”

    Leyla didn’t reply.

    Just then, the sharp ring of a phone cut through the suffocating silence.

    Kristopher glanced at his phone screen. The frost in his eyes melted away in an instant. He answered the call immediately. “Phoebe? What happened?”

    The concern in his voice was unmistakable. As he listened, his expression softened even further. “Don’t be scared,” he said gently. “I’ll be there right away.”

    The call then ended. Without sparing Leyla so much as another glance, Kristopher turned and walked out of the room.

    He was convinced Leyla would never leave him.

    After all, for the past three years, she never had.

    The bedroom door slammed shut behind him, leaving Leyla alone in the space.

    She sat motionless on the edge of the bed, staring into the emptiness for what felt like an eternity.

    Then, her phone suddenly vibrated.

    A message from an unknown number lit up her screen.

    “He came to see me again.”

    Attached was a candid photo of Kristopher.

    A gentle smile curved his lips, and his eyes brimmed with warmth—a tenderness Leyla had never once seen directed at her.

    Before Leyla could process it, another message popped up.

    “I told him there might be reporters outside, and he rushed over without a second thought. He was so worried about me. Oh, and he bought me ‘Angel’s Heart’ at today’s auction. I even suggested he pick out something for you, but he said there was no need. I suppose he is right. Only beautiful women should wear jewelry. With a face like yours, it would only go to waste. Leyla, he only married you because he had no choice. I’ve always been the one he truly loves.”

    Leyla stared at the message, and a cold laugh escaped her lips.

    Every sentence was another knife twisting in her wounds. It finally dawned on her that the man who had treated her with indifference for three long years could be so gentle and attentive to another woman.

    Without the slightest hesitation, Leyla typed a reply.

    “You want Kristopher? A used man like him suits you perfectly. The two of you deserve each other—two shameless people cut from the same cloth. Do everyone a favor and stay together forever, so neither of you gets the chance to ruin anyone else’s life.”

    She sent it, then immediately blocked the number.

    “Kristopher…” she murmured with a bitter smile. “From now on, we are even.”

    The next day.

    Leyla placed the signed divorce agreement on the bedside table.

    She wasn’t taking anything from Kristopher. All she wanted was a clean end to their marriage.

    With nothing but a small suitcase in hand, she walked out of Prime Estate.

    Three years had passed, yet she had never managed to earn Kristopher’s love.

    It was time to stop trying.

    The moment she stepped through the estate’s front gate, a limited-edition extended Rolls-Royce glided to a stop before her.

    The rear door swung open, and a tall figure stepped out.

    The instant Leyla saw her eldest brother, Damien Holden, tears rushed uncontrollably into her eyes. “Damien…” Her voice trembled. “I’ve signed the divorce papers.”

    For three years, she had buried every grievance, every humiliation, forcing herself to endure a loveless marriage. But the moment she saw her brother, all her emotions came crashing down.

    “Leyla, congratulations on getting your freedom.” Damien wrapped her in a warm embrace, his voice filled with concern. “It’s time to be yourself again.”

    He gently stroked her hair before smiling. “Welcome home.”

    In truth, Leyla was the youngest daughter of the prestigious Holden family, one of Wrafham’s most wealthy and influential households. Since childhood, she had carried her mother’s surname.

    Now that she had left the divorce papers for Kristopher, she was finally returning home.

    Before leaving, she had already hacked into the Gordon family’s surveillance system and erased every trace of her existence from their records.

    From this day forward, the so-called “Mrs. Gordon” no longer existed. Only Leyla Thorpe, the cherished daughter of the Holden couple, remained.

    The Hideous Wife Is A Billion-Dollar Princess Chapter 3 Returning Home At Last

    Kristopher stayed away the entire night.

    By the time he finally returned to Prime Estate, it was already noon the following day.

    The moment he entered the bedroom, his gaze settled on the divorce agreement left atop the nightstand.

    One clause stated, “The wife voluntarily relinquishes all claims to the couple’s joint assets and will leave the marriage without receiving anything.”

    Kristopher’s fingers curled around the pages until his knuckles whitened.

    Pulling out his phone, he called Leyla.

    Her phone had been switched off.

    He tried once more.

    The result was the same.

    “Helen!” Kristopher barked, his voice sharp with fury.

    Helen came hurrying over from the kitchen. “Mr. Gordon, you’re home.”

    “Where’s Leyla?” Kristopher asked.

    Helen faltered beneath his stare. “She… she left first thing this morning with a suitcase. A luxury car worth tens of millions picked her up… The man inside the car was incredibly handsome. He looked very rich, too.”

    A layer of frost seemed to settle over Kristopher’s expression when he heard that.

    He strode back into the bedroom and called his assistant, Derek Carter. “Track Leyla down. I want to know her whereabouts before the end of the day.”

    After ending the call, he stopped before the window as a pulse hammered at his temple.

    So, Leyla had truly dared to leave him.

    He had assumed her demand the previous night was nothing more than a fit of temper.

    For the past three years, she had relied on him for every part of her life.

    How long could she possibly survive in the city without him?

    It would only be a matter of days before she came back in defeat.

    Drawing in a sharp breath, Kristopher crushed the divorce agreement in his fist and tossed the wad of paper into the trash can.

    There was no chance he would sign it.

    It wasn’t that he was unwilling to lose her; it was just that no one had ever dared walk out on him like that.

    Leyla had demanded a divorce the previous night, then left in a luxury car that morning. Clearly, she had planned everything in advance.

    She had never loved him. Otherwise, how could she have left so resolutely with another man?

    Kristopher let out a humorless chuckle. His jaw clenched as he muttered, “Leyla, you’ve really got some nerve!”

    ***

    A Rolls-Royce eased onto the grounds of Holden Manor.

    Looking out the car window, Leyla took in scenery that felt both familiar and strange. For reasons she couldn’t explain, her pulse began to race.

    After three long years, she had finally returned.

    Her parents, Gregg Holden and Jayde Thorpe, were already waiting for her at the entrance.

    The car door swung open.

    “Leyla!” Jayde ran forward and gathered her daughter into her arms. Tears spilled down her face as she said, “You’re finally home. We’ve waited so long for you to come back.”

    Leyla rubbed her mother’s back in gentle strokes. “Mom, Dad, I’m sorry I put you through so much worry.”

    Even Gregg, a formidable titan of industry, felt his vision blur. His voice came out rough with emotion. “Having you home safe is all that matters.”

    Jayde finally loosened her embrace and brushed the tears from her cheeks, only to go rigid when her gaze landed on the scar marring Leyla’s face.

    “Leyla, your face…” A flash of concern crossed her features.

    She had spent all those years believing her daughter was happy.

    Leyla had rarely gone outside, and every phone call with her parents carried the same assurances. She spoke only of the good and concealed every hardship.

    Yet this was what had truly become of her?

    Leyla had gotten her face ruined to save Kristopher, hidden her privileged identity, and taken care of him for three years. But in return, he had held another woman at an auction and spent recklessly just to please her, completely ignoring Leyla’s feelings.

    Damien moved closer. “Mom, don’t worry. Collin is one of the best reconstructive surgeons in the world. He’ll be able to erase Leyla’s scar.”

    A spark of hope brightened Leyla’s gaze as she nodded. “Yeah.”

    Collin Holden, her second brother, was an exceptional surgeon.

    Her third brother, Felix Holden, had built a celebrated career as a jewelry designer.

    “Mom, Dad, I’m all right. It’s all in the past.” Leyla’s voice softened as she tried to reassure them. “From now on, I’ll stay right here with you, always.”

    Only now did she realize that being with Kristopher had been a huge mistake. Loving him had brought her a disaster.

    Gregg sighed heavily. Thinking of his daughter’s past choices left him torn between anger and heartache.

    “Take a few days to rest,” he told Leyla. “The Pearl Charity Gala is coming up next week. You’ll attend with Damien.”

    Gregg knew his family had made one critical mistake in the past.

    They had kept such a low profile that ignorant fools believed they could mistreat his daughter without facing any consequences.

    Gregg’s words stirred complicated feelings within Leyla.

    The Pearl Charity Gala ranked among the most exclusive gatherings in Wrafham.

    Despite being Kristopher’s wife for three years, she had never attended the event. She had not been considered worthy of an invitation.

    Gregg continued, “Since you’ve chosen to reclaim your true identity, it’s time to let everyone know that you are my daughter.”

    Leyla was silent for a moment before giving a firm nod.

    Three years ago, she had defied her parents and concealed her identity to marry Kristopher. Her decision had enraged them so deeply that they had nearly cut ties with her.

    Now, she owed it to them to make amends.

    “Okay,” she replied.

    “Now that’s my daughter,” Gregg said with approval.

    He then extended a sleek black card edged in gold toward her. “The card has no spending limit. The Holden family has more than enough money, so you can buy anything that catches your eye.”

    Leyla studied the black card, and a faint smile touched her lips.

    Only minutes earlier, she had been completely penniless. Did this mean she had suddenly become wealthy?

    👉 CONTINUE READING

  • From Abandoned Wife To Powerful Heiress by Abel Dean

    From Abandoned Wife To Powerful Heiress by Abel Dean
    👉 READ NOW

    My marriage ended at a charity gala I organized. One moment, I was the pregnant, happy wife of tech mogul Gabe Sullivan; the next, a reporter’ s phone screen announced to the world that he and his childhood sweetheart, Harper, were expecting a child.

    Across the room, I saw them together, his hand resting on her stomach. This wasn’t just an affair; it was a public declaration that erased me and our unborn baby.

    To protect his company’s billion-dollar IPO, Gabe, his mother, and even my own adoptive parents conspired against me. They moved Harper into our home, into my bed, treating her like royalty while I became a prisoner.

    They painted me as unstable, a threat to the family’s image. They accused me of cheating and claimed my child wasn’t his.

    The final command was unthinkable: terminate my pregnancy. They locked me in a room and scheduled the procedure, promising to drag me there if I refused.

    But they made a mistake. They gave me back my phone to keep me quiet. Feigning surrender, I made one last, desperate call to a number I had kept hidden for years-a number belonging to my biological father, Antony Dean, the head of a family so powerful, they could make my husband’s world burn.

    👉 READ NOW

    From Abandoned Wife To Powerful Heiress Chapter 1

    Charlotte Jennings POV:

    I learned my marriage was ending the same way the rest of the world did: in a blinding flash of a camera at a charity gala I had organized.

    One moment, I was smiling, a glass of sparkling water held delicately in my hand, my mind on the baby growing inside me-our secret, our joy. The next, a reporter shoved a phone in my face, the screen glowing with a breaking news alert.

    “Mrs. Sullivan, any comment on your husband’ s big announcement?”

    The headline was stark, brutal. Tech Mogul Gabe Sullivan and Childhood Sweetheart Harper Nicholson Expecting First Child.

    The air in my lungs turned to ice. My smile froze on my face, a brittle mask that felt like it might crack and shatter. I could feel hundreds of eyes on me, the whispers starting to ripple through the opulent ballroom like a wave of poison.

    I turned, my movements slow, robotic. And there he was. My husband, Gabe. He was standing across the room with Harper Nicholson, his hand resting possessively on the small of her back. She was looking up at him with tear-filled, adoring eyes, her own hand protectively cradling a barely-there bump on her stomach.

    They were a perfect picture. A loving couple sharing a beautiful secret with the world.

    A secret that was supposed to be mine.

    The reporter, a vulture sensing a kill, moved closer. “Is it true you and Mr. Sullivan have been living separately?”

    Panic flared in Gabe’ s eyes as he finally saw me. He saw the reporter, the phone, the crumbling expression on my face. His grip on Harper tightened for a split second before he let go, his face paling.

    Our eyes met across the crowded room. In that single, suspended moment, the seven years of our life together played out and died. The late nights when I’ d helped him brainstorm the code for his first app, the way he’ d held me when my adoptive parents criticized my career choice, the whispered promise last week that our baby, our son, would have the love neither of us ever truly had.

    It all turned to ash.

    A cold, quiet rage began to build in my chest, a glacial force pushing aside the shock. I started walking toward him. The murmurs in the room fell silent, the crowd parting before me like the Red Sea. The only sound was the steady, deliberate click of my heels on the marble floor. Each step was a hammer blow against the foundation of our marriage.

    I stopped directly in front of him. I didn’t look at Harper. My entire world had narrowed to Gabe’ s handsome, treacherous face.

    “You have a sixty-second head start to come up with a lie that I might actually believe,” I said, my voice dangerously low, stripped of all warmth.

    He opened his mouth, his charismatic charm already kicking in. “Lottie, baby, it’ s not what it looks like. Let’ s go home and I can explain everything.”

    I didn’ t let him finish. My hand moved on its own, a blur of motion. The crack of my palm against his cheek echoed in the cavernous silence of the ballroom. A collective gasp rippled through our audience.

    Gabe stood there, stunned, the red imprint of my hand blooming on his skin. He didn’ t look angry. He just looked… caught.

    “Please, don’ t blame Gabe!” Harper’ s voice was a saccharine whisper, laced with faux fragility as she stepped between us, placing a hand on his chest. “It was all my fault. I… I was lonely. He was just being kind.”

    Her eyes, glistening with perfectly timed tears, locked onto mine. There was no apology in them. Only triumph.

    The rage inside me finally broke through the ice, and a single, hot tear escaped, tracing a path down my cold cheek. I felt the last of my composure shattering.

    Gabe reached for me, his voice a desperate rasp. “Lottie, please.”

    He tried to pull me into his arms, but I flinched away from his touch as if burned.

    “Don’ t touch me,” I choked out.

    His publicist materialized at his side, whispering urgently in his ear. Gabe’ s jaw tightened. He looked from the publicist, to the sea of watching faces, to Harper’ s pleading expression, and finally, back to me. The calculation in his eyes was sickening.

    “The baby is mine,” he said, his voice now clear and firm, not for me, but for everyone listening. “Harper and I have a long history. We’ re going to get through this together.”

    Harper let out a soft sob and leaned into him, burying her face in his expensive suit. He wrapped an arm around her, holding her close. A protective gesture. A gesture he hadn’ t offered me, his pregnant wife, standing alone in the wreckage he’ d created.

    “Gabe, what are you saying?” I whispered, the words catching in my throat. “What about our baby?”

    He finally looked at me, his eyes dark with a pain that I knew wasn’t for me, but for himself. For the inconvenience I represented.

    “We’ ll talk at home,” he muttered, his voice low and tight. He began to steer a weeping Harper toward the exit, his team closing ranks around them like a royal guard.

    He was leaving me. He was leaving me here, alone, to face the humiliation.

    I stood frozen as they walked away. The weight of his public declaration settled over me, a suffocating shroud. He hadn’t just admitted to an affair. He had publicly claimed another woman’s child and, in doing so, had erased ours.

    My legs gave out and I stumbled back, catching myself on a table laden with untouched champagne glasses. The room started to spin.

    His company, Sullivan Tech, was on the verge of the biggest IPO in a decade. A scandal, a messy divorce, an illegitimate child-it would have been a disaster. But a tech mogul standing by his pregnant childhood friend? That was a story of loyalty. It was noble.

    It was a lie that sacrificed me and our unborn child on the altar of his ambition.

    As one of his security guards approached to escort me out a side door, away from the prying eyes and flashing cameras, a sickening realization dawned. Gabe hadn’t just made a mistake.

    He had made a choice. And he hadn’t chosen me.

    He had chosen her.

    From Abandoned Wife To Powerful Heiress Chapter 2

    Charlotte Jennings POV:

    The ride back to our penthouse was silent, a thick, suffocating blanket of unspoken words filling the space between myself and Gabe’ s grim-faced driver. I stared out at the glittering lights of New York, but saw nothing. My mind was a chaotic storm of betrayal and disbelief. The home I had designed, the sanctuary I had built for us, now felt like a gilded cage waiting to close in on me.

    When we arrived, Gabe was already there, pacing the length of our living room, the city skyline a dramatic backdrop to his distress. He had shed his jacket and tie, his sleeves rolled up his forearms. He looked like a man preparing for a fight.

    He stopped when I walked in, his eyes searching my face. “Lottie.”

    I said nothing. I walked past him to the floor-to-ceiling windows and stared down at the river, a dark, churning ribbon of black.

    “I know you’ re angry,” he started, his voice soft, persuasive. The voice he used to close billion-dollar deals and charm skeptical investors. “You have every right to be. But you have to understand. The IPO…”

    “Don’ t,” I cut him off, my voice flat. “Don’ t you dare talk to me about the IPO right now.”

    “It’ s everything, Lottie! It’ s everything we’ ve worked for!”

    “We?” I spun around, the fury I’ d been suppressing finally erupting. “We worked for this? I was the one holding you up when you were ready to quit. I was the one who believed in you when your own family called you a failure. And this is how you repay me? By publicly humiliating me and claiming another woman’ s child?”

    “It’ s not like that!” he insisted, taking a step toward me. “Harper is… she’ s fragile. She has no one. Her family threw her out. She came to me for help.”

    “And what am I, Gabe? Am I not fragile? Am I not carrying your child? Or does our baby not matter as much as the child of your childhood sweetheart?”

    The words hung in the air, heavy and poisonous. He flinched as if I’ d slapped him again.

    “Of course our baby matters,” he said, his voice dropping to a desperate whisper. He knelt before me, taking my hands in his. His touch felt alien, wrong. I didn’ t pull away, my body frozen in shock. “Lottie, look at me. I love you. You are my wife. Nothing changes that.”

    I stared down at the top of his head, at the man I loved kneeling at my feet, and felt nothing but a vast, empty coldness.

    “It’ s just for show,” he continued, his words tumbling out in a rush. “A story for the press. Once the IPO is finalized, everything will go back to normal. We’ ll expose the truth, I promise. I’ ll tell the world that you are the one carrying my heir. We will quietly adopt our own child. Legally, it will be clean. No one will ever know.”

    The sheer audacity of his plan stole my breath. He wanted me to hide my own pregnancy. To give birth to our son in secret, only to “adopt” him later, all to protect his public image and his company’ s stock price. He was asking me to accept that our child would be born a dirty secret, while Harper’ s would be celebrated.

    “You’ re insane,” I whispered, pulling my hands from his grasp. “Absolutely insane.”

    “It’ s the only way!” he pleaded, getting to his feet. “My mother is already on board. Your parents, too. They all agree this is the best solution to protect the family and the business.”

    The mention of our families felt like a physical blow. His mother, Eleanor Sullivan, a woman who valued social standing above all else, had always seen me as an accessory to her son’ s success. And my adoptive parents, the Jennings, who had taken me in as a child but never truly loved me, were social climbers of the highest order. Of course they would side with Gabe. The Sullivan fortune was a prize they would do anything to remain attached to.

    “You told them?” I asked, my voice trembling. “You discussed the fate of my child with them before you even spoke to me?”

    “I had to manage the crisis, Lottie!”

    “This isn’ t a crisis, Gabe! This is our life! Our family! Our son!” My voice cracked on the last word. I wrapped my arms around my stomach, a primal instinct to protect the tiny life he was so willing to sacrifice.

    “And I am protecting him!” he yelled, his frustration boiling over. “I am protecting his future! The fortune he is set to inherit!”

    “He doesn’ t need a fortune!” I screamed back, tears streaming down my face. “He needs a father who will acknowledge him! A father who won’ t trade his legitimacy for a stock ticker symbol!”

    He ran a hand through his hair, his composure finally breaking. He looked cornered, desperate. “What do you want from me, Charlotte?”

    He used my full name. He only ever did that when he was trying to distance himself, to turn a personal conflict into a business negotiation.

    “I want a divorce,” I said, the words tasting like acid.

    His face went slack with shock. “No. Absolutely not. A divorce right now is out of the question. It would be a disaster.”

    “I don’ t care about your disaster, Gabe. You’ ve created mine.”

    He strode over to me, grabbing my arms. His grip was tight, bordering on painful. “You are not divorcing me. You are not leaving this apartment. We are going to see this through, as a family. Do you understand?”

    The threat was unmistakable. I was a prisoner in my own home. His home. He had the money, the power, the family support. I had nothing.

    The doorbell rang, a sharp, intrusive sound that made us both jump. Gabe released me and went to the door.

    My heart sank when I saw who it was. Harper. She stood there, looking small and helpless, an overnight bag at her feet. Behind her stood Gabe’ s mother, Eleanor, her face a mask of cold disapproval, and my own adoptive parents, their expressions a mixture of greed and pity.

    The enemy had arrived. And they were moving in.

    Eleanor swept past Gabe without a word to him, her icy gaze landing on me. “Charlotte. We need to talk.”

    My fate, it seemed, was no longer in my hands. It was a business transaction, and I was the liability being managed.

    From Abandoned Wife To Powerful Heiress Chapter 3

    Charlotte Jennings POV:

    “Get her things out of the master bedroom,” Eleanor Sullivan commanded, not looking at me but at one of the household staff who had materialized in the foyer. Her voice was as sharp and cold as shattered glass. “Harper needs rest. The guest wing is too far from the main living area for a woman in her delicate condition.”

    Gabe said nothing. He just stood by the door, his face a grim, unreadable mask, as Harper offered me a small, tremulous smile of pure, venomous victory. My adoptive mother, Carol Jennings, rushed to Harper’ s side, clucking over her like a hen.

    “You poor dear, you must be exhausted. Let’ s get you settled in.”

    My adoptive father, Robert, simply gave me a look of profound disappointment, as if my very presence was a stain on the family’ s reputation.

    I was being usurped in my own home, and my husband, the man who had vowed to protect me, was standing by and letting it happen. The staff, loyal to the man who signed their paychecks, began moving my clothes, my books, my life, out of the room I had shared with Gabe and into a small, sterile guest room at the back of the penthouse.

    The master suite, with its panoramic views of the city and the bed where our child was conceived, was now hers.

    “This is temporary, Charlotte,” Gabe said later, after the jackals had settled their chosen one into her new den. He found me standing in the middle of the cramped guest room, surrounded by boxes of my belongings. “Just until the media attention dies down.”

    “Temporary?” I echoed, my voice hollow. “You’ ve moved another woman into our bed, Gabe. There is nothing temporary about that.”

    “It’ s for appearances!” he hissed, his patience wearing thin. “Harper needs to be seen here. My mother insisted. It solidifies the story.”

    “And what about our story? What about the truth?”

    “The truth doesn’ t matter right now! Only the narrative does!”

    Over the next few days, my life became a waking nightmare. I was a ghost in my own home. Gabe was consumed with work, orchestrating the IPO launch, and when he was home, he was with Harper. I would hear them laughing in the living room, see them sharing meals on the terrace. Eleanor had taken over the household, directing the staff to cater to Harper’ s every whim, from organic prenatal smoothies to specialized pillows.

    My own pregnancy was ignored. A non-entity. When I experienced morning sickness, the cook told me Mrs. Sullivan had instructed her to prepare only the foods on Harper’ s approved diet plan. When I tried to speak to Gabe, he was always in a meeting or on a call. He was avoiding me, hiding behind the wall of his ambition.

    My adoptive parents were no better. They visited daily, not to see me, but to fawn over Harper and strategize with Eleanor about how best to present the “new family” to the press. They saw Harper’ s baby as a golden ticket, a direct heir to the Sullivan empire, and they were hitching their wagon to it with sickening enthusiasm.

    I was completely and utterly alone, a prisoner in a home that no longer felt like mine, carrying a child whose existence was an inconvenience to everyone.

    One afternoon, I found Harper in my studio. My private space. She was running her hands over my architectural models, a faint, condescending smile on her lips.

    “You’ re very talented,” she said, without turning around. “It’ s a shame you’ ll have to give it all up.”

    “I have no intention of giving anything up,” I said, my voice tight.

    She finally turned to face me, her expression one of faux sympathy. “Oh, darling. You still don’ t get it, do you? You’ re the past, Charlotte. I’ m the future. Gabe feels a responsibility to you, of course. But his heart… his heart has always been with me.”

    “Get out of my studio,” I said, my hands clenched into fists at my sides.

    “This isn’t your studio anymore,” she purred, trailing a finger along the edge of my drafting table. “Soon, this will be the nursery. Gabe and I were just discussing it. We think a celestial theme would be lovely, don’ t you?”

    Something inside me snapped. I lunged at her, my vision blurring with red-hot rage. I didn’ t know what I intended to do, only that I couldn’t stand her smug, triumphant face for another second.

    But before I could reach her, a hand clamped down on my arm, yanking me back. It was Gabe. He had come in silently, drawn by our raised voices.

    He pulled me behind him, shielding Harper as if I were the threat. As if I were the monster.

    “Charlotte, what the hell are you doing?” he demanded, his eyes blazing with anger.

    “She’ s trying to hurt the baby!” Harper cried, clutching her stomach and stumbling backward dramatically. “Gabe, I’ m scared!”

    “I didn’ t touch her!” I yelled, struggling against his grip. “She’ s lying!”

    But Gabe wasn’t looking at me anymore. He was looking at Harper, his expression softening with concern. He rushed to her side, helping her to a chair, speaking to her in low, soothing tones.

    He believed her. Without a moment’ s hesitation, he believed her over me.

    That was the moment I understood. This wasn’t just about the IPO. This wasn’t a temporary arrangement. This was a coup. And I had already lost.

    Later that evening, Eleanor Sullivan came to my room. She didn’ t knock. She entered with the air of a prison warden, my adoptive parents trailing behind her like obedient lapdogs.

    “You have become a problem, Charlotte,” Eleanor said, her voice devoid of any emotion. “Your instability is a risk to the company. To my son. To my grandchild.”

    She slid a document onto the small desk. A contract.

    “This is a post-nuptial agreement,” she explained. “It outlines the terms of your future with Gabe. You will remain married until after the IPO. You will make no public statements. You will cede all parental rights of Harper’ s child to Gabe. In exchange, you will be well compensated.”

    And then came the final, devastating blow.

    “Furthermore,” she continued, her eyes as cold as a winter sea, “Harper has informed us that you were unfaithful to my son. She said you confessed to her that your child may not even be Gabe’ s. Given your violent outburst today, we cannot risk the scandal of a contested paternity. It is too messy.”

    My blood ran cold. “That’ s a lie. That’ s a disgusting lie.”

    “It doesn’ t matter,” Eleanor said flatly. “The perception is what matters. Therefore, you will terminate the pregnancy. Immediately.”

    The air left my body. I looked from Eleanor’ s merciless face to my adoptive parents. They wouldn’ t meet my eyes. They were complicit. They were selling me, and my child, for a piece of the Sullivan pie.

    “No,” I whispered, shaking my head in disbelief. “No. I won’ t.”

    Eleanor’ s lips curved into a cruel smile. “I’ m afraid you don’ t have a choice. The appointment is tomorrow morning. You can either walk in there yourself, or my men will carry you.”

    👉 CONTINUE READING

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    👉 READ NOW

    The Neglected Wife’s Vicious Comeback Game Chapter 1

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

    The Neglected Wife’s Vicious Comeback Game Chapter 2

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

    The Neglected Wife’s Vicious Comeback Game Chapter 3

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

    👉 CONTINUE READING

  • The Alpha’s Discarded Luna by Velvet Piston

    The Alpha's Discarded Luna by Velvet Piston
    👉 READ NOW

    I was three months pregnant when the car hit me.

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

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

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

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

    👉 READ NOW

    The Alpha’s Discarded Luna Chapter 1 Sign The Rejection

    Lianne’s POV:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    …

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

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

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

    He was none other than my mate, Ethan.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    The Elders of the Thorn Pack arranged our bond.

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

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

    Reasonable.

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

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

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

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

    Then he ended the call.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    At that moment, his phone suddenly rang.

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

    Ethan’s body stiffened.

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

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

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

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

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

    Make it up to me?

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

    “Okay,” I answered with a nod.

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

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

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

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

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

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

    The Alpha’s Discarded Luna Chapter 2 Eternal Devotion

    Lianne’s POV:

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

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

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

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

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

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

    But now, none of that mattered anymore.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    I stopped walking.

    Tears of Moonstone.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    Both of them looked toward me at once.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    My composure seemed to unsettle Ethan.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    Lianne’s POV:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    Just six more days.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    “No…”

    My protest was swallowed by his possessive, punishing kiss.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    “Ethan, help me!”

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