BTMBeta – Share My Reading

Tag: Transactional Love

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

    My

    👉 READ NOW

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    Desperate, I grabbed the handsome stranger’s arm.

    “Please, pretend you’re my boyfriend!”

    The penniless man looked at my panicked face and smirked.

    “Fine. But you owe me.”

    👉 READ NOW

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

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

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

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

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

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

    👉 CONTINUE READING

  • Married To My Ex’s Powerful Billionaire Uncle novel by Sutton Moul

    Married To My Ex's Powerful Billionaire Uncle novel by Sutton Moul

    👉 READ NOW

    I was supposed to marry my fiancé, Kenan, the golden boy of the Sinclair family, tomorrow.

    Instead, I woke up drugged in a hotel bed, wearing a man’s shirt, with my fiancé’s disabled, supposedly ruined uncle, Beckett Sinclair, sitting in a wheelchair across from me.

    Before I could even process the horror, my future mother-in-law busted the door open with a pack of reporters.

    She pointed her finger at me, screaming to the cameras that I was a slut who cheated on her son with his crippled uncle.

    My fiancé texted me immediately.

    “You make me sick. We’re done.”

    Even my abusive adoptive family joined the firing squad, demanding I go crawl back and apologize to the man who just threw me away like trash.

    I was completely set up.

    My mother-in-law orchestrated this whole nightmare just to ruin me and replace me with a wealthy, pregnant heiress.

    I was stripped of my dignity, my future, and my reputation in the blink of an eye.

    But just as I was about to be swallowed by the scandal, the disabled uncle everyone mocked did the unthinkable.

    He took the blame for everything in front of the furious family patriarch.

    Then, he looked at me with calm, calculating eyes and handed me a lifeline.

    “Marry me. It’s your only way out.”

    I looked at the greedy faces of my family and the smug smile of my ex-fiancé’s mother.

    I took his hand, tore up my past, and became the new Mrs. Sinclair.

    👉 READ NOW

    Married To My Ex’s Powerful Billionaire Uncle Chapter 1

    Elianna POV:
    The room was spinning before I even finished the champagne.
    It wasn’t a gentle sway. It was a violent, lurching tilt that made the crystal chandeliers of the estate blur into streaks of aggressive light. I gripped the edge of the high table, my knuckles turning white, trying to anchor myself to the floor.
    “You look pale, dear.”
    Kena Whitehead’s voice was smooth, like velvet wrapped around a jagged rock. My future mother-in-law stood too close, her hand resting on my shoulder with a weight that felt less like comfort and more like a restraint.
    “I… I can’t find Kenan,” I managed to say. My tongue felt thick, heavy in my mouth. “He said he’d be right back.”
    “Kenan is busy with the team sponsors, Elianna. You know how important this contract is.” Kena smiled, but her eyes remained cold, calculating. She signaled a passing waiter with a sharp flick of her wrist. “Take Ms. Hayes to the guest suite. She needs to lie down. The champagne was evidently too strong for her.”
    “No, I just need fresh air—” I tried to pull away, but my legs betrayed me. They felt like they were filled with lead.
    The waiter, a man with a face as blank as a slate, took my arm. His grip was firm. “This way, ma’am.”
    He didn’t lead me toward the main staircase where the other guests were mingling. He steered me away from the warmth, down a corridor that grew quieter and colder with every step. The plush carpet swallowed the sound of our footsteps. The air changed, smelling less like expensive perfume and more like old cedar and rain.
    We were in the West Wing. The part of the estate Kenan always told me to avoid.
    “Wait,” I slurred, dragging my feet. “This isn’t…”
    The waiter didn’t answer. He stopped in front of a heavy oak door at the end of the hall. He opened it, the hinges groaning in protest, and practically shoved me inside.
    I stumbled, my knees hitting the thick Persian rug with a thud.
    “Kenan?” I called out into the darkness.
    The click of the lock turning behind me was the loudest sound I had ever heard.
    Panic flared in my chest, hot and sharp, cutting through the haze of the drug. I scrambled to my feet, swaying, and turned back to the door. I rattled the handle. Locked.
    “Help!” I screamed, but my voice was weak, absorbed by the heavy tapestries on the walls.
    A flash of lightning tore through the sky outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, illuminating the room in a stark, blue-white burst.
    That’s when I saw him.
    He was sitting in the corner, a silhouette carved from the shadows. He wasn’t Kenan. This man was broader, darker. He was seated in a wheelchair, his hands resting motionless on the armrests.
    Beckett Sinclair.
    The fallen god of the ice. The legendary NHL captain. The man the family whispered about with a mixture of pity and disdain.Also Kenan’s uncle.
    He didn’t move. He didn’t speak. He just watched me with eyes that glinted in the dark.
    The drug surged again, a wave of heat that started in my stomach and clawed its way up my throat. It wasn’t just heat; it was a disorienting vertigo that made the world tilt on its axis. I couldn’t think. I couldn’t breathe. I just needed safety. I needed Kenan. My confused brain superimposed Kenan’s face onto the man in the shadows.
    I stumbled toward him.
    “Kenan,” I whimpered, tears blurring my vision. “Please. It hurts.”
    I fell at his feet, my hands grasping his knees. The fabric of his trousers was cool against my burning palms. I could feel the rigid metal of his leg braces beneath the cloth, hard, cold, and unyielding against my touch.
    Beckett didn’t flinch. He didn’t kick me away, but he didn’t help me either. He sat there like a statue, a ruined king on a broken throne.
    “You’re in the wrong room, Elianna,” his voice was a low rumble, vibrating through the darkness. It wasn’t the voice of a weak man. It was the growl of something dangerous that had been chained up for too long.
    “Help me,” I begged, the heat becoming unbearable. I tugged at the neckline of my dress, desperate for air. “So dizzy… please…”
    I heard a sharp intake of breath from him.
    “Silas,” Beckett said into the empty air, his voice dropping an octave.
    A small earpiece I hadn’t noticed blinked with a faint blue light. “Lock down the wing. No one enters until I say so. Kena made her move.”
    I didn’t understand what he was saying. My head fell onto his lap. The scent of him—sandalwood, tobacco, and something uniquely masculine—filled my senses, drowning out the cedar smell of the room.
    I couldn’t make out the face of the man above me; I could only vaguely discern his features.
    His facial structure was sharply defined—handsome in a refined yet rugged, masculine way.
    A high, straight bridge of the nose…
    Large hands, with thick, prominent knuckles…
    “Relax a little…”
    “Baby, you’re so tense…”
    The man sighed in a low voice, his large hand firmly gripping mine and pressing it against the cold tiles.
    “…I can’t be gentle at all.”
    His sudden assertiveness made my body tremble; I nearly collapsed to the floor.
    I couldn’t handle it anymore; tears welled up in my eyes as I whimpered,
    “Wh… when will it end?”
    Beckett’s gaze darkened; his large hand, with its prominent veins, shifted to my waist and suddenly tightened its grip.
    “Mmph…” My mind went blank for a moment.
    The man kissed my earlobe, his low, husky voice resonating against my eardrum.
    “Be a good girl—five more times. You count them out, and then we’re done.”
    I let out a breath of relief and parted my lips, a voice full of grievance and frailty escaping them.
    “One… two… five… I’m done counting. Can… can we stop now?”
    “Heh.” Beckett chuckled softly, his deep, dark eyes fixed intently on me.
    “Sweetheart, that’s not the kind of counting I meant…”
    I froze, stunned; before I could process his words, a large hand clamped firmly onto my chin.
    His scent washed over me as he sealed my lips with his own, enveloping me completely in an intense, suffocating aura of raw masculinity.
    Steam billowed through the bathroom, thoroughly blurring my vision.
    Yet, my senses felt sharper than ever…
    Hours later, his hand hovered over my head for a second, hesitant. Then, with a sigh that sounded like resignation, his fingers brushed against my hair. His touch was electric, sending a jolt through my numb body.
    “Sleep,” he commanded softly.
    The last thing I remembered was the terrifying realization that the legs felt as cold and lifeless as stone, encased in their metal prison.

    Married To My Ex’s Powerful Billionaire Uncle Chapter 2

    Elianna POV:
    The sound of a key grinding in the lock was violent enough to wake the dead.
    I gasped, shooting up from the pillows. My head throbbed with a dull, rhythmic ache, like a slapshot ringing against the boards inside my skull. I was in a bed. A strange bed. The sheets were gray silk, cool and slippery against my skin.
    I looked down. My dress was rumpled, the strap hanging off one shoulder.
    “Stay down,” a voice commanded from the window.
    I snapped my head around. Beckett was there, his wheelchair facing the door. He had his back to me, his posture rigid. He wasn’t wearing his suit jacket anymore.
    Before I could ask why, he whipped around, holding the tailored black jacket. He threw it at me with the precise accuracy of a former pro.
    “Cover yourself.”
    I barely had time to clutch the jacket to my chest before the door burst open.
    It wasn’t just Kena. It was a full-blown media circus.
    Flashes of light erupted like gunfire. Pop. Pop. Pop. The blinding white strobes from the sports paparazzi left spots in my vision. I screamed, pulling the jacket over my head, curling into a ball of shame.
    “Oh my God!” Kena’s voice was a theatrical shriek. “Elianna! How could you?”
    She stood in the doorway, hand over her mouth, flanked by three men with cameras and a handful of “concerned” VIP guests who looked more like vultures circling a carcass.
    “Get out!” Beckett roared.
    The sound was so powerful it physically shook the room. The photographers hesitated, lowering their lenses for a split second. Beckett wheeled himself forward, placing his body between the mob and the bed.
    “This is my private sanctuary,” he snarled, his face twisted in a mask of fury. “Get your cameras out of my face before I break them.”
    “Beckett,” Kena stepped forward, her eyes gleaming with triumph. “We were just looking for Elianna. Kenan was worried sick. And we find her… here? In your bed?”
    “I… I don’t remember,” I sobbed, my voice cracking. “I felt sick. Someone brought me here.”
    “Likely story,” one of the tabloid reporters muttered, snapping another picture over Beckett’s broad shoulder.
    “She was drunk,” Kena declared, turning to the crowd. “Look at her. Disgraceful. Kenanis downstairs playing the heartbroken star captain, and she’s up here throwing herself at his crippled uncle.”
    The word ‘crippled’ hung in the air, heavy and cruel—a sharp, deliberate jab at the man who used to own the ice.
    Beckett’s hands gripped the wheels of his chair so hard I thought the metal might bend. He looked at Kena, then back at me. His eyes were dark, unreadable pools. For a second, I saw something flicker there—calculation? Pity?
    He turned back to Kena. “She didn’t throw herself at me.”
    The room went silent.
    Beckett looked down at his lap, his shoulders slumping in a performance of resignation that was terrifyingly convincing. “We have been seeing each other, Kena. For months.”
    My jaw dropped. “What? No, that’s not—”
    “Quiet, Elianna,” Beckett snapped, though his eyes warned me to shut up. “She came to me because she couldn’t stand the sight of your son anymore. She chose me. We thought we could keep it secret until after the franchise merger, but… clearly, we were careless.”
    Kena blinked. This wasn’t part of her playbook. She wanted me to be the villain, the gold-digging puck bunny preying on a helpless invalid. But Beckett painting himself as the secret lover? It made Kenanlook like a fool who couldn’t keep his fiancée in check, and it made the scandal a consensual, albeit messy, affair.
    “You… you beast,” Kena spat, recovering quickly. “You’re disgusting. Stealing your nephew’s fiancée?”
    “I am what this family made me,” Beckett said quietly. “Now get out.”
    Team security finally arrived, pushing the reporters back into the hallway. The door slammed shut, leaving us in a ringing silence.
    I stared at Beckett’s back. He was breathing heavily.
    “Why?” I whispered. “Why did you say that?”
    He turned his chair slowly. The vulnerability was gone. His face was a mask of stone again.
    “Because if you were the seductress who drugged herself, Kenan would sue you for breach of contract and destroy your family,” he said coldly. “If we are lovers, it’s just a scandal. A mess they have to clean up to protect the franchise’s stock price. I just bought you a lifeline.”
    “A lifeline?” I laughed hysterically, tears streaming down my face. “My life is over. Kenanwill never believe me.”
    “Kenan is the one who let this happen,” Beckett said. “Get dressed. Harrison is waiting in the study. The execution begins now.”

    Married To My Ex’s Powerful Billionaire Uncle Chapter 3

    Elianna POV:
    The walk to the study felt like a funeral procession.
    I pushed Beckett’s wheelchair, my hands trembling on the rubber grips. Silas, his looming shadow of a bodyguard, had been barred from entering the main house by Kena. It was just us.
    Inside the study, the air was thick with the smell of old leather and judgment. Harrison Sinclair III sat behind a desk the size of a small car, polishing a heavy, silver-headed cane with a white cloth.
    Kenan was there.
    My heart leaped. I let go of the wheelchair and took a step toward him. “Kenan! Please, you have to listen to me. I was drugged. I would never—”
    Kenan took a step back. He looked at me as if I were something he had scraped off his skate.
    “Don’t come near me,” he sneered. “You smell like him.”
    The words were a physical blow. I stopped, my breath catching in my throat. “Kenan…”
    “My mother told me everything,” Kenan said, his voice flat. “You’ve been sneaking around with him? Behind my back? You’re even cheaper than I thought.”
    He gestured to Beckett.
    I looked at Kenan—really looked at him—and for the first time, I didn’t see the charming hockey phenom I thought I loved. I saw a coward standing behind Kena’s designer skirt.
    “Enough,” Harrison barked. He stood up, testing the weight of the cane in his hand. “You have brought shame on this franchise, Beckett.”
    Beckett sat with his head bowed. “I know.”
    “You are a waste of space,” Harrison said, walking around the desk. “A broken man with broken morals.”
    He raised the cane.
    I gasped. “No!”
    Thwack.
    The sound of the heavy wood hitting Beckett’s shoulder was sickening—a dull, wet thud. Beckett grunted, his body jerking forward, but his hands stayed white-knuckled on the armrests. He didn’t try to block it.
    Harrison raised the cane for a second strike, his face purple with rage.
    “Harrison, stop!” Kena intervened sharply, stepping between them. “Not in front of her. Think of the PR nightmare and the liability.”
    Harrison lowered the cane slowly, breathing hard. He glared down at Beckett, satisfied with the single, brutal blow that had left him trembling.
    “You are garbage,” Harrison spat.
    Beckett slowly lifted his head. His lip was bleeding where he had bitten it. His eyes were burning with a terrifying intensity.
    “I want to marry her,” Beckett said.
    The silence in the room was absolute. Even Harrison looked stunned.
    “What?” Kenan laughed incredulously. “You want my leftovers?”
    Beckett ignored him. He looked straight at Harrison. “The sports press has the photos. If you cast her out, the headline is Sinclair Golden Boy’s Fiancée Cheats with Disabled Uncle. It makes Kenan look weak going into the playoffs. It makes the front office look chaotic.”
    Beckett paused, wiping blood from his mouth.
    “But if I marry her… the narrative becomes a tragic romance. The star-crossed lovers who couldn’t help themselves. It creates a scandal, yes, but a romantic one. It protects the franchise’s public image and the team’s valuation.”
    Harrison narrowed his eyes. He was a team owner first, a patriarch second. He did the math in his head.
    “He’s right,” Harrison grunted. He looked at Kenan. “This solves the problem of Elianna.”
    “Fine,” Harrison waved his hand dismissively. “Take the trash. Marry her. But you’re cut off from the main accounts. And I am activating the exile clause. You get nothing but your medical stipend. And you don’t step foot in this arena or house again.”
    “Deal,” Beckett said.
    He turned his wheelchair toward me. His face was pale, sweat beading on his forehead from the pain, but his hand was steady as he reached out.
    “Elianna,” he said softly. “Get me out of here.”
    I looked at Kenan, who was already checking his phone, completely bored. Then I looked at the man nursing a bruised shoulder in the chair, the former hockey legend who had just taken a beating to save me from total ruin.
    I took Beckett’s hand. It was warm.
    “Okay,” I whispered.

    👉 CONTINUE READING

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

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

    👉 READ NOW

    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.

    👉 READ NOW

    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

  • Divorcing My Alpha Husband For His Uncle by YOLO

    Divorcing My Alpha Husband For His Uncle by YOLO

    👉 READ NOW

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

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

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

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

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

    Her husband’s estranged Uncle.

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

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

    Will Althea let herself get claimed yet again?

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

    👉 READ NOW

    Divorcing My Alpha Husband For His Uncle Chapter 1 The Betrayal

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

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

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

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

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

    Divorcing My Alpha Husband For His Uncle Chapter 2 Miscarriage

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

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

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

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

    Divorcing My Alpha Husband For His Uncle Chapter 3 Divorce

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

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

    This wasn’t a marriage anymore.‎

    ‎It was a cage.

    👉 CONTINUE READING

  • Accidentally Pregnant With The Billionaire Heir by Bae Writes

    Accidentally Pregnant With The Billionaire Heir by Bae Writes
    👉 READ NOW

    One lab error. Two betrayals. And a billionaire who doesn’t believe in accidents.
    Emily Vance thought she was carrying a miracle. After her fiancé, Julian, ended up in a coma following a horrific car crash, she underwent IVF to keep his legacy alive. It was supposed to be her anchor. Instead, a clinical mix-up reveals that the child in her womb isn’t Julian’s at all. It belongs to Alistair Wolfe, a man whose name is synonymous with ruthless power and a heart made of ice.
    The nightmare doesn’t stop at the doctor’s office. When Julian finally wakes up, he doesn’t call for Emily. He calls for her stepsister, Chloe, revealing a secret affair that turns Emily’s years of loyalty into a joke.
    Backed into a corner by a family ready to sell her to a predatory debt collector to save their failing business, Emily is left with a devastating choice. Her doctors warn her that this is her last chance at motherhood. To keep her baby and escape her family’s reach, she has to make a deal with the wolf at the door.
    Alistair Wolfe wants his heir. Emily wants protection.
    No love. No strings. Just a temporary union until the child is born. But as Emily moves into Alistair’s world, she quickly learns that playing the wife of a man like Alistair is a high-stakes game where the heart is the first thing you lose.

    👉 READ NOW

    Accidentally Pregnant With The Billionaire Heir Chapter 1 A Clinical Nightmare

    I’m staring at a document that just erased the last thread of my sanity.
    I’ve pinched myself so many times that my skin has turned bright pink. Yet…I haven’t woken up from this nightmare that seems to be my life and reality.
    Dr. Miller sits across from me, his hands folded over a tan folder, looking everywhere but at my face.
    “Can…can you repeat yourself?” I ask the doctor, hoping that I misheard him the first time. Because this can’t be real. This can’t be real.
    “I’m sorry, Miss Emily,” he says. His voice is small, lacking the professional confidence he usually carries. “There was a clerical error in the lab. A mislabeling during the cryopreservation retrieval.”
    “What…what does that mean?”
    He adjusts in his seat. “The embryo we implanted… it wasn’t created with Julian Thorne’s samples. The sperm used belonged to another donor.”
    I wrap my arms around my middle, feeling the slight curve of my belly through the thin fabric of my floral dress. This child is my anchor. Since Julian’s car spun out on that rain-slicked highway a month ago, this pregnancy has been the only thing keeping me from sinking. The doctors said Julian might never wake up from the coma, and his parents begged me to use the samples he’d frozen before we even got engaged. They wanted a piece of him to live on. I wanted it more.
    “No,” I say, shaking my head slowly. My voice is so calm it surprises me. “No, that’s not right. We… we used Julian’s sample. That’s what we agreed on. That’s what I signed for.”
    “Miss Emily-“
    “I went through weeks of treatment,” I snap, and the calm in my voice is gone. “Hormones. Injections. Blood tests. You told me everything was fine. You told me this would work.”
    “It did work,” he says gently. “You are pregnant.” Then his voice reduces. “But the biological father is not Julian Thorne.”
    A tear rolls down my cheek before I can stop it, and I angrily swat it away.
    “That’s not my child,” I say confidently, as if my confidence can erase the truth.
    “It is your child,” he says. “Genetically, you are the mother.”
    I glare at him for a few seconds and then I laugh. It’s a bitter, humorless sound. “It’s not my child with my fiancé. I wanted a baby with the man I love. The man I’m going to marry. I did everything right. I followed every step. I trusted you.”
    “I understand how difficult this is-“
    “No, you don’t!” I yell, banging my shaking hands against the table. “You don’t understand what this means.”
    Because Julian might never wake up. Because this child was supposed to be the only piece of him I’d have left. Because I built my entire future around this one thing.
    “I’m sorry.”
    “You’re sorry?” I scoff. “You didn’t lose my luggage, Doctor. You lost the last living piece of my fiancé. Julian is in a coma. He might never wake up, and you’ve filled me with-with what? Some random guy’s DNA?”
    The irony is a jagged pill in my throat. I spent six weeks pumping myself full of hormones, bruising my thighs with needles.
    “I want it out,” I say calmly. “Terminate the pregnancy. We’ll redo the cycle. I’m not carrying a ‘coding error’ to term.”
    “Miss Emily. The hospital board is prepared to offer you a settlement of one million dollars,” Dr. Carter continues quickly, his face pale. “Along with a full refund and the best prenatal care money can buy, provided you sign a non-disclosure agreement.”
    I stand up so fast my chair screeches against the linoleum. One million dollars. They want to pay me off for a stranger’s child. I look at the framed degrees on his wall, the anatomical charts, the little plastic models of life, and I feel a wave of heat wash over my neck. My skin feels too tight for my body.
    “One million dollars?” I whisper. Another tear slides down my face and that chilling calm returns. I am slipping between calm and rage, and I have no way of controlling it.
    “I… I don’t want your money,” I say. “I want this,” I point to my belly. “Gone.”
    His expression tightens. “I’m afraid that may not be advisable-“
    “I don’t care. Get. Rid. Of. It.”
    “That would be a mistake.”
    The voice is like a low vibration, commanding and cold. I spin around to see a man standing by the doorframe. He is tall, broad-shouldered, and wearing an expensive-looking charcoal suit. His eyes are a piercing, unforgiving grey, and they are fixed directly on me.
    Dr. Carter stands up so fast he nearly trips. “Mr. Wolfe. I didn’t realize you were on the premises.”
    “I tend to move quickly when my assets are mishandled, Doctor,” the man says. He steps into the room, and the space suddenly feels half its size. He doesn’t look at the doctor; he looks at me, scanning me with a clinical, predatory intensity.
    His presence is so intense and intimidating that I almost feel the need to step back. But I don’t. I struggle with every bone in my body to maintain my composure.
    Mr. Intimidating reaches into his pocket and pulls out a thick, matte-black business card onto the desk. Alistair Wolfe. CEO, Wolfe Industries.
    My lips part slightly. This is the man who has effectively automated half the logistics firms in the country. He is the “Ghost of Wall Street.”
    “I am the biological father of the child you’re carrying,” Alistair says. His tone isn’t apologetic; it is a statement of fact. “And I have no intention of letting you terminate. Carry the pregnancy to term. Hand the child over to me the moment it’s born, and I will deposit one hundred million dollars into an account of your choosing.”
    I take a step back until my calves hit the guest chair. I stare at him, my breath hitching. My calm changes to that hot feeling in my chest and I clench my fists. “You’re insane.”
    Dr. Carter’s eyes widen and Mr. Intimidating frowns. “What?”
    “You’re insane,” I repeat. “My fiancé is lying in the hospital in a coma and you think you can pay me to have your baby and not his?”
    “Two hundred mi-“
    “I don’t care about your money!” I snap. “I want my life back. I want my fiancé’s child.”
    Alistair’s expression doesn’t soften. If anything, it turns to stone. “Money buys time, Ms. Vance. And right now, you’re out of it.”
    “What does that mean?”
    He signals to Dr. Carter, who hands me another report from his table. “Your latest screenings came back this morning. Your uterine lining is… it’s significantly thinner than we anticipated. The hormonal stress of this IVF cycle has caused severe scarring.”
    He pauses, looking at Alistair, then back to me. “If you terminate this pregnancy, the damage will be irreversible. The likelihood of a successful second implantation is virtually zero. You would be permanently infertile.”
    My head spins, and I feel like I’m going to pass out. “That…that’s not true. You can give me some kind of injection. You can perform a surgery.”
    “Those aren’t feasible options Miss Emily.”
    The dream of a house with a tire swing, of a little boy with Julian’s messy blonde hair, it all starts to evaporate like mist. If I end this, I end everything. I will never be a mother. Not with Julian’s child. Not with any child.
    “Think about it,” Alistair says, his voice dropping to a silken thread. “You keep the child. You fulfill your biological potential. You get a fortune that ensures you never have to work a day in your life. And then you can have another child with your fiancé. All I ask is for-“
    He pauses when he sees fresh tears gather in my eyes. Something softens in his expression, but it lasts just one second.
    “What’s mine,” he completes.
    The dizziness worsens and now I can’t breathe. It’s too much information. I need to see Julian. I need to touch his hand and tell him I am sorry I’ve failed him.
    As if the universe read my mind, my phone on the table begins to vibrate. I lunge for it the second I see Julian’s mother’s name on the screen.
    “Emily!” she sobs the moment I answer. “Emily, come to the hospital. Now! Julian…he opened his eyes. He’s awake!”
    I don’t say a word to Alistair Wolfe. I don’t even look at him. I run. I sprint through the hospital corridors. My heart is a drum, beating out a single word: Julian. Julian. Julian.
    I reach the Intensive Care unit, my lungs burning. I slow down as I approach Room 402, my hand trembling as I reach for the handle. I want to burst in, to throw my arms around him, to tell him that we will figure out the mess with the baby together.
    But the door is cracked open an inch. And from inside, I don’t hear the beep of monitors or the steady breathing of a recovering patient. I hear a muffled, familiar sob.

    Accidentally Pregnant With The Billionaire Heir Chapter 2 Double Betrayal

    The man I planned to spend my life with is currently stroking my sister’s hair like she’s the one who’s been sleeping in a hospital chair for a month.
    I stand in the shadows of the hospital door, my fingers curled in a fist. Julian looks different propped up against those white pillows. The rugged, athletic fiancé I knew has been replaced by a man who looks brittle. But his eyes are wide and focused on Chloe. She’s leaning in so close that their foreheads touch.
    “I was coming to see you that night,” Julian whispers. “I was in the car because I couldn’t wait another day to tell Emily that the wedding was a mistake. I was rushing to her to call it off, Chloe. The rain…I just didn’t see the truck coming.”
    Chloe lets out a strangled sob, burying her face in the side of his mattress. “You almost died for us,” she wails. “I’ve been so scared, Julian. Having to watch her play the grieving girlfriend when I’m the one who actually loves you.”
    The air in the hallway turns to ice. Every sacrifice I’ve made over the last four weeks comes to my mind. I think of the needles I stuck into my thighs for the IVF. I think of the crushing guilt I felt, believing he’d crashed that car because he was rushing home to me. I think of the child growing inside me, the child that belongs to a cold-eyed stranger named Alistair Wolfe, all because I wanted to give Julian’s parents a piece of their son before he slipped away.
    I push the door open and step into the room. The moment the light hits them, Chloe jerks away. Julian looks toward me, his eyes wide and glassy. He doesn’t hold my gaze for a second before his cheeks flush pink and he looks away at the ceiling.
    Before I can find my voice, a sound comes from behind me. I turn to see Julian’s mother standing there with a cardboard tray of coffees. Her eyes are rimmed with red and she looks like she hasn’t slept in a week.
    “Emily, dear, you’re white as a sheet,” she says. She looks at my stomach with a hopeful, watery smile. “How did the appointment go? Is our little miracle holding on?”
    I look at her, the woman who has treated me like a daughter for three years, then at Julian. The coward is still staring at the ceiling. The truth about Alistair Wolfe’s baby sits like a mouthful of ash in my throat.
    “It didn’t work,” I say. My voice is steady, devoid of grief in a way that surprises me. “The IVF failed. There is no baby.”
    The older woman’s face seems to collapse. She reaches for the back of a plastic chair to steady herself. “Oh, Emily. No. Not after everything. I’m so sorry.”
    I watch Chloe out of the corner of my eye. She’s staring at me, her mouth slightly open in a mock expression of shock. She brings a lace handkerchief to her eyes, dabbing at tears that aren’t there.
    “Oh, Emily, that’s devastating,” Chloe says. She stands up and moves toward me. She looks at the mother with a mournful expression before turning that gaze back to me. Her eyes don’t look sad. If anything, they’re bright. “I know how much you wanted this. We all did.”
    She stops a foot away from me. “But maybe,” Chloe continues, her tone dropping into a whisper, “maybe it’s probably for the best, isn’t it? Everything is so complicated right now with Julian’s recovery. Now you don’t have that burden holding you back. You can focus on yourself for once.”
    The word burden rings in my ears like a bell.
    A strange, freezing calm settles over me. The heat in the room seems to vanish, replaced by a clarity so clear it feels like a veil dropped from my eyes. I think of the hormones I pumped into my body. I think of the way I sat by Julian’s bed, whispering to him about a child I thought would save his family’s spirit.
    The rage I feel is not something I’ve ever felt before. It just sits there, a blinding, white-hot stillness that dictates my next move.
    Before I can even process, my hand goes up with a speed that catches her completely off guard. The sound of my palm hitting her cheek is loud in the small room.
    Chloe’s head snaps to the side and stumbles back, a red handprint blooming across her skin.
    “Emily!” Julian shouts from the bed. He tries to sit up, his face contorting in pain as his monitors begin to beep a frantic, irregular rhythm. “What the hell are you doing?”
    I don’t answer him. I grab Chloe by the collar of her silk blouse, dragging her toward the side of the bed. She’s screeching, her polished nails clawing at my wrists, but I don’t feel a thing. I shove her toward Julian.
    “You want to talk about burdens, Chloe?” I ask. “Let’s talk about the burden of being a liar. Let’s talk about what you two were doing while I was at the clinic trying to save a legacy that didn’t even want to be saved.”
    Julian reaches out, his fingers trembling as he tries to pull my hand away from her collar. “Emily, stop. You’re being hysterical.”
    I look at him then, and the man I thought I loved is gone. In his place is a stranger with a weak chin and a terrified expression. I let go of Chloe’s shirt, but only so I can turn the full force of my attention on him.
    I raise my hand and bring it down on his face. The first slap is for the three years I wasted. The second slap is for the guilt I carried, thinking I was the reason he was hurt. The third slap is for the farce. For the way they let me walk into a hospital and have a stranger’s child implanted in me while they were planning their getaway.
    “We’re done,” I say. “Don’t call me. If I see either of you again, I’ll make sure the rest of the world knows exactly what kind of people you are.”
    I turn and walk out, ignoring the muffled cries and the chaos erupting in the room. I don’t stop until I’m in the empty stairwell three flights down. I lean against the cold concrete wall and finally, the air breaks. I sob until my lungs ache.
    I am alone. I am pregnant with a billionaire’s child. And I have nothing.
    An hour later, I’m sitting in the waiting room of a low-cost women’s clinic on the other side of town. I can’t keep Alistair Wolfe’s child, not when it was conceived under the umbrella of a lie.
    The doctor is a woman in her sixties with tired eyes. She looks at my charts, then back at me. “I have to be honest with you. Your records show a history of severe endometriosis and a very thin lining. This pregnancy is essentially a medical fluke. If we proceed with the termination, the scarring will be permanent. You’ll likely never conceive again.”
    I leave that clinic and go to another. And another. I spend the entire afternoon driving through the city, hearing the same sentence repeated in different accents and different offices. Permanent infertility.
    By the time I pull into the driveway of the Vance estate, the sun is already setting. I head toward the study to find my father, but I stop when I hear voices coming from the cracked door of the sitting room.
    At this point, I should know not to listen to voices from cracked doors.
    “I don’t know about this, Lydia,” my father’s voice says.
    “The firm is underwater,” a voice replies. It’s Lydia, my stepmother. “And this deal with Silas Reed is the only thing that can save us now. He’s been asking about Emily for months. He won’t care about the fact that the engagement fell apart. He’s willing to pay off the primary debt the moment the marriage certificate is signed.”
    “But the rumors about him,” my father says weakly. “The way his last wife ended up… and he’s nearly twenty years older than her.”
    “He’s wealthy, Thomas,” Lydia snaps. “After the news we got from the hospital, we know that Emily needs to be handled. Silas will keep her on a short leash. “
    I lean against the hallway wall, my stomach churning. Silas Reed. He’s a predator who is known for his cruelty. My own family is selling me to a monster to save a failing business.
    My phone vibrates in my pocket. I pull it out and read the words on the screen with blurry vision. .
    Have you reached a decision, Emily? – Alistair Wolfe.
    I look at the door to the sitting room, where my father and stepmother are negotiating my life like a piece of livestock. Then I look at the text. I have no husband. I have no family. And if I lose this baby, I have no future.
    I hit the call button on the unknown number. It rings once before he picks up.
    “I didn’t expect your call,” the voice says.
    “I’ll do it,” I say. I stand up straight, my hand resting on my stomach. “I’ll carry the child. I’ll give you your heir.”
    There’s a brief silence on the other end. “A wise choice, Emily. I’ll have the papers drawn up for the trust.”
    “No,” I say, my voice hardening. “I don’t want the hundred million. I want something else.”
    “Name it.”
    I take a deep breath. “You have to marry me, Alistair.”

    Accidentally Pregnant With The Billionaire Heir Chapter 3 The Gold Seal

    I’ve just asked a billionaire to marry me to save myself from a predatory debt collector and a family that views me as a line item.
    Silence feels like punishment when you’re talking to a man like Alistair Wolfe. And the phone has been silent for what feels like hours now. I grip the phone so hard that the edge of the case bites into my palm,
    “Just a marriage of convenience,” I say, my voice sounding much firmer than I feel. “I don’t want your money. Once the baby is born, we can file for divorce. The only thing I ask for is visitation rights so I won’t be a ghost in my own child’s life.”
    The silence stretches for another five seconds, long enough for me to count the cracks in the hallway floorboards. I’m about to emphasize that it’s just for convenience but I don’t get the chance.
    “Seven in the morning,” Alistair says. “The City Clerk’s Office. Bring your birth certificate, your passport, and every piece of identification you own. My lead attorney will be there at six forty-five with the paperwork. Don’t be late, Emily.”
    The line clicks dead before I can even breathe a sigh of relief. He didn’t say yes, but the instructions are good enough. I lean my head against the cool wallpaper, closing my eyes. This isn’t the wedding I spent my girlhood dreaming about. There are no peonies, no cathedral veils, and certainly no groom who looks at me like I’m his entire world. Instead, I’m trading my freedom for a shield. It’s a fair trade, I suppose.
    I sleep fitfully, waking every hour to the image of Silas Reed’s oily smile and Chloe kissing my fiancé. When the sun finally starts to bleed through the curtains, I pull myself out of bed, take a short shower, and reach for a simple navy blue wrap dress. It’s professional, modest, and hides the fact that I’ve lost weight over the last few weeks. I brush my hair until it’s a dark, glossy sheet. A little concealer and a swipe of tinted lip balm hide my weary look.
    The City Clerk’s Office smells like lemon floor wax and old coffee. It’s a drab, municipal building with rows of plastic chairs and the constant, dull drone of a printer somewhere in the back. A man in a charcoal suit stands near the information desk, clutching a leather briefcase. The quality of his suit tells me he’s the billionaire’s lawyer.
    “Ms. Vance?” he asks when he sees me. He doesn’t smile. “I’m Markson, Mr. Wolfe’s personal counsel. We have quite a bit to get through before he arrives.”
    He leads me to a small, private table in the corner and begins spreading out sheets of thick, high-bond paper. The prenuptial agreement is so detailed I almost suspect it was prepared weeks before. But that’s not possible because this marriage was my idea. It outlines the duration of the marriage, the post-divorce property arrangements, and the most painful part: full legal and physical custody of the child for Alistair Wolfe. My visitation rights are listed in a series of bullet points.
    I read every word, the ink blurring as tears gather my eyes. I realize I’m signing away the only thing that will be truly mine. But then I remember the alternative. If I stay in that house, my stepmother will drag me to marry a man who breaks women for sport. I reach for the gold-tipped pen Markson offers and sign my name on the bottom of every page.
    “Everything seems to be in order,” Markson says, checking his watch.
    A few minutes later, the glass doors at the entrance swing open, and the atmosphere in the room shifts. It’s as if the temperature has dropped ten degrees. Alistair Wolfe walks in, and almost everyone in the room turns to lok at him. He isn’t wearing a full suit today. He has on a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms and a pair of dark tailored trousers. He looks effortless, rugged, and breathtakingly handsome in a way that makes my throat feel dry.
    He stops in front of our table, his gaze sweeping over me with the same intensity he had yesterday. He doesn’t offer a greeting. He looks at the signed papers, then back at me. For a split second, his eyes drop to my lips, his focus lingering just long enough to make my skin prickle. Then, the coldness returns.
    “Did she sign?” Alistair asks the lawyer.
    “Every page, sir,” Markson confirms.
    “Good. Let’s get this over with.”
    The registration process is a blur of stamps and signatures. Because of Alistair’s influence, we are ushered into a private office where a clerk with a tired expression processes the expedited service. Within fifteen minutes, a piece of paper with a gold seal is slid across the desk toward us.
    Alistair picks up one copy and hands it to me. His fingers brush mine, and I feel a jolt of something that isn’t quite fear but feels just as dangerous. His skin is warm, a sharp contrast to his icy demeanor.
    “You’re now Mrs. Wolfe,” he says. “I have to fly to London immediately. There’s an acquisition that needs my direct attention. I’ll be gone for three days.”
    I stare at the paper. Emily Wolfe. It looks wrong. It looks like a lie written in gold ink.
    “I’ll send a car and a team of movers to your father’s house on Thursday morning at eight,” he continues. “You’ll move into my estate. For the duration of this contract, you live with me. I need to ensure the health of my heir is monitored properly.”
    “I can take care of myself, Alistair,” I say, trying to reclaim some shred of my dignity.
    He steps closer, his shadow falling over me. He smells like sandalwood. “You’re carrying my child, Emily. That makes your safety my business. Don’t make this difficult.”
    He pauses, his gaze softening by a fraction of a millimeter. “Do you need a ride back?”
    I shake my head quickly. The thought of Alistair’s black car pulling up to my father’s driveway is a nightmare. Lydia would have a heart attack, and Thomas would probably try to ask him for a loan before I could even get out of the vehicle. “No. I’ll take a cab. I need to handle things at home first.”
    Alistair nods once, a sharp, decisive movement. “Thursday. Eight o’clock. Don’t make my men wait.”
    He turns and walks out, Markson trailing behind him like a loyal shadow. I stand in the middle of the lobby, clutching my marriage license to my chest. My heart is a steady, heavy thud. I’ve done it. I’ve jumped off the cliff, and now I just have to wait and see if the parachute opens.
    When I walk through the front door of the Vance estate, the scent of Lydia’s expensive lilies almost suffocates me. My father and stepmother are sitting in the foyer, dressed as if they’re going to a funeral. Lydia is wearing a sharp, black suit, her hair pulled back into a bun so tight it looks painful. Thomas is fidgeting with his cufflinks with a small frown on his face.
    “Where have you been?” Lydia snaps, standing up the moment the door clicks shut. “We’ve been calling you for two hours. We have someone expecting us at the St. Regis for lunch. You need to go upstairs and put on that red dress I bought you. And for heaven’s sake, do something about your face. You look exhausted.”
    “Who are we going to meet?” I ask, pretending not to already know.
    “Someone important.”
    My father stands up too, though he won’t quite meet my eyes. “Emily, please. Just cooperate. It’s a simple lunch. This person is a very influential man. He can help us.”
    “Help you,” I correct him. I feel a strange sense of power bubbling up inside me, a cold, clean anger that burns away the last of my fear. “I know it’s Silas Reed we’re going to meet. And you want to see me off because he can help you pay for your bad investments and Lydia’s jewelry. But he can’t help me.”
    “Don’t be dramatic,” Lydia says, walking toward me. “You’re a Vance. You have a responsibility to this family. Now, get upstairs.”
    I don’t move. I reach into my purse and pull out the marriage license. I hold it up, the gold seal catching the light of the chandelier.
    “I’m not a Vance anymore,” I say. “I got married this morning.”
    Lydia stops dead in her tracks. Her mouth opens and closes like a fish gasping for air. My father’s face goes pale, his eyes wide as he stares at the document.
    “What are you talking about?” he stammers. “Married? To who? Julian is still in the hospital, he-“
    “Not to Julian,” I say, stepping closer so they can see the name on the paper. “To Alistair Wolfe. I’m his wife now. Which means I’m his responsibility. So, you can call Silas Reed and tell him the deal is off. I’m moving out on Thursday.”
    The silence that follows is the most satisfying sound I’ve ever heard. I walk past them toward the stairs, my head held high, leaving the ruins of their plans scattered on the floor. I’m going to a house of ice, but at least the walls there would be mine.
    For a while.

    👉 CONTINUE READING