A Li

Alex was standing in a VIP bridal boutique, getting fitted for a million-dollar custom gown paid for by her billionaire tech CEO fiancé. They had been together for eight years, building his empire from a cold studio apartment to Wall Street. But while she was suffocating in French lace, her phone buzzed with an Instagram post from his executive assistant, Hollie. It was a beach photo in St. Barts. In the reflection of Hollie's sunglasses, Alex clearly saw Basil—the man who had just texted her that he was trapped in a New York blizzard for emergency board meetings. When Basil returned, he didn't even try to hide his betrayal. At a high-society gala, Alex caught them making out behind a velvet curtain, with Basil feeding Hollie dessert and promising her executive suites. The final straw came during her last dress fitting. Basil brought Hollie along, mocked Alex's custom gown as boring, and bought Hollie an ultra-revealing bridal sample to try on right in front of her. When Alex threw a glass of champagne in the assistant's face, Basil flew into a rage. He shoved Alex violently to the marble floor, severely injuring her elbow. "Get on your knees and apologize," he snarled, standing over her. "Or the wedding is off. Let's see how long you survive in this city without my capital." He truly believed that eight years of her silent sacrifices and brilliant legal work were just stepping stones for his ego. He thought that without his wealth, she was just an insecure, helpless woman who would cry in an empty mansion and beg for his mercy. But Basil forgot one crucial detail: Alex wasn't just his fiancée, she was an apex corporate litigator. She didn't shed a single tear. Instead, she packed her bags, threw his first promise ring down the trash chute, and walked into his favorite Michelin-starred restaurant three days later to serve him with papers for a total asset partition.

I was the unwanted stepsister in the wealthy Steele family, living like a stray dog. Everything changed the night my stepbrother Kendell dragged me to a VIP club, where I caught the eye of Finnegan Emerson, the most ruthless billionaire in New York. To save his own skin, Kendell traded me to him without hesitation. "Take her. Just get her out of my hair." I tried to run, but Finnegan hunted me down and locked me in his car. Worse, our housekeeper accidentally revealed my fatal weakness to him: severe asthma triggered by dog dander. The very next day, Kendell deliberately brought a massive German Shepherd into the house, laughing as I collapsed, gasping for air. He announced that Finnegan had kindly offered his isolated, hyper-clean estate for my "safety." As I lay on the floor dying for a breath, the terrifying truth I found online echoed in my mind. Finnegan was a pathological germaphobe who destroyed people for merely brushing against his suit. Yet, he had grabbed my wrists and touched my lips without a single flinch. Why was this monstrous, cold-blooded predator so deeply obsessed with a nobody like me? As my vision blurred, my phone lit up with a message from him, bypassing every block I had set. He had cut off all my escape routes, but I swore I would find a way out of his golden cage.

For ten years, I labored in the shadows to build a massive underworld empire for Cassius, the mafia Underboss I secretly loved. He promised me marriage and the title of Capo over the smuggling network I created with my own blood. But at the syndicate banquet, he handed my throne to Serena, a sheltered mafia princess who had never touched a gun. I was publicly shoved to the bottom of the structure I built, named a mere soldier under her command. Cassius warned me not to make a scene, telling me the family needed a bloodline representative. He offered me a hidden payoff and a secret wedding, expecting me to keep cleaning up Serena's bloody messes in the dark. Serena looked at me with innocent eyes, claiming my life's work as her own territory. I looked at the man I had taken three bullets for. I remembered biting down on a leather strap in an underground clinic to protect his secrets, while he stood there reducing a decade of my devotion to a dirty little secret. I didn't cry or beg. I simply unclasped my family crest and dropped it onto the marble floor. Then, I pulled out my phone and accepted the absolute autonomy offered by the rival Sicilian syndicate. "I am permanently severing all ties." This time, I would build an empire that belonged solely to me.

I woke up alone in a cold hospital room after a near-fatal car crash. My husband of three years, Bryant, claimed he was too busy with back-to-back meetings to visit me. But when I dragged my bruised body into the hallway, I caught him pinning his pregnant mistress against a vending machine. "As soon as my company IPOs next month, I'm dumping my useless wife." "She's so pathetic. She'd be living on the streets if it wasn't for my charity." For three years, Bryant and his mother had humiliated me for being an orphan, treating me like a penniless burden while he secretly bought a multi-million-dollar townhouse for his new family. A cold knot formed in my stomach. I had almost died in that wreckage, yet my husband was disgusted by my very existence, eagerly waiting to throw me away. But Bryant didn't know about the damp, sealed envelope the paramedics had recovered from my wrecked car. The DNA report inside proved I wasn't a nobody from the gutter. I was the biological daughter of the Beaumonts—New York's wealthiest, most ruthless billionaire dynasty. I didn't scream or confront them. Instead, I calmly pulled out my phone, recorded their affair in high definition, and dialed a Wall Street financier I hadn't spoken to in years. "I'm done playing the happy housewife. Pull his algorithmic backdoors and drain the accounts."

To save her father's dying company from her treacherous uncle and cheating ex-boyfriend, Jalynn sold her life to a Wall Street tyrant. She signed an ironclad contract to be Deryl Atkins's submissive, timid placeholder wife, perfectly mimicking his dead fiancée. In exchange, he wired tens of millions to keep her family out of bankruptcy. Playing the pathetic, obedient virgin all day made her physically sick. So that night, she sneaked out to a gritty underground club in a tight black slip dress and an ash-blonde wig to drink the nausea away. She completely let loose, winning a tequila-chugging contest against a massive biker and ripping off her wig in arrogant triumph under the flashing strobe lights. She thought she was anonymous, completely unaware that the ruthless monster she had just married was watching her every move from the soundproof VIP lounge upstairs. When her phone vibrated at 1 AM, his flat, terrifying voice felt like a physical blow. "Are you awake?" Jalynn lied smoothly, pitching her voice to sound gentle and innocent, claiming she was reading Renaissance art. But a terrifying dread settled in her stomach. Why did he suddenly force her to move into his fortress-like estate the very next morning, deliberately filling the halls with his dead fiancée's pristine white roses just to suffocate her? She thought she could use his money and his name to crush her enemies while keeping her true self hidden. But when he publicly dragged her onto his lap at a high-stakes business lunch, his fingers digging into her waist with a dark, predatory smile, Jalynn realized the terrifying truth. The fake marriage wasn't her shield; it was his hunting ground, and he was going to play with her until she broke.

My fiancé, Freddie, signed the papers to have me committed to a mental asylum. He told everyone my "episodes" were becoming a liability to his family's pristine reputation. The truth was, he and his mistress, Jessie, wanted me out of the way. They painted me as a hysterical, unstable psycho so their affair could continue without a single complication. I spent my last days in a chemical haze, trapped and forgotten. My final memory wasn't of love or compassion, but of orderlies forcing my head under the stagnant, drugged water of an asylum bathtub. Freddie just watched, his face cold and indifferent as I drowned. He stole my life, my sanity, and my future. He got away with murder while playing the part of the devoted, heartbroken fiancé to a world that believed his every lie. Until I opened my eyes again. The blinding Hampton sun stabbed my retinas, and the smell of chlorine filled my lungs. I wasn't in the asylum. I was back at the Madden family's annual summer party, three years before my death. Across the pool, I saw Freddie laughing with Jessie. They thought they had won. They had no idea I was back from the dead to burn their entire world to the ground.

I was just another invisible marketing clerk at the Jennings Group, a single mother counting pennies to pay for my daughter’s medical bills. Then the glass doors of the executive elevator opened, and the new CEO walked in. It was Bridger Jennings, the man who had shattered my world five years ago and left me to pick up the pieces alone. He wasn't the boy I once loved; he was a ruthless tycoon who looked through me with a gaze of total, crushing indifference. The torment started immediately. Bridger targeted me in front of the department, cutting the late-night transportation I relied on and mocking my "supportive husband"—a man who didn't even exist. When he spotted a red smudge of paint on my neck, he mistook it for a love bite from a rival. His jealousy turned into a weapon, and he buried me under a mountain of impossible work, sneering that I should let my husband provide for me instead. I stayed up until dawn to finish the task, only to realize someone had sabotaged my files to ensure my termination. My manager threatened to fire me on the spot, and Bridger stood by with a cold smile, waiting for me to crawl and beg for mercy. I couldn't understand why he was so obsessed with destroying the life I had built from the ashes of our breakup. Did he still care enough to hate me, or was he just trying to prove I was nothing more than a smudge on the glass of his empire? Slumping against my desk, I finally found the digital footprint of the person who tampered with my work. Bridger thinks he has me cornered, but he doesn't know I'm the secret artist he's been desperately trying to hire—or that he's the father of the child he's punishing me for. The war has just begun.

I was the Hayes heiress, the silent engine behind my husband’s startup, and the woman carrying his child. But while I sat in the waiting room, rubbing my six-month-pregnant belly, Michael was on Instagram posting a photo of his "friend" Selena’s baby with the caption: *My little Prince, Michael II.* He claimed it was a joke. He claimed I was hormonal. But when Selena fell ill with leukemia, the mask finally slipped. He didn't just ask me to get tested for a bone marrow transplant; he begged me to cut myself open for the woman who treated me like an intruder in my own marriage. I asked him the only question that mattered: "If we were both dying, who would you save?" He didn't hesitate. "Selena." He lied to me about a business trip to Singapore so he could donate his kidney to her. He wanted to be her hero. He didn't know that while he was under anesthesia saving her, I was alone in a cold hospital room, losing our baby. When he finally woke up, expecting my devotion, he found the villa stripped bare. On his desk sat a signed divorce decree and a medical report: *Fetal Demise.* Underneath, I left one final note: *He would have had your eyes. But you were too busy looking at her.* I didn't just leave him. I took my money, erased my existence, and vanished into thin air.

My husband, Christopher Kramer, was Manhattan's most notorious playboy, famous for his seasonal affairs with nineteen-year-old girls. For five years, I believed I was the exception who had finally tamed him. That illusion shattered when my father needed a bone marrow transplant. The perfect donor was a nineteen-year-old named Iris. On the day of the surgery, my father died because Christopher chose to stay in bed with her instead of taking her to the hospital. His betrayal didn't stop there. When an elevator plunged, he pulled her out first and left me to fall. When a chandelier crashed, he shielded her body with his and stepped over me as I lay bleeding. He even stole my dead father's last gift to me and gave it to her. Through it all, he called me selfish and ungrateful, completely oblivious to the fact that my father was already gone. So I quietly signed the divorce papers and vanished. The day I left, he texted me. "Good news, I found another donor for your dad. Let's go schedule the surgery."

I spent seven years as the ghost developer for my husband's billion-dollar empire. On our anniversary, I discovered our marriage was a lie-he was already married to the protégée I personally trained. When I confronted them, they tried to kill me and my unborn child, leaving me for dead with a crime family. But they made one fatal mistake: they didn't know my real father was a reclusive tech billionaire who had been searching for me my whole life. And he just found me.

My sister Lily wanted to swap her life with a dog just to get into Harvard. I tried to stop her, to talk sense into her, because who in their right mind would do something so insane? But instead, I found myself on a rooftop, my hands tied, Lily' s wild eyes screaming. "Jump, Sarah! Jump!" She pushed me, and as we plunged towards the city lights, my last thought was of the bitter irony – I tried to save her, and she killed us both. Then, I gasped, my eyes flying open. I was back in Lily's bedroom, the air thick with the scent of expensive perfume and desperation. She was standing there, holding that familiar, ugly flyer, saying the exact same words: "The college entrance exams are in three days. This is my only chance." My mother walked in, two glasses of juice in hand, and smiled at the flyer. "Oh, are you two finally discussing the plan?" They were a team, and I was the enemy, again. But this time, looking at their cruel and delusional faces, a cold calm settled over me. My kindness had been their weapon. This time, it would be different. "No, I' m not jealous," I said, my voice steady, eyes locked on Lily. "I think it' s a brilliant idea. I' ll even help you." Because this time, I knew the truth. I remembered the cold satisfaction on Ethan Blackwood' s face as we fell. He wanted this to happen. The dog, the ritual, all of it. And this time, I was going to let him have his show.

I gave up three years of my life, caring for a powerful U.S. Senator in a remote Wyoming retreat because my mother, Maria, begged me. She said my cousin, Gabby, was too fragile for such a harsh duty, while I was strong enough to do it for "my sister." But when I returned to Texas, travel-worn and exhausted, I found my mother beaming at a lavish party, announcing Gabby' s engagement to my fiancé, Ethan Scott, and gifting her my birthright – the Black Creek parcel. My heart shattered. Maria and Gabby weren't just stealing my man; they were stealing my entire identity, my future as the Fuller heiress. I snatched the deed, demanding they stop. Maria, a woman I thought was my mother, flew into a rage, disowning me instantly. "This girl is just a troubled niece!" she shrieked, ordering the ranch foreman to whip me in front of hundreds of people. My cowboy mentor, Old Man Hemlock, threw himself in front of me, taking the blow. How could the woman who raised me deny my existence, then order me beaten like an animal, all for a lie? What else had she hidden from me my entire life? Just as the whip was raised again, a convoy of black SUVs pulled into the driveway. My true allies were arriving, and this sham was about to unravel – brutally.

I spent seven years loving Nicole, putting her dreams before my own. I promised her the world, believed she was my future. Then, she chose him – Ryan, her volatile artist ex, the one who' d already broken her heart. I died for that betrayal, a quiet overdose, a final pathetic act of devotion. But then, I woke up. Twenty-one again, sitting across from Nicole in a coffee shop, just before she was supposed to choose me. The hesitation in her eyes, the yearning for him, it was all still there. This time, I didn't beg. I told her, "Go to him." I walked out into the rain, leaving our painful past behind. This time, I would live for myself.

At Arlington National Cemetery, I, Chloe, stood beside my mother, Helen, burying my father, Colonel Marcus Evans. A hero to the world, but I knew his secret. Then, a pregnant woman, Tiffany, appeared, loudly claiming to be his mistress. "He loved me!" she cried, "He was going to leave her for us. This is his son." The funeral erupted. Overnight, Tiffany's face monopolized the tabloids: "WAR HERO' S SECRET LOVE!" She branded my mother a "cold, barren wife" and brandished my father's prized, custom-made watch as proof. Reporters besieged our home, and Helen retreated, shattered. Then came the ultimate affront: a demand to exhume my father' s body for a DNA test. It felt impossible, a calculated lie. Yet that watch, his most cherished possession, fueled my confusion. I knew his truth: my father was gay. This secret made her claim absurd, but it was also a weapon they could twist. When Helen, utterly broken by the exhumation threat, finally whispered that truth in a sterile conference room, the real battle began. We wouldn't just defend his honor; we'd expose the shadowy architects behind this vicious attack.

Ada was kidnapped on her wedding day. No one knew that she was pushed by her groom down the cliff to die. While she was rolling down the rugged cliff, she was overwhelmed by despair upon thinking that the man she loved the most had betrayed her. Fortunately, she was rescued. However, she couldn't remember anything when she woke up. She almost went insane after losing her memory. The moment she regained her memory, the first thing she did was rushed to the place where her wedding was supposed to be held. To her surprise, her groom was still there. However, she wasn't the bride anymore, but her sister. After losing everything in her life, she decided to build her empire. Her goal was to conquer the business world and take back everything that she deserved.

I was the President's Old Lady - and the only reason his MC was still breathing. For three years, I ran every legal business the Serpents of Redemption owned. While Craig chased road glory across state lines, I turned a failing auto shop and a tattoo parlor into the money that kept the brothers fed, the bikes fueled, and the clubhouse lights on. Then he rode home from a two-month run with a sweetbutt on the back of his Harley - and her son. Ginger, he said, had saved his life on the road. So he put her in the main residence, in the room directly across from our bed. He handed her my ledgers and called it repayment. When her son dumped a cup of scalding coffee over my hand, Craig never checked my burns. He scooped up the boy and blamed me. His grandmother - the club's Matriarch - stood before every patched brother and accused me of hurting "family." That night, Craig told me Ginger held a place in his heart I could never reach. A debt of blood he'd honor above me. Three years. My family's fortune. My scarred hand. All of it - worthless next to his roadside savior. So I did the one thing a President never expects his Old Lady to do. I gave back his patch. Now they can keep their empty ledgers. They can play happy family in a clubhouse I built. And when this motorcycle club burns - I'll be the one holding the match.

Five years ago, I stood in the freezing rain at my mother's funeral, waiting for my husband. Blake Knight, the billionaire NHL superstar, was two hours late. When he finally showed up, he brought his rumored girlfriend, the woman he had just rented a hotel rooftop for to celebrate her birthday. Watching him defend her fake tears, my heart completely died. I took off my diamond wedding ring, placed it on my mother's headstone, and walked away from my marriage forever. I fled to London, changed my name to Ava, and secretly raised the triplets he never knew existed. I thought I was finally safe from him. But today, my kids vandalized a silver Aston Martin in our apartment's parking garage, and the owner caught my youngest daughter. My phone rang. The voice on the other end was Blake's. He had moved into my building, and he was holding my little girl in his penthouse, demanding her mother come get her immediately. Panic suffocated me. If I walked through that door, my five years of hiding would be instantly destroyed. He would recognize me, realize I didn't get rid of our child like everyone thought, and he would use all his power to take my babies away. I couldn't let him ruin my life again. "I'm just her nanny," I lied through my teeth. I frantically begged my best friend to go upstairs and rescue my daughter in my place. He bought the disguise, but now, the King of the Ice is dangerously obsessed with investigating my new identity.

"Sign the contract, or lose everything." I stared at the papers that would seal my fate-a three-year marriage to Julian Blackwood, the ruthless billionaire they call the Ice King. My family didn't ask. They demanded. My father's company was drowning, my stepsister's engagement had exploded, and I was the replacement bride they could sacrifice. Just another transaction. Julian made it clear on our wedding day: "Don't expect affection. Don't expect companionship. Certainly don't expect love." He refused to kiss me at the altar. He gave me a bedroom down the hall and told me to stay out of his way. I was Mrs. Blackwood in name only-a contract, a convenience, a means to an end. I accepted it. I had survived twelve years of abuse in my own home. I could survive three years of indifference in his. But then Nate, Julian's best friend, showed me kindness, and suddenly my cold husband became possessive. When my sister attacked me, he became protective. Now the man who promised me nothing is fighting his own father to keep me. The marriage that was supposed to be fake is becoming terrifyingly real and the secrets about my mother's death are threatening to destroy everything. They said Julian Blackwood destroys everything he touches. What they didn't tell me... is that sometimes destruction is exactly what you need to be reborn. With a pregnancy involved, how was I going to end this three-year marriage peacefully?

After six years away, I returned to my hometown with a single suitcase and a picture of my fiancé tangled up with my stepsister. I thought it was just a simple, disgusting betrayal, but when I planted a bug in their private suite to get a confession, I heard a truth that froze my blood. My fiancé, Leo, laughed about how my own father had already signed over my mother's legacy-The Nightingale Ranch-as collateral to his powerful family. "Once this is all done, Claire will have nothing. And the woman you marry will be me," my stepsister Jenna cheered. Leo cooed back, calling me a stray dog he'd kick to the curb once he was bored, a worthless woman who couldn't even hold onto her family's land. My family had sold me out, and the man I loved was planning to leave me with absolutely nothing. I didn't cry. The pain burned away into a cold, hard hate. How could my own father conspire with them to destroy the only thing I had left of my mother? I crashed their prestigious charity auction and played their filthy recording over the speakers for the entire town to hear. But when Leo charged at me in a murderous rage, a wall of leather and muscle stepped in front of me. Kade "Chaos" Peterson, the terrifying President of the rival motorcycle club, crushed Leo's wrist and announced to the stunned room, "She's with me now."

Chloe had just given birth to twins, lying exhausted in a cramped, bustling hospital ward. When she called her husband, Julian, he was busy partying with his actress mistress. He coldly hung up on her, having already drafted a brutal divorce agreement that would leave her with a pittance. Strangers in the next bed loudly mocked her pitiful state, gossiping about how Julian was dumping her. For years, Chloe had erased her own identity to fit into his elite world, only to be thrown away like garbage. She was completely alone, clutching her helpless babies, bracing herself to sign the cruel papers just to survive. She couldn't understand why her absolute devotion was met with such chilling indifference. Why did she have to suffer this ultimate humiliation while he celebrated with the woman who ruined her life? But then, a senior doctor noticed a unique mole on her wrist and ran a secret DNA test. The results were staggering: Chloe was the long-lost daughter of the billionaire Beaumont family. With her fiercely protective parents and three powerful brothers suddenly forming an impenetrable fortress around her, Chloe picked up her phone and texted her arrogant husband. "City Hall tomorrow at 10 AM. If you don't show up, my lawyer will handle everything. And trust me, you won't like their terms."

I was in the hospital, enduring the agonizing pain of labor, while my husband, a famous hockey captain, refused to show up. When I called him for the twelfth time, begging for him, he lost his patience. "Giving birth is a woman's job, don't bother me with this stuff." Then, I heard my stepsister's sweet voice offering him a drink, and he immediately softened before hanging up on me. I gave birth to twins all by myself. The nurses treated me with cold indifference, and the family in the next bed loudly mocked me as a pathetic "Puck Bunny" who was just an adopted orphan about to be dumped. They were right. A month ago, my husband had thrown divorce papers at me, demanding I make way because my stepsister was pregnant with his child. I thought my life was a joke. I was just a discarded prop he married to satisfy his grandfather, a fake daughter my adoptive parents only used to elevate my stepsister. I was completely alone, ready to sign the papers just to protect my two babies. But then, the head of the hospital rushed in, transferred me to the top-floor VIP suite, and handed me a DNA test. It turned out I wasn't an unwanted orphan, but the long-lost daughter of the ultra-wealthy Sinclair family who had been searching for me for twenty years. Looking at my billionaire parents and three powerful brothers who just flew in on their private jets to protect me, I picked up my phone to call my arrogant husband. This time, I was going to make him leave with nothing.

"From tonight on, Farrah is my one and only Old Lady! As for you, Sloane... you're just my personal bed-warmer." In the deafening roar of the crowded motorcycle club, my boyfriend of five years hauled another woman against his chest, publicly stripping me of my title. The entire room erupted in laughter, waiting for the "helpless orphan" to break down and cry. His bloodsucking mother and sister smirked in the crowd. For five years, I had served their family like an unpaid maid, secretly bleeding my dead father's legacy dry just to pay off their debts. Now, they were thrilled to see me thrown into the dirt. Beau pinched my chin, offering his mercy like a king to a beggar. "As long as you know your place and stay in the basement to do the chores, I'll generously let you be my secret baby mama. It's the greatest mercy a cursed orphan with a dead bloodline will ever get." They thought they had stripped me of everything. They expected me to crawl on my knees and beg for their scraps. The very next morning, I broke into their safe, took back my stolen inheritance and the keys to my father's legendary motorcycle, and rode straight to the National President-the man who held the absolute power of life and death over the entire outlaw world. When Beau smugly swaggered into the President's office, fully expecting to find me begging on my knees for him to take me back, he was instead slapped in the face with a wax-sealed document of formal severance. "She is a free agent now. Anyone who touches her answers to my gavel." I straddled my father's roaring heavy chopper, looking down at my ex's humiliated, panicked face. "This is just the beginning, Beau. I'm going to make your family bleed out everything you stole." But what I didn't realize was that the moment I took my first step toward revenge, the dangerously wild man I collided with in the dark the night before-the one wearing the forbidden insignia of the absolute royal bloodline-had already locked his sights on me like a predator claiming his prey...

I was the respected Old Lady of the Iron Legion MC, managing all their legitimate businesses from the shadows for six years. But when my President boyfriend, Jasper, returned from a deadly run, he brought a woman on the back of his bike-my seat. "She's under the club's permanent protection now," he declared in front of everyone, elevating the widow to a status right beside mine. He created two queens for one throne. When her son knocked a pot of boiling chili onto my arm, leaving me with agonizing second-degree burns, Jasper rushed to comfort the uninjured, crying boy instead. His grandmother even scolded me in front of the whole club. "It was an accident! No need to make such a fuss." Later that night, Jasper confessed he owed Brandy his life and sanity, choosing his trauma bond with her over my years of quiet devotion. I finally understood that in his ledger of debts and duties, my sacrifices didn't even register. I couldn't compete with a ghost, nor the woman who walked through hell with him. So, I dropped my claim necklace on the floor and handed the club's account keys to the usurper. What they didn't know was that the club's businesses were completely bankrupt, secretly kept afloat for years solely by my family's trust fund. I cut the financial tow line, leaving them a ticking bomb, and walked away to watch his kingdom burn.

For three years, Caddie gave up her aerospace engineering career to be Julien's secret girlfriend, quietly writing the core algorithms for his tech company. On their anniversary, she stood outside his apartment with a rare gift, only to hear his friends laughing inside about his "charity project." Julien's voice was ice-cold as he called her a stray puppy. He said she was only useful for debugging his code, and once her final algorithm was finished, she would have no value left. He was already planning to announce his engagement to the wealthy Kiersten Parrish. He bragged that he would just write Caddie a check and kick her out, mocking that without him, she couldn't even afford next month's rent. Caddie leaned against the cold wall, her world shattering. She had turned down top research fellowships and poured her soul into his work, only to be treated as a disposable tool. He actually believed she was just a helpless nobody who relied on his charity. She didn't scream or cry. She simply threw the expensive gift into the trash chute. Logging into his company's secure server, she permanently deleted every single line of code she had ever built for him. Then, she packed her single suitcase, walked out the door, and dialed a number she hadn't called in years. "I'm ready. I want to come home." It was time to reclaim her place as the true billionaire Kensington heiress.

I was the Luna of the Stone River Pack, the fated mate to the Alpha, Gallagher. But he gave all his love and gentleness to a fragile human girl named Carson. In my past life, on the day he publicly chose her over me, I cried and begged him not to go. My desperate love only disgusted him. He and his human lover eventually threw me into a cold, blood-stained dungeon. While he used my Pack's resources to pamper his mistress, I was left to writhe in the soul-tearing agony that the mate-bond inflicts on a betrayed partner. I was tortured, stripped of my dignity, and ultimately died a pathetic death, my heart crushed to dust. Until my last breath, I didn't understand why the Moon Goddess's fated bond meant absolutely nothing to him. Why did my blind devotion and absolute loyalty only earn me a brutal, lonely death in the dark? Opening my eyes again, the phantom pain of a silver blade slicing my throat woke me up. I looked at my unscarred hands. I was reborn. I was back to the exact day three years ago when the tragedy started—the day he first chose her. When he looked at me with arrogance, expecting my usual crying fit, I just stared back with dead eyes. "Good riddance." As he slammed the door to comfort his lover, I calmly picked up my phone and accessed his unlimited black card. This time, I will use his money to build my own empire.