Bai Bian

My husband, Jackson, the Alpha of the Dorsey Pack, was supposed to be my partner, my equal. I paid for everything, from his suits to our private jet. Today, the man I loved told me I wasn't flying with him to the Alpha Summit. Instead, he declared his mistress, Amber, "fragile" and needing my jet, while I got an economy ticket. His mother, Cornelia, added my healing "aura" was too "intense" for Amber. My heart shattered from the public humiliation. Jackson kissed Amber, a tenderness denied me for years, while the pack looked away. He even blocked our mind-link, the ultimate rejection. A searing, cold rage erupted. For five years, I suppressed my royal White Wolf blood, enduring their disdain for a man who now cast me aside like trash. As my jet lifted into the sky, something inside me unleashed. I pulled out my phone, fingers trembling with resolve. "Cancel the Gulfstream's flight. Ground them. Cut everything. The game is over."

On her wedding dress fitting day, Iris watched her fiancé leave without hesitation—summoned by a single call from his mistress. She walked home through the freezing rain. When a brutal fever left her barely conscious, she begged him for help, only to get his cold dismissal, with the mistress’s soft laugh clearly audible in the background. No one knew the truth behind their glamorous engagement: for years, he’d refused to touch her under hollow excuses, while showering another woman with all his affection. After pouring everything out to her best friend that night, Iris was done. She blocked his number, moved out of the luxury penthouse, and cut off all her parasitic relatives. She was leaving her man-centered life behind, and finally living for herself. What she never saw coming was a reclusive Wall Street billionaire who’d set his sights on her years ago. The second she walked away, he set his plan in motion—ruin the man who wasted her, and make her completely his.

For a whole year, I played the perfect, quiet wife to Julian Carlisle, a billionaire CEO who treated our marriage like a cold business deal. On our first anniversary, which was also my birthday, I went to his hotel suite to surprise him. Instead, I found him tenderly fastening a diamond necklace around the neck of my stepsister, Amber. "Will your wife be angry?" she asked with a smug smile. "She won't know. Don't mention her," Julian replied coldly. I finally realized his emotional distance wasn't because he was a private man. He just never wanted me. While I was trying to build a life with him, he had secretly moved Amber into the penthouse right across the hall from our marital home. He paraded her around, giving her the romance and tenderness he completely denied me. I had buried my award-winning architectural career and my entire identity just to play the role of his obedient wife. I felt completely ridiculous for ever believing my sincerity could warm his heart. The ultimate betrayal and public humiliation twisted my heartbreak into a cold, hard rage. I left my five-carat wedding ring on the table, packed only the cheap clothes I came with, and filed for a no-alimony divorce. The identity of "Mrs. Carlisle" died that night. I am taking back my real name, rebuilding my empire, and making sure he regrets the day he ever underestimated me.

For years, I lived as the meek, invisible orphan taken in by the wealthy Sterling family. But on the night of our class trip, my "sister" Ivy handed me a spiked glass of champagne. I woke up in a hotel bed, paralyzed by drugs, with a greasy man unbuckling his belt and a mob of reporters waiting just outside the door. In my past life, this was the night my reputation was completely destroyed. I was publicly ruined, cast aside by my fiancé Chase, and eventually pushed off a high-rise balcony. As I fell to my death, I learned the horrifying truth. The Sterlings had only kept me around to embezzle my massive inheritance. And my only value to Chase was acting as a living blood bank for his sick true love, Blair. They lived in my house, spent my parents' money, and called it charity. They thought I was just a disposable sacrifice on their altar of greed, completely oblivious to their deceit. "Gisele gets what she deserves," I heard Ivy sneer from the hallway. But as the drug burned in my veins, the memories of my past life awakened, cold and sharp as broken glass. This time, I wasn't going to be the prey. I grabbed the heavy brass lamp cord, wrapped it tight around the man's throat, and waited for Ivy to walk into her own trap.

My husband, mafia Don Leo Falcone, detonated the door to my safehouse with forged syndicate papers in hand. He came to force me to take the fall for his mistress, Serena, threatening to cut off my sister Chloe's medical funds if I refused. What he didn't know was that Chloe had already succumbed to her agony three years ago because Serena stole her money. And he didn't know that I had bled out in a dark alley five years before that. He had exiled me to protect Serena, and I was cornered and stabbed thirteen times by the relatives of the rivals his syndicate killed. Suspended near the ceiling as a ghost, I watched him aggressively demand my whereabouts, fully believing I was just throwing a tantrum. "If she does not show up in three days to sign these papers, I will cut off every single dime," he threatened. It wasn't until his Tracker handed him my cremation documents and the gruesome crime scene photos that he finally broke. For five years, he had pampered the true venomous snake while I rotted in the ground, paying for her fatal mistakes with my life. I watched the invincible Don reduced to a sobbing wreck, feeling no pity at all. After personally sending Serena to a federal supermax, Leo returned to our old apartment, swallowed a bottle of pills, and slumped against the wall to die. "This time, I am not looking for anyone else. Just you," he whispered. But as he took his final rattling breath, I simply turned away and left him in the dark forever.

Khloe was pinned inside a crushed car, cold metal piercing her abdomen as she slowly bled to death on the highway. Desperate and fading, she called her fiancé, Brenton, for help. But the call connected to the sound of an orchestra and a cheering crowd. He was marrying a billionaire heiress that very day, standing at the altar in the custom suit Khloe had spent six months tailoring for him. "I was in an accident... Please help me," she begged, coughing up blood. "Don't play these games," Brenton hissed with pure venom. "It would be better for everyone if you just disappeared. Die, for all I care." The line went dead. The silence was heavier than the twisted metal crushing her. As she flatlined in the back of an ambulance, memories of her pathetic life flashed before her. She was just the orphaned daughter of their driver, a charity case they bullied, used, and discarded. His sister stole her designs, and Brenton's love was nothing but a manipulative chain to control her. She had given that family her entire life, her talent, and her heart. Why did her absolute devotion only earn her a cruel, lonely death while he celebrated his new marriage? When Khloe opened her eyes again, the agonizing pain was gone. She was standing in the Waldorf Astoria suite, wearing the pristine white silk gown from her engagement party a year ago. Staring at the drugged champagne Brenton expected her to drink, she picked up a heavy crystal decanter instead. This time, she would make the rules.

Ginny was chained to a concrete pillar in an abandoned warehouse, bleeding and betrayed by the two people she trusted most. Her fiancé, Brant, and her adopted sister, Coretta, had just slashed her face open. Brant coldly admitted she was nothing but a disposable key to a vault, right before he tossed a lighter onto the gasoline-soaked floor. As Ginny burned alive in the roaring inferno, the heavy iron doors were violently smashed open. Bedford Parks—the notoriously ruthless, germaphobic "monster" of Silicon Valley whom Ginny had always feared—charged straight into the flames. Ignoring the blistering heat, he shielded her charred body with his own. A massive steel beam collapsed, snapping his spine. "I love you." He coughed up blood, whispering his final words against her blackened skin before dying to protect her. Hovering as a ghost, Ginny's soul screamed in agonizing realization. She had spent her life terrified of Bedford, yet he was the only one who truly loved her, while her supposed family laughed at her gruesome murder. Suddenly, a blinding white light swallowed the warehouse. Ginny gasped for air, opening her eyes to find herself sitting in the back of a luxury Maybach. She was eighteen again, wearing the humiliating clown makeup Coretta had tricked her into wearing on the day she was brought back to the wealthy Steele estate. Ginny stared at her reflection, her dark eyes turning cold and sharp. This time, she would tear her betrayers apart piece by piece, and she would protect her "monster."

My son Leo had just died, and the silence in our cramped apartment felt like a physical weight crushing my chest. Before I could even process the grief, my husband, Preston, kicked the door open and threw divorce papers onto the table. Behind him stood Gloria, wearing a pristine cashmere coat and the diamond pendant Preston swore he had pawned to pay for Leo's hospital bills. "Sign it," Preston said coldly. "You get nothing." Gloria smirked, mocking me for failing to keep my sick child alive. When I tore up the papers in a blinding rage, Preston slapped me to the floor. Then, my biological mother, Jerilyn, walked in. Instead of helping me, she pulled a serrated kitchen knife from her bag and plunged it deep into my stomach. As I lay dying in a pool of my own blood, Jerilyn leaned in and whispered the devastating truth. "I swapped you in the nursery. Gloria is my blood, and you belong in a Manhattan mansion. I can't let you ruin her life." Until my lungs stopped working, I was consumed by a roaring, violent hatred. My own mother had traded my life of privilege for poverty, let my son die, and then murdered me to protect the fake. Opening my eyes again, the dingy ceiling and the agonizing pain were gone. I was sitting at a wooden desk, surrounded by the chatter of teenagers. I was back in high school. And this time, I was going to make them pay.

I was born a wolfless Omega in a powerful werewolf pack, treated like a defective burden while my sister Cadence was the golden child. My fiancé, the future Alpha, slapped me over a broken mug, blaming me for driving my sister away. But that same night, I caught them making out in a VIP club, laughing about how they orchestrated her "noble sacrifice" just to ruin my reputation. When I broke off the engagement, my parents didn't care about his cheating. They blamed me for losing the pack's political alliance. To force my submission, my mother got me fired from my job and threatened to bankrupt my best friend's family. Worse, they decided to sell me off as a breeding vessel to a disgusting, four-times-divorced Alpha twice my age. "You are a wolfless burden, and it is time you paid off your debt to this pack." I had endured twenty-three years of their abuse, desperately hoping for a shred of familial love. But in their eyes, I wasn't a daughter; I was just a broken asset to be liquidated to the highest bidder. They thought stripping away my lifelines would force me to crawl back on my knees. But they didn't know about the terrifying stranger I had spent the night with. Driven into a corner, I knocked on the penthouse door of Axel Laurent—the ruthless Lycan King—and offered him a fake marriage contract. This time, I was going to watch my family choke on their own ambition.

For three years, nineteen-year-old Ella Campbell rotted in a freezing psychiatric isolation room. Her billionaire family didn't visit her once, only pulling her out today to force her to publicly apologize to Ashlyn, the perfect sister who had framed her. At Ashlyn's glamorous engagement gala, Ella was treated worse than a stray dog and forced to watch her childhood sweetheart propose to her sister. When Ella showed no jealousy, her brother Ivan dragged her onto a dark balcony and nearly choked her to death. Her mother didn't even check if Ella was breathing, merely ordering a makeup artist to paint thick concealer over the dark purple handprints on Ella's neck so the family's stock price wouldn't drop. Standing under the blinding stage lights in a shapeless gray dress, facing three hundred mocking Wall Street executives, Ella was supposed to be the broken, obedient psycho the Campbells needed. "I am deeply sorry for the pain I caused." She was supposed to end the apology there and bow to her abusers, but Ella didn't shed a single tear. "My only regret is that I didn't insist on waiting for the police to arrive that night. I deeply regret that I didn't demand a full, legal toxicology report to prove to everyone exactly what happened." As the ballroom erupted into suspicious whispers and her paralyzed twin brother finally saw the violent bruises hidden beneath her makeup, Ella's counterattack against the Campbell family officially began.

I walked into the Manhattan law firm hoping for a lifeline to save me from a crumbling life, but I walked straight into a nightmare. The man sitting at the head of the mahogany table was Carlisle Bradford—the brilliant, ruthless attorney I had left six years ago, and the man I had spent every day since trying to forget. He didn't just recognize me; he took over my custody case with a chilling, predatory focus. He looked at my worn-out coat and my empty bank account with nothing but naked contempt, openly telling me he was only here to watch me lose everything, including my daughter, Clementine. I was trapped. He was the only one with the power to help, but he was also the one person who wanted to see me destroyed, believing I had traded our love for a billionaire’s fortune. The terror peaked when I realized the truth: Clementine has his eyes, his jawline, and the same stubborn spirit he once had. If he looks at her long enough, he won't just see a client's child—he'll see the secret I’ve been hiding for six years. I thought I could fire him and vanish, but after he found me drugged and vulnerable in his own hotel suite, the lines between lawyer and enemy blurred into something far more dangerous. I’m standing in his office now, ready to fight, but as he vows to destroy my husband and protect what he calls 'his,' I realize I’m no longer just running from a divorce. I’m running from the man who is about to discover he’s a father.

I lived in a sanitized mansion kept at a constant sixty-five degrees, governed by a legal contract that dictated everything from our intimacy schedule to my "modest" wardrobe. My husband, Cedrick Fields, was a world-renowned stoic who preached discipline and emotional detachment, treating our marriage like a corporate merger and me like a line-item expense he was tired of paying. The illusion of his "virtuous" life shattered when I found his hidden tablet. I expected corporate secrets, but instead, I found a folder titled "Sanctuary." It was filled with photos of him laughing on yachts and playing with a toddler who undeniably had his eyes. He wasn't a cold machine; he was a devoted father and a passionate lover to socialite Julianna Baird. When I tried to fight back, his assistant threatened to cut the funding for my mother's ventilator, forcing me to sign a document admitting I was "mentally unstable." Then, Cedrick did the unthinkable: he moved his mistress and secret child into our home, relegating me to the servants' quarters and ordering me to play the "reclusive aunt" to protect his public image. I was forced to watch them play "happy family" in the rooms I once decorated, realizing even my own step-family had been on his payroll for years, helping him hide the betrayal. They all knew about his second life while I was being starved of affection and dignity in a house that felt more like a prison every day. But Cedrick's arrogance was his ultimate downfall. He was so distracted by moving Julianna into the master suite that he didn't bother to read the stack of NDAs I placed on his desk. Hidden among the corporate jargon was a petition for the dissolution of our marriage. He signed it without even looking up from his phone, unknowingly handing me the legal victory I needed. I didn't just leave that night; I walked out with his signature on a divorce and a folder full of evidence that would burn his "stoic" reputation to the ground.

Five years ago, my guardian, Fitzgerald Kirk, sent me a video of my childhood horse being led to a slaughterhouse. Then he cast me out, broken and penniless. Tonight, I returned to his family' s annual gala, no longer a helpless ward but a powerful woman ready for my revenge. But he and his fiancée, Cassondra, still saw me as the trash they threw away. She taunted me, asking if I' d run out of money, before "tripping" and drenching my white silk gown in red wine. She looked at me with glee, expecting the broken girl from five years ago to cry. Fitzgerald just watched, a bored smirk on his face as he told me to crawl back to whatever gutter I came from. They wanted a reaction. They wanted the hysterical girl they had destroyed. They had no idea that the memory of my horse' s death had frozen everything inside me, fueling a cold rage that had simmered for half a decade. I didn' t even glance at the stain. Instead, I calmly picked up a full bottle of champagne from a passing waiter' s tray. "Don' t worry," I said, my voice dangerously soft. "Accidents happen." Then I swung the bottle and smashed it against her head.

My supposed death was three years ago. Today, the man who orchestrated it all, Liam Miller, returned, oblivious to the spectral presence tethered to him. I was once his fiancée, tricked into a whirlwind romance orchestrated by his family. My rare O-negative blood, compatible kidney, and healthy womb weren't assets to him, but resources to be exploited for his ailing nephew Leo and his "childhood sweetheart" Chloe. At our engagement party, Chloe faked an allergic reaction, and Liam, without a second thought, abandoned me, wine-stained and humiliated. When I finally found the courage to break things off, a shocking discovery emerged: I was pregnant. He transformed into the "doting partner," but only to cage me in his family' s estate, planning to harvest our child' s cord blood and stem cells for his family's needs. Upon realizing their monstrous plot-that my baby was to be an organ farm-I tried to escape. Liam caught me, a torrent of terror and rage erupting from me. The sheer stress triggered an early, violent labor. They took my child, left me for dead in a remote clinic, and believed I was gone forever. My soul, however, remained bound to Liam. I witnessed his hollow grief, Chloe's triumphant manipulation, and the family's casual cruelty. He thought I was dead, yet still intended to carve me up for parts. But he had no idea. This was just the beginning. I was a ghost, a witness, and soon, I would be his reckoning.

Tomorrow, I, Ethan Reed, was set to marry Isabelle Davenport, the exquisite old-money bride who promised a future of prestige and endless possibilities. Our lavish rehearsal dinner glowed with anticipation, my parents beaming with pride as their "new money" son married into established aristocracy. Then, a chilling phone call shattered everything. "I'm pregnant, Ethan," Isabelle whispered, "It's Liam's." My world tilted, instantly replaced by a wave of nausea and disbelief. She didn't stop there. Isabelle demanded I postpone the wedding indefinitely, quit my career to support them, and even insisted their relationship be openly acknowledged, with Liam, her step-brother and the baby's father, moving into our condo. The next indignity: she had my belongings, including my beloved grandmother's irreplaceable quilt, dumped on the curb, then maliciously desecrated the quilt itself with cigarette burns. The final blow came when Liam staged a pathetic suicide attempt, and Isabelle, her eyes blazing, tried to force me to apologize, even offering me a letter opener to "understand his pain" by cutting myself. How could the woman I loved be so utterly manipulative, so cruelly deluded? My future, meticulously planned, lay in toxic ruins. But amidst the devastation, a memory resurfaced, a lifeline in the darkness. Today was my 30th birthday. And a childhood pact with my best friend, Chloe: "If you hit the big three-oh still single, Ethan Reed, you're mine. We marry each other. Deal?" Just as I stood broken, she appeared, the small gift in her hand, her eyes clear and steady. "A deal's a deal, Ethan," she said, cutting through the ash of my ruined life. "Marry me, Ethan. In three days. I'll handle everything."

The cold barrel of the gun pressed against my temple, my brother Ethan's face contorted with hatred. I was back, reborn, yet this nightmare replayed: Ethan blaming me for his lover Chloe’s disappearance. Then, the sickening crunch of a vehicle ramming our gate. It happened exactly as before. Ethan, obsessed with Chloe, had dismissed our security. I remember the last time: my pregnant sister-in-law Sophia lost her life, my nephew Leo was maimed. Now, it was all happening again. Trapped in the panic room, Ethan dismissed Sophia’s terrified calls as “drama,” accusing us of faking the home invasion to sabotage his affair. He remembered our tragic past, blaming *us*. Even our trusted friend Noah echoed his poisonous untruths, calling *me* a liar despite Sophia’s critical attack. How could he be so utterly devoid of humanity, so blinded by Chloe’s insidious lies, even after a second chance? The deep betrayal, the injustice, the sheer disbelief burned as Sophia bravely sacrificed herself to let me escape with Leo. But history wouldn't repeat. As Sophia fought for her life and suffered an unimaginable loss, I vowed. This time, I’d not merely survive. I would systematically dismantle Ethan’s twisted empire, ensuring he paid for every sin, and reclaim our future from the ashes of his destruction.

It began with a deal with the devil. To pay off her mother’s debt, Lesley had no other choice but to sell herself to Derek. She became his contractual lover, the envy of every other woman in the city. Derek was fascinated with her from the moment he laid eyes on her, but he didn't expect her to walk right into his trap. He thought he had gained the upper hand in this game of love, but the truth was that, faced with her innocence and her addictive sweetness, he had already lost.

I was waiting at the Registry Hall to formalize my mate bond with Gabe, my childhood sweetheart and the Alpha of our pack. He was thirty-two minutes late. When I finally found him in a private VIP lounge, his hands were buried in my cousin's hair, their lips locked together. Hailee was supposed to be my maid of honor. Instead of apologizing, Gabe looked me dead in the eye and used his Alpha authority to publicly reject me. The severing of our ten-year bond tore my soul apart, but the nightmare didn't stop there. My grandfather immediately called, demanding I clean up a mess Hailee had made. When I refused, he disowned me on the spot, froze every single one of my bank accounts, and stripped me of my family name. Within hours, my entire pack erased my existence, gleefully announcing Hailee as their new Luna. I had given my entire life to a family and a man who discarded me like worthless trash the second I became inconvenient. I was left broken, humiliated, and utterly penniless in the blink of an eye. But as I stumbled out of that sterile hall, a terrifyingly beautiful stranger stepped out of the shadows, radiating a primal power that made my knees weak. He was Caden Sinclair, the ruthless Lycan King, and he was dodging a forced political union of his own. "You need a shield. I need a wife. Marry me." Without hesitation, I signed the Eternal Vow.

For three years, I poured my blood, sweat, and tears into building Blackwood Group for Alec, my Alpha and the man I thought was my mate. But on the day of our work anniversary, I stood outside his office door and heard him talking with his Beta, shattering my entire world. "Kay is just a wolfless Omega, useful for paperwork," Alec sneered coldly. "The bonding ceremony is just a show for the elders. The real Luna, the one who carries the bloodline that matters, is Breanne. I'm transferring all of Kay's core project files to Breanne tomorrow. Let her take the credit." He even texted me later, telling me to wear a blue dress to the upcoming gala because it made me look "obedient." I had turned down a Wharton scholarship for this man. I had spent countless nights fixing his mistakes, building his empire, and giving him my youth. Yet to him, I was nothing but a disposable placeholder, expected to smile and bow while another woman stole my life's work and my place by his side. The agonizing pain in my chest didn't break me; it forged me into ice. I didn't cry, and I certainly didn't beg. Instead, I wiped his servers clean of every strategy I had ever created, left a wax-sealed resignation on his desk, and accepted a job offer from his most ruthless rival.

Fear follows Alpha Samson wherever he goes. As the ruthless leader of the Blackthorn pack, he and his beast, Savage, bow to no one. But when a haunting scent leads him to a neighboring pack's dungeon, he finds his fated mate-bloody, broken, and chained to the wall. Alora is a half-wolf, half-witch hybrid falsely accused and left to die. But her abusers made one fatal mistake: they touched the mate of a monster. Rescued by the fierce Alpha, Alora begins a journey of healing that uncovers a lifetime of lies. She isn't just a survivor; she's a weapon. Together, Samson and Alora will unleash hell on those who wronged her, unearthing dark family secrets and claiming the crown that was stolen from her birth.

I was three months pregnant when the car hit me. Lying there, barely hanging on, I called my husband-Alpha Ethan-over and over. No answer. When I finally woke up from the pain, I saw a post from his first love, Ivy. "Thank you, Alpha, for knowing how scared I am of the dark and staying with me all night. He even cleared his whole schedule today to take me to the auction, just to give me the best gift in the world. I'm so happy!" Right then, it hit me. While I was fighting to protect our child, he was with another she-wolf. I calmly liked her post and put my phone away. Since he chose his first love, I chose to let go. Seven days from now, I'd leave his world for good-with our child.

Emilia Taylor was the most unwanted daughter of the Frostridge Pack. She had no wolf, no status, and no one who truly loved her. After failing to awaken at the age of twenty-two, she was betrayed by her lover, abandoned by her family, and finally sent by her father to the Silver Moon Pack-to become Sebastian Simons' seventh bride. Sebastian was the Alpha everyone feared. Rumor had it that none of his first six wives had met a good end, and every woman who married him eventually became another name on the list of the dead. Everyone was waiting for Emilia to die. But they did not know that her failed awakening had not left her with nothing. Instead, she had gained the ability to read minds. She could hear the malice and lies hidden behind every smile. Everyone's thoughts were open to her. Except Sebastian's. She could not hear his mind, nor could she see through his secrets. When a wolfless girl abandoned by everyone meets a cold-blooded Alpha haunted by the mystery of six dead wives, will she become his next victim-or the only one who can break the curse?

"This is Virella, my wife." Three years. And that was all Alpha Kaelen gave me. No welcome. No touch. No recognition. Just another woman at his side, carrying his child. While I ruled in his absence, I was nothing more than a placeholder. A Luna he never chose. So I gave up. And I left. One rejection was all it took to break the bond. When I returned, I wasn't the Luna he abandoned. I was untouchable, respected, and feared. And no longer his to claim. Now he watches me like a man drowning... Because the woman he discarded came back as something far beyond his reach. And this time, I didn't come alone. The Alpha of Ebonmoon stands beside me, his presence crushing, and his hand firm on my waist... "Careful, Kaelen," his voice drops, dark with warning. "Rowena isn't yours anymore." His lips brush my temple, possessively. "She's mine. If you try to take her, I'll end you."

For years, Elara Park endured being called "half-breed" and "weak blood" at pack meetings. Because she was a hybrid wolf, she trusted Zack Blackwood's sweet promises. Then he rejected their fated mate bond moments after claiming her body. Before she could even breathe through the soul-crushing agony, the news was already celebrating his engagement to her vindictive stepsister, Selina. The headlines gushed about their "perfect pureblooded union." Her mother's call came like a final blow: "Elara, you're twenty-three now. It's time you contributed to the family." Marry the worthless second son of a prominent Alpha family or lose her father's empire forever. They had her trapped, ready to steal her birthright and leave her powerless. But as the heartbreak bled out, ice-cold determination took its place. Elara went to the arranged meeting at the city's most exclusive club, determined to turn her mother's matchmaking scheme to her advantage. She would agree to marriage-but on her own terms. When she found who she believed was Damian Sterling in the private suite, she cut straight to business: a contract marriage with clear boundaries, separate lives, and a guaranteed escape route. What she didn't know? The devastatingly dangerous man who'd just signed her contract with a predator's smile wasn't the pathetic playboy she expected. He was Dominic Wolfe-the Alpha King who'd been relentlessly hunting her for years. And now, she'd just signed herself over to him completely.

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

For eight years, Cecilia Moore was the perfect Luna, loyal, and unmarked. Until the day she found her Alpha mate with a younger, purebred she-wolf in his bed. In a world ruled by bloodlines and mating bonds, Cecilia was always the outsider. But now, she's done playing by wolf rules. She smiles as she hands Xavier the quarterly financials-divorce papers clipped neatly beneath the final page. "You're angry?" he growls. "Angry enough to commit murder," she replies, voice cold as frost. A silent war brews under the roof they once called home. Xavier thinks he still holds the power-but Cecilia has already begun her quiet rebellion. With every cold glance and calculated step, she's preparing to disappear from his world-as the mate he never deserved. And when he finally understands the strength of the heart he broke... It may be far too late to win it back.

I died once before, framed for a murder that never happened. I am Princess Fiona Avery of the Blackwood Pack, forced by my father into a political union with Bowen Mayer, heir to a powerful house. In my first life, my husband's mistress faked a pregnancy, accused me of pushing her into a lake, and watched as I was condemned as a murderer. I spent my final days in a mental ward, broken and drugged, until a lethal injection silenced me forever. But the dead don't always stay dead. I opened my eyes on the very day it all went wrong. My tea was still laced with sedative. My husband's footsteps were already pounding down the hall. His weeping mistress was ready to play her part. This time, I don't beg. I don't cry. I don't kneel. I summon the ruthless Gamma of the royal Shadow Guard. I demand the pack doctor examine his precious lover-right here, in front of everyone. I stake my life on a wager I know I cannot lose. They think I'm still the weak, wolfless princess they once destroyed. They have no idea what I've become.