Bella Youngman

I stood alone at the marble altar, the silence of the temple pressing against my eardrums. It was my Mating Ceremony, but the groom was missing. My phone buzzed with a notification: a livestream of my mate, Alpha Cain, skipping our union to welcome my sister, Eris, home. In the video, he held her like she was fragile glass, captioning it: "True power recognizes true power." When I returned to the Pack House, humiliated, I wasn't met with an apology. I was met with a slap from my mother. Eris, feigning a powerful "Alpha Aura," claimed my mere scent was poisoning her. To "save" her, my family locked me in my room. But the true betrayal came when I overheard their hushed whispers through the door. "Use Vera," my mother said, her voice chillingly practical. "She recovers fast. We can drain her blood weekly for Eris. She can stay as a servant to raise Cain and Eris's pups." My blood ran cold. They didn't just neglect me; they planned to harvest me like livestock. They thought I was the weak Omega they exiled to the North years ago to peel potatoes. They had no idea that in the North, I wasn't a servant. I was Commander V, a warrior forged in ice and blood. I reached under my bed and pulled out my black tactical duffel. "Screw the meatloaf," I whispered. I wasn't just leaving. I was going to war.

My husband Kamden and I were the most powerful couple in New York, an unbreakable alliance of wealth and influence. To the world, we were perfect, especially with our new baby daughter, Penny, waiting for us at home. But the illusion shattered at the Jasper Stone gala when Cason Vincent walked in. He wasn't just a rival; he was a dead ringer for Kamden—a cruel, predatory mirror image who seemed to know the secrets of the year I spent in London. In front of the city’s elite, a socialite screamed that I was a fraud, accusing me of using Kamden as a "substitute" for the man I truly loved. The music stopped, and the room turned into a sea of judgmental whispers. I expected my husband to shield me, but the paranoia in his eyes was sharper than any rumor. He grabbed my scarred left hand—the one I had ruined to save his life years ago—and squeezed it until I winced in pain. "Am I just a replacement?" he hissed, his voice trembling with a terrifying insecurity. He didn't see the wife who had sacrificed her world-class piano career for him; he saw a woman who had settled for a copy. The injustice of it felt like a physical blow. I had destroyed my body and my future to keep him safe, yet he was ready to believe a stranger’s lies over three years of marriage. He didn't want the truth; he wanted me to beg for his forgiveness for a sin I never committed. I realized then that my silence wasn't an admission of guilt, but my last shred of dignity. I pulled my hand away and walked out of the gala alone, leaving Kamden standing face-to-face with the man who had come to dismantle our lives.

The champagne was still bubbling in my hand when a five-year-old boy ran onto the ballroom floor and screamed "Daddy" at my husband. Then his mistress, Hayden, walked in wearing a dress that cost more than my car, announcing to the stunned crowd that they were a family. Instead of kicking them out, Emilio protected them. The next day, when I confronted them, Hayden lied and claimed I tried to hurt her. Without hesitation, Emilio shoved me hard to "protect" his real family. I fell backward onto the concrete curb. While I lay there bleeding, losing the baby I had wanted for years, he didn't even check on me. He stepped over my body to comfort his mistress and illegitimate son, leaving me to wait for the ambulance alone. In the hospital, I learned the sickening truth: he had only married me years ago because he thought I was terminally ill and would die quickly. Now that I had survived, I was just an inconvenience blocking his happy ending. He even tried to force me to sign away my assets to save his company from a scandal caused by his mistress. "You're nothing without me," he sneered. I looked at the check he offered to buy my silence and tore it up. If he wanted me gone so badly, I would grant his wish. I arranged for a one-way ticket to Zurich and left a single white tulip on his pillow—the flower of the dead. To the world, Elana Acosta died on that pavement. But Elana Valeri was just getting started.

A sharp pain shot through my head, pulling me from a deep darkness. I opened my eyes to my luxury penthouse, but I shouldn't have been there. I remembered dying. The memory was cold and sharp: my protégé, Dustin, sold me out, and my husband, Graves, watched our company crumble, leading to my fatal heart attack. Then, Graves appeared, his charming, empty smile unchanged. But he wasn't alone. A young woman, Alex Salazar, stood behind him, clutching her cheap handbag. Graves introduced her as an intern, saying she had nowhere to stay and would be living with us. My eyes fell to her neck, where a dark hickey was partially hidden. The date on the nightstand confirmed it: I had traveled back in time to the exact day Graves brought Alex home in my previous life, the beginning of my long, painful nightmare. Last time, I had screamed and thrown things, starting my humiliation. A strange calm washed over me. I had been given a second chance, not to win him back, but to escape. "Of course," I said, my voice even, "The poor thing. We should take care of her." Graves looked surprised, then relieved. He thought he had won. "In fact," I continued, pulling out divorce papers, "I'll make sure she's comfortable. You just have one small thing to do for me." I wanted the Malibu property. "Give me that, and I'll walk away quietly. You can have your new life. You can take care of this... orphan."

The world shattered in a flash of white-hot light, and the screaming began. My husband, John, once the living proof of my life' s work, a hero reborn, transformed into a monster right before my eyes. He wasn't just violent; he was unrecognizably enraged, tearing at reinforced barriers with superhuman strength given by the very neural chip I designed to heal his mind. In the ensuing chaos, a heavy stanchion swung, hitting me. I woke up in a sterile hospital room, a hollow ache where my baby bump used to be. Our child was gone. John, who had caused this, sat nearby, his face a battleground of conflicting emotions. He blamed me, "Our child is dead because your work wasn' t good enough, Eve." His words twisted the dagger. Not only had he stolen our child, but he also accused my life's dedication, corrupted by my shrewd rival, Vivian Thorne, whose name on his lips felt like the ultimate betrayal. They stripped me of everything-my project, my license, my credibility-a public execution at my hospital bed. Then, Vivian, with a sickeningly sweet smile, proposed using my dead son's genetic material, combined with my stolen neural map, to create her "perfect" being. The horror paralyzed me. This wasn't just theft; it was a profane violation. I was forced to concede, typing out the master password to my life' s work. But then, a flicker of something new ignited within me. "You have no idea what you' ve just done," I whispered. Trapped, tortured, alone, a faint whisper echoed in my mind from the depths of despair. It's not over. It was my own voice-clear, strong, a promise of retribution.

The studio lights were blazing, but a different kind of heat spread through me-the fizzing anticipation of finally revealing my four-year secret with Liam, my celebrated architect boyfriend. He was "ArchitectGod," I was "ChefSweetheart," and our in-game mansion, "Evermore Estate," held the truth of our love. Tonight, on the "Building Love" finale, I' d log in live and propose. Just minutes before the broadcast, I found a quiet corner backstage. My thumb hovered over the familiar game icon, a smile touching my lips. But instead of our virtual home, a sterile system notification popped up: "Your partnership with 'ArchitectGod' has been terminated. You have been removed from the shared property 'Evermore Estate.'" My mind went blank. My message to Liam, "What's going on?" was met with three chilling words: "It's over, Ava." Then, a 10,000,000 gold coin transfer. A severance package. My secret life, dismissed with meaningless game currency. The online forums exploded: "ArchitectGod just dumped ChefSweetheart!" Before I could breathe, I was ushered onto stage. The host announced Liam's "new partner"-Chloe Green, a rival designer. Liam, the man I loved, stood beside her, his face a mask of cool indifference. My blood ran cold as Chloe announced they' d been "collaborating secretly in the game for a little while now." They had stolen my life, online and off. My stomach clenched. This wasn't just a breakup; it was a public execution. I stood frozen under the hot lights, their betrayal burning into my soul. Why? How could he do this? I had to fight back.

My mother' s voice, thick with religious fervor, announced her latest decree for SAT season: 100 days of no secular music, no TV, no internet. This wasn't the first time. I remembered falling down the stairs, Molly's raging accusations still ringing in my ears, right before the darkness consumed me. Now, I was 16 again, trapped in the same suffocating reality, but with the chilling knowledge of how it all ended for me. My twin sister, Molly, quickly embraced Mama's extreme rules, her 'pious' facade masking pure laziness, while I quietly perfected my escape plan. As Molly spiraled into isolation at school, earning the nickname "Amish Girl," my mother, Debra, only tightened her grip, even forbidding basic hygiene. The SAT scores revealed my 1580 against Molly's dismal 850, shattering Mama's carefully crafted image, especially on live stream. Instead of facing reality, Mama demanded I sacrifice my Duke acceptance, "for Molly's sake," a sister who had literally killed me in my past life. How could my own mother expect me to give up my entire future, again, for the one who destroyed me? Why was I back? This time, I wouldn't argue, I wouldn't compromise, and I certainly wouldn't die for their delusions. This time, I was getting out, even if it meant watching them burn their own lives to the ground.

Ethan swirled his whiskey, convinced, "Relationships, marriage, it's all a game, and the one who cares less, wins." He' d often said it, casually dismissing his wife, Chloe, and believing she loved him too much to ever leave. Then came Mark's hushed words, cutting through the bar's noise like a knife: "She's dead, Ethan." Dead? Ethan laughed, a harsh, unnatural sound, certain it was a twisted prank. Chloe was just at Olivia's, throwing a tantrum, he' d even mocked her "vacation" in a text. He meticulously cleaned, cooked her favorite meal, and replaced her drooping orchid, waiting for her triumphant return. But the food grew cold, the silence deafening, as his delusion deepened. Then, Mr. and Mrs. Peterson stood at his door, their faces etched with a grief so profound it shattered his constructed reality. "She is dead, Ethan!" Mr. Peterson roared, "Dead because of you! You killed her spirit long before that car ever touched her!" Ethan swayed, his mind reeling. Dead? But how? Why couldn't he remember? Why did everyone look at him with such hatred, such pity? Was he truly capable of something so monstrous that his mind had simply erased it? A blinding headache pulsed behind his eyes, a terrifying void in his memory threatening to swallow him whole. As the ceramic bird Chloe made finally fell from his numb fingers, the dam in Ethan' s mind broke. Memories, cold and brutal, flooded in: ignoring her calls during a storm, prioritizing a deal over her safety, her body under a white sheet, his blank stare at her funeral. Months later, a diagnosis came: glioblastoma. The doctor offered surgery, but warned it could erase his traumatic past. "I won't forget her," he rasped, refusing the memory-erasing procedure. He would cling to the pain, a constant reminder of the woman he destroyed, now the only thing left of her he deserved.

For fifteen years, I poured every ounce of my being into raising my "brother" Billy-Joe, sacrificing my own dreams and college education to get him to his NFL draft party. He was my whole purpose after our parents supposedly died. At Billy-Joe' s draft party, the festive air turned noxious. I saw them: Earl and Sue-Ellen, my "dead" parents, alive and too prosperous, doting on a jeweled stranger named Tiffany. My blood ran cold when they confessed the brutal truth: I was a mere "swap," used to raise their biological son, while their true daughter Tiffany lived in luxury as the Governor's child. Fifteen years of my life, my sacrifices, were just a "business decision." "She was useful," Sue-Ellen hissed, "Now you're a loose end." Before I could process their betrayal, pain exploded, and darkness claimed me. I woke up gasping, not in the afterlife, but in my old trailer bed. It was the day of their fake funeral. My body was intact, yet I had been brutally murdered. How could they fake their deaths, then try to kill me for their monstrous secret, leaving the world to pity them? This wasn't grief; it was a cold, sharp fury. This was no nightmare. This was a second chance. And I knew, with chilling clarity, every single payback I was going to exact. They thought they had disposed of me? They were about to pay.

Ethan Caldwell, the silent, brooding man I hired to protect me, became my world. I’d found him battered and broken in an alley, a lonely art student extending an impulsive hand. For months, he was my quiet guardian, his intense gaze a constant comfort. Then my stepsister, beautiful, fragile-looking Chloe, entered our lives. She spun a story of childhood bravery, of saving a boy, clinching it with a cheap, painted whistle she swore was a cherished memento. Every word was a lie. In an instant, Ethan’s loyalty mutated. His icy stare, once a barrier to the world, turned on me, accusing. Chloe, his supposed childhood savior, became his singular, toxic obsession. His "protection" transformed into a relentless torment for me. My art, my passion, systematically obliterated. My masterpiece, ruined by her "clumsy" accident. My painting hand, my Achilles tendon, deliberately shattered to cripple my future, all dismissed as "an unfortunate incident." My own father and brother, swayed by Chloe’s manipulative pleas, turned their backs, echoing accusations of my "jealousy" and "instability." Ethan—the man I saved, the man I trusted—suppressed undeniable evidence of Chloe's deceit, even orchestrating her winning a prestigious art competition with *my* stolen designs. I lay physically broken in a hospital bed, isolated, bleeding internally from my stepsister's calculated cruelty. How could the man I saved—the man who claimed to protect—become my ruthless tormentor? Was his devotion to Chloe’s fabricated innocence so profoundly blind he’d sacrifice *everything* for her: truth, justice, even my life? When they demanded a public apology from me for Chloe's lies—a condition for receiving life-saving medical care—something inside me snapped. At a high-society gala, facing their public condemnation, I finally hit back. I raised my cane. Not at Chloe, but at my own mending leg, deliberately inflicting fresh horror to expose every lie, every betrayal. This was my fight, and I would make them see the truth, no matter the cost.

Here’s the translation: In our next encounter, he had become a top celebrity. Meanwhile, I was still at the village entrance catching geese. Someone mentioned me and asked, "Do you still keep in touch?" Zhou Sinian glanced down at me and replied, "No contact, not familiar." Three years ago, he said I was too clingy and that there was no way we could be together. After hearing that, I deleted his contact information, threw away his gifts, and walked away. I thought he was still the same. But I didn’t expect that from the very beginning of participating in the dating show, he was there for me.

For two years, I was Alpha Jase Davenport's loyal assistant and secret bed-warmer. Because I was a wolfless Omega, I trusted his empty promises instead of instincts I didn't possess. Then, a push notification from a notorious gossip blog shattered my world. Jase was pictured in Paris, his hand intimately resting on the waist of my cruel stepsister, Kira. The headline screamed that he was finally claiming his fated Luna. Before I could even process the betrayal, Jase texted me a cold command to update his schedule, treating me like a soulless employee. Immediately after, my mother called to gloat. "Did you honestly believe an Alpha like Jase would settle for a defective creature like you?" She threatened to freeze my late father's Pack trust fund unless I agreed to marry an abusive, elderly Alpha to be his breeding mare. If I refused, I would be cast out as a penniless stray, easy prey for any Rogue. I was nothing but a convenient placeholder to Jase, and a piece of livestock to my own family. They thought they had me completely cornered, ready to steal my inheritance and leave me to die. But as the panic subsided, a cold clarity took its place. My father's will only required a legal mating bond to unlock my millions; it never said my family had to approve of the groom. I wiped my tears, opened my laptop, and searched for a disgraced, debt-ridden Rogue named Babe Vincent. If I needed a husband on paper to secure my freedom, I was going to buy one.

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.

As a wolfless charity case at the Hyde Pack's celebration, my world shattered when Braydon, my supposed protector, publicly announced Katherine Parrish as his Luna, erasing me. Heartbroken, I fled into a terrifying contract marriage with Alpha King Dallas Marshall for protection. Braydon's public assault and threats forced me to reveal my secret marriage, challenging the King. My "protection" felt like a prison. Braydon revealed I was a "key" to power, not a mate, confirming my fears. Enraged by my attempt to take a morning-after pill, Dallas forced me to swallow it, then branded my lips with a furious kiss. His chilling silence hardened my resolve. I immediately drafted an addendum to our contract, setting strict boundaries to reclaim control.

I was a wolfless Omega, sold to the powerful Blackwood Pack to save my bankrupt family from ruin. But on my wedding day, as I walked down the aisle alone, my groom didn't show up. Braden, the Alpha heir, had abandoned me at the altar. He boarded a private jet with his scentless human mistress, leaving me to face the cruel mockery of the most powerful Alphas in North America. To clean up his mess, the Dowager Luna offered me two humiliating replacements to fulfill our sacred marriage treaty: a brute who despised me, or a trembling coward who couldn't even look me in the eye. The pack members sneered, publicly screaming that I was nothing but "leftovers" and a rejected stray. They expected me to lower my head, accept their scraps, and remain a pathetic pawn in their political games. They thought a fragile, wolfless girl would just break down and cry. But a white-hot pride ignited in my soul. I refused to be their victim. I rejected both of their pathetic options and pointed directly at the most terrifying man in the room—the Lycan King himself. "I demand a replacement. I choose him." I didn't just escape humiliation; I forced the ruthless King to make me his Queen. Now, I am the Luna of the entire pack, wielding the power to control their fate, and stepmother to the coward who threw me away. It's time to teach these beasts exactly who they are dealing with.

Zarelle Feymere-heiress to the most powerful werewolf dynasty in the world-made one mistake: she fell for an Alpha who saw her as nothing more than a rare blood bag. For three years, she endured the humiliation of a loveless mating, her veins tapped like a commodity to sustain the woman Calden Ashmoor truly loved, Thessaly. His fated mate, who rejected him to marry his brother. When a web of lies and betrayal is uncovered, Zarelle does the unthinkable: she walks away. Now, stripped of her disguise as a docile omega, the true daughter of the Missatian Pack returns to claim her birthright-and her revenge. Calden always thought he'd married a nobody. He never expected his discarded mate to come back as a queen.

When I woke up with a hangover, I found a handsome and naked stranger sleeping beside me. --- I'm Tanya, a surrogate's daughter, an omega with no wolf and no scent. On my 18th birthday, when I planned to give my virginity to my boyfriend, I found him sleeping with my sister. I went to the bar to get drunk, and accidentally had a one-night stand with the handsome stranger. I thought he was just an ordinary werewolf, but they said he was Marco, the alpha prince and the most powerful Lycan in our kingdom. 'You slut, you're pregnant! Fortunately, Rick is kind enough to let you be his mistress and save you from shame.' my stepmother said, tossing a pregnancy strip on the table. Rick was an old pervert. No she-wolf could keep up with his sexual demand. No she-wolf could survive with him more than 1 year. When I was in despair, Marco came to my rescue. He got down on one knee, took out a ring and said he would marry me. --- I thought Marco married me because he loved me, but later I found that was not the truth...

I thought nothing could hurt more than being betrayed by my mate, until I found out he married my friend behind my back! One night. One mistake. One unforgettable encounter with the one wolf I was never meant to touch: The cold, dangerous Alpha. My ex's sexy older brother. It was supposed to be meaningless. Then I woke up marked. and very much not alone. Turns out, the real danger wasn't sleeping with the wrong brother... It's that he never planned to let me go.

I am the Fated Mate of Alpha Damien Blackwood, but because I was born a wolfless Omega, I was kept as his dirty little secret. The constant rejection from my mate was literally killing me. The Pack Healer handed me my death sentence: Terminal Soul Wither. My life was ticking down to its final months. While I sat in the dark, dying and gasping for air, Damien threw a twenty-million-dollar fireworks festival for his chosen future Luna, Isabelle. When he finally came home, reeking of her perfume, he only looked at me with eyes as cold as winter ice. "It's your ovulation window. Let's get this over with." He only wanted to use me to breed a powerful heir. He threatened to exile my only remaining family if I didn't comply, and even ordered me to draft a legal petition to invalidate my own existence so Isabelle could take my place. Even my adopted brother Jax, whom I suffered for years to protect, publicly threw me to the dirt just to ally with a powerful Pack. I sacrificed my brilliant future as a top strategist to marry Damien, enduring three years of abuse and isolation. Why did I have to rot away in agony while they celebrated my replacement on glossy magazines? I wouldn't let them watch me die in their golden cage. I signed the ancient Rejection petition, dropped the manor keys, and walked out into the freezing night. This time, I chose to sever the bond myself.

I woke up with a vicious hangover in the bed of Kaelen Blackwood, the ruthless Alpha King of our city. As a wolfless Omega, I panicked and told him I couldn't be his because I had a boyfriend, Julian. But Kaelen just sneered, and hours later, I found out why. Julian had been cheating on me with the princess of the rival Thorne Pack, colluding with the very enemies who ruined my family. When I tried to run, Kaelen cut off every escape route. He branded me with his suffocating scent, tracked my every move, and threw a Mate Contract on my lap. He knew my deepest, darkest secret: I was hunting Alaric Thorne, the monster who murdered my mother. "Sign it. It's your only ticket in." Three years of my life with Julian had been a pathetic lie. I was betrayed by the man I loved and sold out to the pack that destroyed my mother. My ex thought I was just a weak, discarded Omega he could trample on. He thought I was left with nothing. He was dead wrong. I took the billionaire Alpha's pen and signed the contract, demanding a shadow team and untraceable resources in return. Tonight, at the elite charity gala, I stood draped in diamonds beside the most dangerous predator in Manhattan. Seeing my cheating ex pale with absolute terror in the crowd, I looked up into Kaelen's stormy gray eyes. "Kiss me." I am no longer the prey. I am his Luna, and I am going to destroy them all.

In a world where weakness could cost someone their life, Ava Grey had been born without a wolf, and all she had ever faced was rejection and suffering. Her own kind had cast her aside, and a strange scar marked her with a secret she still didn't understand. More than anything, she had wanted to break free from it all. Then, on the night of the Lunar Gala, everything changed. It started with a single glance. One brief encounter. A bond formed against all reason and tied her to Lucas Westwood, the Alpha of the rival pack, the very man she should've stayed away from. Surrounded by hatred, rising conflict, and a fate she couldn't escape, Ava came to realize that what made her different wasn't a curse at all. It was a power others both craved and feared. As tensions grew, the packs moved closer to war. Alliances began to fall apart. In the middle of it all, one truth slowly revealed itself. The real danger wasn't the monster they thought they were fighting.