He Cheated with His Stepsister, I Married a Billionaire

I died and woke up as the villain's discarded Omega mate. In my past life, I was The Surgeon-a legend in the shadows, a woman who could save a life with one hand and end one with the other. Now I'm Cora Melton: overweight, scarred, wolfless, and trapped in a werewolf romance novel as the tragic side character who dies alone and forgotten. My new body's original owner was obsessed with Alpha Draven Ward. She cornered him, begged him, and invoked an ancient pact that forced him to accept her as his mate. Now, I have inherited her mess-along with her toxic in-laws, her shredded reputation, and a baby that may or may not be growing inside me. The Ward family thinks I'm a pathetic doormat. Eleanor, my new mother-in-law, steals my mother's heirlooms and laughs about it. Jaclyn, the spoiled sister, sneers at me in every hallway. But they don't know who they're dealing with. I was an operative who could take down a squad of mercenaries with a smoke bomb and a scalpel. I healed wounds that should have been fatal and brewed poisons from kitchen ingredients. And I have one advantage they can't possibly predict: I've read this entire story. I know Molly will try to burn my face off at the mating ceremony. I know my room will be searched, my belongings stolen. I know every trap they've set, every humiliation they've planned. So I'm going to rewrite the script. Watch me survive. Watch me thrive. Watch me take everything they hold dear and crush it in my palm. The White Wolf's bloodline has returned-and with it, the prophecy of triplets. A gift from the Moon Goddess. But I don't need a prophecy to know my future. I have my own deadly skills. And I have nothing left to lose. The game has begun. And I play to win.

When Elle handed her resignation letter to the ruthless billionaire Cyrus Vanderbilt III, she calmly told him she was getting married. Her real goal was to completely escape his control and protect the secret baby growing in her womb. She entered a strictly professional fake marriage with a struggling architect named Jan to pay off her dying mother's massive hospital bills. But Cyrus refused to let her go, ordering his security team to dig into her new fiancé's background to destroy him. The truth Cyrus uncovered was a sick twist of fate: Jan was actually Cyrus's own illegitimate half-brother. To punish Elle, Cyrus weaponized his immense wealth and awarded Jan a ten-million-dollar foundation project. It was a gilded trap designed to trigger a brutal family audit that would ruin Jan's life and lock Elle away forever. Cyrus even cornered her in his penthouse, his fingers digging dangerously into her jaw. "If you walk out that door, I will make sure you never work in Manhattan again. You will starve." Elle felt a suffocating wave of rage and injustice. Their past was just a transaction, and she had already paid her dues. Why couldn't this tyrannical monster just let her go? Why did he demand absolute ownership of her future and her unborn child? When Cyrus's assistant delivered a hundred-page contract demanding Elle submit to him for life, she didn't cry or beg. She looked the assistant dead in the eyes and ripped the death sentence in half. "Tell Cyrus I will see him in hell."

For eighteen years, Arielle was raised in a cramped trailer park, treated as nothing more than a walking blood bag to keep her sick sister, Kimora, breathing. But today, her adoptive family hurled her belongings into a muddy pothole and kicked her out into the freezing rain. "Get the hell out, you ungrateful parasite! You'll rot in the gutter!" Kimora’s wealthy biological mother threw a check at her chest, warning her to stay away, while Kimora stepped out of a Porsche to mock her in the mud, flaunting her upcoming violin solo at Lincoln Center. They didn't care that Arielle was the one locked in a basement, forced to write that very violin piece until her fingers bled. They had drained eight hundred milliliters of her blood every month to keep up the illusion of Kimora's health, and now that they were done using her, they threw her away like garbage. Did they really think she was just a fragile, broken country girl who would starve without them? They had no idea she was a top-tier hacker who had just frozen a third of their offshore assets with a single keystroke. As a massive, armored Maybach pulled up to take her back to her true bloodline—the ultra-wealthy Chandler empire—and her terrifyingly powerful billionaire fiancé, Arielle wiped the mud from her face. Manhattan was waiting, and she was going to burn their world to the ground.

To the outside world, I was the envy of every she-wolf as the fiancée of Alpha Kael. But inside the gilded cage of his pack house, I was a ghost. I molded myself into perfection for him, wearing the colors he liked and suppressing my own voice. Until I walked past his study and saw him with Lyra-the orphan he called his "sister." His hand rested intimately on her thigh as he laughed, telling her, "Elara is just a political necessity. You are the moon in my sky." My heart shattered, but the physical blow came days later. During a training exercise, the safety cable snapped. I fell twenty feet, shattering my leg. Lying in the dirt, gasping through the pain, I watched my Fated Mate run. Not to me. He ran to Lyra, who was burying her face in his chest, feigning terror. He comforted her while I bled. Later, in the infirmary, I heard him whisper to her, "She won't die. It will just teach her who the real Luna is." He knew. He knew she had sabotaged the rope with silver, and he was protecting her attempted murder. The final thread of my love incinerated into ash. The next morning, I walked into the Council Hall, threw a thick file on the table, and looked the Elders in the eye. "I am dissolving the engagement," I stated coldly. "And I am withdrawing my family's silver supply. I will starve this Pack until you beg." Kael laughed, thinking I was bluffing. He didn't notice the lethal Beta from the rival pack standing in the shadows behind me, ready to help me burn Kael's kingdom to the ground.

Elena stood flawless in her bridal gown. Five years of molding herself for Dante Moretti and a powerful mafia treaty culminated now. This dress was her only solace. Then her phone buzzed. A text from Dante: "Wedding canceled." Two cold words, no explanation. Her world shattered, heart a sledgehammer blow. Dante answered her call from a hospital, commanding her to leave, no apology. Her father and 500 mafia guests outside whispered of "humiliation." Marco then cleared Dante's things, revealing he was moving his long-comatose 'white swan,' Sofia, into their intended home. Her father's ultimatum: win Dante back in thirty days, or be married to a sadistic Russian boss. Discarded, betrayed, and trapped, Elena felt absolute humiliation. She despised five years wasted, facing a fate worse than death. But as tears blurred her vision, a dangerous thought ignited: Dante wasn't the only Moretti. She wouldn't cry or beg. Instead, she'd choose the most terrifying Moretti of all, and make Dante pay for his arrogance.

I joined a brutal wilderness survival reality show, playing the perfect role of a pathetic, uneducated girl from a trailer park. I needed the five million dollar prize to fund my revenge against the wealthy family that drove my father to his death. I played everyone flawlessly. I outsmarted the arrogant contestants, ruined a corrupt restaurant owner, and secured enough food to guarantee my absolute victory. But just as I was dominating the game, a massive black helicopter landed in our camp. The show's new billionaire sponsor had arrived, and he immediately ordered his tactical guards to confiscate every ounce of food I had earned. My hard-won advantage was wiped out in seconds. The other contestants cheered, pointing at my empty hands. "Take that, you greedy bitch!" But the real nightmare wasn't the stolen food or the sudden rule change. It was the man who stepped out of the chopper. Glenn Ryan. The ruthless CEO from my past life as an elite heiress. He took off his sunglasses, his dark eyes locking onto my muddy shoes and frayed flannel shirt with a terrifying, obsessive smirk. Why was he here? Why did he instantly target me the moment I started winning? He didn't just know my true identity. He had bought this entire game just to hunt me down.