He Chose Her Over Our Baby

For three years, Adah played the role of the humble, devoted wife to billionaire Atticus Sterling, erasing her own identity to maintain their cold marriage. On their third anniversary, he came home smelling of his mistress's signature perfume. When the other woman called, he didn't hesitate to leave, and when Adah desperately reached out to stop him, he violently wrenched his arm away in disgust. "Don't touch me!" She stumbled backward, her head violently connecting with the sharp corner of the marble fireplace. As darkness swallowed her whole, the man she loved didn't even look back, leaving her unconscious on the floor to rush to his lover's side. He had always mocked her, thinking she was just a poor, desperate woman who couldn't even afford next month's rent without his charity. He assumed she would always cling to him like a pathetic parasite. But that brutal blow shattered the mental cage she had been locked in for three years. Through the blinding pain, forgotten images flooded her mind in a tidal wave: a violent yacht explosion against a summer sky, endless lines of encrypted code, and her father's dying words. Why had she endured such humiliating abuse for a man who treated her like a discarded piece of furniture? When Adah opened her eyes again, the timid housewife was gone. She remembered everything—she was Adah Beaumont, the sole heir to the massive Beaumont fortune and the world's most elusive hacker, and her first act of rebirth would be handing Atticus a signed divorce agreement.

I died at the hands of my own family. My sister framed me for treason. My brother swung the silver blade. My parents called it a necessary sacrifice. My body was dumped in the barren lands like trash-and the last thing I heard was my sister whispering, "The house will finally be quiet now." But the Moon Goddess gave me a second chance. I woke up ten years in the past, drowning in the same lake where Kandace once tried to kill me. This time, I know the truth. I know every lie she'll tell. Every manipulation. Every move they'll make to destroy me. And I know the secret hidden in my own blood. A poison that will save Kandace today-and rot her from the inside out, one drop at a time. When my sister's fake drowning attempt turns into a real medical crisis, my family comes crawling. They need my blood to save her. They think I'm still the weak, obedient Omega they can use and discard. They have no idea that every drop they take is a thread in their own noose. While Kandace's body burns from the inside, I make my demands. Release my adoptive parents from their secret prison. Apologize-all of them, on their knees. Watch as my perfect sister claws her own face to ribbons in a hallucinogenic frenzy. And when The Matriarch herself arrives to investigate the chaos? I stand in front of her-calm, disheveled, the picture of a victim-and let my family's own cruelty speak for itself. They wanted a monster. They created one. And this time, I'm holding the blade. "I am just an Omega. I don't even have my wolf. What power do I have to do such a thing?" The power of knowing exactly how to destroy you.

When the anonymous photo arrived on our fourth anniversary, I found out my life as Julian Sterling's perfect fiancée was just a lie. The first thing he did when he got home was casually shatter my entire world. Julian stood in our penthouse, looking at me with absolute coldness. "Seraphina is back. She's the one I'll be marrying." He was going to throw me aside, claiming I was nothing more than a convenient substitute for the press and his powerful family. He watched me pack with a smirk, mocking my dependence on his wealth. He even made a bet with his billionaire friends, gambling a vintage Porsche that I would be back crying at his door within three days. For four years, I gave up my acting career and molded myself into his ideal, quiet companion, believing my daily devotion could melt his frozen heart. But my love was just a joke to him, a simple line item in an arrangement I had never seen. I didn't understand how he could be so casually cruel, or why my entire identity over these years had to be a meticulously crafted fraud. This time, I didn't shed a single tear or beg him to stay. I left behind every designer gown and black card, packed my old suitcase, and went straight to the clinic to burn the tattoo of his name off my skin. From now on, I am living for myself.

I was sold. A mute bride for a ruthless king. Constantine Durham thought he was buying a beautiful, broken doll to sit silently on his throne. A perfect wife. A simple transaction. He was wrong. My silence isn't weakness. It's a weapon. I'm the hacker who can shatter his empire with a keystroke. The ghost he never knew he needed. He thinks he owns me. He thinks this penthouse is my cage. But in this game of power, he has no idea I'm the one who holds all the keys. And I'm about to unlock a war he never saw coming.

My husband, the Alpha, refused to mark me for three years, claiming he was waiting for the "perfect moment." Yet, he had no trouble claiming the "stray" rogue we took in. I found Alessandro in his study, mocking me as a cold "ice sculpture" while Aria sat in his lap. He didn't just give her his affection; he gave her my life. He cleared my sanctuary, the greenhouse, to plant cheap tulips for her. He drained the Pack's emergency funds to buy her a five-million-dollar necklace meant for a Luna. But the ultimate betrayal happened in the stables. My saddle snapped mid-jump. The fall shattered my leg, and the wound sizzled with liquid silver—sabotage meant to maim me permanently. When the evidence pointed to Aria, Alessandro didn't punish her. He ordered the evidence buried. He looked me in the eye and said a broken leg might finally teach me some humility. He destroyed my reputation to boost his own ego, protecting a woman who was actually sleeping with half his council behind his back. He thought I would break. He thought I would beg. Instead, I stood before the entire Pack, played the footage of his mistress's treason, and uttered the words that would destroy him. "I, Katarina De Luca, reject you."

At the auction, my husband raised his paddle and bid five million dollars on the only keepsake I had left of my dead mother. But he didn't buy the sapphire necklace for me. He handed the velvet box to his pregnant mistress, Mia, right in front of the entire New York underworld. When I reached for it, Mia faked a stumble. Dante moved with the speed of a predator. He shoved me hard to clear space for her. My body slammed into a marble pillar, shattering my hip, while he scooped her up and carried her out, stepping over my dress without a single glance. That was only the beginning. He forced me to drain my blood to save her during a false emergency. He exiled me to a freezing cabin with no heat, leaving me to be buried alive in an avalanche while he comforted her over a lie. Lying in the hospital bed after surviving the snow, I realized I no longer hated him. Hate is passion. Hate implies he still matters. I felt nothing but a cold, heavy silence. So when he finally left the house to hunt down the truth about Mia’s baby, I didn't wait for his apology. I left my wedding ring on the bathroom counter. I dropped my phone into a sewer grate. By the time the Dragon of New York realized his wife was gone, I was already in Seattle, painting a new life where monsters couldn't find me.