The Complex Art of Rosie
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Rejected By My Betrothed, Claimed By The Warlord Alpha
I was born a wolfless cripple in the Richmond Pack, but by royal decree, I was engaged to the kingdom's Champion Knight, Emory. During the winter banquet, my half-sister Dessie suddenly tilted backward into the royal ice pond, screaming that I pushed her. In my previous life, I reached out in panic to save her, only to be dragged down and framed for attempted murder. When Emory dove into the freezing water, he swam right past my sinking body to rescue her instead. Once ashore, my own father and my betrothed ignored my desperate pleas. They branded me a vicious, jealous traitor. Emory publicly broke our engagement to marry Dessie, while my father threw me to the executioner to wash away the family's shame with my blood. Until my head was on the chopping block, I didn't understand. Why did my own family want me dead just because I had no inner wolf? Why did the knight who swore to protect me conspire with my illegitimate sister to destroy my life? Opening my eyes again, I was back on the snow-dusted terrace, right as Dessie was setting up the exact same trap. "A wolfless cripple like you should crawl back to the gutter," she whispered, falling backward. This time, I didn't flinch or beg for help. Instead, my fingers shot out like iron clamps, grabbing her wrist, and I dragged her into the freezing depths with me.
Chapter 1
Kalea POV:
"Emory Lambert is destined to be mine," Dessie Richmond, my sister, whispered, her voice a poisonous thread slipping through the frigid breeze of the Royal Lunar Garden. "A wolfless cripple like you should crawl back to the gutter where you belong."
Her amber eyes gleamed with malice.
Before I could even process the violent sting of the freezing air on my face, Dessie tilted her body backward, angling herself toward the black waters of the royal ice pond.
She was setting up the exact same trap from my past life.
She wanted the entire court to see her fall, to hear her screams, and to watch me take the blame for attempting to drown the favored younger daughter of the Richmond Pack.
In that past life, everything had favored her. I had screamed in panic and lunged to grab her, my fingers clamping hard around her wrist and leaving livid grip-bruises on her skin.
When we fell, I thrashed and begged Emory to save me, so when he swam straight past me to lift Dessie first, onlookers called it justice — the Champion saving the victim from her attacker.
The healers found my marks on her, and nothing of hers on me. That was enough for a charge of attempted murder.
Now, everything is different. The terrace is crowded with high-ranking nobles, and I know exactly where her nails will land.
I had already seen through her act completely. I would play along — and turn her own trap against her.
I did not flinch. Instead, I calmly extended my left arm toward her, offering the loose silver-blue cuff at my wrist as if trying to catch her. Dessie, already falling backward to fake her accident, instinctively clawed out and seized my wrist hard to make it look real, her nails digging deep into my sleeve.
Dessie's smug grin instantly froze.
Her eyes widened in shock as she realized she had grabbed me first. Before she could let go, I stopped resisting. I leaned into her pull and let her own backward momentum drag us both off the marble edge together.
A chorus of shrill gasps erupted from the noble onlookers lining the snow-dusted terrace.
Then came the deafening crash of freezing water.
The shock of the sub-zero pond slammed into my chest, squeezing every drop of air from my lungs.
The weight of our velvet winter gowns pulled us straight into the dark depths.
Dessie thrashed wildly, her arms flailing like a dying bird as her silken skirts tangled around her legs.
Even as she thrashed, her right hand remained locked around my left wrist, her nails tearing frantically at my silk cuff.
Her mouth opened in a silent scream under the water, bubbles bursting around her terrified, contorted face.
Unlike my past self, I did not scream, did not beg, did not leave a single mark on her. I stared back at her through the murky blue, cold and completely still.
Pain tore through my limbs, but my mind was clearer than it had ever been in my two lifetimes.
Above the surface, muffled shouts vibrated through the water.
"Someone help! The Richmond ladies have fallen in!"
Through the rippling surface, I saw a familiar silhouette on the bank tear off his heavy velvet cloak.
Emory Lambert.
The newly crowned Champion Knight of the Grand Royal Trials, and my betrothed.
He dove into the water with a clean, powerful slice.
His eyes scanned the depths, searching desperately.
He looked right past my sinking form.
Without a single glance in my direction, Emory swam furiously toward Dessie, wrapping his strong arms around her waist to haul her toward the light.
A bitter, silent laugh bubbled in my throat.
He was supposed to be my promised mate by royal decree, yet his body reacted purely on instinct to save my illegitimate half-sister.
I let my limbs go limp, allowing the darkness of the pond to drag me downward.
I needed this.
I needed every high-ranking noble on that terrace to see him choose her over me.
Darkness began to creep into the edges of my vision.
My lungs burned for oxygen.
Then, the water exploded behind me.
A massive shockwave ripped through the freezing depths, stirring a violent current that pushed the weeds aside.
A shadow moved with terrifying, predatory speed.
Before I could even register the beast-like force tearing through the water, a pair of scalding, calloused hands locked onto my waist.
The grip was unyielding, made of pure steel.
I was yanked violently against a broad, rock-hard chest.
Even submerged in ice, the overwhelming scent of crushing cedar and raw, wild musk flooded my senses, piercing straight through the freezing haze in my mind.
It was the aura of a dominant, top-tier Alpha.
Yet the moment his skin touched mine, the suffocating pressure of his command miraculously softened, wrapping around my freezing body like an invisible shield.
I forced my heavy eyelids open.
Through the distorted water, I looked directly into a pair of piercing, golden-amber wolf eyes.
Gaines Moss.
The notorious young lord of the Moss Pack, heir to the northern iron legions, and widely feared across the capital as an uncontrollable, violent rogue Alpha.
There was no cruelty in his gaze.
Only a dark, frantic intensity that bordered on madness.
The moment my wet shoulder pressed against his collarbone, a sharp, electric jolt surged from his palm straight down my spine.
My frozen muscles trembled beneath the sheer heat of his touch.
Gaines's jaw tightened.
His arm banded around my waist with possessive force, pulling me flush against him as his powerful legs kicked against the current, launching us toward the surface like an arrow.
On the other side of the pond, Emory was already breaking through the surface with Dessie clutched tightly against his chest.
The freezing air hit my face in a violent rush as Gaines hauled me out of the water, his long fingers instinctively cradling the back of my head to shield me from the jagged marble edge.
The deafening roar of the royal court swept over us in an instant.
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The Art of Temptation
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The Art of Vengeance
The first thing I felt was pain-a searing acid burning my face-as voices outside my hospital room whispered low and urgent. My eyes were bandaged, but I knew the sterile scent of a private ward. This was Noah' s doing, my brilliant tech mogul fiancé, who' d promised me the world. We were the perfec
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THE ART OF DISGUISE
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Serena gave everything to the man she loved-her trust, her devotion, her future. But betrayal shattered it all. Pregnant and full of hope, she walked in on her husband tangled in bed with another woman. What followed was worse: the slow, agonizing loss of her baby... and then her own life, bleedin
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THE ART OF REDEMPTION
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The art of remembering
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THE ART OF DECEPTION
Renowned art critic Lena Grant is drawn into a world of forgery and deception by a mysterious stranger known as "The Phoenix." As she uncovers the truth, she must confront her dark past and navigate a complex web of secrets and lies.
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The Complex Vision
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The Art of Starting Over
At eighty, I lay dying in a sterile hospital room, a life I felt was utterly wasted flashing before my eyes. My wife of sixty years, Olivia Hayes, sat beside me, her stoic composure a familiar mask. Then, her whispered confession shattered everything: "Tell Daniel… I've always loved him." Daniel,
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On The Art of Reading
Sir Arthur Quiller-Couch (1863-1944), who often published under the pen-name of 'Q', was one of the giants of early twentieth-century literature and literary criticism. A novelist and poet who was also a Professor of English, he helped to form the literary tastes of generations of literary students
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The Gentle Art of Faking
may with some reason be looked upon as a comedy in which the leading parts are taken by the Collector, the Dealer, and the Faker, supported by minor but not less interesting characters, such as imitators, restorers, middlemen, et hoc genus omne, each of whom could tell more than one attractive tale.
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The Roomie Complex
"Teach me" I said drunkenly "Teach me how to be a bad girl" "Are you sure about Tiny, there's a tiny addiction that comes with that" he said, looking at me through the hood of his eyes. "What am I getting addicted to?" I echoed back, trying to keep my focus on his face, and not down his chest and hi
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The Art of Hating You
Sara's legs straddling Austin's lap, their lips clashed in a fierce, passionate kiss. The sound of their lips meeting was like a spark, igniting a flame that threatened to consume them. "Mmm," Sara murmured, her lips vibrating against Austin's. "I hate you," Austin growled, his hands grasping her hi
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The Art of Lawn Tennis
Always dress in tennis clothes when engaging in tennis. White is the established colour. Soft shirt, white flannel trousers, heavy white socks, and rubber-soled shoes form the accepted dress for tennis. Do not appear on the courts in dark clothes, as they are apt to be heavy and hinder your speed of
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The sterile white walls of the restoration studio, once my sanctuary, felt like a cage closing in. My former mentor, Mark, stood in the doorway, his face a mask of disappointment, while my ambitious intern, Chloe, watched with a smirk of triumph. I was quitting, giving up the career I had painstak
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Art of Seduction
In the opulent world of billionaires, a marriage of convenience turns into a deadly game of seduction and revenge. Sharon Sims, trapped in a loveless union with her powerful husband Jacob Sims, finds herself irresistibly drawn to their ruthless business rival, Russell Harper. As the stakes rise, Sha
