The first thing that should have told me this wasn't my room was the curtains.

I didn't have the luxury to ever have curtains of any kind in my room it was half torn up window blinds or nothing most of the time.

The second thing is that this bed was far too big to be my full sized bed. It was King sized at least with comfortable sheets and a mattress that felt like it should be illegal to get out of.

"What the…" I mumbled, pushing up to my elbows and yawning as I tried to chase away the last bit of sleepiness. The room came into focus slowly, there were cream walls with minimalist furniture and a desk with a sick gaming setup tucked neatly into the corner.

This was not my room, not even close.

I patted around for my phone but couldn't find it anywhere. Damn, had I gone drinking last night or something? My brain scrambled for any semblance of memory but it was all just a fuzzy static.

Ding.

A notification sounded from somewhere but with my skull currently feeling like it just got split open it was pretty low on my priority list.

"Water," I croaked while swinging my legs off the bed, My feet hit plush carpet instead of the chicken scratch carpet I was used to. I stood up shakily, nearly tripping at the unfamiliarity of my long legs.

Why was I so tall?

The door felt like it was a million miles away as I shuffled to it. I grabbed the handle and pulled it open to reveal a hallway that looked like it belonged on Architectural Digest. There were hardwood floors that gleamed under the recessed lighting with paintings that hung the walls and sculptures that filled up the empty void. Some of them looked like superheroes wearing capes.

Huh, must be big Marvel fans.

Another door stood slightly ajar down the hall and I went towards it. Hopefully the bathroom is here.

I opened the door and the bedroom was thankfully unoccupied but obviously belonged to a girl. The walls were a soft purple and there was a vanity with makeup scattered across it. Posters of what I could only describe as a KPOP group who had a super hero aesthetic filled the walls as well.

"Okay, wrong room. Wait… a girls room?"

I rubbed my eyes and looked again. Yeah, it was still a girl's room.

"Holy shit," I whispered. "Did I end up at a sorority house? Did I actually lose my virginity my first semester?" I grinned despite the headache. "Fucking champion move! But why can't I remember any of it?"

The next door revealed what looked like an office. Expensive furniture, shelves of books, framed certificates on the walls. I closed it quickly.

Door number three: a linen closet packed with towels.

Fourth door: finally, a bathroom. Massive, marble-countered, with a shower that could fit five people. I staggered to the sink, twisted the fancy faucet, and splashed cold water on my face repeatedly.

The shock of it helped clear my head a little. I took a deep breath and looked up at the mirror.

A stranger stared back at me.

"WHAT THE HELL?!"

I clapped a hand over my mouth before slowly lowering it, watching the reflection do the exact same thing. The face in the mirror looked nothing like the me I remembered. This guy was tall and skinny with sharp cheek bones and dirty blonde hair. Amber eyes—who the hell has amber eyes?—stared back at me, wide with shock.

"Who the fuck are you?" I whispered, watching the stranger's lips move in perfect sync.

I touched my face and the skin felt real underneath my fingertips. I pulled at my cheeks and stuck out my tongue watching the mirror do the exact same movements.

"This is a dream," I decided. "A very weird, detailed dream. I'm going to wake up in my dorm room with a hangover any second now."

Ding.

That notification again. This time, something flashed across my vision like a heads-up display in a video game. Text floated in the air:

[SCUMBAG SYSTEM: Welcome, Host. System initialization complete.]

I blinked hard, but the text remained.

[SCUMBAG SYSTEM: Memory integration beginning. Please stand by.]

"What the actual—"

My head felt like it was exploding with the influx of information entering my brain. Names, places, years of memories that I now currently have ownership of in someway. I was the ward of Diane Fitzgerald and the unmarked son of dead heroes.

I was Lukas Belmont.

I gripped the counter as the bathroom spun around me with these foreign memories flooded my brain. He was in a city called Verano aspiring for a school named Halloran Academy. The society was filled with people that had superpowers called Aspects that were registered with something called the IHL.

And there was me, Lukas Belmont who had no powers at all.

"Holy shit this can not be happening," I whispered, but even as the words slipped out of my mouth I knew it was real.

Somehow, I had woken up in someone else's body, in a world where superheroes were real and licensed and ranked.

[SCUMBAG SYSTEM: Memory integration complete. Host identity: Lukas Belmont. Status: Unmarked. Current mission: None.]

"Mission? What mission?"

[SCUMBAG SYSTEM: Mission queue empty. Processing...]

The text hovered for a moment, then changed:

[SCUMBAG SYSTEM: New Main Quest unavailable.]

"Alright then."

I looked back in the mirror to see the stranger, well, myself now. Lukas wasn't bad looking at all he just looked tired. Those amber eyes of his carry so much weight and now they carried mine too.

I splashed some more water on my face and then grabbed the softest hand towel I'd ever had to dry off. Okay, time to get my bearings and figure out who Lukas Belmont truly was.

I headed back to what I now understood was Lukas's bedroom, my bare feet silent on the hardwood. As I walked, another notification pinged:

[ORACLE FEED ACTIVATED]

[Current threat assessment: None]

[Local points of interest: Kitchen (occupied) - Sloane Fitzgerald present]

Text appeared in my peripheral vision, listing information about the house layout and current occupants. Apparently, part of this "system" was an awareness feed that told me where people were and what they were doing.

"That's not creepy at all," I muttered, pushing open the door to Lukas's room.

Inside, I found the closet and pulled it open. Rows of clothes hung neatly—expensive-looking but understated. I grabbed jeans and a dark hoodie, both of which fit perfectly. Of course they did. This was supposedly my body now.

As I dressed, I caught sight of a photo on the nightstand. A man and woman in colorful uniforms smiling proudly at the camera.

Lukas's parents.

Investing In My Three Crippled Wives Get 10,000x Times Return

Any kind of response from readers support authors in rankings so don't shy from doing whatever.

Milestones:

2 Bonus Chapter – 200 Power Stones / 5 Golden Tickets

5 Bonus Chapters – 350 Power Stones or 100 comments or 30 Golden Tickets

10 Bonus Chapters – 500 Power Stones or 200 comments or 100 Golden Tickets

...

"Life is never made unbearable by circumstances, but only by lack of meaning and purpose." — Victor Frankl

___

[10,000x Investment Multiplier System]

[Requirement for System Integration: Minimum of 0.1 Affection (1/3)]

The evening sky glowed orange as the sun set. Its rays reflecting off the roof of a small bungalow building in an urban neighborhood.

In front of this building was a limousine and five people.

"Here is the house key deed, the key, and ten thousand dollars. The Ashford family will no longer have anything to do with you as of this moment. Do we understand each other?"

Dexter opened his mouth.

The butler didn't wait for Dexter to speak, nor did he offer a parting glance. He simply stepped back into the black limousine, leaving nothing behind but the faint smell of premium exhaust.

Dexter stood there, staring blankly.

He looked down at the key in his palm. It was faded and worn, as though a hundred people had used it.

Dexter was born into the wealthy Ashford Family by a slave mother who died during childbirth.

The kind of life she led was devastating.

Can it even be called life?

When the world was torn apart inside out, and zombies ran rampant in every corner of the Earth, it would be a miracle for someone to even live this long.

***

Crunch

A woman trudged along the ground floor of an abandoned parking lot inside a building. Behind her back, a bag, carrying what was left of her supplies, slightly swayed as she moved. Her direction was the old truck that made a lot of noise—one she had been using since she got separated from her team.

It wasn't the most ideal form of transportation since it attracted a lot of zombies. But she had no choice, since it was the only one working. Other cars had already been taken or torn apart for their batteries and gases.

She shoved the bag into the truck, got inside, inserted the car keys in one fluid motion, and quickly left the parking lot.

The outside was even worse to look at.

The touch of what could resemble life was stripped away. Bloodstains that had long turned into brown smudges, bodies that hadn't mutated into zombies but rotted away, littered the road. Cars blown and abandoned were everywhere.

Of course, zombies, who are now the main citizens of this ruined world, were around as well. They aimlessly wandered, not knowing when a new foolish human prey would end in their midst.

As a human, she should've been afraid. Run and hide from them.

But…

She looked down at her bandaged arm. Blood was already seeping through. Wrapping a new one around the wound was impossible. Not with what was left of her supplies.

Besides, what was the point?

Outside the wrapped bandage, ghastly blue marks branched out across her arms, climbing to her shoulders, chest, and neck. She looked in the rearview mirror.

Her left eye had long lost its use. The eye no longer resembled a human's eye, lacking a distinct sclera and filled with hollow darkness. The only feature left was her pupil, which had turned bright red. Marks resembling the ones on her arms have also started to show on half of her face.

She was mutating.

Ah, life was good.

At least, before she died and became a zombie, she could read the novel she had been dying to get her hands on. It was her only form of escape from the harsh reality of the apocalypse.

As she drove down the street, the sound of the car attracted several zombies. But she didn't stop, accelerating her speed as if nothing else mattered.

"Grrr."

"GRRR!!!"

From inside the car, she could hear them growling. Prolonged hunger made them sensitive and violent.

"Come on, you motherfuckers."

She smiled as she sped up once more.

"Catch me if you can."

And then—

A small form stood in the middle of the road.

It was a zombie child.

It shouldn't affect her seeing a zombie appear before her. Especially, a child wasn't a rare sight either. It was the harsh reality of this world. No one was safe from total destruction when the apocalypse arrived. 

But pain ripped through her the moment she caught sight of it. The child faced the truck with unfocused red eyes. Jaw dribbling in drool and snarling ahead. What was left of that face barely resembled what she could remember. 

Startled by the sudden appearance of this zombie child, her foot involuntarily pressed hard on the brakes—and froze.

Her heart dropped.

Do it. Her mind screamed inside, telling her to ram the truck into that small form.

Even so, she couldn't do it.

Instead, tears ran down her face. Her lips curling into an ugly, pained smile. 

"Let's go, little brother."

CRASH!

Yet, she still couldn't bring herself to harm the child.

She missed the form before she could hit it, swerving to the other side and ramming against the wall. The impact hit like a bomb. She was thrown forward like a rag doll. Her body collided against the concrete wall like an egg against rock.

Agony erupted through every inch of her body. She couldn't tell which part hurt the most—it all just hurt.

Is this my… end?

The thought scared her.

At the same time, it gave her some relief.

She tried to look out, just to get one last glimpse of that small form she saw just now. Once more. Let me see you one last time.

She fought to stay awake, clinging to the pain to keep her eyes open. But it was no use. Darkness swallowed everything before she could see her little brother one last time.

And then—

She woke up.

Facing a strange ceiling with bright lights and the smell of sterile chemicals didn't register immediately. Blinking, she moved her eyes around. This was clearly a hospital room. And she was lying in a hospital bed.

But she could've sworn she'd died. The crash might have been the reason, but if the mutation moved faster than the death caused by that crash, she would've been roaming around or trapped inside the car as a zombie.

Not lying in a clean-looking hospital room.

Is this a dream?

But something was definitely off.

If she pinches her arm, she might wake up. She did just that and jolted with pain.

"..."

"Maybe it wasn't enough?"

Pinching might not be sufficient. Could it be that she had to jump from the window and see if she wakes up from it?

She turned her head to the window; the wind was blowing through the white curtain. It was open and big enough for a person to crouch out into.

Testing her theory, she walked to the side of the window. It was slightly higher than she thought. She was already taller than most girls. How high can this window be?

Dragging a chair beneath the window, she climbed on top of it and grasped the windowsill.

Half of her body was already halfway out of the window when a sound came from inside the room.

'Clattering'.

She turned her head, poking out of the window to look inside. A woman in a nurse's uniform stared at her in a horrified manner, jaws pried wide open.

"Miss Aisha! What are you doing?!"

The nurse's face broke into panic, shocked and horrified by the scene before her.

Annoyed by the patient, the nurse said, "Step away from the window and get back inside. This performance should end now!"

But the woman halfway out of the window glanced at her with a disinterested look. She poked a leg out, leaving only one leg to step on the stool.

By the time the nurse finally reacted, she was already tilting her body downward.

Caspian had been working overtime through the entire New Year holiday. Veyra Solenne decided she would surprise him. She'd fly out, knock on his hotel door, watch his tired face crack into a smile.

Only business class seats were left. Although she felt bad about the ticket price, she thought it was worth it.

She sat there for a full minute, unable to figure out how to lower the tray table.

The woman beside her — polished, bored, gorgeous in the particular way that costs money — let out a short laugh.

"Never flown business before?"

Veyra managed an awkward smile. "Sorry. You must run a company or something. You've got that air about you."

"Me? No." The woman waved a manicured hand. "But my benefactor does. If I'm not in business class, he sends a private jet."

"A benefactor," Veyra said. "Those must be hard to come by."

"Not really." The woman's mouth curved. "I'm his subordinate. I keep making expensive mistakes at work. He scolds me until I cry, and then—" she smiled, letting the sentence finish itself.

A small chill moved down Veyra's spine, though she couldn't have said why. "Funny," she said slowly. "My husband has a colleague like that too. Always making mistakes."

"You're married?" The woman's eyes swept over her, cataloguing. "His wife's about your age, actually."

She examined her nails.

"He says he got tired of her ages ago. Says touching her feels stale. Less interesting than watching me flip my hair."

Veyra's stomach turned, quietly, the way it does before you know why.

"I told him I wanted to see him over the holiday," the woman went on, pleased with herself. "So he told his wife he had to work."

That was when Veyra saw it. The ring on the woman's finger. A diamond, cut exactly like the wedding band she had lost two years ago.

She went still.

Caspian is an ordinary employee, she thought. So, calm down. Similar rings don't mean anything.

Her eyes fixed on the ring.

"That's a wedding band," Veyra said, her voice coming out strange to her own ears. "Did you marry him?"

"This?" The woman — Xiomara, she introduced herself, admiring the stone as it caught the cabin light — "I made him take it from his wife."

The air went out of Veyra's lungs.

"I wasn't trying to make trouble for her, honestly," Xiomara said. "But on my birthday she had a miscarriage and dragged him to the hospital. I spent it alone."

Veyra's hand drifted, without her permission, to her stomach.

The memory came back whole and freezing: black ice on the walk home from the market, a fall she hadn't seen coming, three months along, and then nothing but blood on frozen concrete. Caspian at her bedside for three days straight, not sleeping. Waking to find her ring gone along with the child.

It's okay, he'd said, voice breaking. We'll have another baby. I'll make you a new ring.

Don't, she'd told him. They're doing layoffs. Save the money. When you make it, get me one then.

She had believed, at the time, that this was a small and noble sacrifice. She had not known she was negotiating away her own ring to a woman she hadn't met yet.

"So he gave you his wife's ring," Veyra said carefully.

"He didn't want to, at first. Said he'd buy me something better." Xiomara tilted her hand, watching the light slide across the diamond. "But that old thing acts so superior just for being his wife. If I don't put her in her place, she'll think she owns the world."

"When a woman lets herself get that pathetic," Xiomara added, almost kindly, "there's really no saving her."

Veyra's fingers found the hem of her sleeve and held on. "If he spends this much on you, he must be paying her a fortune to keep quiet."

Xiomara laughed, bright and careless, and leaned in close enough that her perfume became a wall.

"Here's the funny part," she whispered. "That pathetic woman doesn't even know he runs a company."

---

"Why keep it from her?" Veyra asked. Something in her was still hoping — stupidly, stubbornly — that there was an explanation that didn't end where she thought it did.

"Because what's the point?" Xiomara turned her nails toward the window light. "She already spent her best years slaving beside him while he built everything. If you were a man and you finally made it, would you keep spending on a wife who's already worn out? Money doesn't buy back anyone's youth."

Veyra caught her own reflection in the cabin glass — hollow-cheeked, shadowed under the eyes, ten years of scraping by written into her skin. She used to look better than this. She used to look like Xiomara.

"You know, sis, you've still got some looks left," Xiomara said, studying her with the clinical warmth of someone appraising livestock. "A little cosmetic work wouldn't hurt. Your husband hasn't been that interested lately, has he?"

Veyra said nothing.

"My benefactor gives me half a million a month just for living expenses," Xiomara added, unprompted, unbothered. "Procedures are separate."

"How long," Veyra made herself ask, "has this been going on?"

Chapter 1 The Year She Was Seventeen Again

"You were the one who begged the king to force me into this marriage. Everything I've done to you... you brought upon yourself."

On their wedding night, Crown Prince Alaric Valebourne ordered his men to bind his new bride, Elowen Hale, by the wrists and throw her outside the door.

By morning, Elowen was still curled up on the freezing stone floor, sleeping in her wedding clothes.

That single night was enough for the entire Crown Prince's Wing to learn the truth—

The Crown Prince had no affection for his new wife.

For four long years, Elowen received no tenderness, no child, not even the smallest sign of favor.

The servants no longer bothered hiding their contempt.

Even the king and queen, who had once pitied her as the last surviving member of the fallen Hale family, gradually grew disappointed when she failed to produce an heir.

Elowen couldn't understand.

What had she done wrong?

Until one day, she accidentally overheard a conversation.

Alaric was speaking with one of his most trusted aides.

The man asked hesitantly,

"Lady Elowen is beautiful. She truly loves you. Do you really feel nothing for her at all?"

Alaric didn't hesitate for even a second.

"She disgusts me."

In that instant, Elowen felt the entire world turn to ice.

So I forced you to marry me?

That's truly what you believe?

But that was your father's decree.

If you didn't want this marriage, why didn't you refuse?

Why did you choose to punish me instead?

In this cruel farce, the king was praised as a wise ruler who honored the sacrifice of fallen heroes.

The Crown Prince gained sympathy and admiration.

And Elowen...

She was the only one who paid the price.

She felt like she was going to vomit, yet nothing came out.

Her eyes burned painfully, but not a single tear fell.

She walked toward Alaric like a lifeless puppet.

Then she lowered herself into a deep, respectful bow.

And calmly requested that their marriage be dissolved.

But Alaric suddenly lost his temper.

Without warning, he grabbed a nearby goblet and hurled it at her.

Elowen didn't move.

The goblet struck her temple.

Warm blood flowed down her cheek.

For a brief moment, Alaric looked stunned.

It seemed as though he wanted to step forward.

But in the end, he turned away.

Leaving behind only one cold sentence:

"There's no need to pretend you're pitiful."

Elowen stared at her reflection in the mirror.

After four years of marriage, the girl she once was had disappeared.

Her sharp features had become even more defined.

Her eyes were sunken.

Her face was pale.

Her body was thin and exhausted.

She looked like someone who had been slowly drained of life.

She finally closed her eyes and fell into a deep, weary sleep.

When Elowen opened her eyes again...

She was seventeen years old.

She had returned to the day of the royal betrothal banquet.

The king had arranged the celebration to honor the fallen heroes of House Hale and reward the last surviving bloodline of that noble family—Elowen Hale.

"Didn't I hear that you like Alaric?"

Elowen lowered her head and said nothing.

Across the room, Alaric looked at her with visible displeasure.

"Of course she does," Princess Maerwyn Valebourne said dramatically.

"Elowen is completely obsessed with him.

"Just a few days ago, when Alaric lost his necklace, she searched for it all night without sleeping."

The king laughed heartily.

"If you admire him so deeply, and the two of you grew up together...

"Then surely your feelings are mutual.

"In that case, I shall personally grant this marriage—"

No.

Please, no.

Don't say those words again.

Fear overwhelmed Elowen's mind.

Before she even realized it, she had already shouted:

"No!"

The entire banquet hall fell silent.

Guests turned to look at her.

"What?"

The king's expression darkened at being interrupted.

Alaric's brows drew tightly together.

"Your Majesty..."

Elowen forced herself to calm down.

Then, with a clear and unwavering voice, she spoke.

This time, she didn't even glance at Alaric.

She stepped forward and bowed deeply before the king, her posture graceful and composed.

"It is true that His Highness and I grew up together," she said clearly.

"But I have always respected him as the Crown Prince.

"I have never held any improper feelings toward him."

The hall fell silent.

Then Elowen raised her head.

"The person I admire...

"Is the Duke of Duskmoor.

"If I could become his wife, I would have no regrets for the rest of my life."

Elowen didn't notice...

But behind her, Alaric's expression had grown even colder.

His brows furrowed deeper than before.

Chapter 2 Playing Hard To Get?

"She wants to marry Cassian?" Maerwyn muttered under her breath. "Elowen really is the most foolish woman in the entire world."

Alaric stared at Elowen, his expression filled with curiosity.

Cassian Valebourne.

The Duke of Duskmoor.

The king's younger brother.

Back when the king was still a prince fighting for the throne, Cassian had saved his life time and time again, pulling him back from the edge of death on countless battlefields.

His loyalty and strength had played a decisive role in securing the crown.

Before this year, Duke Cassian had been the dream husband of every noble maiden in the kingdom.

But everything changed when he was stationed at the Northern Border.

During a battle, Cassian fell.

He was carried back to Duskmoor Manor...

And he never woke up again.

Physicians came and went.

Some whispered privately that the duke might remain unconscious forever.

"This marriage will not be an easy one for you," the king said with a sigh, trying to ease the tension in the hall. "Perhaps I should choose another nobleman for you instead."

But Elowen did not waver.

"Your Majesty," she said firmly, "I am deeply grateful for your compassion.

"But I have already sworn before the Holy Mother.

"In this lifetime, I will marry no one except the Duke of Duskmoor.

"I humbly ask for your blessing."

She lowered herself into a deep, formal curtsy before the King and Queen.

The sound was soft...

Yet filled with absolute determination.

Fury Unleashed: The Awakening Alpha Nira

Chapter 1 Out of the Cage

Nira's POV:

"7342, grab your stuff!"

The guard banged on the iron bars, waved a stack of papers in his hand, and added sharply, "Your release just came through. You'll be out in ten minutes. Get to the registration desk for processing."

I looked up just in time to see his back as he walked away.

Five years. And finally, that steel door was opening—for me.

Honestly, ever since my wolf, Lyra, fully awakened three months ago, I could've shattered this place and walked out any time I wanted.

But I stayed. I wanted to see how long the Sorens thought they could keep playing their little game.

I ran my thumb across a faint scar in my palm—left there the day I risked my life to save the woman they told me was my birth mother. A witch's claws did that.

That was the day I nearly died. And Lyra, my wolf soul, went into hibernation trying to keep me alive.

Losing my wolf made me worthless in their eyes. To the Blazeborn Pack's ruling family, I was supposed to be a rightful heir, the blood daughter who'd finally returned home. But the moment they learned I had no wolf, I became nothing more than a disposable burden—an embarrassment they were eager to get rid of, a convenient scapegoat when things went wrong.

They threw me into this hellhole to take the fall.

Clang! Clang! The doors groaned open on both sides of me, the blinding sunlight slicing through the dark. I squinted against it.

Behind me, a wave of muffled crying broke out in the cell block.

I turned just enough to see them—those high-ranking wolves who'd once terrorized the other inmates, now trembling, sobbing, clutching their heads.

"The demon's finally gone! Thank God! We can breathe again!"

I smirked but didn't look back.

After Lyra woke up, my powers came back. And they should be thankful I'd learned to rein in my fangs and keep most of my strength hidden, or I might have ripped their throats out the moment they started preying on the weak.

As soon as I stepped out, Lyra growled. She'd picked up a scent she hated.

I looked up. And there he was—Aven Soren, standing next to a black sedan, cigarette in hand.

The moment our eyes met, his brows pulled together, annoyed.

"Nira?" he called, like my name was something he wanted to spit out.

I gave him two seconds. Maybe less. Then I looked away.

He was nothing. Just another one of the people who helped shove me off a cliff. Might as well have been a crack in the sidewalk.

"What? It's been so long you don't even recognize your own brother?"

I smiled coldly. "How could I forget? You're the one who dragged me into this mess."

Aven hesitated for a second, clearly thrown off by how different I'd become. In his mind, I was still the girl who used to bow her head and obey—quiet, compliant, desperate for any trace of love, any sign that I belonged. And for that illusion of family, I let them humiliate me over and over again. The memory made my hands curl into fists before I even realized it.

"Get in the car. You're embarrassing yourself."

He barked it like an order, then climbed in. I didn't even glance his way. I walked around, opened the passenger door, and got in.

The road was bumpy, the air inside the car suffocating.

Cigarette smoke mixed with his cologne, burning my nose. My stomach churned. Lyra snarled in the back of my mind, repulsed by his scent.

Aven scoffed, breaking the silence. "Five years in prison. Maybe now you finally understand your mistakes."

"When we get home, you'd better keep your head down. Don't piss off Mom and Dad again. And don't go chasing things that were never yours to begin with."

I let out a bitter laugh. Never mine?

That was a warning—for Janice. The perfect adopted daughter. The one with the noble bloodline, the fully awakened high-ranking wolf. The one they cherished.

Meanwhile, I—their real daughter—was thrown away because I lost my wolf saving one of their own.

He wasn't done. "They've set up your mating ceremony," Aven said, like he was handing down a decree. "The guy's from the Alpha King's line. Considering your reputation, this is the best deal you're gonna get. You should be grateful. Don't screw it up."

I turned to him, met his eyes with a cold, unflinching stare. "If he's such a great match, why not offer him to Janice?"

Aven reacted as if I had struck a nerve. His face darkened instantly, his eyes blazing as he shouted, "Janice would never be paired with someone like..."

He stopped abruptly, swallowing the rest of his words.

Realizing he had almost let something slip, he forced himself to calm down, straightened his collar, cleared his throat, and put that familiar look of superiority back on his face.

"Janice's mate will be personally chosen by Mom, Dad, and us," he said coldly. "That's none of your concern."

Then his voice hardened even more. "You just need to follow the arrangements we've made for you."

My eyes narrowed slightly, my nails pressing into my palm without me realizing it. So this mating really was suspicious.

Inside my mind, Lyra grew restless, sending waves of sharp unease and warning through my body.

The Sorens had no intention of protecting me. To them, I was just the useless biological daughter, a bargaining chip they could trade away to protect their own interests.

Fine. I let out a quiet, cold laugh in my mind.

Five years locked away had stripped me of any illusions. I wasn't the naive girl they used to push around.

This time, I was back with Lyra's power burning inside me. I was here to take back what was mine and make every single one of them—everyone who had ever hurt me—pay for it.

This mating? It would be the first move in my revenge.

Chapter 2 No Way Back

Nira's POV:

The car bumped along the road, and the closer we got to the estate, the sharper the memories came into focus.

I was the Sorens' real daughter, born of their blood. But the moment I lost my wolf, they saw me as nothing but a stain on the family name—an embarrassment, a failure, someone no longer worth keeping.

Janice had the luxury suite, decorated like a palace. I got the leftover maid's quarters.

She wore custom gowns from elite designers overseas. I had a handful of faded, outdated pieces—clothes she didn't want anymore and had already thrown out.

For five years, in that prison, through endless nights swallowed in darkness, I lived with nothing but regret.

I regretted saving Jenna's life, only to discover she was my birth mother. At the time, Lyra had been injured and barely hanging on. Still, I was stupid enough to run to the Blazeborn Pack, thinking I'd finally found home.

I regretted clinging to that fragile connection, hoping that shared blood could mean something. Letting them abuse me, watching Janice plot against me again and again, and saying nothing.

What I regretted most was believing their lies, the promise that if I stayed quiet for a while, they would eventually treat me right. Instead, they locked me away in an institution, where I spent five years being broken down and abused, all because I didn't have a wolf.

Before I was dragged back to the Sorens, I was raised under the care and guidance of my adoptive Alpha father in the Silvermoon Pack.

I wasn't just protected. I was his chosen Alpha heir. I lived a life most wolves could only dream of—respected, well-trained, and never once denied what I needed.

I took a deep breath, forcing down the storm inside me.

The car rolled through the gates of the Soren estate. The mansion looked the same, but to me, it felt like some distant, hollow shell. Whatever warmth it used to hold was long gone.

This time, I wasn't coming back as the naive girl desperate for love and family. That girl was gone. Lyra had awakened, and I wasn't here to beg. I was here to take back everything they stole from me. And anyone who owed me—was going to pay in full.

I stepped out of the car, cold and composed, and walked through the estate's front drive.

On the way in, I passed clusters of house staff. Even the Omega maids didn't bother hiding the disdain in their eyes as they looked me up and down like I didn't belong.

They whispered and snickered, their gazes landing on the cheap, worn-out striped shirt I had on.

Aven tossed a shopping bag at me with a smirk. Said Janice had "graciously" picked out some clothes for me, in case I had nothing to wear. He told me I had to change before stepping inside.

Chapter 1 Reborn

In a locked room at the Turner estate, Larissa woke up in pain.

She held her head and looked around. Everything was dark.

She had been reborn. She was back to the very day Julia Turner framed her and accused her of pushing her into the water.

In her past life, just to gain even a shred of love from the Turners, Larissa endured being framed by them as the one who started the fire and was sent away to Ravenmind Island overseas for five years.

She'd later escaped on her own and come back. Even then, she still longed for their love.

She thought the Turners agreed to take her back because they had learned the truth about the fire. She thought they finally knew she was innocent. She believed they wanted to make up for the pain she'd suffered, to care for her, and to love her.

But that had all been nothing but her wishful thinking.

To the Turners, she was always just a tool.

Julia had a rare illness, and Larissa's blood type happened to be a perfect match.

In her past life, Larissa was a fool. As long as the Turners showed her even a little kindness or treated her slightly better, she obeyed them without question and let them use her.

They felt no guilt at all. They treated her like a walking blood bank. By the time she turned 26, without caring about her health, they'd forced her to sign away her shares and agree to a kidney donation.

She'd died pinned to the operating table.

She was only 26 years old.

Until the moment she died, not a single person from the Turners came to see her.

She closed her eyes in despair. A tear slid down the corner of her eye.

She regretted everything. She should never have treated the Turners as her family.

She should never have hoped for even a trace of family love from them.

If she could go back to when she was five years old, she would never have left with Morris Turner.

That wasn't salvation. The Turners were the real hell.

All her suffering came from them.

If she were given one more chance to live, she wouldn't expect anything from the Turners.

In her past life, she gave everything but received not a single bit of real love. Her whole life had been a joke.

The person she hurt the most was herself.

This time, she only wanted to live for herself.

She never expected that fate would actually give her another chance.

She was reborn. She went back to when she was 17 years old, only six months after returning from Ravenmind Island to the Turners.

Julia was the Turners' most beloved biological daughter.

Julia had jumped into the water herself, yet she falsely accused Larissa of shoving her in.

Julia was rushed to the hospital, while her father, Morris Turner, slapped Larissa hard across the face and then locked her in a dark, locked room.

She was truly unlucky. She had just gotten home from work that day when Julia pulled her aside to talk.

She hadn't even had a single bite to eat before being locked in this place.

Twelve hours had already passed. The room was completely dark. No one even brought her a sip of water.

In her past life, she had already paid the Turners with her life. In this life, she owed them nothing.

She only wanted to live for herself.

The door suddenly opened, and the sound of servants cursing came in.

"I've never seen someone so cruel. Forget being grateful for the Turners raising her. She even pushed their biological daughter into the water. What a heartless, ungrateful brat."

"I never would've thought someone so young could be this ruthless. Back then, she tried to burn Ms. Turner to death and was sent overseas for five years. Now she even pushed Ms. Turner into the water. A person this evil deserves to be starved to death."

"Exactly. Someone so evil should be starved. Julia is so kind—how could she hurt her? I heard that even while she was unconscious, she kept saying it wasn't anyone else's fault and begged them not to hurt her."

"The Turners' real daughter is gentle and kind. The fake daughter is cruel and wicked. Fake is fake—she'll never be worthy."

"If I were Mr. Turner, after hurting my daughter like this, I would've kicked the fake daughter out long ago. She's already this cruel at such a young age. She's done arson and attempted murder. What wouldn't she dare do when she grows up?"

"Haven't you heard? That fake daughter was shipped off to Ravenmind Island for arson. That place is known as a lawless zone, full of violence, blood, and darkness.

"I can't believe she survived there for five years.

"Anyone who makes it out alive is either a cold-blooded killer or a complete lunatic.

"And yet the master still dared to keep her in the Turner house. If it were me, I would have thrown her out long ago."

"That's enough. Take her out. Mr. Turner and Ms. Turner should be back from the hospital by now."

...

The door was pushed open from the outside. A beam of light shone inside.

Larissa looked toward the light.

At that moment, she finally felt it clearly. She had been reborn.

Ignoring the servants' looks of disgust, Larissa was taken to the living room.

She had not eaten anything all day. She was dizzy from hunger, her whole body weak.

Sitting on the sofa were Morris Turner, Priscilla Bowden, Julia, the eldest son Jettson Turner, and the second son, Harlan Turner. The entire family was there, staring at her as if she were an enemy, like trash.

Julia slumped weakly against Priscilla's chest and whispered, "Larissa, why did you push me? What did I do wrong for you to hate me so much?

"It's already been five years. Do you still want to kill me?

"Five years ago, you were jealous that I came back to this family and took away Dad and brothers' love, so you tried to burn me to death.

"Five years have passed. You failed to burn me to death, so now you want to drown me instead?

"Mom, Dad, Jettson, Harlan, I'm so scared."

When Morris saw that Larissa didn't greet them and did not admit her mistake, he became furious and shouted, "Larissa, even though you are not my biological daughter, I raised you as my own.

"Now that you've done something wrong—pushing Julia into the water and trying to drown her—how dare you not apologize to her?"

Larissa glanced down at herself. She was wearing a white shirt that had been washed until it faded and a pair of old jeans. She let out a cold laugh.

"I didn't do it. I did nothing wrong. I didn't push her. She jumped into the water on purpose to frame me. I won't apologize.

"Mr. Turner, did you really treat me like your own daughter?

"If you did, you wouldn't have thrown me into Ravenmind Hospital when I was only 12 and ignored me completely.

"For the past five years, I waited every single day for you to bring me home.

"I waited for five whole years.

"Would you leave your real daughter in a place like that and not care about her for five years?"

Morris never expected Larissa—who had always obeyed him, obedient and well-behaved—to talk back like this. His anger exploded.

The Turners might not be the richest family in Marcrest, but they still had power and influence.

As the head of the family, no one had dared to challenge him for a long time.

Maybe her words hit the truth. Or maybe he was angry and embarrassed. Morris walked up to Larissa and kicked her hard, forcing her down onto her knees.

His voice was cold with fury. "You refuse to admit your mistake and still talk back. If I don't teach you a lesson, you'll never learn!

"Looks like five years on that island didn't make you behave.

"Those six months of good behavior were all just an act."

Larissa's original name had been Larissa Turner. But when she was ten, Julia was brought back to the Turners. Julia disliked her name and didn't want her to use the surname Turner. So her name was changed to simply Larissa.

Larissa's eyes turned red as she looked at Morris.

When she was five years old, it was Morris who took her from the orphanage and brought her into the Turners. She thought that from that day on, she finally had a father and a home.

But once his biological daughter, Julia, appeared, everything changed.

Everything she had before was nothing more than an illusion, like it was never truly hers.

Chapter 2 She Will Never Be Foolish Again

In her past life, it took her a whole lifetime to finally see the truth and face reality.

She saw how fake the Turners were, how they caused her terrible death, and how they'd stolen everything from her.

The company shares she built with her own hands. Her healthy body.

All she ever wanted was just a little fatherly love from Morris.

In this new life, she wouldn't be foolish again.

"Mr. Turner, I didn't do it, and I won't apologize.

"Are you acting like this because I hit the truth and made you feel guilty?

"If you really saw me as your daughter, you wouldn't doubt me.

"I just got home, and within twelve hours I was locked up. I didn't get any food, not even a sip of water.

"Is this how you treat someone you call family?"

Listening to her hoarse cries and painful words, Morris did not feel even a bit of pity. Instead, he found her hateful to look at. Losing all patience, he raised his hand and slapped her hard across the face, shouting angrily, "All lies! I saw everything clearly on the security cameras, and you still refuse to admit it. How could I have a daughter like you?"

Seeing this, Julia watched with pride, treating it like a joke.

Larissa, did you see that? All of this belongs to me. The father you love, the brothers you care about, everything in this family is mine.

Why didn't you just die outside?

Since you insist on coming back, don't blame me for using any means to drive you out. You're just an adopted daughter. What right do you have to fight with me?

Larissa covered her burning cheek where she was hit. The last bit of hope in her heart was shattered by that slap.

In her past life, she wanted family love too badly. She still held on to a small hope for the Turners, so she accepted the blame back then.

From that day on, she was labeled as a cruel person who hurt her younger sister.

Given a second life, she would no longer cling to even a shred of hope for the Turners.

That was fine.

This way, when she left this place, she would have no regrets at all.

Had the Turners ever shown her even a hint of pity or care?

"Good thing I'm not your real daughter. I don't need a father like you who can't tell right from wrong. I didn't do it, so I won't admit it. I did nothing wrong.

"If you insist on forcing me to admit it, then I don't mind making this accusation real."

Julia shrank back in fear and hid in Priscilla's arms.

Priscilla patted her back and comforted her, saying, "Don't be scared. I am here. No one will dare bully you again."

Jettson said, "Don't be afraid. I'm here. I'll protect you."

Harlan added, "That's right. I'm here, too. I won't let anyone hurt you again."

Priscilla stared at Larissa with anger burning in her eyes. "How dare you threaten my precious daughter? Who do you think you are?"

Morris pointed at Larissa in rage, his face full of pain and disappointment.

"How did you become like this?

"It seems that sending you to Ravenmind Island for five years didn't help at all. Not only did you not improve, you became even more rude and cruel.

"I'm truly disappointed in you.

"If you won't admit your mistake, then get out of this house. I don't have a daughter like you."

Larissa looked at the scene in front of her—their happy family standing together, all of them protecting Julia.

She couldn't help but think of the time before she turned ten. Back then, Jettson, Harlan, and Morris all loved her very much. They played with her, and on her birthday, they carefully prepared gifts and surprises just for her.

But Julia was his biological daughter. Their biological sister. They were the real family.

And she was just an outsider.

All of that was too long ago now, beautiful like a dream.

It no longer belonged to her.

Yet in her past life, she still foolishly wanted family love from the Turners.

She was wrong. Completely wrong.

"Fine. Since you can't accept me, I won't stay here and disturb your happy family anymore," Larissa said.

"Stop right there."

Jettson walked up to her and grabbed her arm, his tone rough and cold. "Did I say you could leave? You did something wrong and still won't repent."

"Let go."

Larissa shook off his hand, ignored him, and turned to leave.

Jettson was furious and shouted, "Larissa, you're beyond help.

Chapter 1 Crossing the Stars

On Interstellar Year 5223, at 10:30 a.m., the butler knocked impatiently on the second-floor bedroom door of the White villa. "Ms. Sullivan, Mrs. White is waiting for you in the hall. Please come down quickly."

His face was full of contempt, gloating inside. Now that the true heiress of the White family is back, this useless waste with Class E mental power and zero fertility rating will finally be kicked out.

Her very existence is a disgrace to the White family.

Natalie was jolted awake by the violent knocking, her head spinning. She opened her eyes and stared at the unfamiliar room. Where am I?

Just a second ago, she had been standing on a podium receiving a medal. As a max‑level master of both wood power and psychic power, she had witnessed the end of the apocalypse and the dawn of a new era for humanity.

But she had fainted from sheer excitement.

She woke up right here.

Where the hell did I land?

Soon, her mind was flooded with memories that weren't her own.

She learned the original owner was named Natalie Sullivan, and today was her twentieth birthday.

Yesterday, the true heiress, Ruby White, had shown up at the White Villa's door, and the White family immediately ran a genetic match.

The test proved that Ruby was the White family's true heiress, while Natalie was merely a false heiress with no blood relation, a child who had been switched at birth.

Upon learning the truth, the original Natalie had cried herself into unconsciousness.

Now, she had taken over this body.

Natalie closed her eyes again to think.

Isn't this exactly the interstellar romance novel I was reading in my spare time? So I've been pulled into a book? And as a cannon‑fodder supporting character who dies early?

In the book, Natalie refused to leave the White Villa even after finding out she was adopted. Then, out of jealousy, she pulled all kinds of tricks to try to drive away the true heiress. In the end, her heart was ripped out, and her body was thrown to the star beasts, no remains left.

The book only glossed over her life in a few short sentences.

And she, unluckily enough, had become that early‑death supporting character.

Today was the day she was to be expelled from the White family.

Oh God. Here I was, a great apocalypse‑era powerhouse who had struggled and fought for so long, finally about to enjoy a comfortable retirement. And now I've become a cannon‑fodder who dies young.

No way. I don't want to die yet. I haven't even had a chance to enjoy life.

The fierce knocking at the door interrupted her thoughts.

Natalie refused to accept her fate. She closed her eyes, and then opened them again. Unfortunately, she was still here. She glared coldly at the door. Her entire demeanor had changed, now carrying a chilling, murderous air.

She tried to summon the superpowers from her previous life, but nothing came.

Where are my dual powers? No way. Am I really this unlucky?

Don't others usually come with special powers?

Could I be so unlucky that I lost my special powers in the process?

Suddenly, her eyes lit up. She noticed the necklace around her neck. It was the Spatial Token from her previous life!

It had come through with her.

She remembered that in the apocalypse, she had first obtained the Spatial Token, drunk the spiritual spring water from it, and then awakened her psychic power and wood power.

She thought for a moment, bit her finger, and let her blood seep into the token. Soon, the token recognized her as its master.

"Ding."

The system activated and bound itself successfully. "Hello, Host. The Fortune Accumulation System is now online."

Natalie hadn't anticipated awakening a system. "Fortune Accumulation System, hello. Why am I here? Can I go back?"

The system said, "Host, you died of sudden exhaustion in the apocalypse. You can't go back. You can only try to survive in this world. Right now, you are inside a novel, and you have become a supporting character who dies young. To change your fate and survive, you need to accumulate enough Fortune Points."

Natalie asked, "How do I accumulate Fortune Points?"

The system said, "Alert, low energy. Entering hibernation. Take care, Host. I'll awaken when the time comes."

Natalie called. "System, wait..."

What kind of useless system is this? So unreliable!

Fortune Points? And it didn't even tell me how to earn them?

Right, I still have the Spatial Token.

She chanted silently, and in an instant, she entered the space.

Sure enough, there was an endless space where time stood still. Her stockpiled supplies from her previous life were still there. Most importantly, the spiritual spring water was also here, the very water that had awakened her superpowers in the apocalypse.

She walked to the edge of the spiritual spring and drank several cups of Spiritual Water using an old cup she had left behind. All her fatigue vanished, and she immediately felt her body fill with power.

Her body grew hot, as if about to explode.

This feeling was familiar. Her superpowers were awakening.

The awakening would normally take twelve hours, but inside the space, time was frozen.

After both her psychic power and wood power had fully awakened, she tested them. Both were at beginner level.

It seems that if I want to become as strong as I was in the apocalypse, I'll need to keep leveling up. That will take time.

Although I don't know yet who will rip out my heart, if I want to survive, I have to leave the White Villa first.

In this interstellar era, an age of fresh food shortages, the strong ruled, and the weak simply couldn't survive.

After leaving, she would have to find ways to level up her superpowers and grow stronger.

Another knock came from outside the door.

Natalie got out of bed, opened the door, and coldly warned the butler, "Wait. Knock again, and I'll break your hands."

The butler felt that the useless Natalie seemed unusually different today. Just one sentence from her, and he obeyed instinctively.

After speaking, Natalie closed the door again.

She dressed and got ready in record time. Then she glanced around the room. With a wave of her hand, she swept all the jewelry, clothes, bags, and anything valuable into her space.

This was a habit she had developed during the apocalypse. She left nothing behind.

When the room was completely empty, she finally curled her lips into a smile and left.

Downstairs in the hall, Evelyn White sat on the sofa. Ruby White was snuggled up to her, holding her arm and chatting intimately.

Meanwhile, her fiancé Leo River sat to Ruby's left, gazing at her tenderly.

It was such a harmonious scene until she appeared.

Chapter 1 Reborn Before the Apocalypse

"Look! What's that?" Someone shouted, and everyone looked up at the same time.

A blazing fireball was falling from the sky, racing straight toward Autumn Montclair.

She was thin, tanned, and so numb that she could no longer make any expression.

Shock. Fear. Panic. Despair. Those were the reactions people had at the beginning of the apocalypse.

But she had survived for 15 years. Long ago, she had forgotten how to feel.

"Run! The fire is coming!" The crowd scattered in every direction.

Everyone ran like headless chickens, searching for somewhere safe to hide.

But where was there left to hide?

For the past 15 years, droughts, floods, deep freeze, deadly heat waves, sandstorms, hurricanes, earthquakes, volcanoes, acid rain, and insect swarms had taken turns destroying the world. The planet had become a wasteland.

Once, the world had held billions of people. Now, fewer than 2,000 survivors remained.

And just when those last 2,000 people thought they had finally found the final safe place on Earth, another disaster struck and erased the last piece of paradise.

As the falling fireball rushed toward her, emotion finally returned to Autumn's eyes.

But there was nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide.

Tears filled her eyes. She opened her arms and chose to welcome the world-ending meteor.

Boom!

"Tap, tap, tap. Testing, testing. Hello? Hello?" Someone was tapping on a microphone.

The loudspeaker's sharp voice jolted the struggling girl awake.

Autumn's eyes flew open. She lay there, stunned for a long time. Then she suddenly jumped out of bed. She touched her face. Her arms. Her body. A second later, she ran into the bathroom.

She stared at the girl in the mirror. Young. Healthy. Full-cheeked. Not the starving, dying woman she remembered. She turned and bent over the toilet, gagging.

A moment ago, she had been a burned corpse.

The next moment, she was reborn.

She could still smell the stench of burning flesh lingering in her nostrils.

"Residents of Everjoy Residences, please come to the community office and sign the redevelopment papers. The first person to sign will receive an extra ten percent compensation, plus one bag of rice and one bag of flour. Offer ends today!"

The loudspeaker outside kept repeating the announcement. It urged the residents to come and collect their payments.

Wait.

Redevelopment?

What year is this?

Autumn hurried back into her room. She reached under her pillow and fumbled for her phone.

After fifteen years, she had forgotten her phone password. Luckily, it still had a fingerprint unlock.

The moment she saw the date on the screen, she was thunderstruck. March 1, 2056.

She had returned three months before the apocalypse.

On June 1st—a day usually filled with children's laughter and celebration—the apocalypse would officially begin.

And with it would come fifteen years of hell.

Was she really going to go through all of that again?

Just as despair threatened to swallow her, her fingers brushed against the phone charm hanging from her phone.

It was old and worn, with only a single wooden bead on it.

She froze.

The phone charm?

The storage space!

How could I forget something so important?

Who would have guessed that this cheap phone charm, worth barely a dollar, hid an entire storage space inside?

Unfortunately, in her previous life, she had discovered it by accident during the tenth year of the apocalypse.

By then, nearly every supply she found had either rotted, broken, or turned into useless junk. Even with the storage space, she had collected very little that could help her survive.

Yet that tiny storage space had still kept her alive five years longer than most people. She had come so close to making it to the end.

So close.

But this life would be different. This time, she would make full use of the storage space.

And no matter what happened, she would survive and become the last person standing.

Autumn didn't hesitate. She grabbed a pair of scissors and drove the sharp blades into her arm.

A thin streak of blood trickled down her skin and dropped onto the phone charm.

Three seconds later, the charm disappeared.

Her vision blurred. In the next instant, she found herself standing inside an empty, cube-shaped storage space.

She knew this place all too well.

It was about 16 feet long, 16 feet wide, and 16 feet high, giving her roughly 4,400 cubic feet of storage.

Small as it was, it had one incredible ability: time stood still here. Anything placed inside would stay fresh forever.

Back then, she had filled the entire space with animal feed. By eating nothing but grass, she had somehow survived that endless desert.

Autumn didn't stay inside for long. She knew from experience that her real body couldn't remain in the storage space for more than five minutes.

Once the time was up, the storage space would kick her out. And not gracefully, either.

Don't ask how she knew. It wasn't pretty, and her butt had hurt for days.

Outside the window, the loudspeaker announcing the redevelopment project was still blaring.

Her rusty brain suddenly clicked. Redevelopment?

Right. This had happened in her previous life too.

The residents of Everjoy Residences had thought the compensation was too low, so they refused to sign the agreement.

Three months later, only a few families had signed the agreement. Then a terrible rainstorm came and flooded the entire neighborhood. Everything was wiped out.

Autumn turned around and pulled her property deed from a drawer.

This old house in the urban village had cost her everything. She had used all her savings and taken out a mortgage to buy it.

She had been an orphan. At the orphanage, she had taken the last name from the orphanage director, Phoebe Montclair. Since she had been found in the fall, she was given the name Autumn.

She had learned how cold the world could be at a very young age. Autumn had started working early to make money.

Because she spent so much time working, her grades suffered. She only got into an average high school.

After graduation, she worked like crazy and saved every penny she could. Five years later, she finally had enough money for a down payment.

She couldn't afford renovations, so she cleaned up the place as best she could and moved in.

If she counted carefully, she still had 19 years left on her mortgage.

But none of that mattered now.

She would use this house as her starting capital and give herself a better chance of surviving the future.

Autumn quickly changed her clothes, carefully tucked the property deed into her bag as if it were a treasure, and hurried out the door toward the local government office.

As soon as she stepped outside, the world greeted her with the sights and smells of everyday life.

People hurried down the streets. Restaurants buzzed with customers. Everything felt so familiar that it seemed like a memory from a lifetime ago.

For a moment, Autumn stood there in a daze.

But she quickly pulled herself together.

This wasn't the time to get emotional. She needed to move fast, gather money, and stock up on supplies.

Her storage space was limited, but if she filled it with only the essentials—food and water—it could keep her alive for a long time.

"Hey, Autumn! Where are you going?" The lady next door grabbed her arm. "I'm telling you, everyone has to stand together. We absolutely cannot sign anything for those greedy developers. We have to demand better compensation. Listen to me—"

"Uh-huh, uh-huh," Autumn replied vaguely. "I'm going to the grocery store. I'm out of food."

Only then did the woman let her go. She immediately turned and started persuading other neighbors to join her cause.

Autumn slipped away and hurried out of the neighborhood.

The moment she reached the front gate, the smell of food from the restaurants lining the street hit her.

Her mouth instantly filled with saliva.

Hungry. So hungry. Her craving for food nearly shattered her self-control in an instant.

Autumn pulled out her phone and checked her balance.

She had only 500 dollars left.

It was enough to buy a meal, but she had something far more important to do.

Learning to control your desires was one of the rules for surviving the apocalypse.

Once she got the money she was owed, she could satisfy her cravings later.

Chapter 2 Gold Can Upgrade the Storage Space

Autumn fought the hunger clawing at her stomach. The smell of food was everywhere. In the end, she had to cover her nose and mouth with both hands to block it out. She lowered her head and hurried into the relocation office.

The place was noisy.

Several residents were arguing with the redevelopment staff. They demanded higher compensation, and both sides were shouting over each other.

Autumn walked over to an employee who was standing nearby and watching the commotion. She pulled out her deed and asked quietly, "Am I the first person to sign?"

The employee's eyes lit up. "Yes! Yes, you are!" she said quickly. "Let me see your deed."

"Wait." Autumn pressed a hand over the document. "I want to confirm something first. Is there an extra reward for the first person who signs?"

"There is," the employee replied at once. "You'll get an extra ten percent on your compensation, plus a bag of rice and a bag of flour." She paused, then added, "Our manager just announced another bonus. You'll also get a gold bracelet. Would you like to sign now?"

Autumn finally let go of the deed. "Of course. Thank you."

"No trouble at all." The employee quickly handed her a form.

Autumn filled out everything she could and skipped the rest. It didn't matter anyway.

Sooner or later, Everjoy Residences would be underwater. When the apocalypse arrived, some people would run, some would scatter, some would die, and some would be injured.

What was there left to hold on to?

Sign the papers. Stamp the documents. Get the money. Take the gifts.

Done in one smooth process.

While several residents nearby were still passionately arguing over compensation, Autumn quietly slipped out through a side door.

She found an empty corner with no cameras and no people around. Then she tossed everything she had received into her storage space.

Suddenly, she stumbled. Her vision blurred for a second.

Autumn immediately straightened and looked around, alert.

I ran into the forest to escape the pain. Instead, I became the obsession of the most dangerous Alpha alive.

Wolfless Avery's world shatters when she catches her boyfriend in bed with her half-sister—only to learn he and her sister are fated mates.

Fleeing into the woods, she unexpectedly enters her first heat and is saved from rogues by a mysterious stranger who marks her in the darkness.

But when dawn breaks, he is gone, and Avery's hidden mark becomes a death sentence unless she finds a husband at the mating ball.

Then she has the perfect option: the ruthless Alpha Gideon, who must choose a bride from her pack that very night - except everyone knows Gideon already has his own mate.

Chapter 1

Avery's POV

I had agreed to sleep with my boyfriend Ryan for the first time tonight, on our first Mating Day.

When I flung the door to his room open, I saw him looking all hot and unclothed like I imagined.

But with another woman on top of him.

My younger half sister, Zara.

"What the-" I froze in his doorway.

Zara was straddling Ryan, facing me. When she spotted me, she smirked and moaned, dipping her head to nip at Ryan's neck.

"Oh yes. Just like that!" she said, breathing in his ear. Ryan grunted and lifted her up to roll over on top of her.

My stomach flipped. I felt like I was going to throw up.

Then Ryan noticed me and froze. "Avery," he breathed.

Guilt flushed across his face, but his hands didn't leave Zara's body. The room was silent for a moment.

"Zara and I just found out we were fated mates," Ryan's words hammered into my heart.

Fated Mate.

On Mating Days, werewolves over 19 could smell and recognize their fated mates.

The attraction between fated mates is irresistible. They can trigger each other into heat just from smelling each other at a distance. Once fated mates find each other, they will mate and mark each other, forming a resilient bond of intertwined attraction that lasts their whole lives.

The only way to resist a fated mate was to mark a chosen mate before you met your fated one. That's what Ryan and I wanted to do tonight on our first Mating Day.

I knew I would never get a fated mate because my wolf seemed dormant. When everyone started to shift into their wolf form and communicate with their wolf, I got nothing.

I could feel my wolf there back in my mind, though. No one believed what I said, so it became a joke amongst my bullies, especially from my sister Zara's little group.

"Wolfless freak."

"Pathetic human liar."

They would say these words to my face, believing that I was too weak to fight back without a wolf within.

And yet, I was with Ryan, the Alpha heir. He did his best to protect me; we both believed we were meant to be together.

So tonight, on Mating Day, Ryan and I planned to mate and mark each other, so he could protect me forever.

He had been the only light in my life.

But now he was taken by Zara.

How could Moon Goddess treat me like this?

"You choose Zara? Knowing she has been my bully for so long?" A sob was lodged in my throat, but I refused to let it out.

I hated that my voice shook as I stared into his eyes. The eyes of the man whom I'd thought was the love of my life. The man I was going to give myself to, tonight. I'd even worn secret lingerie under my coat to mark the special occasion.

Now Ryan looked like he wanted to apologize. A flash of regret crossed his handsome face.

Zara snaked one arm around his neck and yanked him closer to her, smirking at me from the bed.

Ryan clenched his jaw, "Fated mates make each other stronger, Avery."

"So I was nothing to you?" The sob tore loose.

"Ave--" Ryan's face softened, and he started to rise away from Zara, reaching one hand towards me.

Zara reached up and intertwined her fingers with his, stopping his gesture. Her eyes gleamed at me from under her dark lashes.

"Ryan, Mating Day is the best time to have the strongest Alpha heir with your fated one…" She arched her bare body up into him.

Ryan swallowed, leaning back down to nuzzle at Zara's neck.

I could see the yellow flash of wolf in his eyes. When he looked back up at me, the man I had known was gone. Only coldness remained.

"Get lost now, human," Ryan's wolf growled past me.

Tears streamed down my face. I suppressed my sobs as I ran out and darted down the hidden trails into the old forest.

Where could I go?

There was only one spot I knew was safe, the place I always turned to when I needed to heal myself.

A quiet little pond hidden in the woods.

The water shimmered faintly under the moonlight. I settled at the edge, knees pulled to my chest, letting the cool moss beneath me soften the weight I carried.

I could hear the rasp of my breathing, thick with the tears in my throat.

Slowly, the sounds of the night filtered in. The breeze in the trees, and the rustling of leaves across the ground.

Then I heard a different, most sinister sound. The distant howl of wolves.

Of course. Tonight was the Full Mating Moon. The rogue hordes of unruly, unmated wolves would be more agitated on this night.

While it was unlikely anyone would find me here, it also wasn't safe. I needed to get back to the pack town.

I wiped my tears on my sleeve and was about to rise to my feet to head back when I smelled something, delicious and intoxicating.

A ripple of heat rushed through my body from the base of my spine to my fingertips. Desire slammed into my body, washing over me and leaving me breathless.

What was this?

I breathed deeply again. I needed more of whatever that was. My body craved it with every nerve and fiber.

While I was lost in the hazy, distracting sensation, I suddenly realized that this might be…the mating heat?

How is that possible? I thought my wolf was dormant.

No matter what it is, I need to go home now.

There was danger nearby, and I had no mate - not even a chosen one anymore - to share this heat with.

I shook my head, trying to clear the dizzying sensation. I managed to rise to my feet and started to make my way home, but the intoxicating smell kept coming towards me and getting stronger, as if it was coming from someone running towards me.

Was this what was triggering me into heat?

"Lads, look what we've found," a low voice suddenly spoke from the tree-line. "A female wolf in heat."

I whirled to face the man who stepped into the clearing. He was tall and lean. His face bore the stubble of a few days unshaven.

More strangers stepped from the trees. They wore rough denim and leather. Knives and nets hung from their belts.

They smelled sweaty, almost blocking the delightful smell from earlier.

They must be Rogues! I realized with horror.

"Looking for something, pretty?" a flash of teeth in the dark beneath dark, shadowed pits for eyes.

"No, I was just leaving," I could hear my voice shaking.

"Why leave? If you're looking for a mate-" the man inhaled a shuddering breath, sniffing the air pointedly, "and it certainly smells like you are… then I'm sure we have several young bucks who would be willing to help, right lads?"

Murmured approval rose. They were fanning out behind me now, cutting off my escape.

"G-Get away from m-me," I tried to growl. "I don't w-want you!"

Another man laughed. "Looks like we got ourselves a feisty one, lads."

The man lunged forward. I felt his fingers snatch at the hem of my coat, yanking me backwards towards him.

Tears started to well in my eyes as he grabbed at me.

"LEAVE HER ALONE!"

Forced into a marriage with the strongest Alpha, Evelyn was treated like a worthless breeder. But the secret behind her weakness will change everything.

Chapter 1

Evelyn’s POV

I had to go through half of my wedding without my groom.

Before I stepped onto the empty altar, I walked down the aisle in silence and passed by a crowd of judging, displeased face.

Now, I stand here alone and still have no idea where my so-called groom could be.

I’m trying not to let my shoulders shake as I wait, but the whispers from the guests are anything but helpful.

“Look how frail she is,” a woman whispers.

“She looks weak,” the man sitting behind her states. “Does she really have Silver blood? I doubt she has one useful gene in her entire body.”

“It’s ridiculous,” the woman replies. “Kane is the Alpha of the strongest wolf pack in the North. How could he be marrying her?”

“Perhaps he’s not,” the man whispers. “After all, he’s not here. He’s probably unhappy about having to marry such a weak girl and ran away while he still could.”

Ouch, that stung. But they are telling the truth.

This marriage between Kane and I is arranged by the Alpha King himself. I can’t disobey him or else I risk losing everything.

Everything my mother built.

My mother was a rare Silverwolf, a female Alpha. It’s not common for a female to be an Alpha nor for a male to support her in the traditional Luna role like my father, which is a testament to my mother’s strength.

Her leadership over our pack was admired and envied by all - we flourished under her reign.

That is, until my mother’s death years ago. However, with her last bit of strength, she left behind a will that named me as her sole heir to the pack.

There’s only one problem, though. A major problem.

My wolf is weak. So weak that I can’t even shift. I can feel her there, but I can barely ever talk to her.

Desperate to continue my mother’s reign, I’ve been taking medication to try and grow my strength, but nothing has changed. I’m still too weak.

Which means I’m also too weak to take my rightful place as the next female Alpha. My mother’s will is useless due to my inadequacy.

My father and stepmother have had to take over leadership in my place.

They’ve also nearly destroyed my mother’s pack. Over the years, their flawed leadership has caused the condition of the pack to worsen, and we’ve become weaker and weaker with every passing day.

Now, to save my mother’s pack, my father is forcing me into this arranged marriage. A marriage proposed by the Alpha King. I am to wed Kane - the strongest Alpha in the North and renown playboy - and produce a powerful heir.

I know they just want my mother’s bloodline, and I hate being a pawn in their game. But I cannot allow my mother’s pack to perish or be absorbed.

I need this marriage to work.

And I need to at least try bearing with the embarrassment.

More similar comments are being made by other guests. Swiftly, my eyes slide over to find Kane’s parents in the front row.

They also look displeased. Kane’s father has his arms crossed and a sneer on his face. Meanwhile, Kane’s mother openly scowls.

“Rodrigo,” she suddenly snaps, catching the attention of a tall, brown-haired man off to the side. Quickly, he approaches.

“Go find Kane. Now,” she instructs. “And make it quick.”

Immediately, Rodrigo takes off down the aisle and goes out the doors. As they close behind him, the chapel falls silent.

There are no words to explain how terribly awkward this is. Awkward and difficult. Especially as I chance a glance to my group of guests and make eye contact with my stepbrother and stepsister.

“Fragile little Evelyn,” my stepsister, Katya, teases. “Can’t even keep a husband who hasn’t seen her yet.”

My stepbrother, Flynn, snickers. “He doesn’t need to see her. Her wolf is so weak that any sane male would run the other direction.”

I resist the urge to close my eyes tightly. If there was ever a time when I wished my wolf would suddenly appear and allow me to shift, it would be now. I want to run as far away from here as quickly as I can, but that’s out of the question.

I’m just wondering how long I should put up with this, questioning if he truly has made a run for it, when the doors to the chapel slams open.

My eyes snap to the end of the aisle, along with every guest still sitting in their seat. However, the crowd around me seems to slowly disappear as I become fixated on the man making his way up the aisle.

He’s tall, very tall. He wears a well-tailored black suit that hugs him in all the right places, showing off the muscles in his biceps. His jet black hair is styled in a way that seems effortless without being too unruly.

When he smiles and shows off a set of perfectly straight, white teeth, I’m pretty sure my stomach tumbles to the ground.

He’s handsome - incredibly handsome. And as he’s making his way toward me, a terrifying yet exciting realization floods over me.

This is Kane.

I’m nearly startled as he chuckles, offering a few apologies to guests.

“Fashionably late,” he says, causing some of them to laugh and smile with him. However, Kane’s parents look anything but pleased as they shoot daggers in his direction. As he gets closer to their seats, his father sighs.

“Stop flirting with the crowd and hurry up,” he says to his son. “Let’s get this wedding over with.”

Kane doesn’t seem bothered by his father’s comments or his mother’s cold stare. Instead, he simply makes his way up the rest of the aisle and then he’s stepping up to the altar.

The minute he’s standing in front of me, I realize that my heart is racing. My eyes may even be blown wide as I stare at him, but he doesn’t stare back.

He towers over me, even in my two inch heels. I can see the sharp angle of his jaw as I study the side of his face, my chest quickly rising and falling. However, my breath catches as my gaze lowers and I notice something on the side of his neck.

Oh, Goddess.

It’s a hickey.

And based on the color, it looks fairly new. That’s what he had been doing while I’d been standing here being ridiculed by dozens of guests?

Brat.

However, my anger is hard to hold onto as Kane’s head slowly turns. Suddenly, and finally, his green eyes meet mine.

I twitch. I can’t help it as my chest slightly lurches as if being tugged toward him. It’s at that moment that his scent meets my nose, threatening to make my knees give out.

He smells wonderful. I’ve never smelled anything like it, causing the pace of my heart to only quicken as I long to bury my nose right in his chest.

What is wrong with me? How can I feel an urge that strong for someone I don’t even know? It’s as if I’m oddly drawn to him.

I swallow, soothing the dryness in my throat as I watch Kane’s head slightly tilt, as if he’s considering something. Considering me.

Another flutter meets my heart at the same moment that I nearly choke from the word suddenly echoing through my mind.

“Mate.”

No. No, I didn’t hear that right, did I? There’s no way.

“Mate,” the word repeats in my head, stronger than before. My wolf’s voice continues to echo again, sounding prideful as my jaw drops open at her declaration.

My…mate? Kane is my mate? My fated mate?

Surprise continues to overwhelm each of my senses as Kane and I stare at one another. Even though he doesn’t say anything, something within me somehow knows he’s learned the truth too.

However, while I’m shocked to learn Kane and I are fated mates, Kane looks anything but pleased.

In fact, he looks like he’s just been given his death sentence.

Slowly, he sighs.

“Heck.”

Chapter 2

Kane’s POV

Heck.

If it weren’t for the Alpha King, I would never have been here. But the King values tradition just as much as he admires me.

It’s a blessing, or I always saw it as one. The Alpha King doesn’t hand out his favor to just any one.

Only, this whole arranged marriage is freaking stupid.

I’ve never had a Luna and I don’t need one. I’m fine on my own and I can rely on my own strength. But the Alpha King insists on this marriage.

He chose a bride for me who is supposedly the descendant of a Silver Wolf. He believes in tradition, that this union will provide a powerful offspring.

What a bunch of bullshit.

Those customs are outdated remnants of the werewolf world. Plus, my bride is nothing more than a trembling, weak disgrace - how could she possess Silver blood?

I’ve done my research. I know her pack is weak, just as she is weak. A Luna like her could only drag my own pack down.

Still, as much as I want to decline this marriage, I can’t. My open refusal would anger the Alpha King. I would be damned.

So fine. I’d go through with this freaking union. But I told myself I would never truly accept this woman - Evelyn - as my wife. She is nothing but a tool for bearing my child.

Or so that’s what I thought. Only, my wolf thrashing with excitement inside of me proves otherwise. As I stare into Evelyn’s big, hazel eyes, I know she has come to the same realization as I have.

Again, heck.

She’s my freaking fated mate.

My heart violently races as my wolf’s eagerness grows. At this rate, I could lose control of him, causing me to clench my jaw tightly and tense my shoulders.

“Kane?”

I blink as I realize Evelyn has said my name. My wolf pathetically pants at the sound of her voice.

“It’s time for you to…mark me,” she whispers and I rush out a breath through my nose. Feeling everyone’s eyes on me, I’m the epitome of stiff as I lean toward her. I’m too busy trying to hold it together to possibly refuse her.

She’s so much smaller than me, so frail. My lips brush over her skin - right where her neck meets her shoulder. She shudders at my touch.

Not wasting another second, I sink my teeth into her skin and both hear and feel her gasp. I try to pay her no mind, though, as I finish sealing our union with my mark.

As I pull away from her, I can hear the whispers of the crowd, feel their eyes. However, I keep my eyes level with Evelyn’s.

“We may be married now,” I say, dangerously low. “But this is nothing more than an arranged marriage, so don't expect me to treat you like my true Luna. Not. Happening.”

Evelyn’s eyes go wide in response, but says nothing. She just keeps holding my gaze.

It’s unnerving - her stare and her silence. But I turn around anyways.

“How can you just leave her behind?” my wolf snaps angrily. “She’s our fated mate!”

“She’s weak,” I press. “Someone as weak as her can and will not ever be my fated mate.”

~

This day has been a freaking disaster. But thank God it’s almost over.

The union is done and we made it through the painful ceremony. Which means all I have to do is go the heck to sleep.

However, it’s hard to even get myself into bed as I pace through my room, annoyed by the betraying images in my head. Somehow my mind keeps lingering back to Evelyn and this strange desire I have to go to her.

That’s not happening, though. I meant what I said - I’m keeping her at a distance.

I keep repeating that to myself as I move to sit on the edge of my bed, running my hands over my face as I let out a groan.

Only, a sudden knock on my door causes me to lift my head. The person on the other end doesn’t wait for me to respond as they push the door open, causing me to stand.

"I'm getting married again," Daven said. "And I won’t repeat myself, nor will I be asking for your permission."

He set his coffee cup down abruptly, ending breakfast, he hadn't even touched.

Althea stood frozen near the long dining table topped with white marble. Her fingers, still holding the spatula, began to tremble. But she kept her expression composed. She bowed her head slightly, letting Daven’s words sink in—though they felt like a slow-acting poison, quietly destroying her from the inside out.

"With Vanessa?" Her voice was barely more than a whisper.

Daven didn’t look at her. He simply took a shallow breath before replying coldly, “Yes. Who else?”

Her husband, Daven Callister, had never loved her. His heart belonged entirely to Vanessa Blake. In truth, their marriage had always been nothing more than an obstacle to his love story. But what could Althea do when the woman who arranged the marriage had been so kind to her?

Evelyn Callister—Daven’s grandmother.

Althea hadn’t wanted this marriage either. All she had wanted was a proper funeral for her mother. Everything that followed, she had accepted as fate. She had surrendered, despite the grief that still haunted her from losing her mother. But Evelyn had refused to let it end there. She demanded that her beloved grandson, Daven—the man responsible for Althea’s mother’s death—marry her as a form of atonement. Eve saw Althea as a lonely girl with no one else in the world.

Daven had only agreed because he was cornered by his grandmother’s wishes. He had no choice but to comply. But now, with Evelyn Callister gone—taken by illness two weeks ago—Daven finally saw a chance to escape a marriage he’d never wanted.

There was no reason to stay. Not anymore.

A faint, almost invisible smile appeared on Althea’s lips—not from joy, but from bitter resignation. She turned off the stove and gently set the spatula down. Once again, she closed her eyes tightly, trying to contain the storm raging inside her chest.

“I won’t stand in your way,” she said at last. Her voice was soft—so soft it barely reached across the wide room. “We both know I never had a place in your heart.”

Daven remained silent. He didn’t deny it. He didn’t correct her either. But there was the slightest flicker of disturbance in his gaze as Althea walked slowly toward him. For a moment, he thought she might cry, beg, or show just enough sorrow to make him feel guilty.

But she didn’t.

Althea stood tall. Her hands clenched lightly at the sides of her simple dress. Her long black hair flowed freely down her back, a quiet contrast to the calm strength in her posture. Her warm, light brown eyes now stared at him—blank, unreadable. At the man who had always been a stranger beneath the same roof.

Althea was beautiful, in her quiet way. But that beauty had never stirred anything in Daven. To him, Althea was nothing more than a disruption—an outsider forced into his life. And now that he had the chance to remove her, Daven intended to do exactly that.

“Give me one month of your time,” Althea said calmly. “Just one month ... Let me be your wife for real.”

Daven narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean?”

“I’ll leave, just like you want. After you say your wedding vows to the woman you love.” The words stung as they left Althea’s lips, each syllable carving pain deep into her chest. “You can divorce me, and I promise—I’ll disappear from your life for good. But before that, allow me to know what it feels like to be a wife. Not just some stranger living under your roof.”

Silence fell.

Then a dismissive laugh escaped Daven’s lips. He even wiped the corner of his eye, amused at how absurd her request sounded. What on earth was she thinking?

One month? The idea was laughable.

Daven took a step toward her, closing the distance. His eyes scanned her face, as if trying to decipher a hidden agenda. Maybe his mother had been all along—maybe Althea was just after the wealth tied to his name.

Who didn’t know Daven Callister? CEO of Callister Enterprise, one of the most influential young businessmen in Migathan City. People competed just to get close to him, especially women who thirsted for his attention. But Daven only loved one woman—and it wasn’t his wife.

It was someone else entirely—Vanessa Blake, a rising supermodel whose name was lighting up the fashion world.

“You’re serious?” he asked, his voice cold, laced with disbelief. “This isn’t some cheap soap opera, Althea.”

She gave a small nod. “I’m not asking for your love. Who am I to ask for something like that?” she said with a bitter laugh. “All I’m asking is to be treated properly—as your wife. Have dinner with me. Exchange a few words with me every day. Show me a little affection, even if it’s fake.”

She swallowed hard, her hands clenched into fists to keep herself steady. “After that, I’ll Walk away quietly. You’ll be free to marry anyone you want.”

Daven squinted, unsure whether to laugh harder or feel irritated. Yet beneath his disbelief, something in her words struck a nerve. A simple request—so painfully simple, it piqued his curiosity.

What is Althea's real purpose?

“Why not ask for something more reasonable?”

Althea fell silent. Looking away from Daven was difficult when those midnight-dark eyes were fixed on hers, commanding her not to break eye contact—not until he’d heard everything she had to say.

“If it’s money you want, just say it. I’ll give it to you.”

“No,” she said firmly, without hesitation. Her resolve had already been sealed. There was no turning back now.

“You really don’t know how to give up, do you?” Daven sneered.

“I already have, Daven,” Althea replied softly. “But I just want one memory to keep for the rest of my life. Before I walk away from you for good.”

Neither of them spoke after that.

This time, Daven’s gaze wasn’t as sharp. He looked at the woman before him with an unreadable expression. Was it confusion? Annoyance? Or... curiosity?

“I’m not promising to be nice,” he finally said.

“I never expected you to change,” Althea answered, her calmness more shattering than tears ever could be.

And with that, an unspoken agreement was formed.

One month. Thirty days for Althea to live as the wife of Daven Callister. A reality that should have existed a year ago—ever since their wedding day. But to Daven, she’d always been nothing more than an intruder.

Now, before everything ended, Althea could at least be grateful—Daven hadn’t rejected her request.

Caspian had been working overtime through the entire New Year holiday. Veyra Solenne decided she would surprise him. She'd fly out, knock on his hotel door, watch his tired face crack into a smile.

Only business class seats were left. Although she felt bad about the ticket price, she thought it was worth it.

She sat there for a full minute, unable to figure out how to lower the tray table.

The woman beside her — polished, bored, gorgeous in the particular way that costs money — let out a short laugh.

"Never flown business before?"

Veyra managed an awkward smile. "Sorry. You must run a company or something. You've got that air about you."

"Me? No." The woman waved a manicured hand. "But my benefactor does. If I'm not in business class, he sends a private jet."

"A benefactor," Veyra said. "Those must be hard to come by."

"Not really." The woman's mouth curved. "I'm his subordinate. I keep making expensive mistakes at work. He scolds me until I cry, and then—" she smiled, letting the sentence finish itself.

A small chill moved down Veyra's spine, though she couldn't have said why. "Funny," she said slowly. "My husband has a colleague like that too. Always making mistakes."

"You're married?" The woman's eyes swept over her, cataloguing. "His wife's about your age, actually."

She examined her nails.

"He says he got tired of her ages ago. Says touching her feels stale. Less interesting than watching me flip my hair."

Veyra's stomach turned, quietly, the way it does before you know why.

"I told him I wanted to see him over the holiday," the woman went on, pleased with herself. "So he told his wife he had to work."

That was when Veyra saw it. The ring on the woman's finger. A diamond, cut exactly like the wedding band she had lost two years ago.

She went still.

Caspian is an ordinary employee, she thought. So, calm down. Similar rings don't mean anything.

Her eyes fixed on the ring.

"That's a wedding band," Veyra said, her voice coming out strange to her own ears. "Did you marry him?"

"This?" The woman — Xiomara, she introduced herself, admiring the stone as it caught the cabin light — "I made him take it from his wife."

The air went out of Veyra's lungs.

"I wasn't trying to make trouble for her, honestly," Xiomara said. "But on my birthday she had a miscarriage and dragged him to the hospital. I spent it alone."

Veyra's hand drifted, without her permission, to her stomach.

The memory came back whole and freezing: black ice on the walk home from the market, a fall she hadn't seen coming, three months along, and then nothing but blood on frozen concrete. Caspian at her bedside for three days straight, not sleeping. Waking to find her ring gone along with the child.

It's okay, he'd said, voice breaking. We'll have another baby. I'll make you a new ring.

Don't, she'd told him. They're doing layoffs. Save the money. When you make it, get me one then.

She had believed, at the time, that this was a small and noble sacrifice. She had not known she was negotiating away her own ring to a woman she hadn't met yet.

"So he gave you his wife's ring," Veyra said carefully.

"He didn't want to, at first. Said he'd buy me something better." Xiomara tilted her hand, watching the light slide across the diamond. "But that old thing acts so superior just for being his wife. If I don't put her in her place, she'll think she owns the world."

"When a woman lets herself get that pathetic," Xiomara added, almost kindly, "there's really no saving her."

Veyra's fingers found the hem of her sleeve and held on. "If he spends this much on you, he must be paying her a fortune to keep quiet."

Xiomara laughed, bright and careless, and leaned in close enough that her perfume became a wall.

"Here's the funny part," she whispered. "That pathetic woman doesn't even know he runs a company."

---

"Why keep it from her?" Veyra asked. Something in her was still hoping — stupidly, stubbornly — that there was an explanation that didn't end where she thought it did.

"Because what's the point?" Xiomara turned her nails toward the window light. "She already spent her best years slaving beside him while he built everything. If you were a man and you finally made it, would you keep spending on a wife who's already worn out? Money doesn't buy back anyone's youth."

Veyra caught her own reflection in the cabin glass — hollow-cheeked, shadowed under the eyes, ten years of scraping by written into her skin. She used to look better than this. She used to look like Xiomara.

"You know, sis, you've still got some looks left," Xiomara said, studying her with the clinical warmth of someone appraising livestock. "A little cosmetic work wouldn't hurt. Your husband hasn't been that interested lately, has he?"

Veyra said nothing.

"My benefactor gives me half a million a month just for living expenses," Xiomara added, unprompted, unbothered. "Procedures are separate."

"How long," Veyra made herself ask, "has this been going on?"

"Since June twelfth, last year." Xiomara checked her nails again, already bored of the question.

Veyra's grip on her own sleeve went white-knuckled.

June twelfth. The day her mother had needed five hundred thousand dollars for surgery she never got. Caspian had begged everyone he knew and come back with three hundred fifty thousand — everything I have, he'd told her, weeping, and she had believed him, had scraped together eighty thousand more herself and still watched her mother die eighty thousand short of enough.

I'm sorry, he'd said into her hair. I'm worthless. I couldn't even save your mother.

She had wiped his tears instead of her own. You gave everything you had. That's enough. Just wait a little longer, she'd told him, and he'd gripped her hand like a man drowning and sworn they wouldn't suffer forever.

He'd had the other hundred and fifty thousand the whole time.

"Funny thing," Xiomara said, watching her now with real interest. "That woman's mother needed exactly five hundred thousand that same month."

Veyra looked at her and said nothing at all.

Xiomara winked. "He was going to pay it. Originally."

"You took it," Veyra said. "For an allowance."

"Please, he's got plenty more where that came from. I just told him — once her mother's dead, that woman has no family left. Nowhere to go. If he ever gets caught keeping me, she won't dare make a scene." Xiomara smiled, cat-content. "I wanted a Chanel piece that month. Five hundred thousand, as it happens."

"Aren't you afraid she'll find out?"

"I'm smarter than that." Xiomara stretched, satisfied. "It was my idea — tell his wife he'd scraped together everything, let her think he gave his all. She'd be too grateful, too guilty over the shortfall, to ever look for someone else in the picture."

Then, almost as an afterthought, she added the last piece.

"The annoying part is, the only reason he finally agreed to do it was so that if I ever got found out, his precious wife wouldn't leave him." She snorted. "Tch. Some women have all the luck."

The slap landed before Veyra had decided to throw it.

"What is wrong with you?" Xiomara shrieked, hand flying to her cheek.

...

Xiomara shrieked. It was not the refined sound Veyra expected from someone so polished. It was raw and loud and it cut through the cabin like a siren.

A flight attendant appeared between them before Veyra could lower her hand. The woman’s face was all professional calm, but her eyes were sharp. She placed herself squarely in front of Xiomara, blocking Veyra from view, and spoke in a low, urgent voice that Veyra could not quite hear.

Xiomara recovered quickly. She always recovered quickly. That was the type of woman she was. She pressed her hand to her cheek with deliberate drama, her fingers spread wide like she was holding her face together. When she looked at Veyra over the flight attendant’s shoulder, her expression was not pain. It was disgust. The look you give something you stepped in.

“You bitter old thing,” she said. Her voice carried. People were watching now. Heads turned in every row. “I understand now. Your husband has someone on the side, doesn’t he? That’s what this is about.”

She smiled when she said it. The smile was small and mean and perfectly shaped.

Veyra poured her drink on her.

The champagne went everywhere. It splashed across Xiomara’s white blouse, ran down her neck, dripped from her chin onto her lap. Xiomara gasped and jerked back, her hands fluttering uselessly at her chest. The flight attendant stepped aside to avoid the spray. A woman across the aisle made a sound of pure shock.

For a moment, Xiomara just sat there. Her hair was wet. Her blouse was ruined. The red wine stain from earlier had company now. She looked like something that had been caught in a storm.

Then the chief purser arrived.

He was tall and thin with silver hair and a face that had seen everything. His name was embroidered on his lapel in gold thread. He took in the scene with one sweep of his eyes: Xiomara dripping in her seat, the wet champagne glass in Veyra’s hand, the passengers pretending not to stare. His expression did not change. It was smoothly, professionally appalled, and somehow that was worse than if he had looked angry.

“Madam,” he said to Veyra. His voice was quiet. Authoritative. “I must inform you that Ms. Vell is a VIP guest on this flight. She is affiliated directly with Caspian Thorne, CEO of Thorne Technologies, one of our highest value corporate accounts.”

He said it like it was an indisputable fact. Like the name should mean something to her. She supposed it did.

“I am going to advise you, very firmly, to keep your distance from Ms. Vell for the remainder of the flight.”

Veyra did not argue. She sat back down.

Her hands were shaking. She put them in her lap and pressed them flat against her thighs. Her phone was in her bag. She pulled it out and turned off airplane mode.

She typed: Where are you right now?

The response came fast. A photo. His office desk. Half eaten takeaway box. His monitor on, showing a spreadsheet. The caption: Making money for my wife.

She stared at the word. Wife. He had written it like it meant something.

She typed another message. A question about the flight. Something about what time he was landing. She does not remember exactly what she wrote. He did not reply.

Because he was, at that moment, calling Xiomara.

Veyra heard it. Xiomara answered beside her, and Caspian’s voice came through the speaker. Veyra knew his voice. She had known it for seven years. It was warm and low and it was nothing like the way he had spoken to her in months. Months. Maybe longer. She had stopped counting.

He called Xiomara baby.

He said she should not let anyone upset her. He said whoever it was did not matter. He said he was transferring five hundred thousand to her account right now, just to make up for the turbulence she had endured. Turbulence. His word. He said it without irony. He promised her a villa. An evening that would make everything better.

Veyra gripped the armrest. Her knuckles went white.

She tried to remember the last time Caspian called her anything soft. She went back through the months in her mind, searching for it. A birthday. An anniversary. A night when he came home and looked at her like she was something he wanted. She could not find it. It was not there.

There had been a time after his transfer. That was when things changed. He was always exhausted. Always just about to feel better. She had been patient. She had told herself it was stress. That she loved him. That marriage went through seasons. She had believed that because she needed to believe it.

She understood now that it was not a season.

Her phone buzzed. Caspian.

He said he would take her to her favorite restaurant to make up for working through the holiday. The one with the noodles she liked. He said he was sorry he had been so busy. He added a small heart.

She read the message twice. She did not respond.

A flight attendant appeared at Xiomara’s seat. She was holding a velvet box. She handed it to Xiomara with a small bow. Xiomara opened it without looking away from Veyra. Inside was a necklace. Prada. Gold and mother of pearl. It caught the cabin light and threw it back in soft pieces.

Xiomara pulled a note from the box. She read it aloud, maybe without realizing she was doing it. Her voice was light.

“Be bold. Be you. I am always behind you.”

She looked at Veyra when she finished. Her smile was back. It was the smile of someone who had already won.

The chief purser returned. He stopped beside Veyra’s seat. In his hand was another velvet box. Smaller than the one he had given Xiomara. He opened it.

Inside was a diamond.

It was round and brilliant and it sat on a bed of black silk like a drop of frozen light. Veyra did not know diamonds, but she knew what six figures looked like. She had worked for money like that. She had saved it. She had given it to Caspian.

“Mr. Thorne sent this,” the chief purser said. His voice was carefully neutral. “With a request.”

She waited.

“He asks that you apologize to Ms. Vell.”

He added the rest almost as an aside. His voice dropped. Like he was doing her a favor.

“Mr. Thorne earns the equivalent of several such diamonds in a single day.”

Veyra looked at the diamond. She looked at it for a long time. The light moved inside it. She thought about three years of a cramped apartment. Skipped meals. Cheap face cream. Double shifts. She thought about her mother’s surgery. The money that was there and then was not. She thought about a Chanel clutch the color of dried blood.

She agreed to apologize.

She stood up. She walked the three steps to Xiomara’s seat. Xiomara looked up at her with that lazy, satisfied expression. Her hand was still pressed to her cheek. The pose was theatrical. She knew it.

“I want you to be slapped twice,” Xiomara said. “In return.”

Veyra said no.

She dropped the diamond on Xiomara’s tray table. It landed with a sound that was heavier than it should have been. A solid, final sound. It rolled once and stopped against the champagne glass.

Xiomara slapped her.

Her hand came fast and hard across Veyra’s face. Veyra’s head snapped to the side. Her cheek burned. Flight attendants converged again, three of them this time, their voices overlapping. Xiomara was already turning away, her hand reaching for the diamond.

Veyra slapped her back.

She did not think about it. She just did it. Her hand connected with the same cheek as before. The sound was clean and sharp. Xiomara’s head turned the other way. Her hair swung forward. She did not shriek this time. She just sat there, very still, her face red on both sides.

The rest of the flight passed in a blur. Veyra did not remember the landing. She remembered the wheels hitting the tarmac. She remembered standing in the aisle with her bag, her body moving while her mind stayed somewhere else. She was still processing the specific texture of humiliation. The way it sat under your skin. The way it made you feel like you were wearing someone else’s body.

She walked into the arrivals hall.

And then she saw them.

Xiomara had run to Caspian. Her face was arranged into something small and wounded. Her hand was pressed to her cheek. She was leaning into him like she needed him to hold her up. Caspian’s arms went around her with a speed and tenderness that Veyra recognized. She had not seen it directed at her in a very long time.

He was panicking. She could see it in the way his hands moved over Xiomara’s back, the way his head bent toward hers. He was more visibly afraid for Xiomara than he had been the night Veyra lost their child. That night, he had been calm and very controlled. He had held her and told her everything would be okay.

He was not calm now.

He was mid sentence. Something about dealing with whoever did this. His voice was hard. Protective. The voice of a man who would burn something down for the woman in his arms.

Veyra stepped forward.

“Hello, Mr. Thorne,” she said.

...

Caspian’s hand dropped from Xiomara’s waist like it had been burned.

He turned. His face went through something Veyra had never seen before. A full second of blankness. Like his brain had stopped working. Then the mask came down. The smile. The easy confidence. The man who could talk his way out of anything.

“Veyra.” He said her name like he was testing it. Like he was not sure it would work. “Baby. What are you doing here?”

She did not answer. She pulled out her phone.

Xiomara was still pressed against him, her hand on her cheek, her eyes wide. She looked from Veyra to Caspian and back again. Her mouth opened. Closed. Opened again. The pieces were clicking into place behind her face. The wife. The woman on the plane. The woman who slapped her. Her hand dropped from her cheek.

“Oh,” Xiomara said. Her voice was small. “Oh.”

Veyra held up her phone and pressed play.

Xiomara’s voice filled the arrivals hall. Bright and proud. Describing the mother. The money. The miscarriage. The Chanel clutch. The words hung in the air between them. Passengers turned to look. A woman with a suitcase stopped walking. A man in a business suit froze mid step.

Caspian’s face went gray. His hands came up like he was going to reach for the phone, but he stopped. He just stood there, his arms half raised, his mouth open.

Xiomara made a sound. A small, strangled thing. She grabbed Caspian’s arm. “Caspian, I didn’t know she was—”

He shook her off.

The recording kept playing. Xiomara’s voice: He was furious. All that disruption for nothing. Veyra let it run. She let it play long enough for Caspian to hear every word. Long enough for Xiomara to hear herself. Long enough for the people around them to understand what kind of man Caspian Thorne really was.

Then she pocketed the phone.

Caspian finally found his voice. “Veyra, listen to me. Whatever you heard, it’s not what you think. She exaggerates. She makes things up. You know how women like that are.”

Veyra looked at him. She looked at him for a long moment.

“How do women like that be, Caspian?”

He blinked. “I didn’t mean—”

“You meant exactly what you said.” Her voice was calm. She was surprised by how calm it was. “You’ve been telling her I’m boring in bed. Is that also an exaggeration?”

His face did something. Guilt and fear and calculation all fighting for space.

“Veyra—”

“Don’t.” She held up her hand. “Don’t say my name like that. Don’t pretend.”

Xiomara was crying now. Real tears or fake tears, Veyra could not tell. She did not care. Xiomara was saying something about being sorry, about not knowing, about how Caspian had told her the marriage was over. Veyra did not listen. She was watching Caspian’s face. Watching the way he looked at Xiomara when she cried. The way his hand twitched toward her before he remembered Veyra was standing there.

She thought about the night she lost the baby. The way he had held her. The way his voice had been calm and measured. He had told her it was okay. He had told her they would try again. He had been the steady one, the strong one, the one who kept it together while she fell apart.

She understood now that he had not been strong. He had been relieved.

She turned and walked away.

She did not run. She did not look back. She walked the way women walk when they are done. Her heels clicked on the polished floor. Behind her, she heard Caspian say her name again. Louder this time. Then Xiomara’s voice, rising. Then nothing. She kept walking.

*

*

*

She found a bar. She did not remember choosing it. She just walked until she saw lights and went inside.

The bar was in a hotel. Somewhere near the airport, maybe. Leather booths. Low music. A bartender who did not look up when she came in.

She ordered a drink. Then another.

She sat alone and turned Xiomara’s words over in her mind. The ones about the money. The mother. The ring. But there was something else. Something Xiomara had said on the plane, almost as an afterthought. That Caspian found her boring. That she did not try anymore. That she was not a real woman.

She had thought, in the moments when she let herself wonder why he stopped touching her, that maybe it was her. Maybe she had changed. Maybe the grief of losing the baby had made her different. Maybe she was not exciting enough. Not young enough. Not enough.

She had not been the problem.

She finished her drink and ordered another. She was not a woman who did impulsive things. She was the sprt of woman who calculated, who saved, who waited and she was done waiting.

She looked across the bar.

There was a man at the far end. And he was looking back.

He was not like Caspian. Caspian was handsome in a safe way. Predictable. The type of handsome that came from good grooming and expensive haircuts. This man was something else. He was tall and broad shouldered. Dark hair. Strong jaw. He was wearing a suit that fit him perfectly, but he wore it like he did not care about it. His sleeves were rolled up. His tie was loose. He was holding a glass of something amber and he was looking at her like she was the only person in the room.

She looked away. Then she looked back.

He was still watching.

She made a decision. She stood up, picked up her drink, and crossed the bar. Her legs felt steady. Her hands did not shake. She stopped beside his table.

“Is this seat taken?”

His mouth curved. It was a slow thing, that smile. Like he was not used to smiling but had decided to make an exception.

“It is now.”

She sat down across from him. The booth was leather and warm. The table between them was small. Close enough that she could see the color of his eyes. Gray. Almost silver in the low light.

He did not ask her name. She did not offer it.

“What brings you here?” he said. His voice was low. Rough at the edges.

“Bad day,” she said.

“Bad enough to drink alone in a hotel bar?”

“Bad enough to drink with a stranger.”

He laughed. It was a quiet sound.

“I’m Dorian,” he said.

She waited for him to ask her name. He did not.

“What about you?” she said. “Bad day?”

“No.” He swirled the liquid in his glass. “Good day, actually. But it just got better.”

She should have rolled her eyes. She should have said something clever. Instead, she felt something loosen in her chest. Something she had been holding tight for a very long time.

They talked. Low voices. Close. The music was soft, some jazz thing she did not recognize. He asked her where she was from. She said somewhere cold. He asked if she missed it. She said she missed who she was when she lived there. He did not push. He just nodded like he understood.

He told her he was in town for a meeting. Something about companies. She did not ask for details. He was funny in a dry way that caught her off guard. He made her laugh twice.

When he leaned in to hear her over the music, she could smell him. Cedar and warmth. Clean skin. She found herself watching his mouth when he spoke.

She kissed him first.

She leaned across the table and she kissed him. It was not tentative. She did not want to be tentative anymore. His hand came up and cupped her jaw, his thumb brushing her cheekbone. He kissed her back like he had been waiting for it. Like he had been hoping.

When she pulled back, his eyes were dark.

“My room is upstairs,” he said.

She nodded.

*

*

*

What happened after that was nothing like what she had known.

Dorian did not treat her like a habit. He was patient in a way that was devastating. Every touch is deliberate and unhurried. He kissed her like he had the whole night and intended to use it.

He took her to his room and closed the door behind them. The room was expensive. She noticed that without meaning to.

He turned her around in the dim light and unzipped her dress. His fingers were steady. His hands were warm on her shoulders. He pressed his mouth to the back of her neck and she closed her eyes.

“You’re shaking,” he murmured against her skin.

She did not answer.

He turned her back to face him. He looked at her for a long moment. Not like he was appraising her. Like he was seeing her. He touched her face. Her jaw. Her throat. His hand moved slow.

“Tell me what you want,” he said.

She could not remember the last time anyone asked her that.

“I want to feel something,” she said. “Anything. Just make me feel something.”

His expression changed. Softened. He kissed her again, slower this time, and his hands moved down her sides. He lifted her easily. She wrapped her legs around him and he carried her to the bed.

He was gentle in a way that was almost unbearable. He took his time. He touched her like he was learning her. He whispered things against her skin that she would replay later, when she was alone. His hands were everywhere. He found places she had forgotten she had. He made her wait. He made her ask. And when she finally let go, when she stopped thinking and just felt, she understood something.

She had not been the problem.

She had never been the problem.

*

*

She lay awake after. Dorian was beside her, his breathing slow and even. The room was dark. The sheets were cool against her skin. She listened to him breathe for a long time.

She thought about staying. She thought about what it would be like to be here when he woke up. To let him make her coffee. To let him ask her name.

She only knew that she was a woman who had spent three years giving everything to a man who gave her nothing. And she was done.

She slipped out of bed. Her dress was on the floor. She found it in the dark and pulled it on. Her shoes. Her bag. She moved quietly, the way women learn to move when they need to leave without being noticed.

Dorian shifted in his sleep. She froze. He did not wake.

She looked at him one more time. The shape of his shoulders in the dark. The line of his jaw. The way his hair fell across his forehead.

Then she opened the door and she left.

After their son passed away,

Sienna Sterling abandoned every

single habit Gavin Vance used to

despise.

She no longer flooded his phone

with calls. When he remained out

all night, she neither wept nor

started an argument.

Chapter 1

After the witch’s memory severance ritual, I forgot everything.

I forgot the Alpha I was fated to for seven years.

I forgot the Omega girl I’d sponsored since childhood, the one who stole my entire life.

I forgot everything about the Blackwood Pack.

With the paperwork severing my ties to the pack finalized, I applied to join the Lunar Guard and was shipped out to a conflict zone overseas.

Everyone assumed I was just throwing a tantrum.

They thought I'd come crawling back to the pack’s protection after a few weeks in the shit.

They were wrong.

Five years later, helicopters with strange markings descended on the Lunar Guard’s outpost, surrounding us.

Armed wolf warriors swarmed the area, securing it in seconds.

Under the blinding glare of a searchlight, an emissary from the North American Wolf Alliance stepped out. He looked at me, his face a mask of shock.

“After all these years, why did you never contact Alpha Aiden of the Blackwood Pack? Do you have any idea he’s been waiting for you for five whole years?”

I blinked, confused. “I’m sorry, I underwent a memory severance ritual a long time ago. Who… who is Aiden?”

The air went still.

A sudden, sharp panic seized my chest, and I instinctively looked up.

In the helicopter's open hatch stood a man in tactical gear. His tall, powerful frame was rigid, and his eyes, red-rimmed and raw, were locked on me.

…

I found out about Aiden and Lily on the night of our bonding ceremony.

I couldn’t find him anywhere.

Finally, I saw them on the terrace of the pack leader’s cabin.

He had her, Lily, the Omega girl I’d supported for a decade, pressed against the wall, his mouth devouring hers.

I walked over calmly and slapped him across the face.

The next thing I knew, Lily shoved me off the terrace.

As I fell, a strange sense of predictability washed over me.

It was happening again.

Everyone I cared about was eventually stolen by Lily.

She was the orphaned daughter of my father’s old war buddy, a pitiful Omega with a tragic backstory.

I started sponsoring her when she was twelve, treating her like a little sister.

I paid for her education, brought her into my social circle, and found her a comfortable administrative job within the pack.

She was clever, charming, and bright, like a little ray of sunshine.

My family and my pack mates, who were initially wary of her, all grew to adore her.

“That little Omega is so much more likable than you.”

I’d heard those words more times than I could count.

And now, even my Alpha, the man I’d loved for seven years and was about to officially bond with under the Moon Goddess’s watch, had fallen for her act.

When I woke up in the pack infirmary, Aiden was sitting by my bed.

He wasn’t there to check on my injuries.

The only name on his lips was Lily.

“Selena, that kiss… it was a mistake… It will never happen again.”

“And as for Lily, you’ve taken care of her for years. Her life is already hard enough. Don’t hold this against her, okay?”

I looked into his golden eyes, the mark of an Alpha, and a bitter laugh escaped my lips.

“Aiden, you’re saying all this because you’re scared I’ll ruin her reputation, scared I’ll have her kicked out of the pack. Isn’t that right?”

His face darkened. He grabbed my wrist, his grip like iron.

“I know you’re angry, but as the future Luna, your actions affect the stability of the entire pack.”

“Let this go. We’re about to be bonded. Don’t make this messy.”

I wrenched my hand free and stared at the full moon outside the window.

He opened his mouth to say more, but his Beta appeared, whispering in his ear.

Lily was having an emotional breakdown. She needed him.

Aiden glanced at me, his tone softening slightly.

“There’s trouble with some rogue wolves on the border. I have to handle it myself. You get some rest.”

He was gone before I could answer.

He rushed out without a backward glance.

He never came back.

I lay motionless in bed, my eyes fixed on an ad on a hidden forum on my phone.

【An ancient witch’s memory severance ritual. Break the chains of your past.】

I’ve always been decisive.

And I have zero tolerance for betrayal.

I never wanted something that was already tainted.

So, whether it was Aiden or the seven years we shared, I was done.

I walked out of the witch’s hidden cottage, my mind feeling strangely clear, yet terrifyingly empty.

Parts of my past were now locked away in a magically sealed box.

I knew they were there, but I had lost both the key and the desire to open it.

The ritual required two stages. I had to return in five days for the final session.

Following the faint memory of an address, I returned to the Blackwood Pack’s territory.

The guards recognized me and let me pass with a respectful nod.

I opened the door to my house to the sound of laughter.

“Lily did great! She won first place in the Alliance Hunt!”

“She’s really made our pack proud!”

I saw Lily surrounded by a crowd of my friends, her face blushing with pride.

Aiden stood beside her, his posture relaxed but proud, a smile of approval on his lips.

One of them noticed me, and their smile faded.

The lively room fell silent.

A flicker of discomfort crossed Aiden’s face as he walked toward me.

“Selena? You’re back? Why didn’t you tell me you were out of the infirmary? I would have picked you up.”

I stepped away from his outstretched hand, my voice flat.

“What? Did my return to my own home interrupt your party?”

The atmosphere turned awkward.

Chloe, a pack mate I’d fought and bled with for years, tried to smooth things over.

“Selena, you’re just in time.”

“We’re celebrating Lily’s victory. We all pitched in for a gift, and since you’ve looked after her for so long, it’s only right that you give it to her.”

Before I could refuse, she shoved a small, beautifully wrapped box into my hand.

Not wanting to drag this out, I held it out to Lily.

The moment she reached for it, the box suddenly dropped to the floor.

The wolf totem, carved from moonstone, shattered into pieces.

Lily’s eyes filled with tears.

“Selena… you still can’t forgive me, can you? That night was just an accident… I didn’t mean for it to happen.”

“I’ve been so worried about you while you were recovering…”

Seeing her cry, everyone turned on me, their words sharp with blame.

“Selena, honestly, Lily’s life has been hard enough!”

“Can’t you just let her have one happy day to celebrate her achievement?”

I looked at the faces accusing me.

In the center of it all, my fiancé of seven years stared at me with pure disappointment.

My heart felt like it was being pierced by silver needles. I could barely stand.

“That’s enough,” Aiden said, his voice low but carrying the full weight of his Alpha authority. The murmuring stopped.

He walked to my side, his voice a low growl.

“Selena, stop being childish. Lily earned this honor through her own hard work.”

“Even if you’re upset, know your time and place.”

He picked up the broken gift and tried to hand it back to me.

“Give it to her again. After all, you two will have to get along in the future.”

His voice was gentle, but the hand on my shoulder was applying pressure, a silent command.

I took a deep breath and stepped away from his touch.

“There’s no need,” I said softly. “She and I… probably won’t be living together anymore.”

“I actually came back today to pack my things.”

Chapter 2

The moment I finished speaking, Lily’s crying intensified.

“Selena, what do you mean by that? Are you kicking me out?”

She looked at Aiden, her eyes pleading. “Aiden, what do I do? You promised me…”

Aiden’s brow furrowed. He turned to me, his voice laced with Alpha authority and a weariness he couldn’t hide.

“Selena, do you really have to take it this far?”

Before I could even explain, I was drowned out by the accusations of my former friends.

“Selena! That’s way too far!”

“If you kick Lily out, where will she go? It’s dangerous for an Omega out there alone!”

“What if something happens to her? How could you live with yourself?”

Chloe looked at me, her face full of pity for Lily.

“Just let it go, Selena. Look how much you’re hurting her. She’s already been through so much…”

I stared at Chloe, my heart turning to ice.

On the way to the celebration for my solo design exhibition, my husband, Harrison, received a call.

A woman's voice filled the car, piped through the Bluetooth system.

"I'm back. And I'm ready to take what's mine."

Harrison didn't respond. His jaw clenched as he wordlessly stabbed the end-call button.

I took it as a clear rejection.

Until late that night, when his lawyer delivered the divorce papers.

Staring into the impenetrable depths of his gray eyes, I calmly signed my name. "Do I need to move out tonight?" I asked.

He must have expected arguments or hysterics, because a rare flicker of surprise crossed his cold, ascetic face.

His Adam's apple bobbed. "No need," he said, his voice low. "This Manhattan penthouse will be transferred to your name tomorrow."

I offered him a brittle smile and nodded.

Harrison didn't know that for a man with his intense need for control, me walking away with his money—calmly and without a single tear—was the ultimate act of war.

————————

1

I glanced at Harrison’s chiseled profile. "It's late," I said softly. "You should get some rest. Don't you have a board meeting tomorrow? I'll take the guest room."

With that, I stood to leave.

As I passed him, he shot out a hand, his grip like an iron clamp on my wrist. The heat from his palm sent a jolt through my skin.

His brow was furrowed, his thin lips pressed into a hard line, as if he were wrestling with confusion, or perhaps suppressing a violent rage.

He demanded, "Avery, why aren't you fighting me on this?"

"And if I did? Would you call off the divorce? Or does the great CEO of the Hawthorne Group get off on watching women grovel at his feet?"

Harrison stiffened, his deep gray eyes boring into me. Finally, he said in a low voice, "I'm sorry. I'll compensate you."

I turned my head just enough to reveal the tell-tale redness in my eyes. "Okay," I whispered. "I believe you."

The living room lights stayed on all night.

The next day, when we went to the courthouse to formalize the divorce, the compensation section of the agreement had several new pages.

After the paperwork was finalized, Harrison took my hand—a first for him. His gaze dropped to my stomach. "Let's have a meal together," he said.

In the past, I would have been ecstatic.

It was so unlike him. Harrison, always so cold and detached, never initiated anything.

But now, I took a half-step back, smoothly withdrawing my hand. I looked down. "Mr. Hawthorne, that wouldn't be appropriate."

Harrison's frown deepened, clearly unaccustomed to the sudden distance between us.

"Avery," he said, a hint of irritation in his voice as his long fingers loosened his expensive silk tie, "a divorce doesn't mean we're enemies. I can still provide for you."

I paused, not answering.

After all, three years ago, he had told me I wasn't even worthy of breathing the same air as him.

Taking my silence as consent, Harrison opened the car door for me himself.

He had never done that for me before.

I lowered my eyes. "The morning sickness is awful. I can't stomach the smell of truffles and oysters at the kind of French restaurants you favor."

Harrison froze, as if the reality of my pregnancy had only just struck him. "I'm sorry," he repeated, his voice strained.

I nodded politely. "Then I won't trouble you, Mr. Hawthorne. I should be going."

Harrison's lips thinned into a hard line, his tall frame rigid with a palpable anger.

But his gaze caught the lingering puffiness around my eyes, and he visibly forced himself to rein it in.

"Get in the car. I'll take you home."

This time, I didn't refuse. A strategic retreat is one thing; making a spectacle of it is another.

Throughout the drive, Harrison seemed to be wrestling with his words, his silence filling the car with a tension so thick it felt hard to breathe.

I knew what he wanted to say.

So I spoke first. "I'll raise this child on my own. When he's born, his last name will be Clark. He won't ever get in the way of you and your... reunion."

I thought my words were considerate, but Harrison's reaction was explosive.

He slammed on the brakes, the tires screeching against the asphalt.

His face was grim, his dark eyes flashing with a fury I had never seen before.

"Avery Clark," he seethed, "are you that desperate to erase me from our child's life?"

Chapter 1

A cry escaped my lips the moment my body slammed hard against the cold rehabilitation room floor, and terrible pain exploded through my knees. My palms scraped roughly against the tiles as the metal support bars beside me rattled violently.

“Mrs. De Luca!” the therapist gasped and rushed toward me.

“I’m fine!” I snapped immediately, hating the look of pity that briefly flashed across her face. I started panting and breathing roughly as sweat rolled down my forehead. My legs trembled uncontrollably beneath me, weak and useless like they had been for the past three years.

But I refused to stop. I gritted my teeth and dragged myself back toward the bars.

“One more time…” I whispered.

“Aurora, your legs are already swollen,” the therapist pleaded carefully. “You need to rest.”

“No.”

My fingers tightened around the bars.

“I can do it.”

I had to do it. For three years, I had lived in darkness. I had lived in a wheelchair for three years. Those three years, people had stared at me with curiosity and pity, and I had also spent those three years watching other dancers perform while I sat trapped inside this broken body. I used to be the principal dancer of Vesper Ballet Company. The stage was once mine. Every spotlight, applause and standing ovation had been mine. Dance wasn’t just part of my life. It was my entire existence. And now?

I couldn’t even stand without collapsing like a cripple. My chest tightened painfully. No matter what it took… I wanted to walk again. Even if it killed me. I forced my trembling legs to move.

One step… Then another…

Suddenly, my ankle twisted violently.

“Ah!”

I crashed and fell on the floor again. This time, the pain was unbearable, I was in agony as waves and waves of pain rushed over me and nausea rushed up into my throat. Tears instantly burned my eyes, but before the therapist could approach me again, a familiar voice sounded from behind.

“Aurora.”

My body froze at the sound of that voice. Dominic De Luca.

He strode into the rehabilitation room wearing his usual black suit, his cold handsome face immediately darkening the second he saw me lying on the floor.

“Aurora!” He rushed over quickly and knelt beside me.

His expensive cologne surrounded me instantly. The same scent had once made my heart race with love and desire. Now it only made my heart race with anger and disdain.

“What happened?” Dominic’s voice turned sharp as he glared at the therapist.

“She pushed herself too hard—”

“I told you not to let her overtrain.” His tone was filled with anger.

The therapist lowered her head fearfully. “I’m sorry, Mr. De Luca.” Dominic immediately turned back toward me. The coldness in his eyes disappeared completely.

His eyes showed tenderness and my heart clenched painfully. I wanted to stand and slap him, I wanted to rage at him for what he had done to me. Just one hour ago, I had been outside his doctor’s office listening to the conversation that destroyed my entire life.

-

“When you caused that accident to make sure Cassandra could marry your brother Theodore, you turned Aurora into a disabled woman.”

I remembered every single word clearly. Every single word carved into my flesh like a knife. At first, I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.

“Now I see how hard she’s fighting to recover, and I’m wondering if we should change the treatment plan to help her stand again sooner.”

There was a terrifying silence. Then Dominic’s voice came moments later. It sounded cold, cruel and emotionless

“Cassandra would feel threatened if Aurora recovered too quickly.”

My blood had turned cold instantly.

“She spent her entire life living under Aurora’s shadow,” Dominic continued calmly. “I already destroyed Aurora’s future once. I won’t allow anyone to ruin Cassandra’s happiness now.”

I nearly stopped breathing. Destroyed my future?

My hands had trembled violently outside the door. Then the doctor spoke again.

“You already broke her wings for Cassandra. Isn’t that enough?”

Dominic answered without hesitation.

“For Cassandra… I’d do anything.”

-

“Aurora?”

Dominic’s voice dragged me back to reality.

I realised he was gently wiping the blood from my palm with his handkerchief.

“You’re hurt,” he murmured softly. My throat tightened. For three years…

For three whole years, I had believed this man loved me. I believed he saved me after the accident. I believed that when the entire world abandoned me, Dominic stayed.

But everything was a lie. A disgusting lie!

“Does it hurt?” he asked quietly.

I stared at him silently. How could he ask me that?

How could he look at me with those eyes after destroying my life with his own hands?

Flashbacks from that night suddenly crashed into my mind.

Rain poured heavily outside. Bright headlights.

The deafening sound of brakes screeching.

Then… BOOM!

The impact shattered everything and glass pierced my skin.

My body twisted painfully inside the car. I remembered screaming. I remembered blood everywhere. And the worst part?

I remembered waking up in the hospital unable to feel my legs.

At first, I thought it was temporary.

I thought I would dance again after recovery.

But then the doctor looked at me with pity.

“Aurora… I’m sorry.”

Sorry? Sorry?!

For a ballerina, losing her legs was worse than death. In that moment, my world ended.

I wanted to die. I truly wanted to die.

“Aurora.”

Dominic carefully lifted me into his arms. Instinctively, my body stiffened. He noticed immediately.

His brows furrowed slightly. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” I whispered hoarsely.

Dominic carried me toward the wheelchair and crouched before me. His fingers gently brushed against my swollen ankle.

“You shouldn’t force yourself too much,” he said softly. “Recovery takes time.”

Recovery? I almost laughed.

No. I almost screamed.

This man had personally destroyed my recovery.

For three years, he watched me suffer while pretending to save me.

After her third miscarriage, Audrey Kane finally became the perfect wife her husband had always wanted.

She learned to stop pouring all her attention into Weston Sterling, and she learned to swallow those suffocating negative emotions on her own.

She even learned—to stop loving Weston Sterling.

...

On New Year's Eve, a cold wave swept across Connecticut. Not a single car was available on any rideshare app.

Audrey could only wrap her worn wool coat tighter around herself, endure the sharp, stabbing pain in her lower abdomen, and walk step by step back to the estate in Greenwich.

The heating inside the villa was set like midsummer. Laughter and cheerful voices pierced straight through the closed front door and into her eardrums.

It was only then that Audrey vaguely remembered—her husband Weston couldn't bear the thought of Camille Harrington and her son Leo spending the holiday alone, so he had specially brought them to their home to celebrate New Year's together.

That was why Weston hadn't gone with her to the hospital.

In the past, this kind of neglect would have shattered her completely—she would have screamed, swept the crystal vase off the coffee table, even lunged at Camille to tear at her carefully styled blonde hair.

But now, she couldn't even be bothered to lift her eyelids.

The door handle turned, and the villa door opened from the inside.

Weston stepped out carrying a bag of trash filled with paint Leo had spilled.

"Audrey." Weston shifted to block her view, his tone full of wariness. "Camille and Leo are guests. Don't make a scene. Don't embarrass me."

Through the crack in the door behind him, the scene inside the villa was on full display.

Camille was wearing Audrey's La Perla silk robe, draped elegantly across the sofa while flipping through the latest issue of The New Yorker.

Her son Leo was tossing Armani throw pillows all over the floor. Expensive goose down drifted out from the split seams, floating everywhere.

The scene looked incredibly warm and cozy, which only made Audrey, standing in the cold wind outside the door, look like an uninvited intruder.

Audrey didn't respond. She stepped around Weston's side and walked straight toward the staircase leading to the second floor, as if passing through invisible air.

Her face held nothing but calm. Complete, utter calm.

Weston suddenly grabbed her ice-cold wrist.

"What's wrong with you?" His voice carried a tension even he hadn't noticed.

Before bringing Camille and her son into the house, he had rehearsed in his mind countless times all the possible ways Audrey might explode—

Crying, clawing, screaming hysterically at Camille.

He had even adjusted his stance, subtly shielding Camille behind him, ready to forcibly restrain Audrey the moment such a scene broke out.

In his long-held perception, Audrey was always that woman who made mountains out of molehills, who could never act with class. The only way she knew to assert her pitiful possessiveness was through the ugliest displays.

But this deathly silence, this utter indifference, instead ignited a nameless fire deep inside him.

How could she not make a scene?

What gave her the right not to make a scene?

Before Audrey could speak, Leo ran over and tugged at Weston's arm. He tilted his round little face up and blinked rapidly. "Dad, Mom told you to take out the trash. Why are you still standing here?"

That single word "Dad" made Weston freeze for an instant.

Almost by instinct, he shot a quick glance at Audrey.

But Audrey didn't even lift her eyelids. Those eyes that had once brimmed with love and grievance now held nothing but complete, barren calm.

"The kid just says things. Audrey, it's not what you think."

After saying this, he braced himself, subconsciously waiting for her hysterical outburst.

But nothing happened.

Audrey simply, quietly, inch by inch, pulled her ice-cold wrist out of his grip.

She turned around, walked toward the master bedroom on the second floor, and gently closed the door behind her.

That closed door landed on Weston's face like a silent but forceful slap.

He took a deep breath, bounded up the stairs in three steps, and shoved the bedroom door open.

He rubbed his brow in irritation, trying to recapture that familiar feeling of control. His tone was impatient. "If you mind so much, I'll tell Camille to move out tomorrow."

This was already the biggest concession he could make.

"I don't mind." Audrey sat pale-faced on the edge of the bed. Her tone was as steady as discussing whether it would snow tomorrow. "Just like you said before—if I hadn't married you back then, Camille wouldn't have been forced to marry that bastard to save the Harrington family. Everything you're doing now is just making it up to her and her son."

Her gaze drifted past him and settled on the empty space behind. "I understand."

These were the very words Weston had used, cold and sharp, to scold Audrey during her breakdowns in the past.

But somehow, when those identical words came out of Audrey's mouth, they tasted completely different.

Weston's gaze turned cold for a second. His temples throbbed.

He couldn't shake the feeling that Audrey wasn't supposed to say things like this.

At the very least, not in this tone.

This calm, even tone.

Audrey had become sensible. She had become exactly what he had demanded her to be countless times before. Yet Weston found himself profoundly unsettled.

The sharp sound of a glass shattering against the marble floor came from downstairs.

The Sterling estate's butler soon knocked on the bedroom door. "Mr. Sterling, Miss Harrington is injured. Would you like to come down and take a look?"

Weston turned to leave almost instantly.

But his phone buzzed the moment he took his first step. He glanced at the message on the screen and stopped dead in his tracks.

His Adam's apple bobbed. He waved at the butler with dark, unreadable eyes. "Go help her with the wound first. I'll come down later."

Then he turned back. A hint of concern flickered in his eyes. "You had a D&C today? Why didn't you tell me?"

Audrey had called him, but Weston's phone had been on another call the entire time.

But now, none of that mattered.

"A minor procedure. I didn't want to trouble you." She paused before speaking again. "After all, so many things are more important than I am."

Weston was silent for a moment, then suddenly reached out and grabbed her wrist.

His grip was impossibly strong. Audrey couldn't help but frown.

"Audrey, why aren't you angry?"

An indescribable irritation surged through Weston's chest—something was slipping out of his control.

A flicker of genuine confusion passed through Audrey's eyes. "You used to always complain that I made scenes, that I wasn't poised enough. Now I've stopped. So what's your problem?"

The Audrey before him now was quiet, restrained, and composed.

Exactly as he had once demanded.

Yet as Weston stared at the face in front of him, his heart hammered wildly for no reason.

Everything felt wrong.

Even though she had become exactly what he'd always wanted, everything still felt wrong.

He walked up to her and lowered his voice. "Audrey, stop this. Let's make a fresh start this new year, okay?"

"Okay."

Audrey nodded and blinked quickly.

Boom—

Outside the window, the Times Square New Year's fireworks display erupted across the television screen, casting flickering light and shadow throughout the room.

A new year, a new beginning, then.

That docile, compliant attitude stabbed at Weston's frayed nerves once again.

He was about to say something else when the bedroom door burst open. Leo rushed in, grabbed Weston's hand, and wailed. "Dad! Mom's hurt! There's so much blood! Come quick!"

The moment those words left his mouth, Weston instinctively whipped his head around to look at Audrey.

But the grievance and tears he had anticipated were nowhere to be seen on her face.

She just blinked slowly. Her tone was as bland as a glass of lukewarm water. "Miss Harrington is hurt. Go on, go see her."

Those calm eyes observed everything like an audience member in a theater box watching a play that had absolutely nothing to do with her.

Weston stood frozen.

But Leo's crying was too violent. Weston had no choice. He bent down, scooped Leo up, and strode toward the door.

At the bedroom doorway, he whipped his head back and said in a low voice, "Audrey, get some sleep first. I'll come find you later."

But until the sun rose fully the next morning, Weston never showed up again.

Chapter 1 The Mistress at the Door

My husband's side chick mistook me for his mistress. She livestreamed herself raiding my home, wrecking everything, and vowing to ruin me.

My mother-in-law, Eleanor, died of a sudden asthma attack during the chaos.

What the intruder didn't know was that I was Julian's actual, legal wife.

Later, unaware of what he was doing, Julian had his own mother's body cremated and scattered her ashes into the wind.

When the truth came out, he went insane, grabbing Chloe by the throat.

"This is all your fault! If not for you, my mother would still be alive!"

It all started because I sent my husband a few spicy lingerie photos. His kept mistress mistook me for the "other woman" and called herself his fiancée.

She stormed my mansion with a squad of heavy-set bodyguards, streaming live.

"What's wrong? You had the nerve to steal my man, but you don't have the guts to show your face? I've never seen such a shameless whore

"You wrecked a home, so you better be ready for the consequences.

"I'm exposing your ugly face to the whole world today!

"My husband bought this $100 million estate anyway! Break everything! I'll pay for the damages!"

Chloe played the victim for her online audience while hurling slander at me. Her goons went on a rampage, tearing down priceless oil paintings and smashing antique vases in the grand foyer.

They didn't even spare my collection of limited-edition designer handbags.

"What are you doing?!" Eleanor tried to step in, but one of the thugs violently slammed her to the ground. The shock triggered her severe asthma, leaving her twitching uncontrollably on the floor.

"Mom! Are you okay?!" I screamed. "She has her inhaler in her pocket! Give it to her!"

Chloe sneered, "Old hag's just faking it! Ignore her. Let me see how long she can keep up the act."

Tears streaming down my face, I lunged toward Eleanor, only for a bodyguard to pin me down.

"You have the wrong person! I'm his wife! Save her! This is murder! I'm calling the police—"

Before I could finish, Chloe stormed over and slapped me across the face.

I clenched my fists, burning to fight back, but her thugs held me tight.

"Call the police?" Chloe mocked. "I checked the title. This place belongs to my fiancé. What right do you have to call anyone?

"With a face like yours, who else could you be but a homewrecker?

"Today, I'll make sure you never show your face in public again!"

She shoved her phone camera inches from my bruised face for a close-up.

Nosy neighbors gathered at the gate, pointing and whispering at me while I was pinned to the floor.

"I knew it! A young girl living in a $100 million mansion? She had to be a sugar baby!

"Exactly. She’s been living here for ages, yet the man of the house has barely come around.

"Caught red-handed! Serves her right!"

Some angry bystanders even spat on me and threw rocks over the fence. My custom gown was ripped to shreds, and my skin was covered in deep purples and blues.

"Where is your proof?" I spat out blood. "I'm married! I don't even know you!"

"You want proof?" Chloe whipped out a second phone, opened an album, and shoved the screen in my face. "Here it is! Deny these lingerie pics you sent my man!"

I stared at the screen. The so-called proof was just my private chat history with my husband.

On his phone, Julian had saved my contact name as "Barren Hen."

A few days ago, on our wedding anniversary, I had sent him a few flirtatious lingerie photos to spice things up. Chloe had seen them and taken screenshots.

The brutal truth hit me like a physical blow.

Chloe's "fiancé" was my legal husband.

When I married Julian, he was just a broke nobody. But his relentless affection won me over, and I even cut ties with my wealthy father just to be with him.

Now that he was rich and powerful, he was keeping a side chick behind my back—and mocking me as a barren hen.

Rage shook me to my core. I should have never given up my status for this scum. He was the one who was rotten to the core!

His ultimate betrayal, coupled with this public humiliation, ignited a roaring fire of vengeance inside me.

Beside me, Eleanor had stopped moving entirely. Nobody cared.

I locked eyes with Chloe, my voice icy cold. "You better call Julian right now and ask him who I really am."

"Why ask?" Chloe sneered, waving a massive, sparkling pink diamond ring in my face. "He proposed to me 2 days ago. He put this ring on my finger himself!"

The wedding drums were still echoing in my chest when the Moon Goddess spoke.

“Win the heart of one of the four mates I gave you before your twenty fifth moon or your soul will be erased forever. That was our deal little hybrid. And yet…you failed”

“How pathetic, tell me was humiliation not exhausting?”

Her voice slid into my head the way it always did — warm, unbothered, like she was commenting on the weather rather than ending my life.

“And now you can no longer continue, your time is up.”

I stood outside the great hall of the castle stronghold, back pressed against cold stone, listening to the crowd roar inside.

Through the heavy oak doors came the sound of horns, of celebration, of Rose’s breathless laughter as Dorian — the Lycan King, the last of my four assigned males — sealed his vows to her with a kiss.

It had been twenty-five years!

I had spent twenty-five fʊcking years in this world miserably. Born into it as a wailing infant with no memories and a divine mission from the Moon Goddess stitched into my soul like a scar.

The deal was to make one man of the four she picked to love me. Just one to truly love me and I get to go home back to my world and live.

So I agreed. How hard could it be, I said.

Yet, I hadn’t managed a single one.

“Tough luck, little hybrid. It was really fun watching those petty attempts, mostly quite shameful and humiliating I must say,” the Moon Goddess said cheerfully, mocking me.

“I really thought Dorian was going to be your moment. The enemies-to-allies arc? The late night war councils? Very compelling, your seduction was topnotch. I was invested.”

“YOU!.. you were invested?,” I almost shouted but I had to control my tone. “How wonderful for you.”

“C’mon don’t be like that. I gave you good material to work with.”

“You gave me a brother who hἅtes me, a warlock who treated me like a lab specimen, a king who forgot I existed the moment his fated mate walked in, and an extremely cold Vampire who never once looked at my face yet every other lady was all over him.” I pushed off the wall. My legs felt like water.

“Phenomenal material. Truly.”

“Look at it from this angle, I made you a Hybrid, the only rare creature in this world with fast healing abilities… uhmm.. and the Vampire situation was genuinely tragic I’ll admit, it was unexpect—”

“You fʊcking made things worse…whatever I don’t care again, what happens now?” I cut her off. My voice came out steadier than I felt. “You said if I failed, I had to end it myself. Is that still the arrangement?”

A pause took over. Suspiciously long for a goddess who always had something to say.

“…Yes. Those were the terms.”

“Fine. I’ll commit suicide if that’s what you want”

I said inside my head and walked away to a sacred place in the castle while everyone was preoccupied.

………….

The river road outside the stronghold walls was quiet at this hour. Everyone was inside celebrating.

The torches along the path burned low and orange, throwing long shadows across the cobblestones.

I knew this road with my eyes closed because I had walked it a thousand times over twenty-five years — running errands, delivering messages, making myself useful to people who never noticed. All the cold looks, all the cruel words. Every single one of them had turned on me because of Rose.

Rose was the heroine of this world.

The Moon Goddess told me not to blame myself at some point that I was just always usɛless and incapable of winning just one male lead heart. She said Rose was the female lead, so of course the male leads would be drawn to her.

Pathetic. Yes I now knew.

I found the old bridge at the edge of the Ashburn territory.

The river below ran fast and black in the dark and the cold breeze was something I enjoyed.

I climbed onto the railing without letting myself think much as I inhaled the air. I was holding in my hand a silver white oak stake, one I had stolen from the castle to k!ll myself as it was the only thing I could use to end my life all thanks to Claire, the Moon Goddess.

“You know,” the Moon Goddess said conversationally, “for someone who’s allegedly giving up you’re moving very efficiently.”

“Goodbye, thanks for the twenty five years of torment” I told her, wrapping my fingers around the stake as I directed the sharp edge at my heart.

“Yara—”

“I said goodbye.”

I looked up at the sky. The moon was full tonight. Bright and indifferent. Of course it was.

Just because I was born into this world as a supporting character — was I really doomed from the start?

I closed my eyes and stabbed my heart with full force but before it made contact a hand seized my wrist from making a move.

The grip was brutal — yanking me off the railing so hard I crashed sideways into a broad chest before being shoved back against the bridge wall. My shoulder blades hit stone and cracked, I immediately opened my eyes spitting out blo0d forcefully.

ARGHHH FʊCK!

“Next time listen to me, I was trying to warn you not to stop you from dying duh” Claire chipped in.

It was Tyson.

My brother in this world. Alpha of the Ashburn pack. One of the four men the Moon Goddess had assigned me. He was still in his wedding clothes. He must have left right after the ceremony.

He looked furious.

“What,” he said, “the hɛll do you think you’re doing?”

Yeah he was pissed.

I stared at him. Twenty-five years of memories hit me all at once — every cold look, every dismissal, every time I had made myself smaller so he could feel bigger. And underneath all of it, buried so deep I had almost forgotten it was there, the stup!d stubborn flicker of hope I had carried for him since I was old enough to understand what a family was supposed to feel like.

“What does it look like,” I spat back.

“It looks like you’re making a scene outside our family’s territory on my Alpha’s wedding night.”

His jaw was tight. “You want to commit suicide? Are you okay? Do you have any idea how that reflects on me?”

There it was.

I laughed. It came out wrong on normal occasion I would have hid it but fʊck it.

“Of course. That’s why you followed me. Not because you were worried. Because of how it looks.”

“Don’t flatter yourself.”

“I’m not.” I straightened up, brushing his hand off my wrist. “Go back inside, Tyson. This doesn’t have anything to do with you.”

He grabbed my ἅrm again before I could move and snatched the stake away from me. “You’re not dying on Ashburn land.”

“Then I’ll walk further, give me back the stake!.”

“Yara—”

“Let go of me.”

He didn’t. His grip tightened and something shifted in his expression — something that might have been real if I still had the energy to believe in real things. “Stop being dramatic. Rose’s wedding was always going to happen. You knew that.”

And there was the slap. Not with his hand he used words. He’d always been better with words.

I felt something go very quiet inside me.

“You’re right,” I said softly. “I knew still fʊck you.”

He must have heard something in my voice because his eyes narrowed. Then, like he couldn’t help himself, like twenty-five years of cruelty had just become a habit he couldn’t break even now — his free hand came up and caught me by the neck then he slammed me harder on the wall that I felt my bones crack especially my skull.

Blo0d trickled down my lips as I groaned, enduring the pain, then I smiled.

It was not a kind smile. He had definitely hit a nerve.

“You just hit me again,” I said, getting pissed, “Don’t make this worse, hand me the stake.” I turned to look at him deἅdly.

“No. Get out of my sight”

Something flickered behind his eyes but I wasn’t going to back down.

I saw my chance to snatch the white oak stake from him and stab myself in the heart.

And yes I did!

But sh!t something else happened and Tyson’s blo0d stained my clothes.

Chapter 2

I shoved him so hard that I struck his vital point and his blo0d fell on me. He was bigger, stronger that he barely moved — but the shock on his face was worth it.

He grabbed my wrist and I grabbed his collar and then we were both moving at a crazy speed, a graceless furious tangle of elbows and curses and twenty-five years of everything we’d never said out loud.

He got his ἅrm around my shoulders and slammed me back against the wall. I drove my knee up and caught his thigh and he swore viciously in the old tongue. I clawed for his hair — he caught my wrists — I headbutted his chin with enough force that he actually staggered.

We stood there panting in the torchlight. His lip was bleeding. My cheek was already swelling but neither of us let go.

“I hἅte you,” I told him. My voice cracked on the last word and I hἅted myself for it.

Something moved across his face.

Things might have gone the other way around of me trying to scurry in his favour, like I said he was one of the four male leads the Moon Goddess had chosen for me.

Claire said that if I could raise his familial love value to one hundred percent where he would want to d!e to protect me, then I would succeed. But then Rose, that bἅstard had stolen his heart.

I had no idea how Rose had gotten so deep into his head and twisted him that hard that he fell for her. And when she lied to him that I’d hired a rogue werewolf to beat her, assault her and rἅpe her, Tyson believed her without hesitation. From that day on, he hἅted me.

Tyson slowly walked in front of me, his eyes glowing deep red now in the dark night.

The moon was full now and his anger had snapped, so had his beastly strength. His body was darkening and expanding, slightly becoming hairy.

I knew immediately it was trouble. I raised my head up and tapped into the werewolf side of me and my eyes glowed golden yellow, those were the eyes of a Hybrid.

GROWL!!!!

My face changed and I hoped it would at least stop Tyson from what he was planning but it did not.

Tyson slammed his hand and grabbed my throat so tight that I lost the ability to breathe for a few seconds.

He dragged me and fell on fours running into the woods like an ἅnimἅl as my body kept on smashing the ground and dirt as we ran to a nearby riverbank.

Then he raised me up and hurled me towards a huge tree as I smashed my back and spat out a mouth full of blo0d.

“If you’re going to d!e, don’t do it on our territory. I don’t want anyone else seeing an abomination d!e and we get cursed for it.”

“So I picked out a good spot for you. D!e here. Go on, hurry up!” He tossed the white oak stake on the ground so close to me.

My head was ringing from the attack I had just borne but I was quick to recover unlike him my injuries were healing fast.

“You see..perks of being a Hybrid.” That annoying voice of the Moon Goddess rang in my head again and I bit down my teeth hard and squeezed my fist.