
Abandoned by My Alpha, Carrying His Heir
Luna Elena Frost was never chosen, only assigned.
Bound to Alpha Alaric Ashbourne through a cold contractual marriage, she endures three years as a Luna in name only. He never comes home, never defends her, and never looks at her, while his heart belongs to another woman.
At his grandmother's funeral, Alaric publicly dissolves their marriage, humiliating Elena before the entire pack. In that moment, she finally understands the truth. She was never wanted.
But the Moon has not abandoned her.
A forgotten night resurfaces. Her long-silent wolf begins to awaken. And secrets buried within her bloodline start to surface, drawing danger from every direction.
Cast out by the pack that once used her, Elena must flee, survive, and uncover her true power.
Only then does the Alpha realize his mistake.
By the time he turns back in regret, the Luna he rejected may already be gone forever.
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Chapter 1
Alaric
I never chose Elena Frost as my mate.
Three years ago, when I officially took control of the Ashbourne Pack, my authority was still being tested. Power alone wasn't enough. The elders watched every of my decision, allied packs measured my stability, and my enemies were lurking, waiting for a single misstep.
An Alpha without a Luna was a flaw in the hierarchy-an imbalance that could never be respected.
That was when my grandmother stepped in-ending the discussion before it become a debate.
Patricia Ashbourne, my grandmother, had ruled this pack long before I did. Even after stepping down, her word remained absolute. She told me that the pack demanded stability, not love. Her role was to quiet unrest, secure power, and end all talk.
I objected once.
Yet, she reminded me that Alpha authority was not about personal preference. It was about power and dominance.
Elena Frost was her chosen candidate.
She bore a rare ancestral wolf bloodline-one said to steady an Alpha's power. Yet when I met her, I could barely feel her aura, so faint it was almost absent. And when the elders chose her, I could not fathom why. She was no vision of strength, no beauty to command a room-only a body weighed down by weakness, a Luna unworthy of the title.
For Grandma, she embodied the ideal Luna.
For me, she was a parasite clinging to my name, feeding on what will never hers.
The moment, I agreed, the ceremony took place right away under my grandmother's guidance.
A bond in name only. No blood oath. No instinctual claiming. A marriage acknowledge by the pack but never sealed by the Moon.
~
Elena
The Ashbourne ancestral hall was silent, the atmosphere were heavy. White funeral banners hung from the beams, embroided with ancient runes that glowed faintly under the dim lights-symbols meant to guide a departed wolf's soul back to the Moon.
Incense burned low, its bitter scent clinging to the air, mixing with the restrained pheromones of dozens high-ranking wolves gathered in one place.
Pack elders, Alpha from allied packs, and the Ashbourne-were all present.
And the Luna itself.
Me.
I stood at the very front, dressed in black, my hands folded neatly over my abdomen. Every movement I made was careful, controlled-like how grandmother had taught me how Luna should behave.
Patricia Ashbourne's portrait loomed above the altar. Her sharp eyes, captured in oil and shadow, almost seemed alive, as if she were still watching, still judging.
"You promised me you'd stay," her echoed in my memory. "No matter what happens."
My fingers curled slightly.
I indeed stayed.
For three years.
I had stayed in an unmated marriage. Stayed to an Alpha mate who never came home. Stayed despite the endless whispers about a "useless Luna" whose wolf aura was too weak to be felt. Stayed when they not only humiliate that I was a Luna in name only-but also mock my appearance.
About the body I once carried, heavy and swollen, calling me a pig at the feast, and a glutton who looks like someone hasn't fed her for ages.
I snapped from my thoughts as a ripple moved through the crowd.
The air shifted.
I didn't even need to turn around to know who had arrived.
Alaric Ashbourne.
His presence swept through the hall. Cold. Dominant. Controlled.
The faint whispers when they looked at me, had completely died down as they instinctively lowered their gazes as he walked forward.
My spine stiffened-he stopped beside me.
So close that I could feel the heat of him.
Close enough that my wolf-quiet for so long-stirred faintly at the presence of our desired mate.
But Alaric didn't look at me.
He wore a tailored black suit, his dark hair neatly combed back, and his expresson were cold. There were no traces of grief nor other emotions in those eyes.
But what made my heart ache when my gaze fell onto the woman who stood on his other side.
Her hand rested lightly on his arm like she had the right to do so.
Hydra Vale.
She was dressed in mourning black, but nothing about her looked subdued. Her long hair fell over one shoulder, her face pale and delicate, eyes rimmed red in just the right way-as if she'd cried enough to be convincing, but not enough to ruin her beauty.
She was the widow of his deceased close friend.
The woman the pack whispered about.
The woman they compared to me-the same woman everyone already assumed would become the next Luna.
Her scent brushed against mine-sweet, warm, openly entwined with Alaric's.
So this is how it is.
A cold bitter smile left from my mouth as I tried to focus my attention as the ceremony continued. The elders had already spoke about Patricia Ashbourne's legacy-how she had led the pack through bloodshed and expansion, how her word had once been law even among rival Alphas.
I bowed when expected. Knelt when required. Mourned when appropriate.
The perfect Luna that I had always been taught to.
When it was time for the family to step forward, Alaric moved.
Still, he did not look at me.
My gaze fell at Hydra who followed at his side, her fingers tightening slightly on his sleeve as if she belonged there and I was the stranger.
A murmur rippled through the hall. I don't know why but I felt something was going on.
I only confirmed it when after the final rites, when everyone expected the dispersal as Alaric did not step back.
Instead, he turned.
And faced the crowd.
"Before you leave," he said, his voice calm, deep, and amplified by Alpha authority rather than volume, "there is a matter I need to make public."
My heart dropped.
My gut were clamoring that what he was about to say is something I had been long to avoid hearing.
No, maybe I was just overthinking it.
Yet, despite the faint hope in my heart-he still managed to crushed it over again.
"As of today," he said, "the marriage bond between Elena Frost and myself is formally dissolved."
Those words slammed into me like a physical blow-the same as the hall exploded.
I couldn't even move-I thought that maybe I just misheard it.
But then Alaric turned his head-just slightly-and finally looked at me.
His eyes were cold and detached.
That's where I know, he was sure of it.
"This decision," he continued, "was made after careful consideration. The bond was contractual in nature, arranged under my grandmoter's directive. With her passing, it no longer serves a purpose."
Every word he uttered cut straight to my heart.
The invisible threat that had always existed-thin, neglected, but still hanging desperately-had finally snapped as my wolf whimpered.
Several elders exchanged looks, letting out a helpless sigh but none of them voice out to stop the Alpha.
They all tacitly agreed with the Alpha's arrangement.
No, in their eyes, they never see me as their Luna.
I wanted to scream. To shout. To question them why-especially the Alpha.
Instead, I bowed.
"I understand," I found myself answered.
My voice did not shake and the hall went silent again, as if they didn't expect such reaction from me.
Even Alaric's brows furrowed-just for a fraction of a second-before smoothing out.
"Arrangements have already been made," he added. "Elena will be compensated according to the pack law."
Compensated.
As if I were a transaction.
As if those three years could easily be compensated.
He clearly knows I didn't agree to marry him for the compensation offered in our marriage.
Yet.it was also my choice.
Choice to be with him despite that I know he wouldn't choose me.
All because I love him.
All because I wanted to be with him.
I pursed my lips, my gaze fell onto Hydra who shifted beside him and her body leaning subtly toward his.
She didn't say a word, but her eyes do.
'I'm next. You're done.'
Beneath those pity expression she exudes when she looks at me, there was triumph.
I forced myself to lift my head.
"Alaric Ashbourne," my mate. "Thank you.for the clarity."
And just as I thought, he never spared me a glance. Even one farewell glance.
As if I was unworthy.
As if looking at me would only taint his eyes.
I pursed my lips and curled my fingers.
"Wow, she really throught she'd last."
"Of course, she wouldn't! How could she be compared to Hydra? If she wants the Alpha, she have to be Hydra herself!"
"Pity. if I were her, I'd sure hide and never be seen in the public again."
"Are you trying to compare a pig to a goddess? Oh please!"
I let the murmurs, the mockery, the laughter bleed past me, clinging to the hope that if I stood still enough, strong enough, the Alpha would grant me a single glance-just one look to ease the ache clawing at my chest.
But when his eyes finally shifted, they did not find me.
He turned away, as if I had never existed.
Hydra naturally followed, not even bothering to hide the triumph in her smiles as her hand never leaving his.
Watching as they disappeared from my view-I understood.
I was the Luna no one wanted.
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7.8
Elie Joyce’s entire life was controlled by Ebert Ewing, a ruthless billionaire who held her sick grandmother's survival and her family's freedom in his hands.
But on a freezing, stormy night, he forced her into a scandalous scrap of red silk and handed her over to a notorious, disgusting predator.
"You aren't an escort. You're just a free gift."
Ebert mocked her, using her as a disposable bargaining chip to secure a corporate funding round.
When the predator humiliated her, forced high-proof vodka down her throat, and violently pinned her to the floor, Ebert simply watched with dead eyes.
And when Ebert finally intervened to brutally beat the man, it wasn't out of mercy.
"She is my property. Even if she is trash that I threw away, a filthy pig like you doesn't get to touch her."
Afterward, he dragged her battered, barefoot body into his car, only to kick her out into the torrential rain, leaving her on the dark streets to die.
Standing in the storm, shivering and bleeding from broken glass, the last shred of Elie's hope shattered.
She had sacrificed her dignity and soul, enduring his violent bites and cruel control, just to keep her family alive.
Why did she have to suffer this endless, twisted humiliation for a psychopath who only saw her as trash?
But she didn't break.
Tearing a strip of his expensive shirt to bandage her bleeding foot, Elie gripped her broken stiletto like a knife.
With her eyes turning cold and calculating, she limped out of the shadows.
She was going to survive, and Ebert Ewing would soon realize she was no longer his obedient prey.

9.1
What would a woman do if one day she is waiting for her husband to tell him the news of her pregnancy but he comes home with another woman who is pregnant with his child?
........
Ariadne had a perfect life until her mother died in a car accident and her father remarried, bringing a stepmother and stepsister into her life. Once adored by all, Ariadne became an eyesore to everyone, including her father. Her stepmother and stepsister took everything from her.
However, she lost it when their eyes fell on Xander, the sole heir of the richest family in the country and her childhood love. When rumors of Crystal, her step sister and Xander's dating spread, Ariadne used her everything to force Xander into marrying her.
Despite pouring her heart and soul into the marriage Ariadne failed to make Xander reciprocate her feelings. Their loveless marriage came to an end when Crystal returned in their lives.
With a broken heart, Ariadne left the city with a secret and rebuild her life.
Five years later, she returned as a successful interior designer to design her ex-husband's new mansion. But this time, what she saw in Xander's eyes for herself was not hatred. It was something else.
She came face to face with the same people who had wronged her in the past. They still held resentment towards her. But this time Ariadne vowed to strike back at her bullies.
Many secrets were revealed in the process that made Xander regret his past actions. He determined to win Ariadne back.
BUT Will Ariadne be able to forget their past and get back together with Xander or She will choose someone else?

7.9
Eileen Goff was a nobody, scrubbing diner tables to survive while her greedy family bled her dry.
On the eve of her twentieth birthday, the government's mandatory marriage algorithm matched her with a spouse.
It wasn't a plumber or a teacher. It was Harrison Butler, the ruthless, untouchable billionaire king of Butler Industries.
At the registry, Harrison's glamorous intended fiancée threw a half-million-dollar check at her.
"Take the money, get out of here, and never show your face again."
The registry supervisor even offered her a million dollars to sign a cancellation agreement, trying to erase her from the system.
At their first high-society gala, Harrison's stepmother and the fiancée locked Eileen in an empty room, plotting to humiliate her and prove she was just cheap trash.
Eileen was terrified and confused. Men like Harrison Butler didn't just accept federal matches with girls who smelled like fried onions.
But instead of abandoning her, Harrison smashed the door open, publicly banished his own family, and kissed her in front of the entire city's elite.
Why was this billionaire going to such extreme lengths to protect a complete stranger?
Then she overheard his assistant talking about a marriage clause in his grandfather's trust fund.
He didn't love her; he just needed a powerless, state-mandated wife to lock his parasitic family out of his empire.
Realizing she was a highly valuable pawn, Eileen stopped trembling, looked the billionaire in the eye, and spoke.
"I believe we can have more than just a legal relationship. We can have a business arrangement."

8.9
Ava Kidd just wanted to escape her abusive stepmother when she got drunk at a high-end club and stumbled into the wrong hotel room.
She woke up the next morning in a luxury penthouse, lying naked next to a terrifyingly handsome man covered in her scratch marks.
Recalling rumors of the hotel's secret underground concierge, she immediately assumed she had accidentally slept with an elite male escort.
Desperate to settle the bill, she offered him her only debit card with a pathetic $1,800.
But the man, who was actually Garrison Terry, the ruthless billionaire CEO, was deeply insulted by the cheap plastic.
He trapped her against the bed, coldly demanding a half-million-dollar service fee.
When Ava frantically offered her dead mother's tarnished locket as collateral, he cruelly dismissed it as worthless junk.
Ava was humiliated, her heart pounding with absolute terror.
She didn't understand why this arrogant gigolo was acting like a deranged extortionist, demanding a fortune from a broke girl who had clearly made a mistake.
Furious and refusing to cower, she sneaked out, put on his oversized designer shirt, and aggressively ate his $800 truffle breakfast.
Having no money left, she grabbed her cheap red lipstick, wrote a defiant IOU on his expensive linen napkin, and fled the hotel.
She thought she had escaped a criminal, but upstairs, the billionaire traced her lipstick-stained name with a predatory smile.
"Ava Kidd, I will absolutely find you."

8.9
Aubree Hamilton was the top-tier executive assistant to Wall Street's most ruthless titan, Beck Franco. A month ago, she made a catastrophic mistake and spent the night in his bed.
Thinking she had erased the mistake with a morning-after pill, she panicked upon his return and lied about being engaged to push him away.
But Beck, a man who despised disloyalty above all else, immediately suspended her and ordered her escorted out of the building. Her nightmare only escalated when her toxic ex-boyfriend attacked her on the street, tearing her purse open and exposing the empty morning-after pill box to the public—and to Beck, who was watching from his penthouse. After having his security rescue her, Beck trapped her in his car, ruthlessly tearing apart her fake engagement. Later in her apartment, the suffocating tension between them almost ignited into a kiss, but a violent wave of nausea suddenly hit Aubree.
She shoved him away with all her strength and violently threw up in the bathroom.
Beck took it as the ultimate physical disgust. He walked out, deeply humiliated and dangerously obsessed, unleashing his resources to investigate her every move.
Left alone and trembling, Aubree finally checked the crushed white box. The pill she took had expired a month ago.
Staring at the two bright pink lines on the pregnancy test, she made a desperate vow: Beck Franco could never know she was carrying his child, and she had to disappear before he found out.

9.3
Candice Luna thought her marriage to Julius Hansen was a lifeline to save her father's struggling company.
She didn't know it was a death sentence until Julius coldly slid divorce papers across his mahogany desk.
His true love, Amina Rowe, was nestled in his arms with a triumphant, mocking smile. The "merger" Julius promised had been a brutal, hostile takeover designed to bleed the Luna Group dry from the inside. Bankrupted and utterly broken, Candice's father stepped off the roof of their corporate tower. Meanwhile, Candice was publicly humiliated, stripped of her dignity, and mocked by all of Wall Street as a discarded stepping stone.
She died in a car accident, her final moments consumed by an agonizing, feral scream. She hated herself for letting her blind devotion destroy the father who had always believed in her.
But when Candice opened her eyes to the harsh fluorescent lights of a hospital room, she realized she wasn't dead.
She was twenty-two again. Three years before the wedding. Three years before her father's suicide.
When Julius's assistant walked in holding a bouquet of blue roses to discuss the preliminary merger, he expected a docile, desperate heiress.
Instead, Candice grabbed a glass of water from the nightstand and flung it directly into his smug face.
"Tell Julius Hansen to never, ever send his dogs to my door again."
This time, there would be no engagement. This time, the Hansen family would choke on her family's legacy.