After My Alpha Chose Her, I Fought Back

The greenhouse was my sanctuary in a pack house that had never felt like home. Dawn hadn't yet broken when I slipped inside, the familiar scent of damp soil and blooming flowers wrapping around me like an embrace I'd long been denied elsewhere. My fingers trembled slightly as I reached for the watering can—a weakness I couldn't afford to show outside these glass walls. I focused on the white lilies, my favorites. Their pure petals reminded me of what I once was—hopeful, untainted. Before the mate bond that became my prison. "You're wilting too, aren't you?" I whispered to a drooping bloom, gently supporting its stem. My wolf, Luna, whimpered softly in the back of my mind. Once silver and strong, she now barely stirred, weakened by the sickness that had been consuming us both since I gave too much blood to save William three years ago. A sudden tremor ran through my bones, stronger than the usual morning weakness.

The Inter-Pack Summit's grand hall glowed with ceremonial torches, casting dramatic shadows across the faces of the most powerful Alphas in the region. I stood at the entrance, my silver aura radiating outward in controlled waves—not a display of emotion, but a calculated reminder of the Silvermoon Pack's strength under my leadership. Marcus positioned himself precisely one step behind me and to my right, his presence a silent comfort through our private mind-link. *They're all watching for weakness,* he observed, his thoughts flowing into mine with familiar ease. *Then they'll find none,* I replied, scanning the room with measured indifference. Alpha Kaelen Blackwood approached first, his dark eyes evaluating me with the same predatory calculation I recognized in myself. "Alpha Victoria," he greeted, inclining his head just slightly enough to acknowledge my status without suggesting submission. "Your champion has brought considerable attention to the Silvermoon territory." "As intended," I replied coolly, the subtle tap of my index finger against my thigh the only outward sign of my strategic assessment. Ryan Mitchell had indeed brought attention—attention I had meticulously orchestrated over five years of investment. The rogue I'd salvaged from starvation had been molded into a weapon that now represented Silvermoon dominance in combat.

I worked three double shifts at the garage just to buy a velvet-boxed cake for my wealthy girlfriend, Arleen. But when I pushed open the VIP room door, I saw her lover kissing her bare leg. She didn't push him away. Instead, she laughed and swirled her martini. "I only forgot Finn because I knew he would stay. He is a poor boy from Queens who follows me around like a loyal dog." Later that night, her lover intentionally crashed a Porsche to scare me, sending a piece of jagged metal into my skull. Lying in a growing pool of my own blood, I watched Arleen crawl out of the wreckage. She didn't even look at me. She threw herself at her uninjured lover, screaming for a medic. "He just got scraped by a piece of plastic. He is faking it. Deal with Jaquez first!" When I woke up, I wasn't free. Arleen had locked me in a private hospital wing with 24-hour security, planning to isolate me and keep me as her broken, captive toy forever. My blind, pathetic devotion finally froze into absolute disgust. I looked at the heart monitor next to my bed and grabbed an IV needle. I severed the sensor wire to trigger a flatline, slipped out the fire stairs while the nurses panicked, and burned my identity to ashes. This time, I was going to disappear to London, build my own empire, and watch hers burn.

5 years ago, Summer Rodriguez was framed for a murder she did not commit. Her mother betrayed her. Her twin sister walked away from her. The world chose to believe the worst. Summer lost her freedom, her future, and the life she had worked for. Now she is out of prison, and she wants everything stolen from her. That includes the man her sister is about to marry. Kirill Volkov is a Russian trillionaire CEO who is brilliant, cold, and haunted. He lives with obsessive compulsions and a mind that sometimes forgets recent events and sometimes forgets faces. Whenever he starts to feel anything close to it, his body responds with frightening physical collapse. But the moment Summer appears at his wedding disguised as her sister, something inside him wakes up. He does not expose her. He takes her hand and tells the world, She is my wife. What starts as revenge turns into a consuming game of desire, control, and secrets. Summer came to take her life back. She never planned to become the one thing Kirill refuses to let go of.

Chapter 1 It was their seventh wedding anniversary. Carolyn found the divorce agreement in Roger’s nightstand. The pages were covered in scribbles and corrections, as if he’d agonized over them for years. *"If, during the marriage, I fall in love with another person, I voluntarily relinquish all assets and leave with nothing. Asset details as follows…"* His first impulse had been to walk away empty-handed. But the asset section told a different story—a mess of revisions. First, he’d crossed out the property he intended to give her. Then, the fifty million earmarked for her was scratched out and replaced with five hundred thousand. Finally, as if in penance, he had written a single line. *"Better to have Carolyn leave with nothing. No choice, Catherine is pregnant."* … Carolyn sank onto the bed, disbelief washing over her. On the agreement, Roger’s signature was clean and decisive, without a hint of hesitation. And the document had been drafted seven years ago—the very year they married. That year, Roger had been willing to give up everything for her. Yet every year after, he had crossed out another piece of their shared life. Now, seven years later, the one leaving with nothing would be her. Her phone buzzed abruptly. A message from Roger. *"Urgent business. Won't be back."* She called, only to find his phone already switched off. Another notification flashed—a screenshot from a friend. Catherine, the student she sponsored, had posted on social media. *"Wow, got praised! To commemorate my first period without a leak, the big boss said we should celebrate properly!"* In a nine-photo collage, Roger gazed at her, eyes crinkling with affection as he fastened a dazzling gemstone necklace around her neck. The post was tagged at a couples-themed hotel. Carolyn’s breath caught. He couldn’t remember seven years of marriage, of weathering storms together—but he could find the energy to celebrate Catherine’s… leak-free period. And that pendant… she’d seen it at an auction just last week. It was her mother’s lost heirloom. She’d been ready to bid when her bank card was frozen. She’d asked Roger why. A long time later, he finally texted back, telling her not to waste money on such impractical things. Clutching her bidding paddle, she’d sat helplessly in the auction hall. In the end, she resolved to sell one of her own designs to raise the funds. But someone on the phone swooped in with an unbeatable offer and took it. For weeks afterward, Carolyn hated herself—hated that she couldn’t protect her mother’s last keepsake. She never imagined the one who snatched it away was Roger. He knew exactly how much that pendant meant to her. Yet he gave it to Catherine. Even on their seventh anniversary, Roger had lied about being busy with work, while wining and dining the girl she’d sponsored. The anniversary gift he left her was a divorce agreement demanding she leave with nothing. Seven years of marriage. Seven years of infidelity. And Carolyn had known nothing. She’d even introduced the other woman to him herself. Catherine was the impoverished student Carolyn sponsored. The first time Catherine came to their home to give thanks, Roger found her intrusive and disliked her on sight. *"That girl has no manners. Tracked mud all over my cashmere rug."* *"If her grades aren’t up to par, cut the sponsorship."* Back then, Carolyn had teased him, saying not to be jealous—it was good the girl had a grateful heart. She never once suspected Roger and Catherine. For seven years, everyone in their circle believed Roger never played around. That he loved only Carolyn. But by their next meeting, Catherine had become Roger’s personal assistant. Roger explained, *"The girl’s had it tough. You’ve sponsored her for years. Giving her a job is just helping you out."* Carolyn had laughed it off. Now, hands trembling, she opened Catherine’s social media feed. Catherine had always hidden her posts from Carolyn. Now, she seemed desperate to flaunt everything. While Carolyn drank until her stomach bled to secure a deal for Roger, Catherine was using Roger’s card to buy her first Louis Vuitton. While Carolyn changed bedpans for Roger’s bedridden grandmother, Roger was taking Catherine to a perfume atelier for a blending class—calling it a business trip. Catherine had even complained online. *"Your wife is such a pampered princess. Can't handle the tiniest thing without you running back. Can she not live without a man?"* And Roger had replied beneath it. *"If she were half as independent as you, I’d have an easier life."* But that day… Carolyn’s mother had lost her battle with cancer. She’d cried until her heart felt shredded, scrambling to handle the arrangements. All the while, Roger kept checking his phone impatiently, eager to leave. Not for work, she realized now—but because he was desperate to get back to Catherine.

Today was my father's grand second wedding, but for me, it was the anniversary of my mother's death. My new stepmother, Marley, who was only four years older than me, cornered me. To establish her dominance as the new Luna, she ordered her servants to force me to my knees and violently ripped my late mother's necklace from my neck. It was the only memento my mother had left me. Marley sneered, threw it to the ground, and shattered the gems. When I scrambled to pick up the broken pieces, she dug her high-heeled shoe into the back of my hand, mocking me as dirty trash. No one stepped in to help. My father was too busy celebrating his new marriage under the dazzling lights, completely erasing my mother's memory and leaving me to be abused in my own pack. My heart was full of grievance and despair. Why did my mother's lifelong devotion end with her grave desolate and her daughter humiliated? I swore I would never become a weak, discarded she-wolf whose life depended on a man. Desperate to escape the suffocating wedding, I ran outside and stumbled right into the chest of a terrifying stranger. "No one should ever touch what is precious to you." His golden eyes blazed with fury as sparks instantly shot through my veins. He was Kade Blackwood, the ruthless Alpha of the feared Blood Moon Pack—and my fated mate.