Alpha's Regret: The Hybrid's Royal Contract
For years, Elara Park endured being called "half-breed" and "weak blood" at pack meetings. Because she was a hybrid wolf, she trusted Zack Blackwood's sweet promises.
Then he rejected their fated mate bond moments after claiming her body.
Before she could even breathe through the soul-crushing agony, the news was already celebrating his engagement to her vindictive stepsister, Selina. The headlines gushed about their "perfect pureblooded union."
Her mother's call came like a final blow: "Elara, you're twenty-three now. It's time you contributed to the family."
Marry the worthless second son of a prominent Alpha family or lose her father's empire forever. They had her trapped, ready to steal her birthright and leave her powerless.
But as the heartbreak bled out, ice-cold determination took its place.
Elara went to the arranged meeting at the city's most exclusive club, determined to turn her mother's matchmaking scheme to her advantage. She would agree to marriage-but on her own terms.
When she found who she believed was Damian Sterling in the private suite, she cut straight to business: a contract marriage with clear boundaries, separate lives, and a guaranteed escape route.
What she didn't know? The devastatingly dangerous man who'd just signed her contract with a predator's smile wasn't the pathetic playboy she expected.
He was Dominic Wolfe-the Alpha King who'd been relentlessly hunting her for years.
And now, she'd just signed herself over to him completely.
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Chapter 4
Elara
Werewolf mating registration was way more complicated than human marriage.
We were not just binding our identities. We were connecting bloodlines, inheritance rights, and mate status that the Council could recognize when needed.
Dealing with all this paperwork took us almost half a day.
After Damian and I finished signing, the system quickly created our mating certificate.
I folded the thin paper carefully and put it away, feeling relieved. Then a wave of unreality hit me.
Was I really married?
No proposal. No vows. No moon ceremony. No pack blessings. Just a cold piece of paper and a husband I barely knew.
But this paper could save my life. That was what mattered.
I thought he would at least mention some conditions after we finished the registration. But he didn't.
He just gave me his contact info, told me I could call if I needed anything, then left like nothing happened.
It was too calm. His casual attitude made me nervous.
I started wondering if he already knew who I was. If he understood what this marriage meant to me.
But I had no time to think about it. I had more important things to do.
I immediately called my mother and lawyer.
This time, I didn't argue angrily like before. I didn't try to get her approval.
I simply told her in a calm voice:
"I married Damian Sterling. It's time to return the inheritance rights that father left me."
A long silence came from the other end.
Then Nadia's voice, clearly holding back rage:
"Oh... married so quickly? Fine. However, Elara, about the property matters, we need to confirm some things..."
"Confirm what?" I stayed calm. "Father's will is very clear. If I complete a mating registration before my 23rd birthday, I can get back the property management rights. Now I'm married. According to legal procedure, it should be transferred to me."
"But darling, with the Sterling family's current situation... Damian's position... we need to evaluate whether this marriage has legal validity..."
"Mom," I cut her off, my voice stronger than ever, "don't try to play word games with the will. I hired the best legal team. Every clause has been carefully reviewed. Damian Sterling is a legally recognized adult male. Our mating registration fully meets legal requirements.Most importantly, he was one of your recommended candidates. How come your pure bloodline didn't give you a decent memory?"
"Elara, what kind of attitude is this? I am your mother!"
"Mother?" I laughed coldly. "Would a real mother use her daughter's inheritance as leverage? Would she stand by and watch her daughter get humiliated by her stepsister without lifting a finger?"
"Everything I've done has been for the pack's benefit..."
"For the pack's benefit? Or to make sure Selina can marry into the Blackwood family and secure your position in the Vance pack?" I pushed harder. "My whole life, you've treated me like a pawn, a tool, a doll to control. Now that I'm playing by your rules, you want to change them?"
Nadia's tone got sharp when I hit her weak spot: "Don't forget who raised you! Without the Vance pack, do you think you'd be where you are today?"
"Is that so?" My voice got colder. "Then don't forget that without my father's money, would the Vance pack's business be where it is today? How much profit have you taken from Park Hotel Group all these years?"
"Those were all legitimate investment returns..."
"Legitimate?" I scoffed. "Then me getting back my rightful property management is equally legitimate. Mother, you can't profit from my father's estate while denying his heir control, can you?"
Heavy breathing came from the other end. Clearly Nadia was speechless.
"Since this is how things are," I continued, my tone ice cold, "I hope you'll keep your promise. Tomorrow my lawyers will handle the property transfer procedures. If there's any interference..."
I paused on purpose, letting the threat hang in the air:
"I will sue everyone involved, including you and your husband, and anyone trying to steal my father's estate. Trust me, I have both the ability and the determination."
"You dare threaten me?" Nadia finally dropped her mask. "You'll regret this! You ungrateful..."
I hung up.
Looking at the "Call Ended" on my screen, I suddenly felt incredibly light.
Finally, no more pretending. No more seeking her approval. No more wanting her motherly love. No more compromising myself for that tiny bit of fake warmth.
Next, I did something else important.
I got rid of everything related to Zack.
Messages deleted. Call history erased. His scent in my apartment completely removed. Even the leftover pheromones on the sheets, carpets, and sofa were all replaced.
Just as I finished dealing with everything and was ready to leave my old apartment, a black car stopped downstairs.
An older driver respectfully opened the door for me, bowing as he spoke:
"Mrs. Wolfe."
The driver's way of addressing me made me pause. Wolfe? I remembered Damian's last name should be Sterling.
But then I thought maybe this was a new identity he took after leaving the Sterling family name. Given his position in the Sterling family, getting disowned wouldn't be surprising.
Or maybe it was his mother's last name?
I didn't think much about it. These details weren't important to me anyway.
But Damian Sterling had a terrible reputation. If he weren't the Alpha's son, he would have been banished long ago.
That was why he became the other party in this arranged marriage.
Yet as I slid into the luxurious leather seats, breathing in the scent of expensive cologne and polished wood, how could someone so ignored still have a personal driver and luxury car?
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8.7
Ada was eight months pregnant, sitting peacefully in her husband's Manhattan estate, looking at a baby nursery catalog.
Suddenly, her husband's mistress, Jacklyn, walked in, threw an ultrasound photo on the table, and locked the door.
Before Ada could process the betrayal, Jacklyn dragged her to the top of the marble staircase and threw herself backward just as Desmond walked through the front doors.
"She pushed me, Desmond! She tried to kill our baby!"
Desmond looked at Ada with absolute hatred.
He ignored Ada's breaking water and her agonizing screams for help, leaving her to miscarry on the freezing floor while he rushed Jacklyn to the hospital.
He sent Ada to a brutal federal prison for three years, where she was tortured and left with a body covered in horrific scars, mourning the baby she was told died at birth.
When Ada was finally released, Desmond destroyed her cousin's company to force her back to his estate as a lowly maid.
But when Ada saw Jacklyn's three-year-old son, her world stopped.
Right in the center of the little boy's palm was a faint crescent moon birthmark.
It was the exact same mark Ada had kissed on her own lifeless baby's tiny hand before the doctors took his body away.
How did her dead child become Jacklyn's little prince?
Looking at the woman who stole her life and the husband who threw her in hell, Ada clenched her scarred hands and swore she would tear their world apart to get her son back.
7.2
I thought I was just marrying a middle-class commercial pilot who proposed to me in a Brooklyn cemetery to fulfill his grandmother's bizarre dying wish.
But when an arrogant pilot tried to harass me at the airport, my "ordinary" husband suddenly appeared, his eyes like chips of ice.
"Take your hand off my wife."
With that single cold command, he had the airline's top executives groveling and the man practically fired on the spot.
Everyone called him "Mr. Chandler." He handed me an exclusive black Centurion card, claiming it was just a standard "manager's perk." His retired parents, who supposedly ran a small business, visited me wearing Patek Philippe watches. I ignored all the glaring red flags, foolishly believing I had just lucked into a stable, caring marriage after a lifetime of disappointments.
Yet, despite his constant, suffocating generosity, he kept a physical wall between us. After a kiss so desperate and hungry it felt like he had been starving for it his entire life, he violently pushed me away.
"We should take this slow."
I couldn't understand why a man who looked at me with such intense, possessive devotion would treat our marriage like a sterile business deal. Why was he orchestrating every perfect detail of my life while refusing to even share a bed with me?
I had no idea that the man sleeping in the guest room wasn't a pilot at all. He was Harmon Chandler, the ruthless billionaire emperor of the Chandler Group. And he had been secretly monitoring my every move for ten years.
9.2
The camera flashes felt like a firing squad, dragging me back to the night I lost my baby five years ago. My husband, Faron, sat in the front row, his hand on his mistress Kassie’s thigh, utterly ignoring my public humiliation. This was the thirtieth time he’d made me a joke, and it would be the last.
For three years, I played the dutiful Blackwell wife, shielding Faron from his endless affairs.
At a press conference, a reporter’s question about his yacht booking with Kassie shattered my facade. Faron, smiling at his mistress, completely ignored me. The last filter I viewed him through instantly shattered.
Later, Kassie deliberately spilled champagne on me at a gala. Faron, instead of helping, tenderly wiped it from her.
She hissed, "Faron said you just lay there. Fucking you is like fucking a dead fish."
This venomous taunt, after thirty public betrayals, snapped my sanity.
Chained by my mother-in-law's threats, my pain was expected. My silence demanded. But I was finally done.
With a cold, empty void, I slammed the folder shut. I dropped the family crest.
"Have a wonderful evening, Faron," I said, turning and walking out. I left him and his suffocating charade behind.
8.8
"Fuck...please..."
He risks a nibble, sending shockwaves to my core. My back arches off the wall with a sharp moan.
His hand slides between my legs, cupping my soaking panties.
"Look how wet you are," he whispers, "...shaking, and I haven't even fucked you yet."
He strokes my clit gently first, then harder. My toes curl, hair spilling into my sweaty face.
He's breaking me, ruining me with just his tongue and fingers. I can't speak. I can't think. I just tremble in his arms.
*********
The night I caught my fiancé cheating, something in me broke.
I cried.
I screamed.
I drove - into the rain, into nowhere, into him.
Cassian Cross.
A stranger with gray eyes, a sinful mouth, and hands that made me forget my name.
One night was all it took. One reckless mistake to burn away my heartbreak.
Until he showed up at my mom's wedding...
As my new stepbrother.
Now, Cassian won't stop.
He corners me in hallways, whispers filth at the altar, and looks at me like he still owns my body.
But there's one thing he didn't tell me-
He already belongs to someone else.
A fiancée bound to him by a contract... and a secret that could destroy us both.
He's dangerous.
He's forbidden.
He's promised to another.
And God help me, I still can't stop wanting him.
8.5
Cecile jolted awake from months of prescription haze, only to realize she was trapped in a live reality show designed to destroy her.
Her billionaire husband had orchestrated the broadcast to publicly humiliate her and elevate his own PR image. He ordered her to follow a degrading script. What was worse, her five-year-old son, Damien, was genuinely terrified of her. When an empty wine bottle rolled across the floor, the tiny boy instantly threw his arms over his head, bracing for a hit.
The production crew shoved microphones into the trembling child's face, trying to trigger his trauma for ratings. The live chat cursed Cecile as a toxic abuser. The show's golden girl maliciously tried to poach Damien on camera to prove Cecile was an unfit mother. The crew even rigged the game, forcing Cecile and her son into a freezing, rotting mud shack with a collapsed roof. They were all just waiting for her to break down and beg.
"A toxic woman like you doesn't deserve to be a mother."
The crew read the hateful comments aloud, expecting a hysterical meltdown. The realization that she had been manipulated into destroying her own child hit Cecile like a physical blow. How could a father subject his own son to this public cruelty?
The weak, easily manipulated Cecile was dead. She threw the PR script away, rolled up her sleeves, and picked up a rusted hammer. This time, she would protect her son and tear down anyone who stood in her way.
8.3
With twelve dollars in my bank account and a freezing apartment, my friend forced me into a velvet dress to attend an exclusive underground party for free food.
But the night quickly turned into a nightmare when a drunk thug attacked me, nearly strangling me to death in a dark hallway.
Just as my lungs burned for air, a terrifying man stepped out of the shadows and shattered my attacker's bones. He was Axel Carrillo, the billionaire owner of the club. But instead of feeling safe, my blood ran cold. His dark, dead eyes perfectly mirrored the wealthy monster who had abused and locked me in a basement years ago. He trapped me in his VIP room, surrounding me with the elite crowd that openly mocked my poverty.
I didn't understand why this ruthless billionaire was looking at me like a predator watching its prey. I had barely escaped the nightmare of the rich once; I wasn't going to let another powerful man own my life.
Faking a twisted ankle, I stumbled forward, falling directly into his chest.
In less than a second, I expertly slipped the thick money clip and custom leather wallet from his pocket, grabbed my broken stilettos, and ran blindly into the freezing night.
I used his crisp hundred-dollar bills to pay my overdue rent, locking his silver-crested wallet in my desk drawer. What I didn't know was that Axel had let me steal it, smiling in the dark as he whispered to his security.
"Let her keep the bait."