Betrayed By Alpha, Saved By The King
I was the Luna of the Black Moon pack, happily carrying the Alpha's heir and believing in our Fated Mate bond.
But on a romantic getaway to the mountains, my beloved mate Ryker suddenly pushed me off a cliff.
As I dangled over the abyss, pleading for help, he just sneered and crushed my fingers under his heavy boot.
"Such a shame, my dear Luna."
I survived the plunge but lost my baby in a pool of my own blood.
Lying half-dead in the dark forest, I heard Ryker and his Beta confirming my "accidental" death.
He hadn't just cheated on me. He had orchestrated my murder to officially welcome his Chosen Mate.
He traded my life and our unborn pup for a piece of territory, disgusted by my mother's healing bloodline.
I couldn't understand how the sacred bond of the Moon Goddess could be so easily discarded, or how a father could butcher his own flesh and blood for power.
My love and grief were instantly replaced by a burning, venomous rage.
Fortunately, the legendary Alpha King passed by and saved me from the woods.
Hidden away in an ancestral sanctuary, I opened my laptop and sent a message to a mysterious ally.
"I need to get my revenge."
This time, I was going to make them pay in blood.
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Chapter 3
Elara Vance POV:
I painted my face like a porcelain doll, using concealer to hide the dark circles under my eyes and blush to fake a healthy glow. I had to be perfect. I had to be the same Elara he had seen yesterday. Ignorant. Trusting.
When I entered the dining hall, Ryker was already at the head of the table, a newspaper in his hands. He looked up and smiled, a brilliant, false smile that didn't reach his cold, steel-grey eyes. It was as if last night's filth had never happened.
He rose, pulling out my chair with a gentlemanly flourish and tucking my napkin into my lap. Each gesture was a masterpiece of deception.
A maid served my favorite—blueberry pancakes with fresh cream—but the sweet smell made my stomach heave. The scent of wild ginger was still on him, a faint, sickening undertone beneath his cologne.
"What's wrong, darling? Is the morning sickness bad today?" he asked, his brow furrowed with a perfect imitation of worry.
I forced a brittle smile. "Yes, just a little queasy."
*Don't fall for it!* Lyra snarled in my head. *He is a butcher!*
Ryker reached across the table and took my hand. His touch was warm and strong, but to me, it felt like the cold, slick skin of a snake. "I was thinking," he said, his voice a soft, persuasive purr. "You've been cooped up in the Packhouse for too long. Your moods have been… unstable."
My heart began to hammer against my ribs. Here it comes. The main act.
"I've arranged a surprise for us," he continued, squeezing my hand. "A short hunting trip to Gloomfang Peaks. How does that sound?"
Gloomfang Peaks. The name tolled like a funeral bell in my mind.
I looked up, straight into his eyes, and for a split second, I saw it. A flicker of cold, predatory intent behind the loving facade. It was gone as quickly as it came, but I had seen it.
Fear, cold and sharp, pierced my heart. But I couldn't refuse. To refuse was to show my hand, to admit I knew. My mother's voice echoed in my memory, a lesson from long ago: *Sometimes, the most dangerous path is the only one that leads to an escape.* I had to go. It was a trap, but it was also my only chance.
I widened my eyes, feigning a delighted surprise. "Really? Gloomfang Peaks? Oh, Ryker, I've always wanted to see the vistas from there!"
A slow, satisfied smile spread across his face. It was the smile of a predator that had successfully cornered its prey. "Just the two of us," he added, his voice dropping to an intimate murmur. "A trip for just me and my mate."
No guards. No witnesses. The perfect place for an "accident."
I pretended to blush, lowering my gaze. "Whatever you wish, my Alpha."
As soon as breakfast was over, I retreated to my room. My hands moved with frantic purpose. I opened a secure channel on my mind-link, one only a few trusted people had. My best friend, Sabine Kane.
*Sabine, if you don't hear from me by midnight tomorrow, please look after my mother. And investigate Ryker. Investigate everything.*
Her reply was a burst of alarm in my head. *Elara? What's going on? Where are you going?*
I severed the link before I could say more, before I could endanger her. I couldn't drag her into my grave.
Then, I packed. Not hunting gear or fine clothes. I packed for survival. A small, sharp skinning knife hidden in the lining of my boot. A flint and steel. And a small leather pouch of my mother's high-energy herbal pills, each one capable of sustaining a wolf for a full day.
I looked at my reflection in the mirror. My face was pale, my violet eyes huge and dark, but within them, a new, hard light was dawning.
"We will survive, "Lyra whispered, her voice a promise of violence. "For our pup, we will drive them all out, tear them all apart—leave not a single one standing."
When Ryker came to my door, dressed for the outdoors, I was ready. I smiled my sweetest, most loving smile and looped my arm through his. I was the picture of a happy, expectant mother, excited for a romantic getaway.
As our car sped away from the Packhouse, I watched the familiar landscape blur past the window. This wasn't a hunting trip. It was a high-stakes gamble for my life, and the life of my child, against the man I was fated to love.
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9.3
On the first anniversary of our reconciliation, I thought my tech mogul husband and I had finally turned a corner. Then I discovered our entire marriage was a spectator sport. It was a cruel, year-long revenge game orchestrated by him and his lover, and I was the punchline.
For their amusement, I was poisoned with food contaminated with dog feces, publicly humiliated with a twenty-million-dollar auction scam, and beaten until my ribs broke by his family's private security. I endured it all, playing the part of the clueless, loving wife while they laughed about it in a group chat called "The Jillian Andrews Comedy Hour."
But their grand finale was a step too far. I overheard him calmly planning to leave me to die in a remote cabin during a blizzard, a "tragic accident" that would finally set him free to be with his mistress.
He thought he was writing the final chapter of my life.
He didn't know I was about to use his murder plot as my own perfect escape. I faked my death, vanished into thin air, and left him to explain to the world how his beloved wife disappeared off the face of the earth.
9.7
I was seven years into a perfect relationship, engaged to the man who helped me overcome my fear of commitment. I was even secretly pregnant with our first child.
A pet-sitting gig led me straight into the heart of his betrayal-a luxury apartment he shared with his mistress of a year. She had hired me personally to discover it all.
She then framed me for stealing the family ring he had promised me. At the police station, my fiancé rushed in not to defend me, but to shield her.
When I confronted him, he shoved me. Hard.
I hit the floor and lost our baby.
In the hospital, he had the audacity to beg for forgiveness, promising we could just "try again."
I saw the guilt in his eyes and used it. I made him sign over every asset we owned as penance. The moment the money was mine, I vanished. He thought he was buying my forgiveness.
He was funding my revenge.
7.5
"I know you're pregnant, Valentina. That's why you have to die tonight. Two lives for the price of one, efficiency was always my strong suit."
On her third wedding anniversary, Valentina was gifted a shallow grave.
Her husband, Kennedy, the man she adored, was never a billionaire. He was a fraud who drugged her, watched her drown in a poisoned bath, and ordered her burial so he could marry his mistress.
He didn't know the gardener would hesitate. He didn't know she would crawl out of the mud, pregnant, broken, and alive. And he never imagined that ghosts would come back with teeth.
Dragged from the storm by Ian Kingston, the Titan of industry, Valentina is saved by a man so powerful that Kennedy is nothing more than a disposable bookkeeper in his empire.
To the world, Ian is a monster.
To Valentina, he is survival.
But Ian doesn't see a victim.
He sees Misha, his vanished wife, the mother of his two children, the woman who disappeared without a trace.
"You have 365 days to prove you aren't her, little bird. Until then, you will sleep in my bed, wear my name, and obey every rule I set."
Trapped in a deadly case of mistaken identity, Valentina signs the contract.
She becomes Misha Kingston, cold, ruthless, untouchable. Wrapped in emerald silk and Ian's dark protection, she walks back into the world that tried to bury her.
The next time Kennedy sees his dead wife, she isn't in a coffin.
She's in the arms of his boss. Wearing a queen's crown. Looking down at him from a throne of gold.
But as Ian's control turns into obsession, Valentina faces an impossible truth.
She is hiding a child conceived by her enemy... While being claimed by a king who refuses to let her go.
He buried a wife.
He's about to kneel before a Goddess.
9.4
I was Aliana Donovan, a resident physician, finally reunited with the wealthy family I' d been lost from as a child. I had loving parents and a handsome, successful fiancé. I was safe. I was loved. It was a perfect, fragile lie.
The lie shattered on a Tuesday when I discovered my fiancé, Ivan, wasn't at a board meeting but at a sprawling mansion with Kiera Reese, the woman I was told had a mental breakdown five years ago after trying to frame me.
She wasn' t disgraced; she was radiant, holding a little boy, Leo, who giggled in Ivan' s arms.
I overheard their conversation: Leo was their son, and I was merely a "placeholder," a means to an end until Ivan no longer needed my family's connections. My parents, the Donovans, were in on it, funding Kiera' s lavish life and their secret family.
My entire reality-the loving parents, the devoted fiancé, the security I thought I' d found-was a carefully constructed stage, and I was the fool playing the lead role. The casual lie Ivan texted me, "Just got out of the meeting. So exhausting. I miss you. See you at home," while he stood beside his real family, was the final blow.
They thought I was pathetic. They thought I was a fool. They were about to find out just how wrong they were.
9.0
Seventeen years after going missing, Brooklyn was finally brought back to her ultra-wealthy biological family.
But instead of a tearful reunion, her parents and sisters treated her like infectious garbage, mocking her cheap clothes and calling her a country bumpkin.
They dumped her into a remedial class to hide her away, cut off her allowance, and threatened to lock down her trust fund to force her into absolute submission.
One night, Brooklyn stood in the shadows of the estate and overheard a conversation that shattered everything.
She hadn't wandered off as a child.
Her parents had deliberately thrown her away because a fake fortune teller claimed her birth chart was a jinx to the family's wealth.
They felt zero remorse, only plotting to banish her again the moment she turned eighteen.
Her biological father thought he was putting a leash on a helpless, uneducated girl by cutting off her pocket change.
He had no idea that Brooklyn was the anonymous VIP who casually dropped sixty million dollars on an emerald at the city's most exclusive auction.
He didn't know she was the elusive medical genius that the world's most powerful billionaires were currently tearing the city apart to find.
The last microscopic shred of hope for a family withered into cold ash in her chest.
"Lock down my trust fund?"
She pulled out her encrypted phone and activated her shadow networks, severing herself entirely from their pathetic surveillance.
Since they believed she was a jinx, she was going to show them exactly what a real curse looked like.
9.4
Arlene was bound to a hellish three-year contract marriage to save her family from total ruin.
Just as the contract was about to expire, she received a terminal brain cancer diagnosis and found out she was six weeks pregnant.
To protect the tiny life inside her, she refused all treatment, leaving her with only three months to live. When she tried to escape, her billionaire husband, Harrison, caught her. He dragged her back, brutally assaulted her, and forced her into the freezing cold to kneel at his father's grave. Even when she suffered a threatened miscarriage, bleeding and begging in agony, he showed no mercy. He simply left her alone in the dark and went straight to a hotel with his celebrity mistress.
For three years, she had endured his relentless revenge and his public declaration that he would rather his bloodline die than have a child with her. She was nothing but a prisoner in a gilded cage, waiting for a death sentence he didn't even know about.
But when Harrison shamelessly summoned her to act as the doting wife and clean up his cheating scandal, the old Arlene died. She didn't cry or beg. Instead, she blackmailed him and his mistress for millions in untraceable crypto.
"I'm saving up for my coffin fund."
Looking him dead in the eye, she calmly pocketed the extortion money, ready to play her final, ruthless game before her three-month clock ran out.