Betrayed by the Alpha Twins: Her Second Chance
I sat on the edge of the cold hospital bed, clutching a positive pregnancy test. Two pink lines. An Alpha's pup.
I thought this miracle would finally save me from my life as an invisible, latent wolf in the Holden Pack.
But when I ran to the club to tell Anthony the news, I heard his voice through the door, cold as ice.
"I am an Alpha. Do you really think I would touch a cripple like you?"
Then, his identical twin brother, Emmanuel, laughed.
"I don't know, Ant. She's tight. I've enjoyed warming your bed for you these past six months."
My blood ran cold. It was Mating Fraud. The man I loved hadn't touched me once; he had let his brother use me as a proxy.
When they caught me listening, they didn't apologize. Anthony used his Alpha Command to force me to my knees, crushing me with his aura.
"Get rid of the thing in your belly," he sneered. "Bastards aren't allowed in the Holden Pack."
They exiled me to the toxic Mining District so Anthony could marry my high school bully, Bianca.
They forced me to jump off a cliff for "training." They watched Bianca poison my soup and saved her instead of me. To save my unborn child from being murdered by its own father, I had to make the heartbreaking choice to terminate the pregnancy myself.
They thought I was dead after pushing me into traffic on the morning of their wedding.
But I dragged my broken body to a terminal and hacked the church's livestream.
As Anthony stood at the altar, the massive screens turned black, and their recorded confession boomed through the speakers.
"Game on, Alpha," I whispered, turning my back on the city.
I was going to the war-torn Borderlands to die. Instead, I found the one thing they never expected me to become.
The White Wolf.
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Chapter 4
Erica POV:
The door opened at dawn.
Light blinded me. I didn't move. I sat huddled in the corner, my eyes adjusting painfully.
Emmanuel stood there. He was fully dressed in a tailored suit. He looked at me with a strange expression—guilt masked by annoyance.
"Get up," he said. "You smell like fear. It's pathetic."
I stood up slowly. My legs were stiff. I walked past him without a word.
"We have errands," he said, checking his watch. "Anthony is busy with the Council. I have to take you to the boutique."
"Why?" My voice was a rasp.
"The Luna's entourage needs to match," he said. "You're going to be a flower attendant."
I stopped and looked at him. "You want me... the ex-girlfriend you just cheated on and exiled... to be a flower girl at your brother's wedding to my bully?"
"It's about image, Erica," Emmanuel sighed, grabbing my arm. "It shows unity. If the 'victim' supports the couple, the rumors about Bianca die. Now come on."
He dragged me to the car.
We arrived at the pack's exclusive boutique. The windows were filled with silk and lace.
Inside, Bianca was standing on a podium. She was wearing the Moonlight Silk gown. It was a shimmering, pearlescent fabric that was reserved only for the Luna. It hugged her curves perfectly.
"Oh, look who the cat dragged in," Bianca sneered, looking down at me from the mirror.
The shop assistants, all Omegas, rushed to adjust Bianca's train. They ignored me completely.
"Put this on," Emmanuel said, tossing a hideous, shapeless grey dress at me. "Maid's cut."
I took the dress. I didn't argue. I went to the changing room.
I looked at myself in the mirror. My eyes were hollow. My skin was pale. I looked like a ghost.
I put on the grey dress. It scratched my skin.
When I came out, Bianca laughed. " perfect. You finally look like what you are. A servant."
She twirled, the Moonlight Silk flowing like water. "Do I look like a Queen, Emmanuel?"
"You look stunning, Luna," Emmanuel said, bowing his head.
I felt nothing. No jealousy. Just cold detachment.
Back at the apartment, I started packing. Not clothes. I was destroying things.
I took the photo of us from the mantle—me and Anthony, from before the corruption. I took a lighter to the corner. I watched his smiling face curl and turn to ash.
"Dramatic," Emmanuel said. He had followed me into the bedroom.
He sat on the bed—the bed where he had tricked me. He patted the space beside him.
"Come here, Erica."
I didn't move.
"Look," he said, his voice softening. He pulled a small velvet box from his pocket. "I know things are... messy. But I got you these."
He opened it. A pair of silver earrings. Cheap cubic zirconia. The metal was likely plated, safe for wolves but insulting.
"I can take care of you," he murmured, his eyes darkening with lust. "Even in the Mining District. I can visit. You were... good. Responsive."
He stood up and walked toward me. He reached out to touch my face.
I smelled him.
Underneath his cologne, underneath his musk... I smelled her. Bianca's perfume. It was all over his hands.
He had been with her. While I was locked in the closet. While Anthony was asleep.
My stomach lurched. Bile rose in my throat. It wasn't morning sickness. It was pure, physical revulsion.
I slapped his hand away.
"Don't touch me," I hissed.
Emmanuel's eyes narrowed. He sniffed the air.
"You smell different," he said slowly. "Your hormones... are you..."
He looked at my stomach.
"It's stress," I lied quickly, relying on my medical training. "Gastritis. My cortisol levels are through the roof because you people are torturing me."
"Hmm," he grunted, unconvinced. "You look pale."
"I spent the night in a closet," I snapped. "I'm going to throw up."
I ran to the bathroom and locked the door. I turned on the tap to mask the sound.
I looked at my reflection.
"One more day," I whispered. "Just survive one more day."
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9.2
Her Bestie's Brother
She only came over to spend time with her best friend-
not to run into her infamous senior brother, the campus playboy everyone warned her about.
Every time she saw him, she felt nothing but disgust.
How could someone who had a sister he adored still treat girls like toys?
But when he walked into the house with a group of girls trailing behind him, her frustration finally snapped-
and she cursed him out without caring who heard.
Then came the day they all hung out, played too much, drank too much...
and the night spiraled into something neither of them ever expected.
A reckless moment.
A passionate night.
A mistake-or something else?
Now, she can't stop asking herself:
Will this change the way she sees him?
And more dangerously... will this change him?
8.4
To keep her grandmother on life support, Aracely was blackmailed into taking Evelyn's place in the pitch-black bedroom of the ruthless billionaire, Brennen Levine.
After that night, Evelyn tossed a hideous silicone scar at her feet, forcing Aracely to glue it to her face and work as a bottom-tier maid in his estate so he would never recognize her.
Brennen, suffering from chronic insomnia, was completely addicted to the sweet gardenia scent of the woman from the dark. But when he saw the "disfigured" Aracely scrubbing floors, he was physically repulsed, publicly humiliating her and calling her a monster.
Meanwhile, Evelyn paraded around as his soon-to-be wife. Terrified of her lies unraveling, Evelyn constantly abused Aracely, throwing scalding coffee at her face and threatening to pull the plug on her grandmother if Aracely didn't sneak back into Brennen's room to act as his human sleeping pill.
Aracely endured the suffocating fake scar, the insults, and the freezing servant quarters. She ground her teeth, swallowing the bitter injustice just to keep her only family alive, wondering when this torturous hell would ever end.
But Evelyn's malice knew no bounds. When Evelyn raised her hand to strike again, threatening to rip off the very disguise she forced Aracely to wear, something inside Aracely finally snapped.
"Do not push me."
Aracely locked her hand around Evelyn's wrist in a bone-crushing grip, completely unaware that Brennen was watching from the balcony above, his dark eyes narrowing as a dangerous realization hit him.
9.6
#Chapter1 Chapter
I watched my husband sign the papers that would end our marriage while he was busy texting the woman he actually loved.
He didn't even glance at the header. He just scribbled the sharp, jagged signature that had signed death warrants for half of New York, tossed the file onto the passenger seat, and tapped his screen again.
"Done," he said, his voice devoid of emotion.
That was Dante Moretti. The Underboss. A man who could smell a lie from a mile away but couldn't see that his wife had just handed him an annulment decree disguised beneath a stack of mundane logistics reports.
For three years, I scrubbed his blood out of his shirts. I saved his family's alliance when his ex, Sofia, ran off with a civilian.
In return, he treated me like furniture.
He left me in the rain to save Sofia from a broken nail. He left me alone on my birthday to drink champagne on a yacht with her. He even handed me a glass of whiskey—her favorite drink—forgetting that I despised the taste.
I was merely a placeholder. A ghost in my own home.
So, I stopped waiting. I burned our wedding portrait in the fireplace, left my platinum ring in the ashes, and boarded a one-way flight to San Francisco.
I thought I was finally free. I thought I had escaped the cage.
But I underestimated Dante.
When he finally opened that file weeks later and realized he had signed away his wife without looking, the Reaper didn't accept defeat.
He burned down the world to find me, obsessed with reclaiming the woman he had already thrown away.
9.1
"You walked into my room, Astrid. No bra. No panties. What did you expect me to do? Pray?"
"I expect you to look away."
"Look away?" he chuckled in a low, dangerous tone as he trod toward me. "Baby, I've looked away for damn five years."
~
When Astrid returns home for summer, she's expecting chill nights and zero drama.
Except her brother's best friend–Rhett Rivers–is crashing at their house. And he has grown into every bit of the trouble she shouldn't want.
One time at a party leads them to an unforgettable one nightstand
What if Astrid Cole realizes she'd not just had sex with her brother's best friend but also let him touch her in some kind of way she never felt?
9.0
I died on the cold delivery table, bleeding out while the heart monitor flatlined.
Through the blinding surgical lights, I heard my husband Damon's cold, final order to the doctors.
"The child is the priority."
He didn't care about my life. To him, I was just a vessel to produce an heir, a tool to fulfill his prenuptial clause and secure his billionaire empire.
While I took my last agonizing breath, he was already planning his future with his fragile, theatrical mistress, Jasmin.
In my past life, when he first brought her into our home claiming she was a helpless victim, I shattered.
I screamed, threw vases, and played the hysterical wife perfectly.
My desperate pleas for his affection only gave him the exact weapons he needed to ruin my reputation, isolate me, and ultimately force me onto that fatal delivery bed.
Until my very last moment, the suffocating pain in my chest wasn't just physical.
I couldn't understand how the man I loved could treat my death like a simple business transaction.
Why was my absolute devotion rewarded with a carefully calculated execution?
But then, my eyes snapped open.
I was sitting on the edge of my king-sized bed, exactly three years before my death.
From downstairs, I heard Damon's voice echoing in the foyer, bringing Jasmin into our home for the very first time.
This time, the scream building in my chest turned to ice.
I didn't cry or throw a fit.
Instead, I calmly swallowed a secret birth control pill, smiled at his mistress, and dialed the most ruthless divorce lawyer in Manhattan.
9.5
He's vulgar. He's cruel. He's childish.
A proud, entitled, sexist fuck-boy who has no iota of regard for girls and only sees them as nothing less than a mere conquest object for his sick, twisted sexual fantasies.
He's all shades of red.
I know that. Very well. More than anyone else.
And yet...
He's all I can think about. He's taken up every single space in my head for free, and I'm beyond obsessed at this point. Every day I think about him. I can't help it. I crave his attention like I need it to survive, I burn his touch, I ache for his... mmm!
I shouldn't want him. I know I shouldn't. Especially since he's the son of the very man who broke my family apart.
But as I said, I can't help it.
He's just like poison... like sin... so deadly... and yet feels so right... so... sweet!
His name is Devin Sinclair.
And if I'm to be honest... I'm not so sure how much longer I can resist him for.
....
Following the devastating scandal that broke her family apart, Tamara Hamilton moved to Palmridge to escape all the unending assault she received, hoping for a fresh start.
But that was nothing more than just a fairytale. There she meets Devin Sinclair, the popular, egotistical fuck-boy, who happens to be the son of the very man who broke her family, who soon became her deadly obsession after one unprecedented incident, throwing her life off course.
Now she's fighting her newfound obsession... resisting him as much as she can. But deep down, she knows. His mere presence set her whole body on fire. His touch makes her feel things she wasn't allowed to feel. And every minute of the day, she thinks about him.
She knows. She knows she can't keep resisting forever. She knows that her walls will come crashing down... sooner or later.
But she hoped never.
Only time will tell.
...
NB: This book explores themes of enemies-to-lovers, forbidden student-professor age gap and bisexual romance. It is rated 18+ as there will be explicit, graphic content between chapters.
Please, read at your own discretion.
Due to the nature of this book, there will be frequent POV changes of these characters between chapters.
Happy reading : )