Beyond Betrayal, My Soul's True Mate
Strapped to the cold metal table in the hospital basement, I begged my Fated Mate, Alpha Marcus, for mercy.
He ignored my tears. With a voice devoid of warmth, he ordered the doctor to inject liquid silver into my veins—a poison designed to dissolve the wolf spirit.
"Do it," he commanded. "If she remains a wolf, she is a liability. As a human, she can stay as an Omega."
I screamed as the silver acid ate through my soul, severing the connection to my wolf.
Marcus didn't flinch. He wasn't saving me from my burn injuries; he was clearing the path for his mistress, Rachel, and their secret illegitimate son.
Broken and wolfless, I was forced to watch him publicly claim his bastard child as the new heir.
He thought I was submissive. He thought I would quietly fade into the servant's quarters to be his charity case.
He didn't know I had cracked his safe and found the DNA tests proving his three-year betrayal.
On the morning of his wedding to Rachel, I smiled as I climbed into the car that would take me to my "exile."
Ten minutes later, my scheduled email exposing every lie hit the Council of Elders.
And while Marcus fell to his knees screaming at the sight of my burning vehicle, realizing he had destroyed his True Mate for a fraud, I was already gone.
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Chapter 3
Sarah POV:
"Are you sure you're up for this?" Marcus asked, checking his reflection in the rearview mirror of the SUV.
"I need to be useful," I said softly, smoothing the skirt of my dress. It hung loosely on my frame; I had lost ten pounds in three days. "If I'm going to be... just a wife, I should focus on charity."
We were parked outside the pack orphanage. It was a grim brick building on the edge of the territory, usually underfunded. But today, Marcus was strangely eager to visit.
He reached into the back seat and pulled out a box. It was a limited edition mecha-robot, the kind that cost more than an Omega's yearly salary.
"A donation?" I asked innocently.
"Just something to brighten a kid's day," he said dismissively.
We walked inside. The scent of bleach and boiled cabbage hit me—or rather, the ghost of the scent. My human-like nose was pathetic compared to what I was used to.
The matron hurried over, bowing low to Marcus. "Alpha! We weren't expecting you."
"Just a casual visit," Marcus said, his eyes scanning the room.
Then, a blur of motion shot across the linoleum floor.
"Daddy!"
A small boy, about three years old, slammed into Marcus's legs.
The room went silent. The matron looked terrified.
Marcus froze for a second, then laughed nervously, peeling the child off his leg. "Well, aren't you a friendly one."
I looked at the boy. He was the spitting image of the photos in the safe. Dark hair, dark eyes, the same arrogant tilt of the chin.
Even without my wolf senses, the biological connection was screaming. In the werewolf world, a pup's scent is a mix of their mother and father. It is an undeniable signature.
"What's your name?" I asked, crouching down.
The boy sneered at me. "Oliver. And who are you? You look burnt."
"Oliver!" A woman's voice cut through the air.
Rachel stepped out from the back office. She wasn't wearing the gray uniform of the orphanage staff. She was wearing a silk blouse and tight jeans, dripping in gold jewelry.
"I'm so sorry, Alpha," Rachel cooed, walking over and placing a possessive hand on the boy's shoulder. "He's just spirited. He loves strong wolves." She glanced at me with veiled contempt. "He doesn't like... weakness."
"He's charming," I said, standing up. My legs felt weak. "Marcus, why don't you go with Miss...?"
"Rachel," she supplied.
"With Miss Rachel and Oliver to check the facilities? I need to sit down for a moment. The drive made me dizzy."
"Of course," Marcus said, looking relieved to get away from my scrutiny. He handed the expensive toy to Oliver. "Here, buddy. Let's go look at the playroom."
They walked away, a perfect little family unit.
I waited until they turned the corner, then I slipped into the hallway adjacent to the playroom. I couldn't hear whispers anymore, but the walls here were thin plasterboard. I pressed my ear against the surface.
"...she looks hideous," Rachel's voice came through, muffled but audible. "That scar on her neck? Disgusting."
"It serves a purpose," Marcus's voice replied. "It keeps her insecure. She won't leave me if she thinks no one else will want her."
"Why didn't you just kill her?" Rachel whined. "I want to be Luna now. The ceremony is in two days."
"We have to be smart, Rachel. If she dies suspiciously right after the fire, the Council investigates. If she 'steps down' because of her injuries and tragic loss of her wolf, I look like the benevolent Alpha caring for a cripple, and you step in as the mother of my heir."
"Look at this!" Rachel exclaimed. "I got a Moonlight Healing Crystal from the market. Should we use it on her? Maybe fix her face so she's at least presentable for the photos?"
"Don't waste it," Marcus scoffed. "Those crystals are rare. Keep it for Oliver. Sarah doesn't need healing. She needs to stay exactly as she is—broken."
"Mommy, tell the ugly lady to go away," Oliver's voice piped up.
"Soon, baby. Soon she'll be living in the servants' quarters where she belongs."
I pulled away from the wall. My hands were shaking, but not from fear this time. From rage.
He would rather see me scarred for life than waste a crystal on me. He was already planning to move me to the servants' quarters.
I walked back to the entrance hall.
When they returned ten minutes later, I was sitting on the bench, smiling.
"Did you have a nice tour?" I asked.
"Very informative," Marcus said. He looked flushed, happy.
"I think we should sponsor little Oliver," I said, looking directly at Rachel. "He seems... special. Don't you think, Marcus? He has your eyes."
Marcus paled. Rachel narrowed her eyes, trying to gauge if I knew.
"Yes," Marcus stammered. "Yes, maybe."
"Great," I said, standing up. "Let's go home. I have so much to prepare for the ceremony."
Prepare to burn it all down, I thought.
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7.6
I moaned out his name. "Damien, you are not trying hard to get me, yet .."
He smirked and whispered to my ears. "I like being hard, Not "trying" hard."
When Lila Sinclair's mother is sentenced to life in prison, her world collapses overnight. With nowhere else to go, she is taken in by Sebastian Blackwood, her mother's former lover. A powerful, reserved man who agrees to shelter her under strict conditions.
Lila is placed in his household... and into a life she never asked for, sharing a roof with two stepbrothers who change everything.
Damien is danger wrapped in charm...intense, controlling, and impossible to ignore. Ethan, on the other hand, is steady, kind, and grounding...the only place she feels safe when everything else feels like it's slipping away.
But Lila's situation comes with a hidden clause: her stay in the country is temporary. Within 365 days, her legal protection expires. To remain, she must marry one of the Blackwood heirs.
One house. Two brothers. Twelve months of blurred lines, buried secrets, and emotions she was never meant to feel.
As desire clashes with safety and passion wars with peace, Lila is forced into a choice that could secure her future...or destroy it completely.
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.
7.7
Rory stood on the witness stand, forced by her father into an impossible choice: secure her dying mother's medical funding, or save her innocent boyfriend.
She looked Corbin right in his trusting eyes and lied to the court, testifying that he was the one driving the car during the fatal hit-and-run, sending him to a maximum-security prison for ten years.
The betrayal destroyed him. Corbin's father died of a heart attack upon hearing the guilty verdict. Six years later, Corbin returned as a ruthless billionaire and systematically blacklisted Rory from every job in the city. He cornered her into singing at his private club, humiliating her by forcing her to drink scotch—knowing she was severely allergic—and making her throw away his promise ring just to earn a stack of cash.
"Remember this moment. This is only the beginning."
She endured his cruel revenge because she was hiding a desperate secret: she was raising his five-year-old daughter, Willa. But when Willa's congenital heart defect suddenly worsened, requiring an impossible one-million-dollar surgery, Rory realized Corbin's calculated blockade had left her completely trapped with no way to save their child.
Staring at the sterile hospital walls, the last shred of her guilt burned away, replaced by a cold, hard resolve. He had destroyed her career and backed her into a corner, but he was the only one with the money. Wiping her tears, Rory turned and headed straight for Vance Tower.
9.3
"Adrian, why would you lie to me? Why would you let her push my mum like that?"
Yvonne's voice trembled, holding back tears.
Adrian smirked. "Wake up, Yvonne. You really thought I wanted you when Tricia was right here?"
That was how Adrian-her first crush, the boy she thought cared-chose to humiliate her in front of everyone as she was the cleaner's adopted daughter.
But fate had other plans.
Because the Diamond Belfort brothers-the heirs everyone adored were coming to their school in search of their missing heiress- baby sister. But the queen bee steals the chance that should have been hers. Then again, secrets don't stay buried forever. With her true identity waiting to explode, Yvonne must decide to rise from the ashes, claim her place, and bring down everyone who tried to destroy her.
Because the real heiress doesn't beg.
She takes rather.
Now, Yvonne is done playing small. It's her time to rise, reclaim her crown, and make everyone regret ever doubting her.
8.3
Two sisters born with unimaginable power but only one is allowed to carry it-allowed to rule.
Naidira Thornton lives her entire life as a shame to her powerful parents-an alpha without a wolf, a daughter without her parents' favour, a mate left unclaimed. When she is banished for a crime she is innocent of and replaced by her own twin in a marriage built in lies, the pack believes the weaker sister has been erased.
They are wrong.
The secrets pile sky high till a perfect Luna's crown and an alpha's authority shatters under bloodshed and betrayal, Naidira returns and triggers a chain of events no one can stop. Bonds awaken, wolves arise.
Power was never taken from Naidira. It was buried.
And when it breaks free, nothing-family, throne, or fate-will survive unchanged.
8.2
Ashley was tied to a rusted iron pillar in an abandoned warehouse, the noxious fumes of gasoline soaking her clothes.
Her fiancé Devon and her stepsister Brittany stood before her, revealing a horrifying truth. Devon never saved her from that fatal car crash three years ago; he merely stole the credit.
Worse, Brittany smirked and confessed that Ashley's own father had orchestrated her mother's murder. Before Ashley could process the betrayal, Devon callously tossed a lighter. A wall of blistering heat instantly consumed her. Even when Bennett Hawkins, the cold and untouchable billionaire, rushed into the inferno to shield her with his body, they were both swallowed by the explosion.
As the fire melted her skin, Ashley died with agonizing hatred. Why did her own flesh and blood want her dead? What dark secret were they hiding about her mother's tragic death?
Opening her eyes again, freezing saltwater violently flooded her lungs.
She was back at her twentieth birthday yacht party, right after Brittany had secretly pushed her into the freezing Hudson River.
Staring at the hypocritical faces of her family pretending it was an accident, Ashley didn't cry or beg. She calmly snatched a phone and dialed 911.
"Yes. I need to report an attempted murder."