Breaking Free from Captivity

The scent of pine and mountain air clung to my skin as I stepped into the sprawling neutral-territory lodge. My heart fluttered with anticipation, one hand instinctively resting on my still-flat stomach where our future heir grew. Three weeks of morning sickness had confirmed what my wolf, Luna, had already whispered to me – I was carrying Michael's pup, the future Alpha of Silver Creek Pack. "He's going to be so happy," I whispered to my wolf, feeling her eager agreement pulse through our shared consciousness. *He'll finally look at us the way he did when we first mated,* Luna murmured inside my mind. I hadn't told anyone about my pregnancy, not even my mother back in the Moonstone Pack. This moment belonged to Michael first – my Alpha, my mate, the man who had swept me into his world three years ago with promises of devotion and protection. The marble floors echoed beneath my careful steps as I followed the familiar trail of Michael's scent – sandalwood and authority, a commanding presence that had always made my knees weak. The diplomatic meetings between packs had kept him away for nearly two weeks, and though he'd ordered me to stay at our pack house, I couldn't bear to wait another day to share our miracle. My fingers trembled slightly as I traced his scent down a long corridor lined with carved wooden doors.

I lost my hearing three years ago due to an accident. Over these three years, my husband has taken meticulous care of me, and my best friend has been extremely considerate. She often comes to my place to help me deal with work. I often think that having such a wonderful husband and a caring best friend is the greatest happiness in my life. However, one day, I was shocked to find them passionately kissing behind my back! I've made up my mind. They will surely pay for what they've done!

WARNING ⚠️: This book contains sex scenes and mature contents not fit for readers below 18+. If you love steamy romances and emotional stories, this book is the one. By day, Damon follows her rules in the kitchen: chopping, kneading, burning his fingers, and surviving her sharp mouth. By night, she follows his. Damon Blackwell is a cold, dangerous billionaire who hates Christmas, women, and anything that smells like joy. Haunted by tragedy and trauma, and memories of the girl he once loved and lost, he lives like a machine: money, control, and pleasure without attachment. Then his grandparents and three ruthless brothers dare him to do the impossible: Live like a normal man for 12 days to Christmas: no staff, no luxuries, no protection, no control and no bad temper. He has to change and be easygoing with investors. Fail, and he loses the biggest business deal of his life. Indulgence is over for him. The only place Damon knows he can grab survival? A small-town Christmas cooking competition hosted by that one woman who broke his heart years ago. Merry Steele never expected to see Damon again. The man she left without a word. The man who haunted her dreams after she broke his heart back now stands in her kitchen offering a deal she can't refuse: Cook for him. Sleep with him. Pretend to be his fiancée until the end of the year. The pay is tempting. The temptation is even greater. Before Christmas, can they resist the heat, desire, and lingering love they once shared and keep it strictly business? As family obligations, enemies, and a high-profile Christmas ball close in, Damon and Merry must correct old heartbreak, passion, and dangerous feelings. Will Damon ever forgive his fuckmate? Can Merry resist the billionaire who once stole her heart... or will old flames burn hotter than ever under the snow, the lights, and the Christmas feelings?

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.

I smoothed down the front of my traditional Luna ceremonial dress, the silver embroidery catching the light as I moved. Three years. Three perfect years with my mate, and tonight I wanted everything to be perfect. "Do you think he'll like the surprise?" I asked my reflection, adjusting the moonstone pendant that had been my mother's. It was the last thing she'd given me before passing, and I wore it only on special occasions. My wolf, Aria, purred with satisfaction. *He'll love it. You've prepared his favorite meal.* I glanced at the dining room table, set with our finest china and candles. The roast was resting, vegetables steaming, and a bottle of aged red wine—Tyson's favorite—hidden in the car for the final touch. "He should be home any minute," I murmured, checking my phone.