Deafened By His Hateful Words

The Inter-Pack Summit's grand hall glowed with ceremonial torches, casting dramatic shadows across the faces of the most powerful Alphas in the region. I stood at the entrance, my silver aura radiating outward in controlled waves—not a display of emotion, but a calculated reminder of the Silvermoon Pack's strength under my leadership. Marcus positioned himself precisely one step behind me and to my right, his presence a silent comfort through our private mind-link. *They're all watching for weakness,* he observed, his thoughts flowing into mine with familiar ease. *Then they'll find none,* I replied, scanning the room with measured indifference. Alpha Kaelen Blackwood approached first, his dark eyes evaluating me with the same predatory calculation I recognized in myself. "Alpha Victoria," he greeted, inclining his head just slightly enough to acknowledge my status without suggesting submission. "Your champion has brought considerable attention to the Silvermoon territory." "As intended," I replied coolly, the subtle tap of my index finger against my thigh the only outward sign of my strategic assessment. Ryan Mitchell had indeed brought attention—attention I had meticulously orchestrated over five years of investment. The rogue I'd salvaged from starvation had been molded into a weapon that now represented Silvermoon dominance in combat.

Denny parades as the Alpha bully...strong, untouchable, feared by all. But beneath the fists and fury, he's hiding a dangerous secret: he is an Omega. A lonely, horny one. When Jay, heir to a rival clan, the true definition of a ruthless Alpha, crashes into his life and challenges his dominance, Denny's carefully built facade begins to crack. Now, it's war...between a real Alpha and a pretender. Except Jay soon saw through Denny...and wanted more than sovereignty. Wanted his muscles and strength in his bed.

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.

When Nigerian financial analyst Eniola Adeyemi exposes a 2.3 billion naira money laundering scheme, she becomes the target of powerful criminals who'll stop at nothing to silence her. Her only protection? A contract marriage to Elijah Kingston-the cold, ruthless, American billionaire CEO whose own family is at the heart of the conspiracy. What begins as a transactional arrangement for safety and an heir becomes a dangerous game of power, betrayal, and undeniable passion as they're forced to choose between empire and love.

The pack run had been Marcelo's idea. He'd announced it three days prior at the weekly council meeting, his Alpha tone leaving no room for debate. A show of unity, he'd called it. A reminder that the Black Moon Pack moved as one body, one purpose. I'd watched him from my seat at the far end of the table—the Luna's chair, though I'd stopped feeling like a Luna months ago—and said nothing. Petra Voss had nodded approvingly. The other council members had murmured their agreement. Rosalina, seated closer to Marcelo than protocol allowed, had smiled that soft, adoring smile she always wore around him. I should have known then. The territory's northern river was swollen from early spring melt, the current fast and mean.

It had been nine years of being tangled up with Max. On my birthday, his girlfriend crashed the party, declaring they were meant to be together and that I should consent to a divorce for their happiness. Max watched indifferently, expecting me to handle the situation as I always had with his difficult partners. But that day, a sudden wave of exhaustion washed over me. I stood up, gave him a smile, and said, "I'm going to get some fresh air in the garden." Max barely noticed, likely thinking I was off to cry in solitude. But an hour passed, then two, then three, and I didn’t return. He came looking for me. All he found was a burnt cigarette and a ring in the garden. That's when he knew. I wasn't coming back.