I Hid His Heir from My Alpha
For two years, I was the Alpha's secret wife, a duty he resented. But the positive pregnancy test in my hand was a miracle, a blessing from the Moon Goddess. This baby, our heir, was supposed to be the bridge that finally mended our broken mate bond.
That night, he left without a word. I saw on a gossip site that he'd gone to pick up his ex-lover, Isadora. Reaching for him through our bond, I wasn't met with his usual coldness, but with her emotions bleeding through him-triumph and smug possession.
The next morning, I went to his office, ready to tell him about our baby, believing our child could fix us. But I stopped when I heard him talking to our Pack Healer about me.
The healer said I looked fragile, that he should care for his mate. My husband laughed.
"You seem to care for her more than I do," Demetri said, his voice dripping with ice. "Do you want me to give her to you? Take her. She's of no use to me."
My world shattered. I wasn't just unloved; I was a thing to be discarded. I looked down at the pregnancy report, the proof of the life inside me, and made a vow. He would never know about our child, and I would sever our bond myself.
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Chapter 1
Alessandra POV
The paper trembled in my hands, the crinkle of the medical sheet sounding like thunder in the silent, oppressive luxury of the Alpha's suite.
Positive. Five weeks.
I pressed a hand to my flat stomach, a wave of nausea rolling through me. An heir. I was carrying the Stonecrest Pack's future Alpha.
For two years, I had been Demetri Hamilton's wife in name, his secret shame in public, and his dutiful bedwarmer in private. A marriage orchestrated by his dying father, a bond he resented with every fiber of his being. But this... this pup could change everything. It was the blessing of the Moon Goddess, proof that our frayed, neglected mate bond was real.
The bathroom door opened, steam billowing out, carrying the scent of rain-soaked pine and ozone—him.
Demetri walked out, a towel low on his hips, water droplets clinging to the hard planes of his chest. He was breathtaking, a lethal predator carved from marble, and my wolf purred instantly, pathetic in her adoration.
"Demetri," I started, my voice trembling. I stepped forward, the paper burning against my palm. "I need to tell you—"
He froze. His eyes, usually a stormy grey, glazed over. Mind-link.
The air around him grew heavy, the static of a powerful Alpha erecting a mental wall. I was shut out. Again. I watched his jaw tighten, a flicker of urgency crossing his stoic face. The link cut, and he was moving before I could blink, shedding the towel and grabbing his clothes.
"I have to go," he stated, his voice devoid of emotion.
"Now?" I glanced at the clock. "It's midnight. Demetri, please. Tomorrow is my grandmother's birthday. You promised you might—"
"Something came up," he interrupted, buttoning his shirt with sharp, precise movements. He didn't look at me. He never really looked at me. "Go to sleep, Alessandra. Do not wait up."
It wasn't a request. The command in his tone, the subtle weight of his Alpha authority, forced my wolf to lower her head in submission. I stood frozen by the bed, the pregnancy report crunched in my fist, watching my husband walk out the door without a backward glance.
Sleep was a ghost that refused to haunt me.
Two hours later, I sat in the dark, the cold light of my phone illuminating the tears drying on my cheeks. The notification had popped up moments ago.
FASHION ICON ISADORA PACHECO RETURNS WITH MYSTERY BILLIONAIRE.
My thumb hovered over the screen, shaking. I tapped the article. The photo was grainy, taken outside the private airport terminal, but I would know that silhouette anywhere. The broad shoulders, the commanding stance that screamed power.
Demetri.
He hadn't left for pack business. He had left to pick her up. The woman he had loved before duty shackled him to me.
A desperate, stupid hope flared in my chest. *Maybe it's not what it looks like.* I closed my eyes, reaching for the thin, frayed thread of the mate bond that connected us. Usually, he kept it blocked, a dead line. But tonight, in his distraction, it was open.
I pushed a sliver of my consciousness toward him, seeking reassurance, seeking him.
*Connect.*
The link snapped into place. But instead of Demetri's cool, pine-scented presence, I was slammed with a wall of cloying, sugary emotion. Triumph. Smugness. Possessiveness.
It wasn't Demetri's emotion. It was *hers*, bleeding through him, radiating from her proximity to him. It tasted like cheap perfume and poison.
*Mine,* the foreign emotion seemed to hiss.
I gasped, severing the link as bile rose in my throat. I scrambled off the bed, rushing to the ensuite. I fell to my knees before the black marble toilet, emptying my stomach until my throat burned. My wolf howled in agony, curling into a ball in the back of my mind. Our mate was with another. The pup inside me swirled with restless anxiety, sensing its mother's heartbreak.
The next morning, the sun rose over Stonecrest like a mockery.
I dressed in my usual grey office attire, masking the dark circles under my eyes with concealer. I was the Alpha's assistant first, his wife second, and his mate... never.
I walked down the corridor toward his office, the Healer's report folded into a tiny square in my palm. I had to tell him. Even if he didn't love me, he would love his heir. He had to.
The heavy mahogany door was ajar. Voices drifted out.
"...your pheromones are chaotic, Alpha," Adan's voice was low, concerned. "You reek of conflict... and her."
I stopped, my hand hovering over the wood.
"Isadora needed me," Demetri's voice was smooth, unbothered. "She's staying at the Pack House."
"And Alessandra?" Adan asked. "She's your mate, Demetri. The bond—"
"The bond is a shackle," Demetri scoffed. The sound of glass clinking against a desk followed. "She is a duty I fulfill. Nothing more."
"She looks pale lately," Adan pressed, his tone shifting to something softer, almost protective. "She's fragile."
A cruel chuckle vibrated through the air, freezing the blood in my veins.
"You seem to care for her more than I do," Demetri said, his voice dripping with icy indifference. "Do you want me to give her to you, Adan? Take her. She's of no use to me."
The world tilted. The air left my lungs.
I looked down at the crumpled paper in my hand—the proof of the life we had created. *Give her to you.* I wasn't his mate. I was a piece of furniture he was tired of looking at.
I didn't barge in. I didn't scream. I simply stood there, the paper cutting into my palm, as the last ember of hope in my chest turned to ash.
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7.7
My bank account was four hundred dollars in the red when my brother called me screaming from the most exclusive club in Manhattan. He said he was going to be killed or arrested, and I was the only one who could save him from the mess he’d made.
When I arrived at The Onyx, I found my brother on his knees, accused of assaulting a high-profile socialite. But instead of begging for my help, he pointed a shaking finger at me and screamed, "It was her! My sister set the whole thing up because she wanted money!"
The man watching the chaos from the shadows was Adrian Clemons—the billionaire CEO of the company where I worked as a lowly assistant. He didn't look at me with pity; he looked at me with a profound, exhausted disgust, as if I were a stain on his expensive rug.
To save his own skin, my brother didn't just lie; he offered me up like a piece of tradeable property. "She'll do anything," he pleaded with the billionaire. "She’s clean, she’s obedient. Just don't send me to jail!"
Adrian didn't call the police. Instead, he made a cold, terrifying business proposal: "Lend her to me for one year. I wipe your debt, and the cops stay away." My brother didn't even blink before he snapped, "Done. Take her."
I was whisked away to City Hall in a silent Rolls Royce, signing a marriage license before I could even process the betrayal. I wasn't a bride; I was a "human asset" bought to help a cold-blooded monster secure his inheritance.
The moment my hand accidentally brushed his during the signing, he recoiled as if I were contagious, his face turning a ghostly, panicked white. He made it clear that I was nothing more than a prop, a girl from the slums meant to spite his elitist mother.
As the heavy iron gates of the Clemons estate slammed shut behind me that night, I realized I hadn't just saved my brother. I had entered a golden cage owned by a man who hated my touch, but owned my life for the next three hundred and sixty-five days.
8.2
I went to a private clinic for a routine physical, only to find out I was pregnant.
It was impossible. I took my birth control every single day. But when the doctor tested my pills, they turned out to be high-purity vitamin placebos. My billionaire husband, Denton, had been systematically replacing my medication.
Yet, on our anniversary, he brought my sister Beverly home, demanding a divorce so he could marry her. When I refused to sign a settlement that left me with nothing, he froze my accounts and blacklisted me across New York.
My own father disowned me. When an old friend offered me a job just so I could afford prenatal care, Denton launched a ruthless financial attack to bankrupt his firm.
Then, Beverly got into a car crash. Denton's bodyguards dragged me off the street and forced me into a hospital trauma room. Beverly was hemorrhaging, and I was the only blood match.
I cried and begged Denton to stop, desperately trying to protect my fragile pregnancy without exposing my baby to the monster who controlled my life.
"Please, my body can't handle this. Don't do this to me!"
But he just looked at me with pure disgust and ordered his men to strap me to the chair, forcing the needle into my vein while threatening to kill me if his mistress died.
As I dragged my bleeding, cramping body out of the hospital into the freezing snow, my last shred of hope died.
I touched my stomach and made a vow: I would disappear, and I would make them all pay.
9.7
"Sign it. You're no woman if you can't give me an heir."
Niamh gave Marcus two years of her life, her unwavering loyalty, and her silent love. In return, the billionaire CEO served her divorce papers and a one-way ticket to the gutter.
Cast out into a rainy night with nothing but the clothes on her back and twelve dollars, Niamh’s story should have ended there.
Instead, she stumbled on a stranger in the rain.
In an attempt to save him, he kisses her senseless. He is the last Lycan King standing, and a man of terrifying power, yet he is haunted by a seven-century curse.
When the king has a taste of Niamh in the pouring rain, he knew he had to keep her for himself, even though she was human and it was against the laws of their kind not to mingle with humans.
The King needs her essence and Niamh realizes she could use her body to get what she wanted; revenge on Marcus and his mother for humiliating her and making her waste her time.
Now, the woman Marcus discarded is rising as a global conglomerate queen and a Divine Enchantress as assigned by the Moon Goddess.
While her ex-husband’s empire crumbles into bankruptcy and his body rots with a shameful curse, Niamh is learning that being "claimed" by the King is much more than the contract she'd initially made with him.
He wanted to use her as his cure. She wanted to use him for her revenge.
But in the Lumina Realm, the Goddess has other plans.
9.6
To save her brother's life, she signs a one-year marriage contract with a cold, powerful billionaire.
No love.
No intimacy.
No feelings involved.
At least-that was the deal.
Living under the same roof with Adrian Blackwood, she slowly discovers a man who protects her in silence, shields her from his ruthless family, and watches her like she's already his world.
What she doesn't know is that this marriage was never business to him.
He has loved her for years-quietly, painfully-waiting for a chance that finally came disguised as a contract.
When the truth is revealed and the contract ends, will love be enough to keep them together...
or will she walk away from the man who loved her first?
A slow-burn billionaire romance filled with fake marriage, hidden love, heartbreak, and redemption.
9.3
For five years, I was Ashton Miller's invisible partner, his loyal fiancée, pouring my life into building his empire from the shadows. Tonight, the Bronze Deer exhibition, my masterpiece, was finally opening at the Met, a testament to our shared future.
Then, Bianca, a third-tier actress, stepped into the spotlight in *my* custom Vera Wang wedding dress. My blood ran cold as Ashton's arm circled her waist, his whispered words promising to make her the "new queen of the city."
Five years of trust and sacrifice crumbled. I was a blood bag, drained and discarded. When I publicly exposed their lies, Ashton cornered me backstage, his face twisted in fury, threatening to ruin me, to blacklist me forever. I ripped off his engagement ring, tossing it at his chest. "We're done," I said, walking out as his enraged screams echoed.
The man whose empire I secretly built called me a parasite, his mistress feigning tears, painting me as delusional. My guilt vanished, replaced by freezing, absolute hatred for the man who twisted reality to erase my existence.
Standing in the New York rain, I finally pulled out the military-grade encrypted phone hidden for five years. The line clicked open instantly, a low, gravelly voice asking, "Is it you?" Before I could answer, Archer's voice hardened: "Give me the location. I'll be there in ten minutes. Who touched you? I want his life."
9.7
Elena Whitmore always knew falling for her brother's best friend was a mistake. But one stolen night with Grayson Hale changed everything, and cost her more than she ever imagined.
When he vanished without a word, she buried the past and built a life no one could touch. A life that included a daughter Grayson has never known.
Five years later, he's back. Wealthier. Colder. Determined to uncover why she disappeared, and why she's engaged to a man she doesn't love.
As old sparks ignite and buried truths begin to surface, Elena must decide if protecting her secrets is worth sacrificing the only man she ever loved.