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 4
Alessandra POV
"I said no!" I shrieked, my fist connecting with Demetri's shoulder. It was like hitting a wall of granite.
Demetri swore, the sound vibrating against my chest. He stopped wrestling me toward the Bentley and instead slammed me against the side of the car, pinning me with his hips. His eyes were swirling pools of obsidian fury.
"You are hysterical," he snarled, his breath hot on my face. "If you think I am going to drag a screaming, thrashing Luna into the Pack Clinic for everyone to see, you are mistaken. I will not have you embarrass me."
"Then let me go," I gasped, my heart hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs—a rhythm that hid the tiny, fluttering second heartbeat within me. He can't take me to Adan. He can't know.
"Change of plans," Demetri growled. He yanked the car door open, but instead of shoving me in, he leaned in and grabbed his keys, then slammed it shut. Before I could react, he scooped me up into his arms again, turning toward the Pack House. "We are going to my suite. I will deal with your fever myself."
My stomach dropped. The Alpha's Suite. His territory. His cage. But at least it wasn't the clinic. At least my secret was safe for one more hour.
The elevator ride was suffocating. Demetri didn't speak; he just radiated waves of anger and ozone. When the doors slid open to the penthouse, he marched into the master bedroom—a cavernous space of black silk and dark wood that smelled overwhelmingly of him—and dumped me onto the massive bed.
I bounced on the mattress, dizziness spinning the room. My burnt arm throbbed, but the fever was making my skin feel like it was on fire.
Demetri stood at the foot of the bed, staring at me. Then, with a sharp, impatient movement, he began to unbutton his dress shirt.
Panic, cold and sharp, pierced through my fever. I scrambled backward, pressing my spine against the headboard. "What... what are you doing?"
The scream tore from my throat. I curled into a ball, shielding my stomach. "No! Don't touch me! Not after her! Stay away!"
Demetri froze. His hands hovered over his belt, his expression shifting from annoyance to shock, and then to a dark, offended scowl.
"Do you think I am some rogue animal?" he spat, his voice dripping with disdain. "I am not going to force myself on a sick, delirious woman, Alessandra. Look at you. You are burning up."
He turned his back on me, walking toward the ensuite bathroom. "I am drawing you a cold bath. Get in. Now."
I blinked, the adrenaline crashing, leaving me trembling. He wasn't... he didn't want me. Of course. He had Isadora.
I stumbled into the bathroom. The tub was already filling. I gripped the marble counter, swaying. Demetri was there instantly, his hands gripping my waist to steady me.
The moment his skin touched mine, the spark arced between us—violent and undeniable. I gasped, and his pupils dilated, his wolf responding to the mate bond despite his anger.
"Let me help you," he murmured, his voice dropping an octave, rough with suppressed instinct. His fingers grazed the hem of my shirt.
"No." I shoved his hands away, clutching my collar. The electricity felt like a betrayal. "Get out. I can do it myself."
"Alessandra—"
"I said get out!" I cried, tears stinging my eyes. "Leave me some dignity, Demetri."
He stared at me for a long moment, his jaw working. The air crackled with his dominance, warring with something else—regret? No, that was impossible. Finally, he gave a curt nod and backed out, closing the door.
When I emerged twenty minutes later, wrapped in a thick towel, the fever had receded slightly, but the exhaustion was bone-deep.
Demetri was waiting. He had changed into sweatpants, his chest bare. Without a word, he pointed to the vanity stool. "Sit."
I was too tired to fight. I sat. He picked up a hairdryer, his large hands surprisingly gentle as he began to dry my damp hair. The domesticity of it was terrifying. It was a lie.
When he finished, he set the dryer down and gripped my chin, forcing me to look at our reflection in the mirror. He looked at my flushed face, my wet lashes, and a low growl rumbled in his chest.
"Don't you ever look at another male with those eyes," he whispered, his gaze locking onto mine in the glass. "You are mine, Alessandra. Do you understand? My mark is on your soul."
He leaned down, pressing a cold, hard kiss to my forehead. It wasn't affection; it was a brand. A warning.
Suddenly, Demetri stiffened. His eyes glazed over, the amber iris swallowed by the distant fog of a Mind-Link.
I watched his face change. The possessive Alpha vanished, replaced by worry. Pure, unadulterated concern.
"I'm coming," he said aloud, his voice soft.
He pulled away from me as if I were on fire. He grabbed a fresh shirt, not even buttoning it fully before heading for the door.
"It's her, isn't it?" I whispered to the empty room. "Isadora."
He paused at the door, not looking back. "She needs me."
Then he was gone.
The silence he left behind was louder than his shouting. He had held me, claimed me as his, and then ran to her the second she called.
I walked over to my discarded bag. My hands shaking, I pulled out the envelope I had stolen from the grandmother's house—the copy of my medical file. The proof.
Pregnancy Confirmed. 6 Weeks.
I looked at the door he had just walked out of. He would never choose us. He would take my baby and give it to her.
With a sob that felt like my heart ripping in two, I tore the paper. Once. Twice. Until it was nothing but confetti on the black carpet.
"You will never know," I vowed to the shadows. "You don't deserve to know."
Demetri POV
The Pack Clinic
Demetri burst into the private room, his chest heaving. Isadora lay on the narrow bed, wrapped in a deep purple silk robe that slipped off one shoulder. She looked pale, fragile—a stark contrast to the woman who had fought him in the penthouse.
"Demetri," she whimpered, tears spilling from her wide eyes. "I... I felt a pain. I was so scared."
"I'm here," Demetri said, stepping closer, guilt gnawing at him.
Isadora sat up and wrapped her arms around his waist, burying her face in his bare chest. She inhaled his scent, masking the lingering smell of Alessandra with her own cloying perfume.
"Please, Demetri," she begged, looking up at him with trembling lips. "Don't leave me alone tonight. I can't bear it. Stay with me?"
Demetri looked down at her, then back toward the door, toward the Pack House where his mate sat alone. But Isadora was trembling in his arms.
He closed his eyes, the bond with Alessandra aching in his chest, but his duty—and his heart's confusion—anchored him here.
"Okay," he whispered. "I'll stay."
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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.