MATED TO THREE DESPISED BY ALL
I am Melissa Copper, chosen by the moon goddess as the fated mate of the Alpha triplets.
But they cruelly discarded me, choosing my twin sister over me at the Alpha's coronation ceremony.
They despised me, that I know, I have always seen it in their eyes, but the mate bond keeps drawing me closer to them.
Now, I have decided to leave, to end the whole circus. But when I begged them to reject me, they wouldn't do it.
They wouldn't let me go...
****
"Melissa, please come back to us!" They all echoed in unison.
"We want you...We have always wanted you!" Caleb said softly, his voice trailing off his breath, as he pinned me to the wall.
"We promise to treat you right!" Cypril said, his breath warm and ticklish against my fingers that he brought up to his lips.
"You will always be ours. Just come back already!" Cain's pleading eyes met mine as he leaned in, pressing a kiss on my lips, his hands tracing the corner of my ear.
"No," I said, my voice louder than I had expected it to be, with their bodies pressed against mine and their lips creating sparks across my body.
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Chapter 1
MELISSA.
"Wakey, wakey!!" Bella's voice rang out, sharp and insistent, slicing straight through my sleep like an alarm I hadn't set.
I groaned and buried my face deeper into the pillow, the fabric muffling my next words. "Can't you just let me sleep..." I muttered, my voice barely above a whisper.
My body felt heavy, limbs sluggish as I curled in on myself, drawing my knees to my chest and rolling from one side of the bed to the other like a restless child refusing to wake up. Sleep clung to me stubbornly, warm and tempting, and I wanted nothing more than to sink back into it.
"Dummy," Bella scoffed, completely unimpressed by my struggle. "It's the Alphas' coronation today. Wouldn't you want to take a closer look at your lovers?"
That did it.
The moment the words Alpha triplets slipped from her mouth, my body reacted before my mind could catch up. I shot upright as though invisible strings had yanked me from the mattress. Sleep evaporated instantly. Panic flared hot and fast. I lunged toward Bella and clamped a hand over her mouth, my heart hammering violently against my ribs.
"Are you crazy?" I hissed under my breath, eyes darting around the room as if the walls themselves might be listening. My grip tightened just enough to silence her completely.
No one-no one-knew about my secret admiration for the Alpha triplets except Bella, and it had to stay that way. It had to.
Slowly, memories crept in, unwelcome and sharp. Amelia. My twin sister. Beautiful, adored Amelia. She had always been possessive of the Alphas, as if they were something she owned. I could still remember the way she had bullied girls who dared to openly confess their feelings for them, how ruthless she had been, how cruel. I had already endured enough living in her shadow, always compared, always lacking. I wouldn't survive her wrath if she ever found out about my feelings for the Alpha triplets.
Amelia was lucky-painfully lucky. The Alphas were always at her beck and call, their attention effortlessly drawn to her. Every time I saw them together, laughter shared so easily, something twisted painfully in my chest. My heart ached in ways I never dared speak aloud. And yet, despite everything, despite knowing how foolish it was, my heart still beat for them. Quietly. Hopelessly. I wished, with every fiber of my being, that the Moon Goddess would choose me as their mate.
"Hey," Bella said gently once I finally released her, her tone softer now, more careful. "Get ready. Remember, they're choosing their mate today. It's tradition."
Her words snapped me out of my spiraling thoughts. My breath caught.
Oh. Right.
How could I forget something so important? My hands trembled slightly as reality settled in. Today wasn't just a coronation-it was that day. The day everything could change.
Moon Goddess, I prayed silently, closing my eyes as my heart thudded wildly. Please... choose me.
Because I wasn't sure I could keep living if the bond chose someone else.
"Mel...is...s...aaaaaa...aa... Hurry!"
Bella's voice sliced through the thick morning silence, stretched and breathless, rising and falling as if she were already running while calling my name. It dragged me out of my thoughts and sent a sharp jolt through my body.
I didn't waste a second. I dashed into the bathroom, splashing water on my face with trembling hands, pulling on my clothes in frantic, careless motions. Buttons were fastened wrongly, hair barely tamed, but I didn't stop. I rushed out, my heart pounding hard against my ribs, and dashed alongside my friend toward the venue, our footsteps echoing with urgency.
From afar, my eyes caught sight of my father. He was seated elegantly, posture straight, presence commanding even from a distance. The familiar fear curled tightly in my chest, rooting me to the spot. My steps slowed until I stopped completely, my fingers curling into my palms.
I stayed where I was, waiting impatiently, nerves coiling tighter with every passing second as I waited for the ceremony to begin. Then suddenly, Amelia came forward. She struck me hard as she passed by, her shoulder slamming into mine without pause.
The force from the hit sent me off balance, and I fell hard to the ground.
"Melissa, could you at least watch where you're going?"
The words hit me sharp and sudden, like a slap I hadn't seen coming. I lifted my gaze to her face, taking in the tightness around her mouth, the spark of accusation already burning in her eyes. For a brief second, a dozen responses crowded my mind, sharp, defensive, angry, but I swallowed every single one of them.
Instead, I stared at her and made a deliberate choice to ignore her.
I wasn't fully ready to entertain one of those tantrums again. I could already recognize the pattern, the way her voice always rose, the way the situation was always twisted until I somehow became the villain. We were outside, surrounded by people, and I reminded myself that I needed to keep my cool. Losing control here would only give her exactly what she wanted.
The irony of it all made my jaw tighten. She had clearly been the one who bumped into me-her shoulder brushing mine with unnecessary force, her steps careless and rushed. I had barely recovered my balance before she turned on me, quick to accuse, quicker to blame. As usual.
I said nothing.
My silence seemed to irritate her more than any argument ever could. I could feel the anger coiling up within her, thick and restless, the way a storm gathers pressure before breaking. Her hands curled into fists at her sides, her chest rising and falling as if she were holding back something far worse.
Then she snapped.
"You thief!" she shouted at the top of her voice.
The word echoed, loud and ugly, slicing through the air and drawing attention like a knife. Conversations around us faltered. Heads turned. I felt the heat of stares settle on my skin, heavy and uncomfortable.
That was when I saw my father stand up.
The moment her voice rang out, he pushed himself to his feet, concern etched across his face as he stepped forward. My heart skipped, dread pooling in my stomach as I realized he was already moving toward us, already involved.
"How could you steal my necklace?" she continued, her voice trembling with outrage as she pointed an accusing finger straight at me.
For a moment, I was too stunned to react. A necklace? The accusation felt so sudden, so absurd, that confusion eclipsed my anger. I frowned slightly, searching her face for some hint that this was a joke, some sign that she would laugh and admit she'd gone too far.
There was none.
"What necklace?" I asked, the question slipping out before I could stop it, curiosity and disbelief taking over.
By then, my father was already standing right in front of me. His presence was solid, imposing, his expression unreadable as his eyes flicked between the two of us. I could feel my pulse pounding in my ears, every second stretching painfully longer than the last.
"Dad!" she cried, seizing the moment, her finger stabbing the air in my direction. "Melissa stole my necklace!"
Her words hung there, heavy and damning, as all eyes turned to me, waiting and within a split second I heard a loud sound.
*Crack.*
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8.5
Everyone knew Caroline loved Jacob, the frail man in a wheelchair, even giving up her chance at marrying into wealth for him.
She devoted everything to his recovery, enduring hardship and humiliation to help him stand again.
When he finally recovered, they were praised as perfect together-until danger came.
Faced with saving her or her sister, Jacob chose the latter without hesitation. Only in her final moments did Caroline realize his heart was never hers.
Reborn, she made a different choice, choosing power over love.
When Jacob later begged, she looked down coldly. "I have no interest in men who can't stand on their own."
7.8
"This isn't right..." I whispered.
But my stepbrothers wouldn't let me go.
"You're ours now," Sylver said quietly. "And that's not going to change."
My mother and I have been running for three years-from Eryndor Blackshade, the vampire cult leader obsessed with finding me.
Just when he finds us again, my mother makes a desperate move: she marries King Reid Thornevale, the most powerful Lycan in the Blood Hollow Pack.
But Reid comes with a dangerous secret-triplet hybrid sons, born of vampire and werewolf blood. They're ruthless, cursed... and now, my stepbrothers. From the moment Sylver, Cassian, and Rylan Thornevale lay eyes on me, something ancient stirs-twisted, forbidden, and hungry.
A fire that scorches morality and melts all reason. Our connection isn't just wrong. It's deadly. Because the Thornevale bloodline is cursed, descendants of Elder Varek, the first vampire–werewolf hybrid, were sealed away centuries ago.
The curse awakens under every Red Moon, turning them into monsters driven by bloodlust and desire. Now I'm caught in the middle. Between a cult that wants to sacrifice me... And stepbrothers who want to claim me. And I don't know which fate will destroy me first.
7.5
I am the biological daughter of the wealthy Fitzpatrick family, but I spent my childhood eating out of dumpsters.
When I was finally brought back to the estate at age seven, I thought I would experience my parents' love.
Instead, my biological parents looked at my dirty clothes with raw disgust. They only cared about Hallie, the fake daughter who lived like a princess.
The moment I walked in, Hallie hurled a heavy ceramic cup at my head, slicing my hand open.
"Get out of my house!"
My father didn't even look at the blood. He raised his hand to strike me, accusing me of bringing trailer park rules into his home.
In my past life, I dropped to my knees and begged for their forgiveness. I endured their abuse, hoping they would eventually love me.
But they let the maids humiliate me, let Hallie steal my identity, and eventually threw me back onto the streets to die. Even my playboy Uncle Byron, the only person who ever showed me mercy, was driven to suicide by them.
I didn't understand why my own flesh and blood hated me so much, or why a vicious liar deserved everything while I was treated like a jinx.
Opening my eyes again, I was back on the exact day I first returned to the estate.
As my father raised his hand to hit me, I didn't cower.
Instead, I looked at the family patriarch and pointed directly at my notorious, alcoholic uncle.
"I want him to be my new guardian."
7.8
I thought I had found my savior in Alpha Camron after my adoptive family was brutally slaughtered.
But as I lay chained to the damp dungeon wall, my inner wolf silenced by silver poison, he sneered and rejected me.
"Did you really think I loved you? You were just a dumb, loyal dog."
He confessed that he had orchestrated my family's murder to frame Lycan King Asher.
Blinded by his lies, I had plunged a silver blade into Asher's heart—the only man standing in Camron's way to the throne.
My step-sister Erica then arrived to deliver the final, crushing blows.
"He was your true fated mate, Ella," she whispered with sadistic glee. "He loved you so much he retracted his aura, leaving himself defenseless so you wouldn't get hurt killing him."
Worse, she laughed at my swollen belly, revealing the baby I carried wasn't Camron's. He had paid a filthy Rogue to defile me in the dark.
The man I murdered was the other half of my soul, and the monster I trusted had destroyed everything I loved.
My heart simply gave out, drowning in an abyss of pure agony and hatred.
Opening my eyes again, the stench of burning flesh was gone.
I was back in my attic bedroom on my fifteenth birthday.
Today was the day my evil stepmother would start her deadly plot.
This time, I would tear them all apart.
7.2
I was dying in a rusted warehouse, paralyzed in a wheelchair while the man I loved and my own stepsister watched with smiles on their faces. The air smelled of old oil and damp concrete, and my vision was fading into a milky haze.
Dillon, the man I’d sacrificed everything for, smoothed his custom suit and pulled out a syringe filled with a clear, lethal neurotoxin. Beside him, my stepsister Bianca toyed with my mother’s sapphire ring—the one they’d just pried off my hand while I was too weak to even make a fist.
She leaned in and whispered that my father’s trust fund was already offshore and that they’d sent my husband, Kade, to the wrong coordinates to ensure he’d only find my corpse. Dillon slid the needle into my vein with the chilling efficiency of a man who had done this before.
"This will stop your heart in thirty seconds," he said, sounding as bored as if he were explaining a tax form. Ice flooded my chest, and my lungs seized, fighting for oxygen that wasn't there. As the warehouse lights blurred into white streaks, an explosion echoed in the distance. Kade had come for me, but he was too late.
I died staring at the ceiling, my heart giving one last violent kick of pure, unadulterated hatred. I had been such a fool, believing Dillon’s lies and running away from the only man who actually cared for me. I died with a single thought: if I ever get another chance, I will drag you both to hell with me.
Then, there was nothing. And then, there was air.
I sat up gasping, my silk pajamas drenched in cold sweat. The rusted beams were gone, replaced by a vaulted ceiling and the glittering Manhattan skyline. I grabbed the digital clock on the nightstand—it was five years ago, the exact night I first tried to run away with Dillon.
The bedroom door slammed against the wall, and Kade Mullen stood in the doorway, looking dangerous, furious, and very much alive. I looked at my shaking hands, then at the man I had once hated. This time, I wasn't going to run. I was going to make sure Dillon and Bianca lost everything.
8.8
Alaia Dudley spent her life playing the devoted partner, completely unaware that her fiancé Austen was sleeping with another woman.
She thought the worst he could do was break her heart, until she found herself pinned to a cold operating table.
Austen held her down with a cruel smirk while a scalpel sliced through her sternum.
They cracked her chest open while she was still fully conscious.
The agonizing pain of her heart being cut out burned into her nerve endings.
She realized then that to him, she was never a lover—just a spare organ, a boring piece of wood to be discarded the second his true love needed it.
She died in excruciating agony, choking on her own blood while the man she loved walked away with her heart.
Until her last breath, she didn't understand why she had to suffer so brutally.
Why did she waste her life begging for a monster's attention? Why did they get a happy ending while she was carved up like an animal?
But then, ice-cold water flooded her lungs, and Alaia violently broke the surface of her bathwater.
Her trembling fingers touched her smooth, flawless chest. No scars. Her heart was still beating.
The date on her phone glared back at her: it was exactly five years ago.
Tonight was the exact night Austen first took his mistress to a hotel room.
This time, she wouldn't just expose them. She would use Wall Street's most terrifying tyrant as her personal weapon to strip them of everything they had.