My Husband Traded Our Baby to Save His Mistress' Child

I waited a year for my mate, Alpha Justin, to return from the border war. While he was gone, I used my ten-million-dollar dowry to keep his crumbling pack afloat and buy life-saving elixirs for his mother. But when he finally walked through the door, he reeked of another female's scent. He brought back Gamma Brenna and a Royal Decree, coldly announcing she would be his "Co-Luna." His family, who survived entirely on my wealth, immediately turned on me. They mocked me for being a wolfless orphan since my father and brothers were slaughtered defending the kingdom. "You're just a fragile woman who belongs hidden away," Justin told me. They demanded I accept this humiliation, step aside for his new warrior mate, and continue funding their luxurious lifestyle. Justin even arrogantly offered to sleep with me just once to give me a pup as a "consolation prize," declaring his heart and body belonged entirely to Brenna. They thought my ruined pack meant I had no backing. They thought I was a pathetic victim who would cling to their scraps and accept a polluted mate-bond just to avoid being cast out into the woods as a Rogue. They had no idea I had already visited the Alpha King. I wasn't going to cry, and I certainly wasn't going to share my mate. I packed up every last cent of my ten million dollars, secured a Royal Severance Decree, and prepared to watch their arrogant pack starve to death.

Five years ago, Arabella Sterling vanished without a trace, disgraced, heartbroken, and branded her billionaire benefactor's dirty secret. What the world never knew was that she'd also been his wife. Or that the man she loved-and the son she gave everything for-chose another woman over her. Now, she's back as The Reformer, a world-renowned business strategist celebrated for resurrecting dying empires. Her newest client? The Sterling Group. Her ex-husband's empire. Adrian Sterling has spent years trying to atone for the lies that destroyed them both. But when Arabella walks into his boardroom, colder, sharper, untouchable...he realizes redemption may come at a cost he can't pay. Because this time, she's not here to save him. She's here to ruin him.

My ex-boyfriend of three years, Axel, married a perfect wealthy heiress. I attended his wedding, not to mourn our relationship, but because he had spent the last three years bleeding me dry. He left me with absolutely nothing but a final notice from the hospital for my dying brother's life support. Instead of feeling guilty, Axel cornered me in the church hallway, crushing my wrist. "I'll set you up with an apartment. You won't have to work another day in your life." He thought he could buy my silence with spare change, while leaving my seventeen-year-old brother, Julian, to die when his treatments were cut off the very next day. When I refused to be his dirty little secret, Axel used his power to utterly destroy my acting career. He had my talent agency terminate my contract under a fake morals clause, publicly humiliated me on set, and blacklisted me across the entire industry. I was shoved out into the freezing rain, left with a torn dress and absolutely no way to pay the five hundred thousand dollar medical bill. He actually believed he could step on my brother's dying body to build his own fake empire. He thought I was just a weak, pathetic victim who would eventually crawl back to him on my knees. But he forgot about the one monster he was absolutely terrified of: his legitimate, ruthless billionaire half-brother, Jace Bauer. Looking at the three positive pregnancy tests hidden in my drawer, I stepped right in front of Jace's armored Maybach. "Marry me, and I'll give you the heir you need to secure your empire."

Chapter 1 For the ninety-ninth time, the critical condition notice for her husband landed in Shirley’s hands. She couldn’t stop herself—her palm cracked across Heather’s cheek. “Christopher and I are not divorced yet. Know your place.” Heather froze, then screamed, hysterical. “How dare you hit me! Christopher said I could do whatever I wanted!” “He said he’d love me enough to die for me, so let him die! Let’s see any of you try to save him!” Snatching up a fruit knife, she stabbed wildly toward Shirley. Not a soul moved to intervene. Because compared to the so-called “Mrs. Christopher,” Heather was the one Christopher truly cherished. The man paranoid enough to sleep with a blade under his pillow had allowed Heather to use him as a test subject—for candle burns, drowning games, plastic bag suffocation. The man who detested the color pink had let her cover his face in lipstick kisses and Hello Kitty stickers. So even as she slashed Shirley until she bled, no one dared lay a finger on her. “Heather!” Christopher’s voice cut through the chaos as a nurse wheeled him out. His face was pale. “Your face… what happened?” Tears pooled in Heather’s eyes. “I just wanted to see you die for me, but Shirley wouldn’t let me. She tried to kill me…” Christopher’s sharp gaze snapped to Shirley. “You laid a hand on her? Heather is like this because of you! You promised to take care of her for life!” Shirley bit her lip until she tasted copper. On her twentieth birthday, her foster father, Gabriel, had brought home Heather—his biological daughter, missing for fifteen years. Shirley had taken her abroad. In the moment it took to glance at a text, Heather vanished. They found her half a month later, but from then on, Heather grew stranger. She threw kittens off balconies. She locked classmates in bathrooms. Doctors diagnosed a severe empathy deficit, triggered by trauma. She couldn’t grasp the consequences of her actions. Consumed by guilt, Shirley brought her to the Christopher family, hoping their resources could help. And though Heather had rarely targeted others in recent years, she never spared Shirley. With Christopher’s indulgence… Shirley was just so tired. Her eyes reddened; the hand pressed to her wound trembled. “Since you’re fine, we’ll finalize the divorce tomorrow.” She turned to go, but Christopher’s voice halted her. “You hurt her and think you can walk away? What about your promise?” He signaled a bodyguard to restrain Shirley, then spoke gently to Heather. “Don’t be scared. I’ve got you.” Though Shirley’s injuries were far worse, Christopher acted as if he didn’t see them, drawing Heather close instead. “Anyone who bullies you will pay tenfold.” Shirley broke, her scream raw. “Christopher, *I* am your wife! You promised me once—you’d always be my shield, that you’d never let anyone hurt me!” He’d once crossed half the country to buy her a cup of bubble tea. During an earthquake, he’d shielded her with his body, breaking three ribs. Back then… she was everything to him… At her words, Christopher’s eyes glazed over for a fleeting second before turning to ice. “Those promises died the day you killed our child and my mother.” Now, all he felt was hate. Shirley’s sobs cut off, her face deathly pale. Restrained and helpless, she could only endure as slap after brutal slap rained down. *Smack! Smack! Smack!* … The assault only stopped when Heather’s arm grew tired. Shirley’s face was swollen, bruised. The moment the bodyguard released her, she crumpled. Heather blinked, feigning innocence. “Is it wrong for a little sister to hit her big sister?” Christopher took her reddened palm, his touch both doting and pained. “Your world doesn’t have right and wrong. Do as you please. I’ll handle the consequences.” “Even if I play with you until you die?” “Of course. How would you like to play tonight?” The sound of a messy, passionate kiss filled the corridor. Everyone else stared at their shoes. Shirley’s tightly controlled, ragged sobs finally cut through their heated breaths. Heather pulled up her fallen shoulder strap, whining sweetly, “Why is big sister crying so loudly?” The man’s voice was a contemptuous sneer. “She cries because she still has hope. She wants my comfort. True despair is silent. Like when I lost my mother and child—I couldn’t even shed a tear.” Arm around Heather, Christopher walked away. As he passed Shirley, his low voice seemed to rise from hell itself. “This is your deserved retribution. Divorce? Don’t even dream of it.” The words were a final dagger, plunging into her already shattered heart. Everyone in Rivermouth knew the truth. Those ninety-nine divorce threats were a pathetic joke, proof of how desperately Shirley loved him. The fact it never happened in ninety-nine attempts was Christopher’s punishment for her betrayal. She remained slumped on the cold floor for a long time. Finally, with trembling fingers, she dialed her biological father.

My Coming of Age ceremony was supposed to be a coronation. Instead, it was a funeral for my heart. I stood shivering as Catalina, the woman trying to steal my place, pushed me into the stone pool. My heavy silk dress pulled me down like an anchor. I waited for Jax, the Alpha Heir and my Fated Mate, to save me. He did dive in—but not for me. He scooped up Catalina, who was standing in waist-deep water, treating her like a porcelain doll while I choked on the water. His voice exploded in my head, not with concern, but with disgust. "Stop embarrassing me, Eliana. You look pathetic." Things only got worse. When I confronted them later, Catalina shoved me down the grand staircase. My knee—my dancer’s knee—snapped with a sickening sound. Jax didn't call a doctor. He used the Alpha Command to force me to drag my broken body out of the room so I wouldn't "upset" his mistress. I thought he was just blinded by love, until I overheard him laughing with his Beta. He admitted he didn't love Catalina. He was just using her to break my spirit, to "tame" me into a submissive pet before finally marking me. He thought I was weak. He thought I would stay in the mud forever. He was wrong. I took a silver knife and scraped our carved initials off the Sacred Oak until my skin sizzled. I packed my bags for New York, severing the pack link that bound us. "Sleep well, Jax. Because when I come back, I won't be the girl you broke. I will be the nightmare you created."

My heels clicked against the polished marble floor of the Los Angeles County courthouse, the sound echoing in the cavernous space. I adjusted my position in the wheelchair, a constant reminder of the accident that had changed everything five years ago. The courthouse clerk's nameplate read 'Marianne,' and she offered me a perfunctory smile as I approached her desk. "Good morning," I said, my voice steady despite the anxiety fluttering in my chest. "I need a certified copy of my marriage record, please. Isabella and Marcus Sterling, married June 12th, 2018." She nodded, fingers flying across her keyboard. "ID, please?" I handed over my driver's license, watching as she typed in my information. The fluorescent lights hummed overhead, casting a harsh glow that made everything seem slightly unreal. "Just a moment, Mrs. Sterling," she said, rising from her seat and disappearing into a back room.