Rejected By My Cruel Fated Mate
I was pregnant with the future heir of the Blackwood Pack, but my fated mate, Alpha Gavin, was nowhere to be found when sharp, tearing agony ripped through my swollen belly.
Instead of rushing to my side, he was in a luxury penthouse with his mistress, Piper.
When I desperately called his human number for help, it was Piper who answered the phone.
"I'm Piper. His future Luna."
Minutes later, I received a leaked audio file of Gavin promising to formally reject me the moment our pup was born.
Before the heartbreak could even set in, my armored SUV was violently rammed off the road by a massive truck.
It wasn't an accident. It was a targeted hit paid for by Piper's pack.
I woke up in the clinic with an empty womb. My pup was dead.
Gavin didn't even show up. He just mind-linked the butler to say he was "too busy" to deal with my loss.
He let his mistress murder our child and treated me like disposable trash, assuming my grief would make me a weak, compliant victim.
He thought he could just bury my trauma and move on with his perfect new life.
He was wrong.
I faked my own death in a fiery crash, leaving him with nothing but my signed rejection papers and the bloody receipt proving his mistress hired the killers.
Now, armed with a new identity and untraceable wealth, I am stepping out of the shadows.
I am going to bankrupt their packs from the inside out and make my former Alpha watch his empire burn.
Chapters
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Chapter 1
Elara POV
A sharp, tearing agony ripped through my swollen abdomen, forcing a breathless gasp from my lungs. I curled tighter into the velvet sofa of the Alpha’s Manor, my fingers digging into the rich fabric. The pup—the future heir of the Blackwood Pack—was restless, sending waves of distress through my body.
"Luna, please, breathe," Bastian, the Pack's head butler, urged. Sweat beaded on his wrinkled forehead as his eyes glazed over, a clear sign he was trying to force a Mind-Link.
"Where is he, Bastian?" I whispered, my voice trembling. My fated mate, Alpha Gavin Blackwood, hadn't been home in three days.
Bastian blinked, his expression crumbling into defeat. "He... he blocked the link, Luna."
The rejection stung worse than the physical pain. Desperate, Bastian pulled out his cell phone and dialed Gavin’s human number. The room was so quiet I could hear the faint, tinny voice of my husband when he finally answered.
"Take her to the Healer," Gavin’s voice was ice, devoid of any mate's warmth. "I'm not a Healer."
The line went dead.
Bastian quickly pocketed the phone and turned to me, forcing a tight, reassuring smile. "The Alpha is deeply concerned, Luna. He is tied up with urgent Pack business, but he promised to meet us at the clinic as soon as he can."
It was a lie, but my desperate heart swallowed it whole. The hollow ache in my chest, tethered by our frayed Mate-bond, eased just a fraction. He was busy. He still cared about me and our pup.
"Let's go," I breathed, letting Bastian help me to my feet.
Ten minutes later, I was shivering in the back of the Pack's armored SUV. The sterile smell of the leather interior did nothing to calm my racing heart. Suddenly, the screen of my phone, resting on the seat beside me, lit up with a breaking news notification from a human tabloid.
*Billionaire Gavin Blackwood Rekindles Romance with Holloway Pack Jewel, Piper Holloway.*
My blood ran cold. With trembling fingers, I tapped the screen. A high-definition photo filled the display. It was Gavin, standing outside an exclusive restaurant in the city. His fingers were intertwined with a stunning brunette's. But it was the look on his face that shattered me—a proud, tender, utterly devoted smile. A smile he had never, not once, directed at me.
My inner White Wolf let out a pathetic, agonizing whimper, clawing at the confines of my mind.
*No,* I told myself, squeezing my eyes shut. *It’s a fake. Rival packs are just trying to destabilize my position.*
Driven by a frantic need for the truth, I ignored the stabbing pain in my stomach and dialed Gavin’s human number. It rang three times before the line clicked open.
"Hello?"
It wasn't Gavin. It was a woman's voice—sweet, breathy, and dripping with satisfaction.
"Where is Gavin?" I demanded, my voice cracking.
"Oh, he's in the shower right now," the woman purred. "Who is this?"
"I am his wife," I choked out. "Who the hell are you?"
A soft, mocking laugh echoed through the speaker. "I'm Piper. His future Luna."
The words were a silver blade plunged directly into my heart. The call disconnected, leaving me in a suffocating silence. The Mate-bond flared with a phantom, burning agony. Bastian had lied. There was no "urgent Pack business." My Alpha was with another woman.
*
Gavin POV
I pushed open the heavy oak doors of the luxury penthouse suite, my tie already loosened. The secret, three-hour political negotiation with the Holloway Pack Alpha had been exhausting, but necessary for my expansion plans.
I walked into the bedroom and stopped dead. Piper was sprawled across my unmade bed in a sheer silk slip, holding my cell phone.
"Why do you have my phone?" I growled, my inner Alpha surging with dark irritation.
Piper sat up, entirely unbothered by my tone. "Just answering a call from your little breeder. I told her he was in the shower. Oh, and I introduced myself as the future Luna."
My jaw clenched. I crossed the room in two long strides and snatched the device from her hand. "You do not make moves without my command, Piper," I warned, my voice dropping to a dangerous, lethal octave. "Our alliance stays quiet until the heir is born and I formally Reject her. You are jeopardizing my timeline."
"But what if she's hurt?" Piper pouted, though her eyes danced with malicious glee. "She called twice."
I looked down at the cracked screen, staring at Elara's missed call. I felt absolutely nothing. No guilt. No concern. Only the bitter annoyance of a disrupted schedule.
I tossed the phone onto the nightstand and turned my back on it. "Nothing about Elara is ever urgent."
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8.0
When gifted cellist Vivienne Aurel inherits her late father's catastrophic $4.2 million debt, she expects to lose everything. She doesn't expect the debt to be bought by Caspian Vane, the most feared private equity magnate in New York. Caspian doesn't want to ruin her; he wants her to work exclusively for him as the artistic director of his new cultural foundation for eighteen months. Forced into his world under a binding agreement, Vivienne prepares to fight against a cold, transactional cage. But as the intense, quiet proximity between them begins to blur the lines of their contract, she discovers a terrifying truth: the man who now owns her future has been watching her from the shadows long before she ever knew his name.
9.7
Luna Elena Frost was never chosen, only assigned.
Bound to Alpha Alaric Ashbourne through a cold contractual marriage, she endures three years as a Luna in name only. He never comes home, never defends her, and never looks at her, while his heart belongs to another woman.
At his grandmother's funeral, Alaric publicly dissolves their marriage, humiliating Elena before the entire pack. In that moment, she finally understands the truth. She was never wanted.
But the Moon has not abandoned her.
A forgotten night resurfaces. Her long-silent wolf begins to awaken. And secrets buried within her bloodline start to surface, drawing danger from every direction.
Cast out by the pack that once used her, Elena must flee, survive, and uncover her true power.
Only then does the Alpha realize his mistake.
By the time he turns back in regret, the Luna he rejected may already be gone forever.
9.7
I was a top cardiac surgeon, trapped in a dead marriage with a ruthless billionaire.
One afternoon, he brought his mistress to my hospital, ordering me to perform her high-risk heart surgery.
When I refused and handed him our divorce papers, he violently tore them up and threatened to erase my name from the medical community.
Worse, I discovered they had a five-year-old surrogate son—bought and born the exact same year I bled out on an operating table, losing our baby.
The mistress mocked my trauma, calling me a barren piece of trash who couldn't give him an heir.
I slapped her across the face.
The next morning, the NYPD publicly handcuffed me in my own hospital.
She had framed me for attempted murder, claiming I injected her IV with a lethal dose of potassium.
My husband cornered me in the interrogation room.
"Just confess to me. I will throw enough money at the DA to make this entirely disappear."
I looked into his dark eyes and saw nothing but raw, unfiltered suspicion.
He actually believed I was a jealous murderer.
I swore I would rather rot in a concrete cell for the rest of my life than bow down to them.
Just as my childhood savior miraculously appeared to bail me out, my phone rang.
The mistress had gone into full cardiac arrest.
Only I had the surgical skill to save her.
I turned around, deciding whether to let the woman who ruined my life die, or pick up my scalpel.
9.3
Ginny was chained to a concrete pillar in an abandoned warehouse, bleeding and betrayed by the two people she trusted most.
Her fiancé, Brant, and her adopted sister, Coretta, had just slashed her face open. Brant coldly admitted she was nothing but a disposable key to a vault, right before he tossed a lighter onto the gasoline-soaked floor.
As Ginny burned alive in the roaring inferno, the heavy iron doors were violently smashed open. Bedford Parks—the notoriously ruthless, germaphobic "monster" of Silicon Valley whom Ginny had always feared—charged straight into the flames. Ignoring the blistering heat, he shielded her charred body with his own. A massive steel beam collapsed, snapping his spine.
"I love you."
He coughed up blood, whispering his final words against her blackened skin before dying to protect her.
Hovering as a ghost, Ginny's soul screamed in agonizing realization. She had spent her life terrified of Bedford, yet he was the only one who truly loved her, while her supposed family laughed at her gruesome murder.
Suddenly, a blinding white light swallowed the warehouse.
Ginny gasped for air, opening her eyes to find herself sitting in the back of a luxury Maybach. She was eighteen again, wearing the humiliating clown makeup Coretta had tricked her into wearing on the day she was brought back to the wealthy Steele estate.
Ginny stared at her reflection, her dark eyes turning cold and sharp.
This time, she would tear her betrayers apart piece by piece, and she would protect her "monster."
7.1
To survive a forced one-year marriage contract with the ultra-wealthy Chavez family, Averi Marsh disguised herself as a pathetic, ugly duckling.
She caked her flawless skin in muddy yellow foundation, wore thick glasses, and played the part of a trembling, uneducated orphan.
The entire family treated her like literal garbage.
The youngest brother publicly swore he would rather cut off his own hand than marry a piece of trailer park trash.
Her nominal fiancé, Clarke, looked at her with cold disdain, allowing his glamorous companion to humiliate Averi by forcing her into a neon pink clown dress.
At a high-society party, a socialite shoved her into an infinity pool, laughing as the heavy fabric dragged her to the bottom.
They all wanted to see the poor girl broken, humiliated, and driven out of their pristine world.
What they didn't know was that beneath the hideous sweaters was a breathtaking, lethal predator.
They had no idea she was 'Spectre', the undefeated underground racing god who had just humiliated the arrogant Clarke on the track.
They didn't know she could shatter a bully's wrist in seconds or bankrupt their wealthy friends with a single text message.
But when the chlorinated pool water washed away her ugly makeup, the family's ambitious second son caught a glimpse of her true, flawless face.
The game of hide-and-seek was officially over.
The Chavez family thought they were torturing a helpless sheep, but they were about to realize they had locked themselves in a cage with a wolf.
7.2
Hope worked eighty-hour weeks on Wall Street, enduring daily humiliation from her boss just to be her mother's golden ticket out of poverty.
But when a severe kidney infection left her bleeding and collapsing in the middle of a boardroom presentation, her boss didn't call an ambulance.
He slammed his hand on the table, publicly accused her of popping pills like a junkie, and threw her out of the building.
Dragging her agonizing, feverish body back home, Hope desperately needed a mother's comfort.
Instead, the moment her mother heard she had lost her six-figure job, the woman's face contorted with pure rage.
She didn't care that Hope's kidneys were failing; she grabbed a heavy glass ashtray and hurled it directly at Hope's head.
"You threw away a six-figure job? You threw away our ticket out of this dump?!"
The glass shattered against the wall, slicing Hope's bare leg open.
For twenty-nine years, Hope had sacrificed her health, her dignity, and her sanity to be the perfect daughter.
She didn't understand why her life was only worth the paycheck she brought home, or why her own mother would rather see her dead than unemployed.
Looking at the blood dripping down her calf, the guilt that had chained her for a lifetime suddenly vanished.
She pulled out her phone and hit send on a brutally honest resignation email to her toxic boss.
Then, she opened a text from the intimidating, billionaire doctor who had treated her at the clinic—the only man who had ever told her she was a fighter.
She packed her bags and walked out the door.
This time, she was going to live for herself.