Rejected by the Alpha, Claimed by the King

Nathan finally came on the seventh day after my death. He did not come to pay his respects. He came to smash my mother’s urn. My spirit hovered, watching as he led Ariana inside. “Kimberly, I know you’re here. Enough theatrics.” Nathan’s voice was cold, flat. “Faking your own death to force me to call off my engagement? How pathetic can you be?” Beside him, Ariana’s voice trembled with a practiced sob. “Nathan, please—maybe she just needed to get away. Let’s not push her.” “Get away?” He raised his voice, addressing the empty air. “Kimberly, I’ll count to three. If you don’t come out, don’t blame me for what happens next.” From the inner room, my father rushed out—white-haired, leaning hard on his cane. A retired detective, now just a broken old man. “Nathan! You monster! Kimberly is dead! Dead because of you and that poisonous witch! What more do you want from us?” Nathan’s brow furrowed at the sight of him. “You’re in on this insanity too, old man? Move aside.” “I won’t! Not unless I’m dead!” “Fine. Have it your way.” He gave a slight nod to the bodyguard behind him. “Smash it.” He was pointing at my mother’s urn. The one I’d nearly died retrieving from a drug cartel’s revenge blast. … I watched, powerless, as the two men in black moved toward the altar. My father roared and lunged—only to be shoved easily to the floor. Ariana gasped and buried her face against Nathan’s chest, her shoulders trembling like a frightened fawn. He patted her back gently, his voice softening. “Don’t look, Ariana. I’m here. This ugliness is beneath you.” How laughable. The “pure, kind-hearted Ariana who couldn’t bear anything dirty” was the same woman who, just ten days earlier, had stood before me and spoken the vilest words in the sweetest tone. “Kimberly, you know… when your mother was blown up, they say there wasn’t a single piece of skin left intact. What a *hero*.” I was a prisoner in the villa then. It began at a party. I overheard Ariana and her friends laughing, calling my mother “a worthless fool who got herself killed.” I couldn’t hold back—I threw a glass of red wine straight into her face. Nathan slapped me. Hard. In front of everyone. He dragged me home and locked me away, his reasoning crisp and cold: “Ariana’s naive. She spoke without thinking. Was that necessary? You’re too angry, Kimberly. You need to cool down.” He stripped the villa of every phone, every line out, leaving only four bodyguards to “watch over” me. Ariana came later. She had the master access card Nathan had given her. After dismissing the guards, she settled gracefully into the chair across from me, wearing a perfect, placid smile. “Nathan says you’re too full of rage, Kimberly. I have to agree.” She tilted her head, a portrait of innocent cruelty. “But don’t worry. Soon you’ll be with your heroic mother. Oh, and Nathan’s given me the highest clearance at his Group. He says he feels safe with me beside him.” I thought she was only here to gloat. Then she took out her phone, dialed, and recited the villa’s address, casual as ordering takeout. “Just one woman here. Unarmed.” That’s when I understood. She hadn’t come to taunt me. She had come to end me.

The hum of the refrigerator was the only sound in the apartment. Two a.m. New York was never truly quiet, but high up in our Brooklyn unit, the world felt muffled. I stood at the kitchen island, the cold marble seeping through my socks, waiting for the kettle to boil. Chamomile and lavender. It was my private ritual for when my brain refused to shut down, a quiet moment carved out of the dark. On the counter, Jaden’s phone lit up. I didn't normally look. Five years of shared history, of a love that felt as comfortable and worn as an old sweater, meant I didn't have to. But the screen was glaring in the unlit kitchen, and the notification banner was large.

Palermo does not forgive. Neither does it forget. When Guerrero Valenti, the feared leader of the Vikings, vanished, the city exhaled a dangerous calm-but only for a moment. In the shadows, enemies waited. Rivals sharpened their knives. And one woman bore a secret that could ignite every street in the city. Lucia Romano carried the child of a man who had disappeared into legend and rumor. A son who had not been claimed, not protected, not named. The city whispered of him with venom: the bastard of the Vikings. The boy was fragile, but he was a storm waiting to erupt. And every night, Palermo tested him. Masked men tried to snatch him from his crib. Fire, steel, and blood became his lullabies. Yet he survived. Every threat only sharpened his instincts, every scream hardened his mother's resolve. But whispers spread faster than steel through the night-rumors of a man returning. A shadow that would claim everything, sparking fear in every heart: Guerrero Valenti. The father who abandoned him. The legend whose name alone commands obedience. The storm that will rise, carrying vengeance, blood, and fire. And when he comes, Every man who dared call the bastard his enemy will fall. Every street, every roof, every whispered corner will bow to the son of Guerrero Valenti or be washed in blood. This is the story of survival. Of fire and steel. Of a mother and her son. Of a father's return. Even the earth is getting ready to absorb blood ... the blood of those who call the legitimate son of the Vikings a "BASTARD", and collect necks........the necks of those fallen by the sword of GUERRERO VALANTI. And upon his return Heads will bow to the one they called a BASTARD .

Lila Richmond has a secret that could destroy her,she's harboring feelings for her stepbrother Ryan Callaway. When her worst nightmare comes true and her old bully Cassandra becomes Ryan's girlfriend, Lila thinks things can't get worse. But she was wrong.Hockey bad boy Derek Stone knows her secret, and he's offering a dangerous deal - fake date him to throw everyone off her trail. But as their pretend romance heats up, Lila discovers that Derek's cold reputation hides something she never expected. Will their fake relationship survive when real feelings get in the way? And what happens when the truth comes out?

After five years of prayers, Judith—seven months pregnant—went into early labor. Uncontrollable hemorrhage followed, her life hanging by a thread. The husband who had always adored her was nowhere to be found. He had vanished, along with the young maid of sympathetic humors he kept privately for her sake. She wanted to scream, to demand answers, but another contraction ripped through her—a searing pain that threatened to tear her apart. “Vincent… Where is Vincent?” Seeing her sister’s face pale with agony, Ariana wept as she sent everyone out to search. The only replies were helpless shakes of the head. “The bleeding won’t stop! We can’t wait any longer!” “Didn’t they say that maid’s very vitality was the key? Where is he?!” Facing the physician’s furious shouts, Ariana trembled, sobs choking her voice. “I’ve sent everyone… His Highness still can’t be found…” Before Judith could speak, another violent contraction twisted through her. Before darkness claimed her, her last blurred glance fell on the tightly shut door. Vincent had not come. She did not know how much time had passed when she finally woke in her bed. Her hand moved to her flat, empty stomach. Dread and grief crashed over her like a wave. “My baby…” She struggled up, desperate to find her child, but saw only her sister, eyes red from crying. “Sister… I thought you’d never wake…” “The baby… where is my baby?” Her voice was frail as she clutched Ariana’s sleeve, tears brimming. “The physician said… the situation was critical. Saving you took everything he had.” Ariana could not bring herself to finish. “And Vincent?” Ariana’s expression darkened. “I’ve been by your side for three days and nights. He hasn’t come. Not once.” The world seemed to spin. A pain so sharp it nearly knocked her unconscious again. Her precious child, nurtured for seven months, filled with countless hopes and dreams—gone, without ever opening its eyes to this world. This was the child Vincent had longed for day and night. Yet the father had not come to see them, not even once. Gasping, her voice ragged, Judith summoned Vincent’s most trusted subordinate. “Where is Vincent?” Faced with her demand, Aaron wiped sweat from his brow. “His Highness… is occupied…” His hesitation turned her heart to ice. “Tell Vincent to come see me!” Finally, with her sister’s support, Judith saw it—a tiny, cold form beside the midwife. Her child, the one she could not save. A little girl. Judith breathed warm air onto the small, cold hand. “My child, Mother will take you away.” Cradling the baby, she took a carriage directly to a certain place—the private residence where Vincent kept that maid, Leah. She wanted him to see their child one last time. But at the door, she saw him. Vincent, gently soothing a weeping woman in his arms, his voice soft as silk. “Shhh, now, don’t cry.” “Hush, my love. We won’t go if you’re frightened.” Leah’s face was streaked with tears, eyes red. “I want to go too, but I’m so scared…” “Shh, don’t be afraid. We simply won’t go.” Judith stood outside the door. It felt like a thousand blades piercing her heart, the pain so sharp she could barely breathe. While she had hovered between life and death, the man she loved was comforting another, younger woman. The Vincent who had once risked his life for her had finally become faithless. Yes, Vincent had risked his life for her three times. At eighteen, caught in a skirmish while they were out, he had shielded her for three days and three nights, ensuring her rescue first while he nearly died. At twenty-one, he charged alone into a bandit den to save her, taking three knife wounds—the last a hair’s breadth from his heart. He fought for seven days and nights in the infirmary before clinging to life. At twenty-five, when everyone opposed their marriage, Vincent endured the family’s judgment: a hundred lashes. His back was flayed open, not a patch of skin left whole. After their wedding, Judith had basked in that hard-won happiness. So when Vincent said he wanted a child, despite her difficulty conceiving, she tried with all her might. Years of prayers and bitter tonics later, she finally carried his child. Once she was with child, the man grew even more devoted. Not only that—Vincent had found and installed a maid in a private residence, a girl whose constitution was said to harmonize with Judith’s, a safeguard, he said, for the birthing bed. Judith had questioned this once, but his smile dispelled her doubts. “You’re carrying our child, and still you get jealous?” “Don’t overthink it. It’s just a precaution. I want you safe, our child brought safely into this world.” She had believed him. And so her child had died. Judith did not speak. Instead, she tightened her hold on the cold bundle, turned, and took her child to be laid to rest. Only after watching the tiny urn buried did she take out the carrier pigeon she had raised so long and send a message far away: “Barbara, I trus

Ellie lay in bed, burning with yet another low-grade fever. Ever since her pregnancy began, her body had struggled to adjust. The daily low fevers had become a relentless routine. Her husband David was always attentive. Whenever Ellie felt unwell, he would bring a glass of warm water and personally feed her a vitamin C tablet. Half an hour after taking it, she was drenched in sweat from the pain. “David…” She rolled off the bed in agony. But David, unlike his usual gentle self, simply stood by the bed, looking down at his wife. “Just endure it a little longer. Once the baby’s gone, you’ll be fine.” Gone? Ellie’s fingers dug into the concrete floor until they bled, but she felt nothing. “What I just gave you wasn’t a vitamin. It’s an imported abortion pill. You’re a doctor—you understand. Once this pain passes and the embryo dies, everything will be fine.” Ellie looked up at the man before her. No. He wasn’t a man. He was a monster. After the educated youth returned to the cities, she had risked cutting ties with her own family to marry David, a fellow returnee from her class. Back then, he’d had nothing. Two young people from vastly different social standings had come together—for love. Ellie got into medical school and, after graduation, was assigned to City Hospital as an OB-GYN. David, through Ellie’s father’s connections, entered the local Machine Tool Plant. He rose swiftly. In less than five years, he achieved what others spent a lifetime dreaming of: becoming the head of the largest factory in the area. Just two days ago, Ellie’s father died of a heart attack. She had lost her usefulness… “David, abortion pills aren’t fully developed yet. It won’t be a clean process.” Tears in her eyes, Ellie begged him. She couldn’t die here. Not like this, for no clear reason! “Medical abortions are dangerous. They can cause hemorrhaging. Please, take me to the hospital.” Her abdomen grew hotter, warmth churning inside her. She shifted slightly—and a warm gush surged from between her legs. The excruciating pain came like a tidal wave, smashing her broken little boat into the ocean. Just then, the door opened. Carolyn stepped in. Seeing Ellie on the floor, she gasped and hid behind David. “Oh, dear, what’s happened to you?” This woman was David’s sister-in-law. After his brother passed away, David had brought Carolyn to the city under the pretext of medical treatment, claiming her health was poor. She had been living with them for nearly half a year. “Hurry, take me to the hospital.” Ellie looked at the two of them, a terrible premonition settling in her heart. David frowned, crouched halfway down, and took out a handkerchief to wipe Ellie’s forehead. “Can’t you just endure it a little longer? Once the bleeding stops, you’ll be fine.” Gripping her teeth until they ached, Ellie knew the truth: drug-induced abortions were still underdeveloped. There had been many clinical accidents—that’s why hospitals hadn’t adopted them widely. “I can’t endure it. I’m dying!” David’s gaze turned vicious. “Endure it! It’s just a bastard. I’m already being merciful by letting you abort it. If you don’t listen, I’ll divorce you right now!” “What? A bastard?” Ellie was in such extreme pain her words slurred. Her child—how could it be a bastard? David was her first love. She had given him her virginity. How could he say such a thing?