
Rejected By The Alpha; Mate Born Wolf-less
Adrian Blackwood , billionaire CEO of Blackwood Holdings, Alpha of the Blackwood Pack... Mated to a weak, broken and wolfless female?!! No way! This is impossible, this must a sick prank by the moon goddess and fate.
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Chapter 2
The word wolfless hung in the air, vibrating with the weight of a thousand years of prejudice.
Most shifters treated the term like a terminal diagnosis or a gutter-level slur. But Lena said it plainly, without a flicker of shame. That irritated me more than the admission itself.
"You understand that in our world, a wolf without a wolf is considered..." I paused, letting the silence do the heavy lifting.
"Weak?" she finished for me.
I offered a razor-thin smile. "Exactly."
Her eyes didn't waver, but a spark of defiance ignited in their dark depths. "I've survived twenty-two years in a world built for predators, Mr. Blackwood. I am many things. Weak is not one of them."
My wolf stirred, his fur bristling against my consciousness. She's not lying, he rumbled, sounding almost impressed.
I shoved him back into the dark. "This company-and this pack-has no vacancy for 'survivors.' We only have room for the elite."
"Then don't hire me," she said.
No hesitation. No pleading. No scent of fear-sweat or desperation. She said it with the casual indifference of someone who had already made peace with rejection.
Marcus, usually a statue by the door, shifted his weight. Even he could feel the tectonic plates of my authority shifting.
"You came all this way," I said, my voice dropping an octave, "and you're willing to walk away that easily?"
She shrugged, a small, fluid motion. "I've been rejected by better people than you, Alpha. I'm used to doors closing."
Something in her tone-a hint of old, faded scars-made my wolf let out a low, mournful growl. Someone hurt her.
Not my problem, I snapped internally. "You're dismissed," I said aloud, turning my back to her to stare at the city.
"You didn't even read my resume," she noted.
"I didn't need to."
"You judged me in less than two minutes based on a ghost in my blood."
"Yes."
I heard her footsteps stop. "That's unfair."
I leaned my palms on the glass, looking down at the ant-sized cars below. "Life is unfair, Lena. Biology is unfair. You're a liability in a building full of apex predators."
The silence stretched, thin and taut as a wire. Finally, I heard a soft sigh. "Okay."
She turned. But just as the door handle clicked, she paused. "You're wrong about one thing, Adrian."
I raised an eyebrow at the reflection of her in the glass. "Oh?"
"I may not have a wolf..." She looked back, her gaze pinning me to the spot. "But that doesn't mean I'm not dangerous."
Then she was gone.
The moment the door clicked shut, my wolf exploded.
MATE.
The word slammed through my skull like a physical blow. I lunged away from the window, nearly upending my mahogany desk.
"No," I growled at the empty air.
YES. MINE.
I gripped the edge of the desk until the wood groaned. "This is impossible. A wolfless girl cannot be my mate. She can't be the Luna of the Blackwood Pack. It would be a joke. A disgrace."
Marcus cleared his throat cautiously. "You felt it too... didn't you?"
I turned on him, my eyes glowing a feral, iridescent gold. "What?"
He didn't flinch, but his posture went submissive. "The bond, Adrian. The air practically caught fire when she looked at you."
"She is not my mate," I snarled. "The Moon Goddess isn't that cruel. Find another assistant. Get her out of the city. Forget she exists."
I turned back to the window, but the city lights were just a blur. My wolf refused to settle, pacing a frantic circle in my mind.
What if she's the only one? a dark thought whispered. What if you just threw away the only soul meant for yours?
****
I didn't sleep.
Alphas are built for endurance, but tonight was a marathon of the mind. Every time I closed my eyes, I smelled her-wild honey, fresh rain, and a hint of something metallic, like a blade hidden in silk.
She is ours, my wolf kept whimpering.
"She's a defect," I hissed into the dark of my bedroom.
By dawn, I was caffeinated and lethal. I arrived at Blackwood Holdings an hour early, determined to bury the memory of Lena Hart under a mountain of spreadsheets and power plays.
The elevator doors slid open on the executive floor. I stepped out, bracing myself for the day.
Then the scent hit me.
Wild honey. Rain.
My head snapped toward the reception desk. There she was. Lena Hart was standing by Marcus's desk, looking remarkably refreshed for someone I had kicked out twelve hours ago.
"What is she doing here?" I demanded, my voice echoing off the marble walls.
Marcus looked like he wanted to be anywhere else. "She... came back, Alpha."
"Why?"
"She says the interview wasn't over."
My wolf let out a rumble of pure, unadulterated interest. Brave. Or suicidal.
Lena turned. Our eyes locked, and a literal jolt of electricity surged through my chest, making my heart stutter. The bond was screaming now, a physical pull that tried to drag me toward her.
I stayed rooted to the spot, my jaw tight enough to crack bone.
Lena walked toward me, her stride steady. "I thought you already rejected me," I said, my voice a warning.
"You did," she agreed.
"Then why are you standing in my lobby?"
"Because you didn't actually listen to me," she said, stopping just a few feet away. "And I don't take orders from people who haven't earned my respect."
I looked at her sharply. "You're trespassing, Lena. I could have you removed by security in ten seconds."
"I'm persistent," she countered.
"You're wasting your time."
"Maybe." She tilted her head, studying me as if I were the one under recruitment, not her. "But I don't think so."
My wolf was practically wagging his tail. She's not afraid of you.
"Everyone fears me," I said, stepping into her personal space, letting my Alpha scent-heavy with smoke and cedar-wash over her. "It's the natural order. You should be trembling."
Lena didn't blink. She didn't even lean back.
"Should I?" she asked softly. "You're just a man with a very loud dog, Adrian. I've dealt with much worse."
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7.6
When Christine Woods collapses into a hospital bed from unbearable pain, her husband's response is colder than the IV dripping into her veins: "Stop pretending to be sick."
That same night, a single social media post shatters her marriage--Neil Caffery, intimate with the first love he once claimed was dead.
Three years of marriage. Three years of neglect, indifference, and quiet self-deception.
In that moment, Christine finally understands the truth: she was never a wife--only a substitute.
Not wanting to live as a substitute any longer, she divorced her husband.
After divorce, Christine started her new life, achieving success both in career and love.
Seeing her so radiant and successful, her scumbag husband beg her to come back.
"Hazel, I know I was wrong. Please come back."
However, before Christine could respond, the country's richest man kicked him and held Christine's waist, "Who are you? Stop pestering my wife!"
His voice was cold, his presence imposing.
Christine looked at him and snorted, "When did I agree to marry you?"
"Baby, are you still angry about last night? I promise, I will be gentle next time." The man said, looking at her playfully.
Christine hit his chest playfully, her face turning red.

9.2
I realized my husband did not love me the moment he stepped over my broken heart to answer a text from his mistress.
Caleb was the "Architect," a feared Capo in New York, but he forgot that I was the one who funded his rise from the gutter with my inheritance.
He brought his assistant, Kimberly, into our private penthouse. She wore my silk robe, mocked my past trauma, and snapped my dead mother’s rosary right in front of my eyes.
When I lashed out in grief, Caleb didn't defend me.
He pinned me against the wall, comforting her while calling me "unstable" and "violent."
He gaslighted me, claiming I would be eaten alive without his protection. He thought I was just a fragile princess who would crumble without him.
He truly believed he was the king, forgetting that I was the one who built the castle.
I didn't cry. I simply wiped the blood from my arm and walked out the door.
He didn't know that I owned thirty percent of his laundering front and the land beneath his precious casino.
I picked up the phone and dialed the number of his deadliest rival, the Irish mob.
"The bank is closed, Caleb. I’m selling my shares to the enemy."

7.1
After the one-night stand with a man who refused to tell her his name, Charlotte would figure out on TV that the man she had s*x with the previous night was the heir to a billionaire empire.
At the same time, Jace Norman-the infamous playboy heir-faces a public scandal that threatens his inheritance. To protect the family empire, his ruthless father forces him into an immediate contract marriage.
And just like that Charlotte would get married to the spoiled, reckless son of the most powerful billionaire in the city.
That One night, Room 55 and Five thousand dollars she desperately needed would change her life forever.
Weeks later, Charlotte discovers she's pregnant.
But before she can process the truth, her manipulative boyfriend claims the child is his and begins blackmailing her.
As their fake marriage becomes dangerously possessive, secrets begin to spiral. An ex-boyfriend demanding money. Jace's jealous college lover is determined to destroy Charlotte. Charlotte's sister is hiding betrayal behind sweet smiles. And a billionaire father who will eliminate anyone to protect the Norman name.
When a forged DNA test claims the baby isn't Jace's, the empire turns on Charlotte.
But the truth is far darker than any of them realize.
Because someone has been orchestrating every lie from the beginning.
And when Jace finally discovers the baby is his...
He will have to choose between his father's empire-
Or the woman carrying his heir.

9.0
Grace's engagement to Dillan Hayes was nothing but a cold business transaction to secure funding for her family's company.
But when Dillan violently shoved her into a marble bar over his ex-girlfriend, leaving her bleeding, Grace didn't hesitate.
She called 911, had her fiancé arrested on the spot, and broke off the engagement.
Returning to the Albert estate, she expected chaos, but not absolute betrayal.
Her family didn't care that she had just been physically assaulted.
They were in a sheer panic because her cousin Ashly had just fled the country, abandoning a terrifying arranged marriage.
The groom was Hudson Turner, a man known across Manhattan as a disgraced, violent psychopath, paralyzed from the waist down in a severe crash.
To save themselves from the Turner family's wrath and financial ruin, Grace's aunt and father ordered her to take Ashly's place.
"You eat from this family, you live in this house! It is time you paid us back!"
Her father even threatened to freeze her bank accounts and faked a heart attack to force her compliance.
For three years, Grace had single-handedly kept the family business afloat while they squandered the profits.
Now, they were throwing her to a monster without a second thought, expecting her to rot as a crippled man's miserable nursemaid.
But they picked the wrong sacrifice.
Grace ruthlessly extorted a legal severance from her family, taking her shares and cutting all ties forever.
She walked straight into Hudson Turner's private gallery to propose a mutually beneficial, cutthroat business marriage.
However, when the prenuptial was signed, the "paralyzed" billionaire placed his hands on his wheelchair.
Slowly, deliberately, Hudson stood up to his full, imposing height of six-foot-three.
"The wheelchair is a necessary illusion for my enemies," Hudson stated calmly. "But it will never be an illusion between you and me."

8.3
My five-year-old daughter was turning blue in my arms, her body rigid with a 104-degree fever. I called my billionaire husband, Clifton, dozens of times as I rushed to the hospital, but he declined every single call.
While I was screaming at doctors and fighting to save our child’s life, a news alert flashed on my phone. Clifton was at the Met Gala, looking devastatingly handsome as he intimately draped his tuxedo jacket over the shoulders of his mistress, Eleanora.
The nightmare didn't end at the hospital. Clifton used a secret clause in our prenup to snatch Lily from her bed and move her to a private facility without my consent. When I finally found her, my own daughter shrank away from me in terror. "Go away, bad Mommy!" she sobbed, while the mistress fed her oatmeal and whispered that I was the one who made the doctors hurt her.
Clifton stood by and watched, telling me I was too "hysterical" to be a mother. But then I discovered the real reason they were hiding her. My husband was illegally using my late mother’s rare bone marrow samples to treat Eleanora’s secret blood disorder. Now that those samples are failing, he is taking Lily to a secluded castle in Germany to harvest our daughter’s marrow for his mistress.
I sat in the dark, watching them play happy family with the child they plan to sacrifice. I realized then that my marriage wasn't just a lie—it was a biological harvest. They think I’m just a broken trophy wife who doesn't understand the science they are using to destroy me.
They have no idea that I am "Ghost," the anonymous medical genius behind the very research they are trying to steal. As we board the private jet to Germany, I’ve stopped crying and started calculating. If they want to play with life and death, I’ll show them exactly what happens when a mother stops being a victim and starts being a predator.

7.2
Dr. Kylee Mcdonald was a brilliant medical examiner whose life was defined by cold, mechanical precision.
But that perfect control shattered when her phone rang in the middle of an autopsy.
It was her best friend, Dana, whispering their old college distress code.
"Curtain call."
By the time Kylee and Detective Justice kicked down Dana's door, she lay dead on her couch, her skin a horrifying cherry-red from cyanide.
The crime scene was clumsily staged to frame a billionaire suitor, but soon, every single suspect linked to Dana turned up violently dead.
Internal Affairs pointed the finger at Kylee, accusing her of using her medical expertise to become a vigilante serial killer.
But the encrypted truth Kylee uncovered was far more chilling.
Dana had been severely abused by her boyfriend, and driven to the edge, she manipulated him into murdering their tormentors before executing him and taking her own life.
To avoid a public scandal, the police chief buried Dana's brilliant, terrifying manifesto.
Kylee's flawless mind short-circuited. She was a genius at reading the dead, so why had she been completely blind to the living hell her best friend endured right in front of her?
Three days later, while attending a formal gala to numb her grief, a nearby apartment building exploded in flames.
As Kylee examined the charred bodies pulled from the rubble, she realized the male victim was strangled long before the fire started.
She looked at the surviving mother, whose baby had just died in the blast, but the woman's eyes were completely, terrifyingly empty.
The alarm bells in Kylee's meticulously ordered brain began to chime, signaling that a new, deadly script had just begun.