
Rejected Luna, Claimed by Daddy Alpha
On the day of her coming-of-age transformation, Viya recognized Alpha Lucius as her destined mate.
From that moment on, she chased him relentlessly-ignoring his indifference,defying Alpha Caesar, the most powerful Alpha in North America who had raised her.
At twenty-one, she finally married him.
Not because he loved her-but because she was useful.
She was obedient. Considerate. Replaceable.
She silenced his family's demands for a Luna.
She managed his household flawlessly.
For three years, she played her role perfectly.
Until the night she planned to celebrate his birthday.
That night-she overheard everything.
He had poisoned her.
Just to make room for Miranda.
In that moment, she finally understood-the marriage she had sacrificed everything for was nothing more than a placeholder he intended to discard.
Then her phone rang.
Alpha Caesar.
The Alpha she had resisted for three years.
The man who had never stopped waiting for her return.
"When are you coming back?"
This time, she didn't hesitate.
"In a month."
One month to end a marriage built on lies-
and return to the Alpha she was never meant to escape.
Chapters
Share
Chapter 6
Lucius's POV
When I heard Miranda had been forced to kneel in the main estate courtyard, something hot and protective surged through me.
I arrived in twenty minutes.
She was still on her knees in the snow, shoulders trembling, face pale beneath carefully fallen strands of blonde hair.
"Lucius," she whispered when she saw me.
I lifted her without thinking.
Behind us, Thompson said, "Alpha Wilde, Former Luna Beth ordered-"
"I heard the order." My voice was cold. "And now I'm ending it."
Miranda clung to my coat, shaking.
Once inside, I placed her on the sofa and examined her reddened knees. Guilt and anger mixed uneasily in my chest.
"What were you thinking?" I asked. "If Grandmother summons you, you send for me first."
"I was scared." Her eyes filled instantly. "Viya tricked me. She wanted this."
I paused. "Viya doesn't play tricks."
Miranda stared. "You're defending her?"
"I'm stating a fact."
"She set a trap with that tea set!"
"Grandmother gave Viya that set. She would never risk damaging it over petty revenge."
Miranda's expression hardened. "You sound very sure of your wife."
The word wife landed awkwardly between us.
"She is gentle," I said. "Too gentle sometimes."
Miranda pulled her legs back from my hands. "Can you honestly say you have no feelings for her?"
I looked away.
Ray, my wolf, growled inside me. *Tell the truth.*
"I married Viya for the pack," I said.
"That wasn't my question."
"I have never touched her."
The lie tasted bitter.
I had touched the bond. Not her body, not the way Miranda meant, but worse. I had drugged that bond. I had mixed herbs into Viya's tea, telling myself it was necessary. I had weakened Serena because I feared the pull of fate would drag me away from the woman I believed I loved.
Ray paced in disgust. *Coward.*
Before Miranda could respond, a soft sound came from the doorway.
Viya stood there, wearing an apricot coat and holding a gift box tied with a perfect butterfly bow.
Her face was calm.
Too calm.
"Lucius," she said, "Grandmother asked whether you'll attend the Blackwood Pack dinner tomorrow."
I straightened. "Of course. I'll take you."
"Alright."
Her gaze moved briefly to Miranda on the sofa, then back to me. No accusation. No tears. That somehow made me feel worse.
"What's in the box?" I asked.
"A gift."
"For whom?"
"You."
I frowned. Then realization struck.
Our anniversary.
I had forgotten.
Viya placed the box in my hands with a small smile. "It was for yesterday, but your birthday is soon. Consider it early."
"Viya, I-"
"It's fine. You're busy."
She said it lightly, as if excusing me was a habit she had perfected.
Then she turned and walked away.
Something about her steps looked wrong. Stiff. Painful.
Ray snapped, *She is hurt.*
I started after her.
Miranda hissed behind me. "Lucius, my knee-"
I stopped.
Just for one second.
That second was enough for Viya to disappear through the door.
Miranda's voice shook. "You see? Even now, she makes herself look pitiful and you chase after her."
"She did nothing."
"She exists between us."
The accusation filled the room.
I looked down at the gift box in my hands. The bow was tied with such care that I could picture Viya sitting alone, adjusting it until it looked perfect.
Had she waited for me last night?
Had she worn something beautiful?
Had I been with Miranda while my wife prepared an anniversary gift I forgot to receive?
Ray's voice was low. *You are losing her.*
I almost laughed bitterly.
Had I ever had her?
Miranda noticed the gift box too.
"Aren't you going to open it?" she asked lightly. "Since Viya prepared it with such care."
Her sweetness was a knife.
I held the box tighter. "Later."
"Why later? Afraid I'll see something touching?"
"Miranda."
"No, answer me." Her tears had dried, leaving anger behind. "If she is only a political wife, why does a forgotten anniversary gift make you look like someone kicked your ribs in?"
I said nothing.
She laughed bitterly. "You keep saying you chose me, Lucius. But every time she lowers her eyes, you act like you've committed a crime. Maybe the real problem isn't that Viya wants too much. Maybe it's that you gave her too little and still expected her to adore you."
Ray went still inside me.
Because for once, Miranda had said something true.
For the rest of the afternoon, I carried the gift box with me like a problem I refused to solve. I set it on my desk, then moved it to the shelf, then finally placed it in the locked drawer beneath my private documents.
Ray gave a humorless growl. *You can hide a box. You cannot hide from what it means.*
"Enough."
But my wolf was not done. "She remembered. She always remembers. You forget her, then punish her for being hurt."
I looked toward the window. Outside, the courtyard where Miranda had knelt was already swept clean of snow. Evidence disappeared quickly in Alpha houses. Too quickly.
A thought came, unwanted and sharp. How many times had Viya's pain been swept away before I returned home? How many bruises had healed under long sleeves while I stood beside Miranda and called myself loyal?
My phone buzzed with another message from Miranda.
[Will you come upstairs? I don't want to be alone.]
I stared at it for a long time before replying.
[Rest. We'll talk later.]
For the first time, I did not go to her immediately.
You may also like

8.0
On the night of their third wedding anniversary, Ashley was ready to reveal a secret to her husband-
She was pregnant.
But moments after their passionate intimacy, her Alpha coldly delivered the blow-he wanted a divorce.
His fated mate had returned.
Stripped of her wolf spirit, abandoned by the pack, and carrying his child, Ashley was cast aside like a disposable Omega.
Just as she prepared to leave alone-
The boy she had once rejected had now risen as the most formidable Alpha King. The possessive hunger in his gaze sent shivers through her-did she dare face him? Was this vengeance, or something more? But did she even have a choice?

7.6
The heavy prison gates clanged shut, ending three years. I scanned the empty lot for Julian, my fiancé. Deserted.
Biting December wind my only welcome. Calls to Julian, father, mother: unanswered/disconnected.
Shivering, Julian's tracker showed an unfamiliar Long Island estate. A freezing cab left me penniless; I walked through the blizzard. Through a mansion window, I saw Julian, my stepsister Clara, a small boy—a perfect family. Julian, who hated children, doted on him, and Clara wore *my* engagement ring.
I overheard Julian's call: he, my father, conspired to frame me for Clara’s medical error, saving their company and future. My family hadn't just abandoned me; they plotted my destruction.
A delayed text from Julian popped up, lying about a "cross-border meeting," promising to pick me up tomorrow. Despair vanished, replaced by a cold, terrifying smile. Typing "Understood," I turned from their stolen life, walking into the blizzard, fueled by burning rage.

8.3
Ayleen Ramirez sat in the sterile Hope Hill Fertility Clinic, her heart shattering as Dr. Finch delivered the crushing news: her third IVF cycle had failed.
Eavesdropping outside a supply closet, she overheard her husband Don on the phone, laughing cruelly. "She's a defective incubator," he sneered to his mistress Alessandra. "I never used my sperm—just cheap bank donation. No trailer trash carries a Bradley heir."
Betrayed, Ayleen confronted him, but her adoptive family ambushed her at home. Her parents and brother sided with Alessandra, now pregnant by Don, demanding Ayleen sign divorce papers to secure family investments. "You're an embarrassment," her mother snapped, threatening to cut her trust fund. Ayleen tossed back their heirloom necklace and walked out.
She stormed the Bradley mansion, slapped divorce papers on Don, packed her bags amid his aunt's insults, and fled into the night.
Drunk in a trendy bar, she stumbled into a powerful stranger—Burdette Guerrero—spilling whiskey on his crotch, then accidentally grabbed a napkin to his trousers. He shoved her away in rage.
Worse, she mistook his penthouse suite for her hotel room, bursting in on his shower, smashing a mirror in panic. He pinned her to the wall, snarling accusations.
How did this arrogant man know her name? Why demand she sign a mysterious contract at 9 a.m.? Devastated and clueless she's actually pregnant—with his stolen heir—Ayleen sobbed alone, the world crumbling.
The next morning, she straightened her spine in the Grand Guerrero lobby, ready to face him and demand answers—no matter the cost.

8.0
My abusive step-family isolated me completely, holding my mother's medical funds hostage to control my every move.
Yesterday, they finalized my sale.
"You will marry Rudy Petrov next month. He is fifty, wealthy, and willing to overlook your lack of pedigree."
Pushed to the absolute edge, I did the insane. I posted an ad online offering my life savings of $50,000 for a contract husband. A stranger named Brennan agreed.
But my family wouldn't let me go. They forced me back for a dinner by threatening my mother's life-saving prescriptions.
At the table, they relentlessly mocked my new "poor IT guy" husband and intentionally burned my hand with boiling tea.
Worse, the housekeeper locked me in a guest room and forced drugs down my throat so Rudy could come in and assault me.
I lay there paralyzed on the floor, bleeding from Rudy's slap, utterly terrified. I couldn't understand why my own family would throw me to the wolves, and I felt a crushing guilt for dragging an innocent, ordinary guy into my nightmare.
Until a pitch-black Maybach smashed through the estate's wrought-iron gates at eighty miles an hour.
My "poor" husband kicked the solid oak doors off their hinges, beat Rudy half to death, and carried me out into the rain.
I didn't know it yet, but the ordinary man I hired to save me was a ruthless billionaire, and he was about to erase my family's entire empire by morning.

7.8
On the day she married, Alina unknowingly took the place of the Hayes family's daughter and became Kellan's wife, the richest man in town who was rumored to be disfigured.
Everyone mocked their doomed marriage, expecting misery and disgrace.
Instead, Alina revealed brilliance no one expected-a renowned jewelry master, financial genius, and medical prodigy.
The woman the Hayes family ignored was actually the heiress they should have treasured.
As regret consumed them and her ex begged for another chance, Kellan stood beside her, now devastatingly handsome.
"Alina and I are perfect together. Stay away from my wife."

8.7
I was dying in a cold hospital bed, listening to the monitor count down my final seconds.
As a ghost, I watched my own funeral. My popular friends and wealthy family soon moved on, but one person stayed.
Cas Riley. The invisible outcast from the back of my history class.
He brought a white rose to my grave every single day, withering away until he collapsed on the frozen ground, dying of a broken heart for a girl who barely knew his name.
Opening my eyes again, the hospital smell was gone. I was reborn back in my high school classroom.
I immediately tracked him down, only to witness the brutal hell he was trapped in.
He was humiliated by a cruel foreman for pennies, violently slapped by his uncle over his sick mother's medical money, and forced into bloody street fights.
He was starving, covered in bruises, and completely alone.
When I tried to buy him medicine and step into his life to protect him, he violently pushed me away in the pouring rain.
"Stay out of my life! To protect you, I have to fight, and when I fight, I lose everything!"
He wasn't rejecting me out of hate. He was terrified that his dark, violent reality would drag me down with him.
Standing soaked in the rain, my resolve hardened like steel.
Gentle kindness wasn't going to save him from this hell.
To protect the boy who died for me, I had to become ruthless enough to tear down his entire rotten world and build him a new one.