Rejected the Heir, Claimed by the Alpha King
I was supposed to marry Aaron, the future Alpha of the Blackwood Pack, and finally have my fairy tale.
But right before our Unity Celebration, I caught him buried between my stepsister's legs in our bridal suite.
When I refused to bind my soul to his at the altar and exposed his betrayal, my world completely shattered.
My own mother called me a crazy, wolfless bitch and disowned me on the spot for ruining a political alliance.
Aaron publicly humiliated me, screaming that as a wolfless Omega, I should have been on my knees thanking him for the chance to be his breeding mare.
Driven to absolute despair by the betrayal of everyone I trusted, I tried to jump off a freezing roof.
But a pair of strong arms pulled me back from the edge.
In the dark, a stranger consumed my grief, wrapping me in a terrifyingly dominant scent of cedar and leather, making me feel an intoxicating mate bond I thought I was incapable of having.
I thought it was just a desperate, one-night mistake to make me forget.
But the next morning, when I went to the Blackwood estate to return Aaron's gifts and leave as a Rogue, a suffocating aura filled the room.
The man who stepped between me and my furious ex-fiancé, the man whose marks were currently hidden beneath my clothes, stared at me with glowing golden eyes.
"Get your hands off her."
He was Kaelon Blackwood. The supreme Alpha King.
Aaron's father.
And he had just locked the door, declaring that I belonged to him.
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Chapter 5
Liv POV
The suffocating tension in the grand foyer shattered the moment Aaron scrambled to his feet. Seeing me standing there, a desperate, manic relief flashed across his tear-streaked face. He lunged forward, his fingers closing like a vice around my arm.
"Liv, listen to me! Let me explain!" he pleaded, his voice cracking. "It was Vivienne! She seduced me!"
My stomach violently heaved. The touch that used to bring me comfort now made my skin crawl. His familiar scent of *sunlit grass and musk* was completely soured, reeking of pathetic lies and the phantom stench of gardenia.
"Let go of me," I choked out, trying to yank my arm away.
Before Aaron could tighten his grip, the atmospheric pressure in the room violently snapped. The scent of *winter-bitten cedar and ancient leather* flared into pure, unadulterated murder.
I didn't even see Kaelon move. He was just a blur of dark, lethal motion. In the blink of an eye, he was standing directly between us, his massive frame completely shielding me. He placed a single, casual hand flat against Aaron’s chest, halting his son's momentum as if he had hit a brick wall.
Kaelon didn't look at me. His steel-gray eyes, now blazing with a terrifying, unnatural gold, were locked onto his son.
"Get. Your. Hands. Off. Her."
The words weren't spoken; they were a physical force. The Alpha's Command rolled through the marble hall, vibrating in my teeth. Even though the command wasn't directed at me, my entire body erupted in goosebumps.
Aaron’s face drained of all color. He snatched his hand back as if my skin had burned him to the bone.
Trembling against the sheer force of his father's aura, Aaron’s humiliation finally twisted into explosive rage. "Why do you always push me away?!" he screamed, his voice echoing off the vaulted ceiling. "For your empire? For the Pack's territory? When have you ever actually looked at me?!"
Kaelon remained dead silent, his jaw set like carved granite. That silence was a weapon, and it drove Aaron completely insane.
Whipping his toxic glare around Kaelon's broad shoulder, Aaron locked eyes with me. "And you!" he spat, his face contorted with ugly venom. "I gave you everything an Omega could dream of! A chance to be a Luna! And what do you do? You hide like a coward because you can't even wake your own wolf! You're a *wolfless* freak! You don't deserve any of this!"
Every word was a silver blade sliding precisely into my deepest, most agonizing insecurity. I flinched, my breath catching in my throat.
I saw the muscles in Kaelon’s back instantly lock. The last microscopic trace of fatherly tolerance vanished from his posture.
"You are a disgrace," Kaelon’s voice was absolute ice, devoid of any emotion. He took a slow step forward, the sheer weight of his presence forcing Aaron to stumble backward. "You have not only humiliated yourself, but you have disgraced the Blackwood name."
Then, Kaelon unleashed the full, crushing weight of his Alpha's Command. It sounded like thunder breaking inside the room.
"Leave. Now."
The shockwave of the command physically hit Aaron. He staggered back, a pathetic, humiliating whimper tearing from his throat—the sound of his inner wolf, Maverick, submitting to the Alpha King.
Aaron shot me one last look of pure, venomous hatred, then turned his glare to his father. "Don't think this is over! You're abandoning your own blood for a *wolfless* bitch. The whole Pack will be watching!"
He turned and bolted out the heavy oak doors, disappearing into the morning chill.
When the doors slammed shut, a deafening silence fell over the foyer. I was left entirely alone with the most terrifying, powerful man I had ever met.
My heart hammered against my ribs. I forced myself to speak, my voice barely above a whisper. "You didn't have to do that."
Kaelon turned slowly. The golden fire in his eyes had receded, replaced by a dark, fathomless intensity that made my pulse race.
"My wolf would have torn his throat out," he rasped, his deep voice vibrating with a dark, magnetic pull. "I had to."
The raw honesty in his words made my blood run cold. He took a deliberate step toward me, his tone softening but still laced with undeniable authority. "This is no place for you, Olivia. Not while you are unprotected."
I tightened my grip on the Ferrari keys until my knuckles ached, forcing myself to meet his intense gaze. "I just came to drop off the keys. I'm going upstairs to get my things, and then I'm leaving."
Kaelon’s eyes dropped to my white-knuckled grip. He gave a slow, barely perceptible nod and stepped aside, clearing the path to the grand staircase.
I walked past him, my bare feet silent on the marble. But as I placed my hand on the mahogany banister and began to climb, the heavy, possessive weight of his stare burned into my back, following my every step into the shadows of the second floor.
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7.8
Alexis signed the divorce papers, leaving her with no assets, no alimony, and just the clothes on her back.
To forget her abusive husband Carlos, she got drunk and bought a high-end gigolo for the night with her last 800 dollars.
But the man she slept with wasn't an escort. He was Jarrett Hughes, a ruthless billionaire CEO.
And while she was gone, her ex-husband was busy destroying her entire life.
Carlos framed her with fake photos of her cheating to justify the penniless divorce.
Then came the real nightmare.
Carlos and her own aunt secretly drained her family's corporate accounts, driving her father to jump off a building.
At the hospital, her grieving mother blamed her for the tragedy, violently attacking her in the ER.
To top it off, her cousin Josie—who was secretly sleeping with Carlos—held her father's ashes hostage.
"Crawl on your knees and pick it up, or the ashes go in the river," Josie sneered, throwing cash into the freezing slush.
Stripped of her marriage, her father, and her dignity, Alexis sat bleeding in the snow.
She couldn't understand why the people she loved most had coordinated such a brutal slaughter against her.
But Carlos and Josie made one fatal mistake.
They didn't know the "gigolo" Alexis had accidentally bought was the most powerful man in New York.
Alexis looked at the towering billionaire standing behind her, a vengeful fire burning in her eyes.
"I need you to get my father's ashes back," she said, pulling him into a kiss right in front of her ex-husband. "I don't care what it takes."
9.3
My father ordered me to marry into the cursed Vaughn family.
Their heirs were rumored to die young from a mysterious genetic agony. My sister Kayden laughed, saying she wasn't going to waste her youth planning a funeral. So, I became the sacrificial lamb.
When I refused, my father slammed his hand on the table and threatened to throw my dead mother's ashes into the city dump.
"You are a struggling actress with no money and no power. You have no choice," he told me coldly.
To make matters worse, my own agent drugged my drink at a business dinner, trying to sell my body to a sleazy investor just to secure project funding.
I was completely cornered, suffocating under the weight of their cruelty. I couldn't understand how my own flesh and blood could be so vicious, treating me like a worthless pawn to be traded and discarded.
But none of them knew that while escaping the drug-laced dinner, I crashed directly into the terrifying Vaughn heir, Algot.
When his glowing crimson eyes locked onto me during a violent episode of his cursed pain, we discovered an impossible truth: my physical touch was the only cure for his agony.
Looking at the dark bruises he accidentally left on my neck, I chose not to run. Instead, I pulled out the private business card he gave me and dialed his number.
"You need me," I whispered to the dangerous billionaire. "And I am going to use you to destroy them all."
7.1
The night before her wedding to Wall Street billionaire Everette Baird, Deliah Quinn stood happily in her haute couture gown.
Then, her younger sister Arvilla walked in, handed her a drugged glass of champagne, and slammed an ultrasound on the vanity.
"I'm pregnant with Everette's child," Arvilla sneered.
Before Deliah's paralyzed body could react, Arvilla dragged in a canister of industrial gasoline, soaked the bridal suite, tossed a lighter, and locked the heavy oak doors from the outside.
To escape the roaring inferno, Deliah smashed the glass balcony and threw herself into the freezing, violent waters of the Atlantic Ocean.
For five agonizing years, everyone believed the Quinn heiress was dead.
Deliah returned to New York entirely reborn—a top architectural designer and a single mother, having scrubbed her past clean and forgotten the people who destroyed her.
She only wanted a peaceful life with her five-year-old genius son, Leo.
But she had no idea her son was secretly hacking airport security cameras to find himself a wealthy stepdad.
Leo deliberately bumped into a terrifying, cold-blooded tycoon, spilling scalding coffee on his custom suit to get his attention.
When Deliah frantically rushed over to protect her son and apologize, the air in the terminal vanished.
Everette Baird stared at the exact face he had obsessively mourned for five years, his eyes turning pitch black as he crushed his phone in his bare hand.
7.4
Alaya woke up in the sterile hospital room to a devastating reality: her six-month-old baby was gone, lost in a horrific car crash.
But as the memories crashed into her, she realized she had been reborn. She was back three years before her ultimate death, back to the moment she remembered lying bleeding on the asphalt while her husband, Hardy, shielded his mistress from the freezing rain.
When Hardy finally showed up at the ward, he coldly dismissed the crash as a mere accident and immediately left to comfort his young lover. To make matters worse, Alaya secretly checked her medical files and found a terrifying detail: someone had intentionally slipped beta-blockers into her system, a lethal drug for her transplanted heart. And Hardy didn't care about her dead baby or her irreversible infertility. He only coldly confirmed with the doctor that her heart was still viable.
A horrifying suspicion made Alaya's blood run cold. Why was her husband so obsessed with protecting her transplanted heart while treating her like garbage? And why was his perfectly healthy mistress secretly racking up massive bills at an advanced cardiac hospital?
Realizing she was nothing but a vessel in a twisted, deadly game, Alaya didn't shed another tear.
She packed her belongings, left her flawless diamond wedding ring on the cold marble table, and vanished from their penthouse.
When Hardy finally tracked her down, she threw a thick stack of documents onto the table.
"Sign the divorce papers," she said, her eyes completely dead.
7.4
I was freezing to death in an abandoned cabin, desperately waiting for my fiancé to save me.
Instead, my phone flickered with a video from my adopted sister.
She was smiling as she confessed that she and my fiancé had orchestrated my kidnapping, and my parents' fatal plane crash, just to steal my family's trust fund.
When I called him with my dying breath, he mocked me for faking a PR stunt and hung up.
I died in the sub-zero blizzard, consumed by absolute despair.
But as a ghost, I watched my greatest business rival, the ruthless billionaire Collins, kick down the doors of my mansion.
He didn't just mourn me.
He shot my fiancé, trapped my sister, and set the entire place on fire, choosing to burn alive in the inferno just to avenge me.
I couldn't understand why the man I had publicly despised for a decade loved me so fiercely, while the people I gave everything to wanted me dead.
Opening my eyes again, I was back backstage on the night I won my Oscar, four years ago.
My fiancé smiled, holding out his arms to hug me.
I pushed him away in disgust, marched straight into the crowded theater, and kissed my billionaire rival on live television.
"Let's get married tomorrow."
This time, I would use him to burn them all to the ground.
8.0
Aliya woke up in a dingy, freezing apartment with a throbbing headache, only to realize a horrifying truth.
She had transmigrated into the American romance novel she read just last night, becoming the ultimate vicious supporting character. The exhausted man walking through the front door was Cyrus Pace, an amnesiac billionaire currently living under the delusion that he was a broke laborer.
The original owner had trapped him with fabricated memories of being childhood sweethearts. Worse, she relentlessly abused him. Her phone was filled with toxic texts calling him a useless loser, and she had just staged a psychotic hunger strike to force him to buy a designer bag. Cyrus already looked at her with bone-deep, visceral disgust. In the original plot, the moment he regained his memory, his ruthless revenge would send her straight to a maximum-security prison for the rest of her life.
"Are you done playing your hunger strike game?"
Hearing his cold, mocking voice, the sheer terror made Aliya's blood run cold. How was she supposed to survive living with a future tyrant who already despised her? Every time his massive shadow fell over their cramped, shared mattress, her heart stopped. A single wrong move—even a microscopic mistake like accidentally crossing a physical line—would completely seal her doom.
Staring at the torn box of condoms hidden under the bed, Aliya made a desperate, life-or-death decision.
She had to completely rewrite her toxic persona, secretly hustle a high-commission real estate job, and save enough money to flee the country before the billionaire remembered exactly who he was.