
She Was Unwanted, Now She's Queen
For three years, I swallowed a bitter pill daily, suppressing my royal white wolf bloodline for a normal life as the Alpha's Luna. That morning, my husband Santino coldly announced a crucial announcement, then entered our grand hall with another woman, declaring, "Alessia, she will be living here from now on."
She was pregnant, he announced, carrying our late Beta's child-yet her neck was unmarked. My scoff met his furious Alpha dominance, threatening my title, forcing my bow as he settled her into the suite next to ours.
Her sickening scent soon permeated my private study. Later, I found him intimately grooming her in the kitchen-a sacred act for mates-while he snarled mental insults, branding my jealousy pathetic.
Watching his hands violate our vows, a slow, cruel smirk pulled at my lips. My three-year marriage was officially over. I had already paused my royal trust fund's capital, then severed our mind link with a chilling declaration: "Don't touch me with the hands that just touched her."
Chapters
Share
Chapter 2
Alessia POV:
Santino’s declaration echoed off the marble floors and vaulted ceilings of the grand hall. The words hung in the cold air, heavy and absolute.
I didn't move. I kept my hands resting lightly on the oak banister, maintaining my position on the upper stairs. I looked down at them, my face perfectly blank.
My gaze drifted from Santino’s hard jaw down to the woman standing half-hidden behind him. I stared specifically at her flat stomach beneath the thin white fabric.
Santino cleared his throat. The sound was loud in the dead silence. "Valentina is pregnant," he announced, his voice carrying the firm weight of an Alpha. "She is carrying the child of our late Beta."
Right on cue, Valentina lowered her head. Her shoulders hitched up, and a small, pathetic sob escaped her lips. Two perfect tears rolled down her cheeks.
My eyes narrowed. The royal training drilled into me since childhood kicked in automatically. I bypassed her fake tears and scanned the bare skin of her neck. I was looking for the raised, scarred flesh of a mate mark.
There was nothing. The skin was completely smooth. Valentina noticed my stare and deliberately reached up, pulling the collar of her dress down just a fraction more to expose her unmarked shoulder.
A sharp, breathy scoff escaped my lips.
The sound was incredibly soft, but in the pin-drop silence of the entryway, it cracked like a whip.
Santino’s head snapped up. His thick eyebrows crashed together over his nose. His jaw clenched tight. He was the Alpha of Silver Creek; he was not used to his authority being questioned, especially not by the wife he believed to be weak and submissive.
Valentina let out a tiny gasp and shrank closer against Santino’s side. She buried her face in his shoulder, trembling like a frightened rabbit.
I stood straight, my spine stiff. I opened my mouth, my voice ringing out clear and steady. "Article four hundred and two of the Territory Security Law."
The maids standing along the walls gasped softly. Several of them exchanged wide-eyed, terrified glances.
"Unmarked stray wolves are strictly prohibited from taking residence within the central pack house," I stated, reciting the law verbatim. My tone was clinical, devoid of any emotion.
Santino’s face drained of color, then flushed a dark, furious red.
He stared at me as if I had grown a second head. For three years, I had nodded, smiled, and agreed with every decision he made. He thought he owned my obedience. He had no idea that my knowledge of pack law came from a lifetime of royal leadership training.
Suddenly, Valentina let out a sharp, breathless whine. Her hands flew to her flat stomach, and she doubled over slightly.
Santino’s attention snapped back to her. He wrapped his thick arm securely around her waist, pulling her flush against his side. "Are you alright?" he demanded urgently.
He snapped his head back toward me. The dark brown of his irises vanished, replaced by the glowing, blood-red light of an enraged Alpha.
The air in the grand hall instantly thickened. The scent of pine, usually crisp and clean, turned sharp and suffocating. It smelled like burning needles and raw aggression.
The maids couldn't handle the physical weight of his dominance. One by one, their knees hit the marble floor. They curled into themselves, pressing their foreheads to the ground, whimpering in pain.
A crushing, invisible weight slammed down onto my shoulders. It felt like a solid block of concrete had been dropped on my spine.
Because of the suppressant I had swallowed just minutes ago, my body was already weak. My knees buckled slightly. My thigh muscles trembled violently under the dress as they fought to keep me upright.
I clamped my jaw shut. My teeth ground together so hard my jaw ached. I curled my fingers around the thick oak railing and squeezed.
My fingernails bit into the polished wood. I pushed down with all my remaining strength, using the banister as a crutch.
I forced my knees to lock. I shoved my shoulders back. I would die before I let my knees touch the floor in front of this stray.
Santino watched me fighting his aura. The fact that I was still standing only fueled his rage. The red glow in his eyes flared brighter.
He took a heavy step forward. He unleashed the absolute maximum output of his Alpha aura, directing the entire crushing force straight at me.
The pressure inside my chest spiked. A sharp, metallic taste coated my tongue. Warm blood seeped from my gums.
Santino bared his teeth, his voice a deep, vibrating growl that shook the floorboards.
"Move out of the way, before I strip you of your title right here."
You may also like

7.5
On the morning of our twenty-fifth wedding anniversary, I found a cream-colored document tucked inside my husband's suit pocket.
It was a twenty-million-dollar asset transfer for his former receptionist, Carmen. But what made my blood run cold was the contingent beneficiary: Leo, my newborn son who the hospital claimed was kidnapped twenty-three years ago.
When I confronted Devonte, he didn't even try to explain. He handed me a fake Cartier watch, canceled all my credit cards, and publicly called me delusional.
The next day, he moved Carmen into our mansion and emptied all our joint accounts into offshore trusts.
"If you don't sign these papers and walk away, I will have you committed," he threatened, his mother nodding in agreement.
They had orchestrated the kidnapping of my baby, hiding him with the mistress while I spent half my life sedated and screaming in grief. Now, to keep his secret, Devonte was going to lock me in a psychiatric ward and bury me in debt.
I didn't understand how the man I loved could be such a monster. Why did he steal my child? What else was hidden in that confidential adoption file?
Pushed to the absolute brink, I refused to be his victim.
When his goons came to my temporary apartment to drag me away, I turned to the rugged union electrician who had just fixed my lights.
"If you need a husband to keep you out of a psych ward, I'll marry you," he said, offering himself as my legal shield.
I took his hand. It was time to tear my husband's perfect life apart.

8.1
One wardrobe malfunction.
Two people who don't belong together.
Three awful "Be my wife."
Everyone else is at this party to marry the host.
I'm only here until I can get a ride home.
When my dress rips in the world's worst-timed wardrobe malfunction,
I go find somewhere quiet to fix it.
So I'm standing there in nothing but my heels when,
As my luck would have it, the door opens...
And the man of the hour walks in.
I wish I could say I played it cool.
But it's been a looong time since anyone has seen me in my birthday suit...
Much less the hottest man I've ever laid eyes on.
All I want to do is fix my dress, click my heels three times, and be back on my couch in fuzzy slippers.
But Ivan has other ideas.
He's decided who he's taking to the altar...
And I don't have a choice but to say "I do."

9.0
I crashed a wedding.
Got caught by the best man.
Now, I'm pregnant with his baby...
It's Katya's fault. (As per usual.)
My BFF despises her ex and wants to hate-watch him marry the woman he left her for.
Problem is, she didn't fill me in on that plan...
Until we arrive at the ceremony.
As soon as I find out, I run.
Hop on the elevator and smash the Doors Close button like the Energizer Bunny on a sugar rush.
But right before they shut...
A hand comes shooting through.
And attached to that hand, unfortunately for me, is the most stunning human specimen I've ever seen.
Tall.
Dark.
Handsome.
Dangerous.
Also... the best man.
He takes one look at me and knows I don't belong.
"Who let you in here, little bird?" he growls.
I gulp. Tremble.
Open my mouth to lie...
And then the elevator stops.

7.1
For seven years, I was the architect of my fiancé's criminal empire and the strategist behind his every move. I was Dante Gallo’s unofficial Consigliere, his partner in everything but name. Tomorrow, I was finally supposed to marry him and take my place as the queen to his throne.
But on the eve of our wedding, a single text message sent by mistake detonated my life. It was a photo from Dante, showing a platinum wedding band on his hand. The message read: “Married this morning. She’s safe now.”
My gaze fell to the engagement ring on my own finger. It was the identical band, just smaller. The engraved initials ‘D.I.’ didn’t stand for Dante and I. They stood for Dante and Isabella—his childhood sweetheart. My entire relationship was a lie; I was just a shield to protect his one true love.
He dismissed my discovery as a "tantrum." Then, his new bride began taunting me, sending a picture of them tangled in bedsheets with the caption: "Loser." They expected me to break. They thought I would shatter.
They were about to find out just how wrong they were. I forwarded the picture to Isabella’s fiancé, a man far more dangerous than Dante. "Your fiancée is in Suite 8808 at the Grand Hyatt," I told him. "I'll meet you downstairs. We're going to crash their party."

9.4
My retirement was finally approved, and I was supposed to be sipping drinks on a sunny beach.
Instead, a cold system voice forced me into a nightmare scenario: "Cursed Mates Who Want Me Dead." I woke up in a stinking cave, trapped in the body of a psychopathic tribal princess.
The memories that flooded my brain made me sick. The original owner of this body had forcibly marked seven of the continent's most powerful beast-men and reduced them to tortured pets. She had ripped the shimmering scales off Jordi the Merfolk prince, gouged out a proud wolf-man's power crystal, and snapped an eagle-man's magnificent wings.
Now, Jordi was a mutilated, terrified mess hiding in a corner. He was so traumatized that he tried to slit his own throat just to escape me. His sister was actively trying to assassinate me.
To make matters worse, the system warned me that if I didn't heal these seven ticking time bombs, my soul would be erased. Yet the future timeline clearly showed that these men would eventually unite, burn my tribe to the ground, and dismember me alive.
I was paying for a monster's sins. Every time I tried to show mercy, they thought it was a sick new torture method. Words were useless, and my very presence was a trigger.
But I am a Tier-S operative, and I don't play the victim. I forced the system to unlock my powers and strapped on my tactical gear.
"Stay here and don't starve."
I left the trembling Merfolk behind and walked into the deadly primitive forest, heading straight for the powerful Oasis Tribe to take back his stolen scales by force.

7.4
I was the wife of Damien Valenti, the most ruthless mafia Don in Chicago.
But to cement his power and marry a rival family's daughter, he exiled me to the slums without a single dime.
"Stay not as my wife, Izzy, but as my whore."
That was his final ultimatum before dumping me out of his black SUV like trash.
Terrified of losing me, my five-year-old son, Angelo, secretly hid in the car to follow me.
Two days later, in a squalid Indiana motel, Angelo caught severe pneumonia.
I had no money and no doctor. In sheer desperation, I sliced my own wrist with broken glass, pressing my bleeding arm to his pale lips, begging him to drink and live.
But my little boy died in my arms.
Meanwhile, hundreds of miles away, Damien was sipping vintage champagne with his new bride, casually dismissing the life of his own flesh and blood.
The grief turned me into a monster. I spent twenty years clawing my way through the underworld to destroy his empire, only to die with a bullet in my chest.
I gave him my absolute devotion, yet he traded our family for political power without a single ounce of hesitation.
Opening my eyes again, I was back in that hellish neon-lit motel room.
Angelo was burning with fever and fighting for air, but he was still breathing.
This time, I wasn't the naive girl who loved Damien Valenti. I was a woman holding two decades of their darkest secrets, and my vendetta had just begun.