The Runaway Wife: Never Forgiving You

The Pierre Hotel smelled like gardenias and old money. I stood just inside the ballroom entrance and let the scene wash over me. Crystal chandeliers threw soft light across a hundred faces I didn't recognize and a dozen I did. Women in gowns that cost more than cars. Men in tuxedos that fit like they were born wearing them. Waiters gliding between clusters of conversation with trays of champagne so pale it looked like liquid gold. Six years ago, I would have been one of those waiters. I took a glass from a passing tray and didn't drink it. My steel-gray gown was custom Valentino, fitted so precisely it felt like armor. It cost more than my entire first-year scholarship at Columbia.

Seven years. Seven long years since I'd last set foot in New York City. The skyline stretched before me, a glittering canvas of ambition and betrayal. I stood on the balcony of our Manhattan penthouse, the cool evening air caressing my skin. My fingers absently traced the platinum band on my left hand—a habit I'd developed whenever the past threatened to overwhelm me. "You're thinking about them, aren't you?" I didn't need to turn to know Leonardo had joined me. His presence was like a physical force, powerful and reassuring. The mate bond between us hummed with his concern. "They're just ghosts, Violet," he said, his arms encircling me from behind. His chin rested on my shoulder, his breath warm against my neck.

“This game of yours is barbaric. How dare you make me play it?” Her anger boiled over again as she realized that it was his own fault because she was sore, tired, and bleeding. She could have died if not for that son of a bitch. “You'd better pull your finger out, Karenina, and talk to me in a more ladylike manner,” Xavier warned. She lowered her hand, but she wouldn't back down. What he had done was beyond unacceptable. “Why did you leave me to fight those werewolves if all that senseless bloodshed was to find a mate? I'm a hybrid, half-wolf! Obviously I shouldn't be there,” she said furiously. “I have my reasons,” he replied nonchalantly. “Damn it!” she clutched his fur again to vent her frustration. ****************************************************************** Karenina Mason, a headstrong and independent young woman, is not just an ordinary human-she is a rare hybrid with a powerful lineage. Unknowingly, she becomes entangled in a perilous game of political intrigue, where the coveted prize is to become the mate of the enigmatic and all-powerful Alpha of Westwood. Karenina resists this unwanted destiny, but fate seems insistent on thrusting her into this union. In her vulnerable state, Karenina finds herself surrounded by adversaries, and her once-trusted friends remain beyond her reach. Forced to rely on Xavier Westwood, a mysterious and captivating figure with his own hidden agenda, Karenina is drawn into a world of danger and desire. As they navigate the treacherous path together, an intense attraction grows between them, unraveling long-concealed secrets that should have remained locked away-secrets that may unleash powers too volatile to control.

Chapter 1 It was their seventh wedding anniversary. Carolyn found the divorce agreement in Roger’s nightstand. The pages were covered in scribbles and corrections, as if he’d agonized over them for years. *"If, during the marriage, I fall in love with another person, I voluntarily relinquish all assets and leave with nothing. Asset details as follows…"* His first impulse had been to walk away empty-handed. But the asset section told a different story—a mess of revisions. First, he’d crossed out the property he intended to give her. Then, the fifty million earmarked for her was scratched out and replaced with five hundred thousand. Finally, as if in penance, he had written a single line. *"Better to have Carolyn leave with nothing. No choice, Catherine is pregnant."* … Carolyn sank onto the bed, disbelief washing over her. On the agreement, Roger’s signature was clean and decisive, without a hint of hesitation. And the document had been drafted seven years ago—the very year they married. That year, Roger had been willing to give up everything for her. Yet every year after, he had crossed out another piece of their shared life. Now, seven years later, the one leaving with nothing would be her. Her phone buzzed abruptly. A message from Roger. *"Urgent business. Won't be back."* She called, only to find his phone already switched off. Another notification flashed—a screenshot from a friend. Catherine, the student she sponsored, had posted on social media. *"Wow, got praised! To commemorate my first period without a leak, the big boss said we should celebrate properly!"* In a nine-photo collage, Roger gazed at her, eyes crinkling with affection as he fastened a dazzling gemstone necklace around her neck. The post was tagged at a couples-themed hotel. Carolyn’s breath caught. He couldn’t remember seven years of marriage, of weathering storms together—but he could find the energy to celebrate Catherine’s… leak-free period. And that pendant… she’d seen it at an auction just last week. It was her mother’s lost heirloom. She’d been ready to bid when her bank card was frozen. She’d asked Roger why. A long time later, he finally texted back, telling her not to waste money on such impractical things. Clutching her bidding paddle, she’d sat helplessly in the auction hall. In the end, she resolved to sell one of her own designs to raise the funds. But someone on the phone swooped in with an unbeatable offer and took it. For weeks afterward, Carolyn hated herself—hated that she couldn’t protect her mother’s last keepsake. She never imagined the one who snatched it away was Roger. He knew exactly how much that pendant meant to her. Yet he gave it to Catherine. Even on their seventh anniversary, Roger had lied about being busy with work, while wining and dining the girl she’d sponsored. The anniversary gift he left her was a divorce agreement demanding she leave with nothing. Seven years of marriage. Seven years of infidelity. And Carolyn had known nothing. She’d even introduced the other woman to him herself. Catherine was the impoverished student Carolyn sponsored. The first time Catherine came to their home to give thanks, Roger found her intrusive and disliked her on sight. *"That girl has no manners. Tracked mud all over my cashmere rug."* *"If her grades aren’t up to par, cut the sponsorship."* Back then, Carolyn had teased him, saying not to be jealous—it was good the girl had a grateful heart. She never once suspected Roger and Catherine. For seven years, everyone in their circle believed Roger never played around. That he loved only Carolyn. But by their next meeting, Catherine had become Roger’s personal assistant. Roger explained, *"The girl’s had it tough. You’ve sponsored her for years. Giving her a job is just helping you out."* Carolyn had laughed it off. Now, hands trembling, she opened Catherine’s social media feed. Catherine had always hidden her posts from Carolyn. Now, she seemed desperate to flaunt everything. While Carolyn drank until her stomach bled to secure a deal for Roger, Catherine was using Roger’s card to buy her first Louis Vuitton. While Carolyn changed bedpans for Roger’s bedridden grandmother, Roger was taking Catherine to a perfume atelier for a blending class—calling it a business trip. Catherine had even complained online. *"Your wife is such a pampered princess. Can't handle the tiniest thing without you running back. Can she not live without a man?"* And Roger had replied beneath it. *"If she were half as independent as you, I’d have an easier life."* But that day… Carolyn’s mother had lost her battle with cancer. She’d cried until her heart felt shredded, scrambling to handle the arrangements. All the while, Roger kept checking his phone impatiently, eager to leave. Not for work, she realized now—but because he was desperate to get back to Catherine.

I smoothed down the front of my traditional Luna ceremonial dress, the silver embroidery catching the light as I moved. Three years. Three perfect years with my mate, and tonight I wanted everything to be perfect. "Do you think he'll like the surprise?" I asked my reflection, adjusting the moonstone pendant that had been my mother's. It was the last thing she'd given me before passing, and I wore it only on special occasions. My wolf, Aria, purred with satisfaction. *He'll love it. You've prepared his favorite meal.* I glanced at the dining room table, set with our finest china and candles. The roast was resting, vegetables steaming, and a bottle of aged red wine—Tyson's favorite—hidden in the car for the final touch. "He should be home any minute," I murmured, checking my phone.

He made one mistake-he chose revenge instead of mercy. Luna's sharp tongue and careless drunken words should have been harmless. Instead, they mark her as a target for Daimen Blackwell, a billionaire who doesn't forgive and never forgets. What begins as punishment turns into possession when he forces her into a contract that binds her to him as his mistress-his rules, his house, his bed. Luna is naïve in love but not in spirit, and her defiance slowly becomes the one thing Daimen can't control. Somewhere between power plays and stolen moments, he wins her heart-only to destroy it. When Daimen betrays her, Luna leaves with nothing but shattered trust. And that's when he discovers the truth: she is the woman he has been searching for all his life. This time, the billionaire has nothing left to bargain with. Only regret. Only groveling. And the hope that love might survive the damage he caused.