Trapped By His Affection

Rejected by the Alpha, Claimed by the Lycan King

At the Full Moon Banquet, my husband didn't just announce a surrogate. He humiliated me. Alpha Bennett stood center stage, radiating power, while I stood in the shadows—the embarrassment, the Wolfless Luna. "Kelsey is too fragile," he announced to the pack. "Aria will carry our legacy." He called it a medical necessity. But later, I heard him tell his Beta the truth: "I look at her and see a dead end. Aria smells like a mate should." The humiliation didn't stop there. Aria moved into our home, scent-marking my bed with her vanilla perfume. When she staged a fall, Bennett didn't check if I was okay. He grabbed me by the throat, accusing me of trying to kill his unborn "Alpha twins." He even drained his own blood to save her fake pregnancy, while I bled from silver wounds he ignored. Broken and replaced, I left my wedding ring on the table and vanished to Paris. Bennett was so eager to be rid of me, he signed the separation papers without even reading them. It wasn't until his wedding day to Aria that the truth came out. The pregnancy was a lie. The twins were a fraud created by witch potions. Desperate and regretful, Bennett tore through Europe to drag me back, thinking I was still his weak, human wife. He didn't know he was walking straight into the Lycan King's territory. And he certainly didn't expect to find that his "Wolfless" wife had finally awakened as the legendary White Wolf.

The Alpha's Lost Heir: A Broken Luna's Revenge

I was the Luna of the Moonstone Pack, but to my husband, Alpha Blake, I was nothing more than a placeholder. While he showered his "fragile" childhood friend Ariana with attention, I kept a secret black notebook. It wasn't a diary. It was a countdown. Missed our anniversary dinner for her? Minus 10 points. Saved her from a falling sculpture while leaving me to be crushed by steel? Minus 20 points. I lay in the hospital with broken ribs, watching him leave to comfort Ariana because she was "traumatized" by my accident. But the final straw came the night I was hit by a truck in a storm he abandoned me in. Desperate to save our unborn baby, the doctors called Blake. They needed his Alpha energy to anchor the fetus. "I can't come," Blake said coldly over the speakerphone. "Ariana is having palpitations. If the fetus is strong, it will survive. If not, it wasn't meant to be." He hung up. I felt the life inside me wink out. With trembling hands, I opened my notebook for the last time. Incident: Killed our child for her. Final Score: -100. I signed the divorce papers, left them on the ashes of my life, and vanished. When Blake finally returned to the empty house, realizing he had lost his True Mate, he fell to his knees and howled. But he didn't know the truth yet. The wife he called weak had just awakened as the legendary White Wolf, and I was never coming back.

My Fiance's Betrayal, My Fiery Vengeance

My fiancé and my adopted sister framed me for burning down our Hamptons beach house. They had me declared insane and used a forged power of attorney to lock me away in a private facility for four years. While I was drugged, tortured, and systematically broken, they stole my company, my reputation, and my life. When I was finally released, they stood before me, dripping in the wealth they'd stolen. Kelly, my sister, even wore my mother's engagement ring, a glittering trophy on her finger. They saw a vacant, docile shell, not the woman who spent every waking moment meticulously planning their ruin. They thought they had extinguished the fire. At a party meant to celebrate their victory, Kelly held up a dog collar studded with cheap rhinestones. "Wear this," she cooed, "and you can have your mother's watch back." I dropped to my knees and barked. They thought it was my final, crushing humiliation; it was the beginning of their end.

Not Her: The Shadow Bride's Great Escape

I was the invisible daughter of a low-level mobster until Ethan Cole, the city’s most terrifying Don, plucked me from the streets. He claimed it was love at first sight. He married me, draped me in vintage diamonds, and treated me like a fragile porcelain doll. I thought I was living a fairytale until I found the secret room in his library. It was filled with photos of a dead woman named Olivia. A woman who had my hair, my eyes, and my face. I wasn't his soulmate. I was a replacement part for a broken machine. When I became pregnant, Ethan didn't hug me. He placed a possessive hand on my stomach and whispered, "The heir." He didn't see me. He only saw an incubator for a ghost's legacy. My father tried to warn me and died for it. I realized that once I gave Ethan this child, I would be trapped in his gilded cage forever, a broodmare for a man in love with a corpse. So, I did the unthinkable. I walked into a clinic and paid cash to remove the one thing he valued more than his empire. I went home, collapsed on the marble floor in a pool of blood, and looked up at the monster who thought he owned me. "I lost it," I screamed, tearing at his lapels. "I lost our baby!" I watched his heart break, knowing I had just declared war.

Betrayed By Love, Reborn In Fire

Eleanor Vance, tech titaness, finally leaned back, champagne in hand, on her Monte Carlo terrace. Six months into hard-earned semi-retirement, her empire was thriving, and today, her daughter Sarah and son-in-law Mark were officially taking the reins. A notification shattered the peace. "VANCE TECH SHOCKER: NEW HEIRESS ANNOUNCED AS FOUNDER' S DAUGHTER BRANDED A FRAUD." Her blood ran cold as she saw the image: Mark, arm around a smug stranger named Lily Miller, the Vance Tech logo looming like a tombstone. Sarah' s phone went straight to voicemail. "Sarah, darling, it' s Mom. Call me back the second you get this." Mark answered, voice sickeningly cheerful. "Eleanor! Enjoying the Riviera, I hope?" Then, dropped a bombshell: "Sarah Vance is not, in fact, Eleanor Vance' s biological daughter. She is an illegitimate child… The true inheritor… is my daughter, Lily." Eleanor watched live footage: Sarah, her dress torn, screaming "He' s lying! I' m her daughter! Mom, he' s lying!" as security dragged her away. Mark' s smooth voice narrated: "Sarah has been… unwell." The camera zoomed on Sarah' s anguished face, then a guard shoved her out. The world vanished for Eleanor; only a burning rage remained. She hurled her glass, shattering it against the wall. "Get the jet ready," she commanded, voice dangerously calm. "Get me everything you can find on Jessica Brown and Lily Miller. Dig." "I' m going home," Eleanor vowed, her eyes like flint. "And I' m going to burn their world to the ground." How could Mark, her trusted son-in-law, conspire with Jessica, a former employee fired for corporate espionage, to publicly destroy her daughter and steal her legacy? The deeper horror: the faint red welts on Sarah' s back in the video; this wasn' t the first time he' d hurt her. Why hadn' t Sarah called? What kind of hell had her child been living in while she was sipping champagne across the world? The guilt was crushing, but the fury burned brighter. Eleanor wouldn't just fight; she would annihilate. "When we land, we go directly to headquarters." Mark thought he' d won; he just triggered the war of his life.

Her Escape, His Eternal Loss

The familiar ache pulsed behind my eyes, a constant companion in the sterile white room where sheets matched my pale, bruised skin. They had given me electric shock therapy again, leaving my mind a fog of agony. A key turned, and in walked Ethan Miller, the man I was supposed to marry, his face handsome but cold, etched with pity and disgust. "Still acting like this, Chloe?" he snapped, accusing me of hurting a nurse-a lie I was too broken to fight. Then Liam Thorne, my half-brother, joined him, an insincere mask of concern plastered on his face. "See, Ethan? She' s completely gone," Liam purred, blaming my supposed violent tendencies on the stress of his "illness." Ethan, my savior turned accomplice, instantly sided with Liam, his trust absolute. But then Mark Evans, a childhood friend turned doctor, assessed my condition, his voice serious as he unveiled the severe trauma and abuse they' d inflicted on me. Liam quickly deflected, accusing me of self-harm, a narrative Ethan chillingly affirmed. Liam then proposed transferring me to a private institution, the 'Thorne Wellness Center' -a name that sent a jolt of terror through me, a prison designed just for me. Desperate, I pleaded with Ethan, "Please, don' t take me there. I' ll do anything." He hesitated, a flicker of the old Ethan visible, and agreed to take me home. But Liam intervened, whispering manipulations, leading me back into the trap. I screamed as orderlies grabbed me, but it was too late. They injected the sedative, and I went limp, my savior watching as he condemned me. The torture at Thorne Wellness Center was worse than I could have imagined, leaving my mind fractured, my body starved. When Ethan finally came to pick me up, he was horrified by the skeletal, lifeless woman I had become. In that moment, a plan formed in my fragmented mind. I had to escape, even if it meant jumping from a second-story window. Under the cover of darkness, I slipped from my gilded cage, running, barefoot and silent, into the night.

Phoenix Mode, Activated: Burn Me Once, Watch Me Rise

Chelsey loved Brett for seven years and tried everything for a baby-doctors, IVF, surgeries. Then she found out he'd been dosing her food with contraceptives. She woke back at the fire years earlier and watched Brett carry another woman out, leaving Chelsey to choke in smoke. She realized he'd been reborn too-and picked his "true love." Chelsey walked away and married Julian, her friend's cousin and the hot firefighter who saved her; he gave her all his money the day they married. Brett scoffed... until Chelsey shone at an AI summit and Julian's real identity shocked him. Seeing her with twins and another baby coming, Brett begged, "Come back to me! Please!"

The Billionaire's Cold And Bitter Betrayal

I had just survived a private jet crash, my body a map of violet bruises and my lungs still burning from the smoke. I woke up in a sterile hospital room, gasping for my husband's name, only to realize I was completely alone. While I was bleeding in a ditch, my husband, Adam, was on the news smiling at a ribbon-cutting ceremony. When I tracked him down at the hospital's VIP wing, I didn't find a grieving husband. I found him tenderly cradling his ex-girlfriend, Casie, in his arms, his face lit with a protective warmth he had never shown me as he carried her into the maternity ward. The betrayal went deeper than I could have imagined. Adam admitted the affair started on our third anniversary-the night he claimed he was stuck in London for a merger. Back at the manor, his mother had already filled our planned nursery with pink boutique bags for Casie's "little princess." When I demanded a divorce, Adam didn't flinch. He sneered that I was "gutter trash" from a foster home and that I'd be begging on the streets within a week. To trap me, he froze my bank accounts, cancelled my flight, and even called the police to report me for "theft" of company property. I realized then that I wasn't his partner; I was a charity case he had plucked from obscurity to manage his life. To the Hortons, I was just a servant who happened to sleep in the master bedroom, a "resilient" woman meant to endure his abuse in silence while the whole world laughed at the joke that was my marriage. Adam thought stripping me of his money would make me crawl back to him. He was wrong. I walked into his executive suite during his biggest deal of the year and poured a mug of sludge over his original ten-million-dollar contracts. Then, right in front of his board and his mistress, I stripped off every designer thread he had ever paid for until I was standing in nothing but my own silk camisole. "You can keep the clothes, Adam. They're as hollow as you are." I grabbed my passport, turned my back on his billions, and walked out of that glass tower barefoot, bleeding, and finally free.

My Husband's Blindness, My Sweet Revenge

The roasted lamb was cold, a reflection of her marriage. On their third anniversary, Evelyn Vance waited alone in her Manhattan penthouse. Then her phone buzzed: Alexander, her husband, had been spotted leaving the hospital, holding his childhood sweetheart Scarlett Sharp's hand. Alexander arrived hours later, dismissing Evelyn's quiet complaint with a cold reminder: she was Mrs. Vance, not a victim. Her mother's demands reinforced this role, making Evelyn, a brilliant mind, feel like a ghost. A dangerous indifference replaced betrayal. The debt was paid; now, it was her turn. She drafted a divorce settlement, waiving everything. As Alexander's tender voice drifted from his study, speaking to Scarlett, Evelyn placed her wedding ring on his pillow, moved to the guest suite, and locked the door. The dull wife was gone; the Oracle was back.

The Billionaire's Secret Twins: Her Revenge

I was four months pregnant, weighing over two hundred pounds, and my heart was failing from experimental treatments forced on me as a child. My doctor looked at me with clinical detachment and told me I was in a death sentence: if I kept the baby, I would die, and if I tried to remove it, I would die. Desperate for a lifeline, I called my father, Francis Acosta, to tell him I was sick and pregnant. I expected a father's love, but all I got was a cold, sharp blade of a voice. "Then do it quietly," he said. "Don't embarrass Candi. Her debutante ball is coming up." He didn't just reject me; he erased me. My trust fund was frozen, and I was told I was no longer an Acosta. My fiancé, Auston, had already discarded me, calling me a "bloated whale" while he looked for a thinner, wealthier replacement. I left New York on a Greyhound bus, weeping into a bag of chips, a broken woman the world considered a mistake. I couldn't understand how my own father could tell me to die "quietly" just to save face for a party. I didn't know why I had been a lab rat for my family’s pharmaceutical ambitions, or how they could sleep at night while I was left to rot in the gray drizzle of the city. Five years later, the doors of JFK International Airport slid open. I stepped onto the marble floor in red-soled stilettos, my body lean, lethal, and carved from years of blood and sweat. I wasn't the "whale" anymore; I was a ghost coming back to haunt them. With my daughter by my side and a medical reputation that terrified the global elite, I was ready to dismantle the Acosta empire piece by piece. "Tell Francis to wash his neck," I whispered to the skyline. "I'm home."

His Unwanted Wife, The World's Coveted Genius

Rumors said that Lucas married an unattractive woman with no background. In the three years they were together, he remained cold and distant to Belinda, who endured in silence. Her love for him forced her to sacrifice her self-worth and her dreams. When Lucas' true love reappeared, Belinda realized that their marriage was a sham from the start, a ploy to save another woman's life. She signed the divorce papers and left. Three years later, Belinda returned as a surgical prodigy and a maestro of the piano. Lost in regret, Lucas chased her in the rain and held her tightly. "You are mine, Belinda."

Billionaire Boss? Nah, Just A Possessive Husband!

I just got my billionaire husband to sign our divorce papers. He thinks it's another business document. Our marriage was a business transaction. I was his secretary by day, his invisible wife by night. He got a CEO title and a rebellion against his mother; I got the money to save mine. The only rule? Don't fall in love. I broke it. He didn't. So I'm cashing out. Thirty days from now, I'm gone. But now he's noticing me. Touching me. Claiming me. The same man who flaunts his mistresses is suddenly burning down a nightclub because another man insulted me. He says he'll never let me go. But he has no idea I'm already halfway out the door. How far will a billionaire go to keep a wife he never wanted until she tried to leave?