The Monster My Wife Became

30 Days Left: The Rejected White Wolf's Countdown

On our wedding night, my Fated Mate, Alpha Cedric, left our bed to care for his mistress. He told me our marriage was just an obligation. But the real betrayal came months later on a rooftop. When Rogues demanded a trade, Cedric didn't hesitate. He chose to save Jayden because of her "heart condition," handing me—his pregnant wife—over to the killers. "You are stronger," he said as he pushed me toward them. I fell from the building. I survived, but our unborn pup didn't. Instead of comfort, I woke up to handcuffs. Cedric believed Jayden’s lies that I staged the kidnapping for attention. He threw me into the dungeon, shackling my wrists with silver cuffs that burned my flesh, while Jayden poisoned my food with wolfsbane. He stripped me of my title and dignity, never realizing that the "fragile" woman he protected was the true monster. He didn't know about the glowing rune on my chest counting down the seconds I had left. He didn't know I was the legendary White Wolf, and my time was up. On my final night, I asked for one last ride on the Ferris wheel where we first met. At midnight, as Cedric rushed back to the amusement park, he didn't find a body. He found only my empty clothes and a text message on the seat. "Don't look for me, Cedric. I'm giving my wolf back to the moon." As he watched the security footage, he finally saw me dissolve into stardust and ascend to the sky, leaving him alone in a world that suddenly felt too quiet.

The Capo's Regret: The Curse Was A Lie

For fifteen years, my husband Bennett refused to let me get pregnant. "My blood is a curse, Kelsey," he would say, gripping my hand with terrified intensity. "It kills the women who carry it. I won't risk you." I believed him. I mourned the children we never had just to stay alive for him. Then he brought Aria home. He claimed she was a distant cousin in trouble. But from the shadows of the ballroom, I watched him caress her swollen belly with a tenderness he never showed me. When I confronted him, the mask fell. "You provide the image, Kelsey," he said coldly. "She provides the bloodline. Do not make a scene." To teach me a lesson in obedience, my horse's reins were sabotaged. I woke up in the hospital with a fractured leg, only to learn he had ignored my emergency calls to hold Aria’s hand during a routine ultrasound. Lying in that sterile bed, the truth hit me harder than the fall. There was no curse. He had medically gaslighted me for a decade, stealing my fertility with a lie, just to replace me with a mistress he called "cousin." He thought he had broken me. He thought I would fade quietly into the east wing. Instead, I wiped my tears and planted listening devices in his office. He wanted a legacy? I boarded a train to Paris, leaving behind a bomb that would burn his entire world to ash.

The Butcher's Heart, A Boy's Hope

The acrid smell of disinfectant and old wax assaulted my seventy-year-old nose. One moment, I was Butcher Betty, cleaver in hand, surrounded by the familiar scent of my shop. The next, I was a stranger in a sterile, enormous kitchen, wearing a stiff uniform, feather duster in my hand. Then, a cold, mechanical voice boomed directly inside my head: "Transmigration successful. Welcome, Host 734." My new identity: Betty, the cruel and sycophantic housekeeper of the Anderson family, tasked with following a novel' s plot. My first directive: lock eight-year-old Liam, the biological son, in the dark, damp basement without dinner to solidify my loyalty to the adopted son, Kevin. I looked at the small, terrified boy cowering in the corner, his eyes wide with a wariness that shouldn' t be in a child. This wasn' t a character. This was a scared, hungry kid. The system blared warnings, demanding I adhere to the script, that I become the villain. But I was a butcher. I fed people. I didn't starve them. "The plot can go to hell," I muttered, grabbing a saucepan. "This boy is getting a hot meal."

His Perfect Crime, Her Perfect Comeback

The ghost of my right hand ached, a constant reminder of the car crash that stole my career as a concert pianist five years ago. My husband, tech mogul David Miller, had lovingly built me a gilded cage-a penthouse palace where I was his celebrated, wounded wife, a testament to my sacrifice. "It's a masterpiece, David. The whole thing," I overheard his best friend, Mark, say. "The comeback story, the adoring husband. You've played it perfectly." My fingers hovered over the piano keys in my studio. My breath caught. "Still," Mark pressed, his voice dropping, "that car crash... it was perfectly staged. How could you know Olivia would sacrifice her hand to save you?" My world crumbled. Staged? I crept to the library door, peeking through the crack. David, swirling amber liquid, smirked. "Because she loves me," he purred, "just as I love Sarah." Sarah Jenkins. His protégé. The brilliant pianist who had risen in my place. "Ollie was always in the way," he continued. "Her talent... it was too loud. Sarah needed a clear path. I gave her one." My hand flew to my mouth, stifling a scream. The charity galas, the custom gowns, the public adoration-it wasn't love. It was a cover-up. My agonizing years of practice, my belief that my music was a testament to our shared survival-all a grotesque joke. He hadn't honored my sacrifice; he'd celebrated his crime. My life, my love, my loss-all a meticulously crafted lie. My world didn't just crumble; it was obliterated. In the rubble, cold, hard revenge began to sprout. He thought he had silenced me, turned me into a beautiful, broken symbol. He was wrong. I would not be a guest performer at the Golden Rose. I would be a competitor. I would take back everything he had stolen. I would burn his entire empire to the ground.

Sacrifice & Betrayal: A Husband's Comeback

Three years ago, I sacrificed my career, taking the fall for a professional misconduct charge to shield my wife, Nicole, and her budding political ambitions. Tonight, her re-election campaign launch party was supposed to be my comeback, the moment she' d finally reintroduce me to her world. Instead, she offered a single dollar bill, the same token given to low-level volunteers, as she turned away to flirt with her smirking Chief of Staff, Wesley. The next day, Wesley flaunted a custom-made watch Nicole gave him, far more valuable than my car, while she dismissed my hurt with a cold command: "In public, you're just a volunteer, and call me Councilwoman." Then, alone and burning with fever, I called her for help, only to hear Wesley's voice in the background, a chilling affirmation of their intimacy, before she abruptly hung up. The final blow came when she watched Wesley frame me for the watch' s theft at a fundraiser, allowing me to be publicly shamed, then slapped me and called me a thief in front of everyone. Humiliation burned hotter than any fever, igniting a cold, stark realization: the woman I protected had orchestrated my destruction. I didn't argue. I calmly called my lawyer and filed for divorce.

Her Billion-Dollar Betrayal

My hands were calloused from years on construction sites, every ache a testament to the future Gabrielle and I were building. That future shattered when she burst into tears, claiming our life savings – eighty thousand dollars – had vanished in a crypto scam. "It' s okay, Gabby," I told her, holding her tight, even as my world crumbled. I promised we' d make it back, taking extra shifts, my mom Maria even offering to help clean at the Rittenhouse Grand. Then the hospital called. My mom, Maria, was in the ER, her hands brutally crushed by a hammer. The hotel claimed she' d "accidentally spilled a drink" on a guest. My blood ran cold, a rage I never knew I possessed simmering beneath the surface. I stormed to the Rittenhouse, my fury set on finding the monster who did this. But hidden in a private dining room, I found Gabrielle. My wife. She was laughing, adorned in silk, handing a man a "bouquet" of rolled-up hundred-dollar bills. "That old hag who bumped into you?" she cooed, "I had security take care of her. They broke her fingers and threw her out." My mother. Not an accident, but a cruel, calculated act. And the $80,000? "It was for that custom suit of yours," she told the man, "the one the old cleaner ruined." My world didn't just tilt; it imploded. Everything I believed, everything I loved, was a lie. My mother, now maimed, screamed for me to save her bone fragments from being fed to dogs. And just moments later, Gabrielle was demanding tequila for her Four Seasons suite. How could the woman I vowed to love be such a monster? How could my mother' s agonizing pain be the cost of a suit and a twisted game? I carried her secrets, her fears, as the doctor confirmed her hands were permanently destroyed. But when Gabrielle, in the same hospital, offered to buy my dying mother' s organs for Ethan' s family, claiming she was a "disgruntled ex," then hung up on me because Ethan' s mother was critical, a cold resolve settled deep in my gut. What kind of hell was this, and how could I make her pay?

Treasured Beyond Measure: Three Brothers, One Queen

From childhood, Stephanie knew she was not her parents' real daughter, but out of gratitude, she turned their business into a powerhouse. Once the true daughter came back, Stephanie was cast out-only to be embraced by an even more powerful birth family, adored by three influential brothers. The second ruled the battlefield. "Stephanie's sweet and innocent; she would never commit such crimes. That name on the wanted list is just a coincidence." And the youngest controlled the markets. "Anyone who dares bully my sister will lose my investment." Her former family begged for forgiveness-even on TV. Stephanie stood firm. When the richest man proposed, she became the woman everyone envied. The eldest ran the boardroom. "Cancel the meeting. I need to set up the art exhibition for my sister!" The town was turned upside down.

Flash Marriage To My Best Friend's Father

I was once the heiress to the Solomon empire, but after it crumbled, I became the "charity case" ward of the wealthy Hyde family. For years, I lived in their shadows, clinging to the promise that Anson Hyde would always be my protector. That promise shattered when Anson walked into the ballroom with Claudine Chapman on his arm. Claudine was the girl who had spent years making my life a living hell, and now Anson was announcing their engagement to the world. The humiliation was instant. Guests sneered at my cheap dress, and a waiter intentionally sloshed champagne over me, knowing I was a nobody. Anson didn't even look my way; he was too busy whispering possessively to his new fiancée. I was a ghost in my own home, watching my protector celebrate with my tormentor. The betrayal burned. I realized I wasn't a ward; I was a pawn Anson had kept on a shelf until he found a better trade. I had no money, no allies, and a legal trust fund that Anson controlled with a flick of his wrist. Fleeing to the library, I stumbled into Dallas Koch—a titan of industry and my best friend’s father. He was a wall of cold, absolute power that even the Hydes feared. "Marry me," I blurted out, desperate to find a shield Anson couldn't climb. Dallas didn't laugh. He pulled out a marriage agreement and a heavy fountain pen. "Sign," he commanded, his voice a low rumble. "But if you walk out that door with me, you never go back." I signed my name, trading my life for the only man dangerous enough to keep me safe.

Rising From Ashes: The Heiress They Tried To Erase

Maia grew up a pampered heiress-until the real daughter returned and framed her, sending Maia to prison with help from her fiancé and family. Four years later, free and married to Chris, a notorious outcast, everyone assumed Maia was finished. They soon discovered she was secretly a famed jeweler, elite hacker, celebrity chef, and top game designer. As her former family begged for help, Chris smiled calmly. "Honey, let's go home." Only then did Maia realize her "useless" husband was a legendary tycoon who'd adored her from the start.

The Queen Returns: Pampered By Her Three Powerhouse Brothers

After five years of playing the perfect daughter, Rylie was exposed as a stand-in. Her fiancé bolted, friends scattered, and her adoptive brothers shoved her out, telling her to grovel back to her real family. Done with humiliation, she swore to claw back what was hers. Shock followed: her birth family ruled the town's wealth. Overnight, she became their precious girl. The boardroom brother canceled meetings, the genius brother ditched his lab, the musician brother postponed a tour. As those who spurned her begged forgiveness, Admiral Brad Morgan calmly declared, "She's already taken."

Marrying My Runaway Groom's Powerful Father

I was sitting in the Presidential Suite of The Pierre, wearing a Vera Wang gown worth more than most people earn in a decade. It was supposed to be the wedding of the century, the final move to merge two of Manhattan's most powerful empires. Then my phone buzzed. It was an Instagram Story from my fiancé, Jameson. He was at Charles de Gaulle Airport in Paris with a caption that read: "Fuck the chains. Chasing freedom." He hadn't just gotten cold feet; he had abandoned me at the altar to run across the world. My father didn't come in to comfort me. He burst through the door roaring about a lost acquisition deal, telling me the Holland Group would strip our family for parts if the ceremony didn't happen by noon. My stepmother wailed about us becoming the laughingstock of the Upper East Side. The Holland PR director even suggested I fake a "panic attack" to make myself look weak and sympathetic to save their stock price. Then Jameson’s sleazy cousin, Pierce, walked in with a lopsided grin, offering to "step in" and marry me just to get his hands on my assets. I looked at them and realized I wasn't a daughter or a bride to anyone in that room. I was a failed asset, a bouncing check, a girl whose own father told her to go to Paris and "beg" the man who had just publicly humiliated her. The girl who wanted to be loved died in that mirror. I realized that if I was going to be sold to save a merger, I was going to sell myself to the one who actually controlled the money. I marched past my parents and walked straight into the VIP holding room. I looked the most powerful man in the room—Jameson’s cold, ruthless uncle, Fletcher Holland—dead in the eye and threw the iPad on the table. "Jameson is gone," I said, my voice as hard as stone. "Marry me instead."

Abandoned Luna: Now Untouchable

For eight years, Cecilia Moore was the perfect Luna, loyal, and unmarked. Until the day she found her Alpha mate with a younger, purebred she-wolf in his bed. In a world ruled by bloodlines and mating bonds, Cecilia was always the outsider. But now, she's done playing by wolf rules. She smiles as she hands Xavier the quarterly financials-divorce papers clipped neatly beneath the final page. "You're angry?" he growls. "Angry enough to commit murder," she replies, voice cold as frost. A silent war brews under the roof they once called home. Xavier thinks he still holds the power-but Cecilia has already begun her quiet rebellion. With every cold glance and calculated step, she's preparing to disappear from his world-as the mate he never deserved. And when he finally understands the strength of the heart he broke... It may be far too late to win it back.