The House That Holds Our Hearts

The Unwanted Luna: Secret Heiress Of The White Wolf

I walked into my kitchen to find my husband's assistant wearing nothing but his white dress shirt. Jami sat on the granite counter, sipping coffee from my favorite mug. My husband, Dustin, stood next to her, smiling in a way he hadn't smiled at me in years. When they saw me, there was no shame. Instead, Jami sent a photo to my phone while sitting ten feet away. It was an ultrasound. "The Alpha's bloodline," the caption read. "Something you couldn't give him." I demanded an explanation, but Dustin only looked at me with cold, dead eyes. "She carries my heir, Eliana," he said, shielding her with his body. "You are barren and unstable. Go back to bed." When I refused, he used the Alpha Command to force me to my knees, humiliating me in my own home while his mistress watched with a triumphant smirk. He thought I was just a submissive wife. He thought I was trapped by the bond, acting as an endless battery for him to drain to keep his own volatile power in check. He conveniently forgot that before I was his Luna, I was the sole heiress to the David mining dynasty. He forgot that everything in this house—from the security system to the very foundation—was paid for with my money. I fought against the crushing weight of his command and forced myself to stand. "I reject you, Dustin Powell." As he collapsed in agony from the severed bond, I didn't help him. I picked up my phone and called my legal team. "I want it all gone," I ordered, staring at the horror on his face. "If I bought it, take it. Start with the mattress."

Betrayed By My Alpha, Awakened As The Luna

I was the Alpha’s fated mate, chosen for him by the Moon Goddess. I spent years loving him in secret, certain he would finally announce me as his Luna at the pack’s Ascension ceremony. Instead, he stood on the dais and presented another woman. I discovered he had used my own blood in a secret ritual to bind himself to her, a political marriage he had planned for months while whispering promises to me in the dark. In front of our entire pack, he publicly rejected me, a brutal act that shattered our sacred bond and tore my soul in two. He allowed his new bride to frame me for treason, destroy my home, and erase my history. He stood by while his warriors threw silver-laced stones at my head, then commanded me to kneel and apologize for a crime I didn’t commit. The man I would have died for broke me for power and ambition. Then he came to me in the ruins of my life and asked me to be his hidden mistress, his secret prize locked away from the world. I refused. I escaped his tyranny, rebuilt myself from the ashes, and found a new love with a true Alpha who saw my worth. I became a Luna in my own right, powerful and finally free. But my rejected mate’s obsession festered. A year later, he lured me into a trap. The last thing I remember is the sting of a needle in my neck and his chilling voice whispering, "It's time for us to go home."

His Thirty-Fourth Accidental Betrayal

My fiancé, the city's top surgeon, has always taken such good care of me. That's why our wedding has been postponed thirty-three times. Then, one night in the hospital, I overheard him talking to a friend. He confessed he was the one behind all thirty-three of my "accidents." He was in love with a new resident, Kalea, and couldn't bear to marry me out of family obligation. His cruelty escalated. When Kalea framed me for slapping her, he shoved me back onto my bed, calling me insane. When she faked a suicide attempt on a rooftop, he rushed to save her, letting me fall off the edge without a second glance. While I lay paralyzed in a hospital bed, he had my mother beaten in prison as punishment, and she died from her injuries. On the day of her funeral, he took Kalea to a concert. I was his fiancée. My father had sacrificed his career to save his. Our families had bound us together. Yet he destroyed my body, my mother, and my voice, all for a woman he'd just met. Finally, he let Kalea, the woman he loved, perform surgery on my throat, and she deliberately ruined my vocal cords, destroying my ability to ever sing again. When I woke up, voiceless and broken, and saw the triumphant smirk on her face, I finally understood. I snapped my SIM card, walked out of the hospital, and left everything behind. He had taken my voice, but he would not take the rest of my life.

Her Vengeance is a Silent Waltz

My sister was dying, and my husband, Alex, refused to let me see her. "Diamond's comfort is my priority," he said over the phone, his voice cold. "She's not comfortable with you there." Diamond. The woman who supposedly took a bullet for him. A debt he was repaying with my life. His repayment plan had already cost me my future. He stood by impassively as I was forced to sign sterilization papers, ensuring Diamond, who claimed the bullet had left her barren, would never have to see him have a child with another woman. They smeared my name in the press, painting me as an unstable addict whose "violent outburst" led to my sister's hospitalization. At the funeral they planned without me, they announced their plan to send me to a "facility" for my own good. The night before their wedding, he came home drunk. He grabbed me, his hands roaming my body in a grotesque parody of intimacy, and whispered her name. "Diamond." Something inside me finally shattered. I shoved him off me, screaming my own name. The next morning, Diamond stood on our doorstep, a triumphant smile on her face, calling me a barren, washed-up musician who couldn't even keep her own sister alive. Looking at them, the monster and his master, I felt nothing but a cold, clear resolve. I turned and walked away from the wreckage of my life. It was time to erase Erica Wade and build someone new. Someone who would burn their world to the ground.

Beyond His Reach: The Girl He Cast Aside

My world revolved around Alex Thompson, the golden son of the family who took an orphan like me in. For years, my love for him was a secret hum, a quiet song played on the old piano, hoping he' d hear. But when I finally laid my heart bare, he looked at me with cold, distant pity. "Ava," he said, his voice gentle but firm. "You' re like a sister to me. Always." Then he declared his engagement to Chloe Vanderbilt, parading her around like a bright, sharp shield; each public display a fresh wound. Chloe mocked me openly, called me a "hand-me-down," and casually destroyed my last precious memento, my mother' s music box. And while Alex stood idly by, she maliciously framed me for attacking her. Then, his fist flashed. A searing pain erupted on my cheek as he slapped me. "You ungrateful brat!" he seethed, his eyes blazing with fury. That brutal blow extinguished the last dying ember of hope, replacing it with a cold, clear certainty: I had to leave. My love, my loyalty, my very existence had been treated as mere charity, a burdensome obligation, then crushed with cruel contempt. How could the boy who once swore to protect me become the man who struck me for another' s lie? It was over. So, I left. I walked out of that house, leaving behind the shattered pieces of my heart and a symbolic repayment for their "charity." I agreed to an arranged marriage with Noah Evans, a quiet tech mogul. Now, as his fiancée, I'm heading to New York to chase my music dreams, a life where Alex Thompson is nothing but a distant, bitter memory. He thinks he won, that I'll eventually come crawling back. He' s about to find out just how wrong he is.

The Day the Contract Ended, His World Crumbled

For five tireless years, Sarah Jenkins’ life revolved around Ethan Miller. She was his shadow, his silent caretaker, meticulously managing his expensive lifestyle, his meds, and his fragile mental state after his fiancée, Olivia Hayes, abandoned him. Sarah deferred her own dreams, trapped by a contract that covered her father’s escalating medical bills. Then, a bombshell: Olivia was back. Suddenly, the indifferent Ethan, who barely acknowledged Sarah’s existence, lit up, his world revolving solely around Olivia. Sarah, his contractual wife, watched as he dismissed her, even when she presented divorce papers, his only concern being the continued seamless functioning of his affairs. He treated her merely as a utility, expendable once his old obsession returned. Had her five years, her entire youth and ambition, been nothing more than a debt repaid to a man who saw her only as "services"? The crushing truth left her hollow, a ghost in a gilded cage. Was she forever destined to be invisible, a pawn in someone else’s drama? But then, a lifeline: a message from an old university friend offered a spare room in New York and the journalism gig she’d always dreamed of. Sarah Jenkins, the photojournalist, was finally reclaiming her narrative. It was time to leave, to find herself beyond the Miller mansion's suffocating walls.

Jilted Bride's Revenge: The Valkyrie Awakens

I had been a wife for exactly six hours when I woke up to the sound of my husband’s heavy breathing. In the dim moonlight of our bridal suite, I watched Hardin, the man I had adored for years, intertwined with my sister Carissa on the chaise lounge. The betrayal didn't come with an apology. Hardin stood up, unashamed, and sneered at me. "You're awake? Get out, you frumpy mute." Carissa huddled under a throw, her fake tears already welling up as she played the victim. They didn't just want me gone; they wanted me erased to protect their reputations. When I refused to move, my world collapsed. My father didn't offer a shoulder to cry on; he threatened to have me committed to a mental asylum to save his business merger. "You're a disgrace," he bellowed, while the guards stood ready to drag me away. They had spent my life treating me like a stuttering, submissive pawn, and now they were done with me. I felt a blinding pain in my skull, a fracture that should have broken me. But instead of tears, something dormant and lethal flickered to life. The terrified girl who walked down the aisle earlier that day simply ceased to exist. In her place, a clinical system—the Valkyrie Protocol—booted up. My racing heart plummeted to a steady sixty beats per minute. I didn't scream. I stood up, my spine straightening for the first time in twenty years, and looked at Hardin with the detachment of a surgeon looking at a tumor. "Correction," I said, my voice stripped of its stutter. "You're in my light." By dawn, I had drained my father's accounts, vanished into a storm, and found a bleeding Crown Prince in a hidden safehouse. They thought they had broken a mute girl. They didn't realize they had just activated their own destruction.

Betrayed Bride: Claimed By The Brother

I arrived at the hotel with Julian's favorite takeout, ready to surprise my fiancé before our big merger. But the moment I swiped the keycard, the silence of the hallway felt heavy and wrong. Inside, a red-soled stiletto lay on the marble floor-the same one I'd watched my best friend Lila try on at Saks last week. Through the cracked bedroom door, I watched Julian's back arch as Lila looked me straight in the eye and smiled, wrapping her legs tighter around him to mock my heartbreak. I fled to the penthouse to hide, only to find Grafton, Julian's "crippled" brother, waiting in the dark. To my horror, the man who was supposed to be paralyzed stood up from his wheelchair, gripped my chin with cold fingers, and forced me to sign a contract that gave him control of my family's shares. He knew about my mother's secret medical bills and used them to buy my silence, effectively turning my life into a calculated game of corporate chess. The betrayal tasted like acid, and the injustice of it all burned in my throat. My fiancé was a liar, my best friend was a thief, and the man now controlling my fate was a predator who had been faking his disability for years. I couldn't understand how everyone I trusted had turned out to be a monster. I was trapped between a man who cheated on me and a man who wanted to own me, with no way out and no one to turn to. But when Julian came looking for me, Grafton didn't hide; he stood tall, looming over me with a possessive glint in his eyes. "Help me destroy Julian," I rasped, realizing that to survive the Faulkner men, I had to become the most dangerous player of them all.

Between Ruin And Resolve: My Ex-Husband's Regret

After two years of marriage, Sadie was finally pregnant. Filled with hope and joy, she was blindsided when Noah asked for a divorce. During a failed attempt on her life, Sadie found herself lying in a pool of blood, desperately calling Noah to ask him to save her and the baby. But her calls went unanswered. Shattered by his betrayal, she left the country. Time passed, and Sadie was about to be wed for a second time. Noah appeared in a frenzy and fell to his knees. "How dare you marry someone else after bearing my child?"

The Surgeon's Vow: Healing My Billionaire Husband

I sat in the gray, airless room of the New York State Department of Corrections, my knuckles white as the Warden delivered the news. "Parole denied." My father, Howard Sterling, had forged new evidence of financial crimes to keep me behind bars. He walked into the room, smelling of expensive cologne, and tossed a black folder onto the steel table. It was a marriage contract for Lucas Kensington, a billionaire currently lying in a vegetative state in the ICU. "Sign it. You walk out today." I laughed at the idea of being sold to a "corpse" until Howard slid a grainy photo toward me. It showed a toddler with a crescent-moon birthmark—the son Howard told me had died in an incubator five years ago. He smiled and told me the boy's safety depended entirely on my cooperation. I was thrust into the Kensington estate, where the family treated me like a "drowned rat." They dressed me in mothball-scented rags and mocked my status, unaware that I was monitoring their every move. I watched the cousin, Julian, openly waiting for Lucas to die to inherit the empire, while the doctors prepared to sign the death certificate. I didn't understand why my father would lie about my son’s death for years, or what kind of monsters would use a child as a bargaining chip. The injustice of it burned in my chest as I realized I was just a pawn in a game of old money and blood. As the monitors began to flatline and the family started to celebrate their inheritance, I locked the door and reached into the hem of my dress. I pulled out the sharpened silver wires I’d fashioned in the prison workshop. They thought they bought a submissive convict, but they actually invited "The Saint"—the world’s most dangerous underground surgeon—into their home. "Wake up, Lucas. You owe me a life." I wasn't there to be a bride; I was there to wake the dead and burn their empire to the ground.

The Mute Heiress: Her Cold Silent Revenge

The Pierre Hotel smelled of old money and stale ambition, but all I could taste was the copper of my own rage. I stood in the back of the ballroom, a "mute" shadow in a silk dress, watching my sister Brande play the grieving saint on stage. She wiped away a fake tear, telling the crowd I was too "unstable" to attend my own engagement party. In reality, I was watching her share a secret, intimate squeeze with my fiancé, Chase Sterling, right under the blinding spotlight. When I finally hit "execute" and projected the video of them together in a hotel suite for the entire elite crowd to see, the room went cold. But the nightmare was just beginning. Instead of apologizing, my father crushed his scotch glass and told me to fix the mess. He demanded I issue a public statement claiming I had a mental breakdown and "hallucinated" the whole thing. "If you don't corroborate the Deepfake story, I'll have you committed to a facility with barred windows," he hissed. Brande just smirked from the corner, mocking me for being a "mute waste of space" who didn't even realize my own trust fund had paid for the diamonds around her neck. I realized then that in this family, silence wasn't a disability—it was a target. They thought because I didn't speak, I didn't have a voice. They thought they could use my silence to bury the truth and save their precious stock prices. They were wrong. I didn't just leak a video; I had the keys to every secret they ever tried to hide. I walked out of that hotel and straight into the black sedan of Julian Curtis, my father’s most ruthless rival and the only man who knew what really happened the night of the blizzard in Aspen. I handed him the encrypted files that would trigger a hostile takeover of my family’s empire. As the city blurred past, I looked at the man who held my future in his hands and typed one final message on my phone. "I'm not here to be saved. I'm here to be the knife."

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.