The Jilted Biker Heiress's Spectacular Comeback

"From tonight on, Farrah is my one and only Old Lady! As for you, Sloane... you're just my personal bed-warmer." In the deafening roar of the crowded motorcycle club, my boyfriend of five years hauled another woman against his chest, publicly stripping me of my title. The entire room erupted in laughter, waiting for the "helpless orphan" to break down and cry. His bloodsucking mother and sister smirked in the crowd. For five years, I had served their family like an unpaid maid, secretly bleeding my dead father's legacy dry just to pay off their debts. Now, they were thrilled to see me thrown into the dirt. Beau pinched my chin, offering his mercy like a king to a beggar. "As long as you know your place and stay in the basement to do the chores, I'll generously let you be my secret baby mama. It's the greatest mercy a cursed orphan with a dead bloodline will ever get." They thought they had stripped me of everything. They expected me to crawl on my knees and beg for their scraps. The very next morning, I broke into their safe, took back my stolen inheritance and the keys to my father's legendary motorcycle, and rode straight to the National President-the man who held the absolute power of life and death over the entire outlaw world. When Beau smugly swaggered into the President's office, fully expecting to find me begging on my knees for him to take me back, he was instead slapped in the face with a wax-sealed document of formal severance. "She is a free agent now. Anyone who touches her answers to my gavel." I straddled my father's roaring heavy chopper, looking down at my ex's humiliated, panicked face. "This is just the beginning, Beau. I'm going to make your family bleed out everything you stole." But what I didn't realize was that the moment I took my first step toward revenge, the dangerously wild man I collided with in the dark the night before-the one wearing the forbidden insignia of the absolute royal bloodline-had already locked his sights on me like a predator claiming his prey...

Romance Rebirth/Reborn Romance Revenge Female-Centered Divorce Girl Power Kickass Heroine Biker Motorcycle Club

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Bride Of The Shadowed Alpha:

FROM HIS HATRED, A DARKER DESIRE IGNITES

Written By

Okeke-Eze Ifeoma Isabella (Omaisabella)

❤️ The Council's Verdict ❤️

"Uncle, you send for me." Nyxoria was seen walking toward him. She was in her chamber when a messenger came to pass her the message of her presence being needed in the palace.

Vyr sat upon a throne of pure gold, the sunlight streaming through the open window catching the jewels of his crown and bathing him in a commanding glow. Draped in crimson and sable robes, he radiated quiet authority, a living emblem of power and majesty. Around him, the council of elders, about four, gathered at a massive oaken table, their robes marked by symbols of their clans and wisdom etched into their faces. They all turn to look at her with a big frown and angry looks on their faces, especially the one with a missing arm.

Nyxoria didn't care, her focus was on her uncle who beamed at her when she finally stopped beside him.

"Yes, indeed I did," Vyr said. "What do you say to this?" he asked, pointing at what he and the elders were discussing. A scroll was on the table and in front of Vyr.

Nyxoria looked at the scroll briefly and returned her gaze back to her uncle.

"I say we kill almost all of them and take the others." She told him.

One of the council of elders scoffed at what she said.

Nyxoria's eyes narrowed at him. "Uncle, will you miss him if he is gone? I think his seat is hurting his dirty ass."

Quickly holding one of Nyxoria's hands and Vyr vigorously shook his head at her. He had once made a mistake when she had uttered those words ten years ago when Elder Rue of the Water clan wolf had spoken of killing her, the following day after her parents tragic death. He had grabbed her hair and was shouting at Vyr and then Nyxoria uttered those words 'Uncle, will you miss him if he is gone? Let me start with this arm' and he and the elders had ignored her thinking it was just mere words until Elder Rue suddenly screamed out in pain. That was then they discovered she had cut off the hands holding her hair from the shoulder.

That day and even ten years later Vyr hasn't forgotten. Somehow, Nyxoria always has her sword hidden somewhere in her body and doesn't hesitate to use it.

"Don't Nyxoria," Vyr said and faced the elder that spoke, "do you have anything else to say than scoffed Elder Rivar?" He asked.

Elder Rivar was a 550 hundred and fifty years old werewolf who governed the Fire wolf clan.

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