Alpha Conrad: Claiming The Wrong Bride
One night of deception.
A lifetime of consequences.
A bond that cannot be broken.
Nadia Williams is an Omega living in the shadows of the pack she once called home.
Since her father's death, she and her mother, Estelle, have been treated as outcasts by her ruthless uncle, Alpha Edwards. When her mother is framed for theft, Nadia is forced into a deal with the devil.
To save her mother's life, she must become a virgin substitute for her cousin, Danielle.
Her aunt, Katerina, offers a devil's bargain to set her mother free: Nadia must spend one night in the bed of the most powerful man in the country, the billionaire; Alpha Conrad Bradley.
The catch?
She must swap places with her spiteful cousin.
Conrad demands a virgin bride to secure his royal bloodline, and Danielle, Nadia's cruel cousin, has already forfeited her purity.
What begins as a desperate night of passion in the dark spirals into a web of hidden identities and betrayal.
Nadia survives the night and disappears, hoping to bury the shame of the encounter forever.
But fate has a different plan.
Desperate for a fresh start away from her uncle's shadow, Nadia secures a high-level position at Bradley Group of Industries.
As Alpha Conrad unknowingly hires Nadia at his company, an undeniable connection sparks between them.
Conrad is haunted by the scent of the woman from that night-a scent that doesn't match his fiancée, Danielle, but seems to cling to his new, brilliant employee.
As they work side-by-side, Nadia finds an unexpected and beautiful second chance at a life she thought was lost.
Yet, buried secrets threaten to destroy everything.
When the Alpha discovers the woman he truly bonded with, the fallout will be legendary.
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Chapter 5
It was still very early in the morning, the first rays of the morning sun would begin to bleed through the curtains soon.
Nadia stirred as she felt his warm presence behind her.
Alpha Conrad was awake, though he remained silent.
He leaned in, his lips pressing a lingering, tender kiss on her bare shoulder.
Nadia kept her eyes shut, her heart beating frantically.
She stayed perfectly still, her back to him, praying her scent wouldn't betray her.
In his hazy, post-coital state, Conrad didn't notice the subtle difference in her aura.
He gently lifted the duvet to adjust his position, and his eyes fell on the moon crescent birthmark on her back and then on the red stains on the white sheets.
A surge of possessiveness and unexpected tenderness washed over him.
He pulled her closer, burying his face in the crook of her neck before his breathing slowed, and he drifted back into a deep, satisfied sleep.
Danielle peered out, seeing that Conrad was out; she crawled toward Nadia’s side of the bed on her hands and knees.
"Move! Now!" Danielle mouthed, her face twisted in a silent snarl.
Nadia didn't need to be told twice.
She slid out from under the covers, her body aching with a soreness that made her wince.
She grabbed her clothes from the floor and scurried into the bathroom.
In a matter of minutes, she was dressed.
She exited the bathroom just as Danielle climbed into the warm spot she had vacated, tucking herself against Conrad’s chest.
Nadia took one last look and fled the room.
As she hurried down the hotel staircase, her phone vibrated in her pocket. It was Katerina.
"Is it done?" her aunt’s voice came through.
"It’s done," Nadia whispered into the receiver, her voice cracking. "I am leaving the hotel now. Tell the lawyers to withdraw the charges against my mother immediately."
"They are already on it. Go home, Nadia. And remember: this never happened."
Nadia hung up, her head down as she rushed through the lobby. She was so consumed by her own thoughts that she didn't see the man walking toward her. She slammed into a hard chest.
"Watch where you are going!" the male voice snapped.
Nadia looked up, her eyes wide. "I... I'm so sorry, I—"
"Nadia? Is that you?"
Nadia’s eyes adjusted. "Valentine?"
Her voice instantly shifted into a happy squeal. It was Valentine, her best friend from college. Before she could process the shock, he pulled her into a massive, familiar hug.
"Oh my god, look at you!" Valentine laughed, pulling back to inspect her. "What on earth are you doing at a five-star hotel at seven in the morning?"
Nadia’s mind raced for a lie. "I... I went partying with a friend. We were so knocked out that her boyfriend decided we should just crash here instead of driving back to our neighborhood."
Valentine raised a perfectly groomed eyebrow. "You? Attending parties? Since when do you do anything other than study and work three jobs?"
Nadia looked down, her face heating up. "My friends had to drag me out, Val. It was a one-time thing. But I have a freelance gig I need to catch, which is why I’m leaving so early." She looked at him, trying to change the subject. "I am still upset with you, you know. You moved overseas and ghosted me completely!"
Valentine sighed, his expression softening. "I know, I know. Life overseas was a lot to handle, Nadia. I had to figure out a lot of things. But I am back now, and I am not going anywhere." He squeezed her hands. "I hope you are open to dinner dates and hangouts like we used to do. It’s the only way I can make it up to you."
"Why not?" Nadia said, forced to smile despite the turmoil inside her. "I’ve missed our rants."
They quickly exchanged contacts, and Valentine gave her one last squeeze. "I’ll call you later today. Don't you dare ghost me back!"
"I won't! I have to run!"
Nadia practically sprinted to the bus station. She managed to get home, scrub the heavy makeup off her face, and change into her regular clothes just as a taxi pulled up outside.
The door opened, and Estelle stepped out, looking pale and frail.
"Mom!" Nadia screamed, running out to meet her. She threw her arms around her mother, sobbing into her neck.
"I'm okay, baby. I'm okay," Estelle whispered, stroking Nadia’s hair. She pulled back, her eyes searching her daughter’s face. "First things first, Nadia. Call Nelson. I need to thank him properly for getting me out of that nightmare."
Nadia wiped her eyes and looked away. "Nelson did not get you out, Mom. I didn't even call him."
Estelle froze. "He didn't help? Then who did? Nadia, how did you get the charges dropped? What did you do?"
"It doesn't matter," Nadia said, her voice dropping to a flat, hollow tone. "You are back home now. That is all that counts. I just hope you take this as a cue to never work for Uncle Edward or his family ever again. Going forward, I would work hard to take care of you; you do not have to work for them anymore."
"Nadia—"
"I’m tired, Mom. I’m going to my room."
Nadia walked into her small bedroom and shut the door. She stripped off her clothes, letting them fall in a heap on the floor. She stepped into the tiny shower, turning the water on as hot as she could stand it.
She tried to block out the memories, but they flooded back: the smell of his perfume, the weight of his body on hers, and the way he had whispered that she was beautiful at every given point in time. A deep, gnawing guilt tugged at her conscience.
But that was just it; life was unfair, and she had to trade her last asset for her mother's freedom, but this was going to be the last time she begged for mercy.
It was going to be the last time she traded her body or her self-worth for favors or anything in particular.
Deep down, she knew her mom did not steal from Aunt Katerina; last night put everything in perspective. Again, she had been used in the most manipulative way as a means to an end she did not know about.
She did not care.
She resolved that she was going to put this disaster behind her and work hard enough to make her uncle and his wife pay for everything they had done to her and her mother.
The first step: she needed to get a fucking job and put her degree to use.
***
The morning sun clawed through the gaps in the blackout curtains, but Alpha Conrad felt like it was clawing through his skull instead.
He woke with a groan, his hand flying to his temple to stem the tide of a splitting headache.
The first thing he noticed when he took a deep breath, was that something was off, his nostrils flared in rejection.
It was the scent.
The scent was wrong.
It was a harsh scent that stung the back of his throat.
He was tempted to ask if she had changed her perfume in the middle of the night, but he stopped himself, his mind foggy and sluggish. He tried to blink the world into focus, and as he moved his hand away from his face, he noted the dried blood stains on his fingers.
His gaze drifted to the sheets.
He squinted, turning his head to see Danielle lying next to him.
She was already watching him, her lips curved into an elegant smile. "Good morning, Your Highness," she whispered, her voice honeyed and light.
"Good morning," Conrad responded, his voice a low and gravelly rasp.
"I hope you slept well?" Danielle asked, reaching out to brush a stray lock of hair from his forehead.
Conrad winced at the movement, the pressure in his head spiking. "I did. But I cannot explain the splitting headache I am currently dealing with. It feels like a dull blade behind my eyes."
Danielle’s expression shifted into one of exaggerated sympathy. "Oh, you poor thing. If we were home, I would have made you my mother’s special herbal tea. It works like magic for tension. It is a family secret."
Conrad chuckled, adjusting himself to sit up against the headboard. "Sadly, we are not in your house, Danielle. My staff can prepare something once we leave." He paused, his nose twitching again as he looked at her. "Did you change your perfume from what you wore last night?"
Danielle stiffened for a fraction of a second, her hand faltering. She forced a small, airy laugh. "No, of course not. Why would you ask that?"
"It just seems... stronger," Conrad muttered, rubbing his brow.
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9.5
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Until one day--The world-famous life-saving medical sovereign is her.The enigmatic top forensic specialist is her.The grandmaster hacker hunted across the globe is also her.
One hidden identity of the young miss came to light after another.Shocked and dumbfounded, the crowd fell to their knees to beg for forgiveness.
In an instant, Evie was cornered by the mysterious powerhouse.Hartwell's voice lured and mesmerized:"Darling, you have countless secret identities. Would you mind taking on one more, being my wife!"
9.1
What would a woman do if one day she is waiting for her husband to tell him the news of her pregnancy but he comes home with another woman who is pregnant with his child?
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Ariadne had a perfect life until her mother died in a car accident and her father remarried, bringing a stepmother and stepsister into her life. Once adored by all, Ariadne became an eyesore to everyone, including her father. Her stepmother and stepsister took everything from her.
However, she lost it when their eyes fell on Xander, the sole heir of the richest family in the country and her childhood love. When rumors of Crystal, her step sister and Xander's dating spread, Ariadne used her everything to force Xander into marrying her.
Despite pouring her heart and soul into the marriage Ariadne failed to make Xander reciprocate her feelings. Their loveless marriage came to an end when Crystal returned in their lives.
With a broken heart, Ariadne left the city with a secret and rebuild her life.
Five years later, she returned as a successful interior designer to design her ex-husband's new mansion. But this time, what she saw in Xander's eyes for herself was not hatred. It was something else.
She came face to face with the same people who had wronged her in the past. They still held resentment towards her. But this time Ariadne vowed to strike back at her bullies.
Many secrets were revealed in the process that made Xander regret his past actions. He determined to win Ariadne back.
BUT Will Ariadne be able to forget their past and get back together with Xander or She will choose someone else?
9.2
Arla was supposed to marry Clinton Freeman, the perfect fiancé who had promised to love her and protect her five-year-old son.
But instead, the cold steel of a dagger pierced her chest.
As she collapsed onto the freezing basement floor, she watched her adoptive sister Blair laugh.
"Look at her," Blair sneered, kicking her son's small, blue, lifeless body.
Clinton stood there, calmly wiping the bloody blade on a pristine handkerchief.
In her dying moments, the horrifying truth became clear. Her fiancé and her adoptive family had been plotting all along to steal her massive trust fund.
To break her, they had secretly tortured her child. Clinton had watched Blair pierce the little boy's arms with sewing needles, rewarding him with candy to keep him silent.
Arla's lungs burned with the taste of copper and ash.
She couldn't understand why the family she trusted could be so monstrous, or why they had to brutally murder an innocent child just for money.
The darkness swallowed her whole, drowning her in suffocating hatred and absolute despair.
Then, she gasped for air.
The concrete floor was gone, replaced by the silk sheets of a hotel penthouse suite.
Arla had been reborn to the exact night six years ago—the very day Blair first dragged her son into the dark attic.
This time, she picked up a solid silver letter opener, ready to burn them all to the ground.
7.4
I was freezing to death in an abandoned cabin, desperately waiting for my fiancé to save me.
Instead, my phone flickered with a video from my adopted sister.
She was smiling as she confessed that she and my fiancé had orchestrated my kidnapping, and my parents' fatal plane crash, just to steal my family's trust fund.
When I called him with my dying breath, he mocked me for faking a PR stunt and hung up.
I died in the sub-zero blizzard, consumed by absolute despair.
But as a ghost, I watched my greatest business rival, the ruthless billionaire Collins, kick down the doors of my mansion.
He didn't just mourn me.
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I couldn't understand why the man I had publicly despised for a decade loved me so fiercely, while the people I gave everything to wanted me dead.
Opening my eyes again, I was back backstage on the night I won my Oscar, four years ago.
My fiancé smiled, holding out his arms to hug me.
I pushed him away in disgust, marched straight into the crowded theater, and kissed my billionaire rival on live television.
"Let's get married tomorrow."
This time, I would use him to burn them all to the ground.
7.9
Cora Foster was a brilliant archaeologist, but a jagged burn scar across her face made the world treat her like a contagious monster.
During an elite excavation of a Gilded Age crypt, touching an ancient artifact triggered a terrifying memory. She remembered being Seraphina Beaumont, a socialite brutally buried alive by her vain, cruel sister, Isolde.
When the team pried open the crypt's pristine mahogany casket, they cheered, believing the mummified corpse inside was Seraphina. But Cora recognized the onyx hairpin and the angular jawline. It was Isolde. The sister who had stolen her life, mocked her agony, and left her to suffocate in the dark. Her colleagues scoffed at her forensic proof, dismissing her as a scarred, delusional liability.
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Driven by a century of agonizing grief, Cora secretly pried the tarnished ring from the mummy's stiff, dead fingers and dropped it into her pocket.
"What are you looking at, Foster?"
Julian's deep voice vibrated inches from her ear, his cold, predatory eyes locked directly onto her half-open pocket.
9.2
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Kamron set a ruthless penalty for her inevitable loss.
"You're going to take a bar of soap, scrub your face completely clean, and shove your bare face right into the camera."
Desperate to keep the fifty dollars she had just earned for rent, Chelsi begged for a different punishment, but Kamron coldly refused. With her heart pounding, she walked to the freezing bathroom, her hands shaking as she scrubbed her skin raw, bracing for the cyberbullying.
She squeezed her eyes shut, feeling utterly humiliated by the cruelty of the internet. Why did she have to be stripped of her dignity just to survive? She clicked off the filter, waiting for the tidal wave of disgust to destroy her.
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