Alpha's Regret: The Hybrid's Royal Contract

Helen was finally brought back to the luxurious Gallagher estate as their long-lost blood relative. But her new family didn't welcome her; they looked at her with undisguised disgust. The matriarch mocked her stench of poverty, while her step-sister Candice treated her like a feral animal. The patriarch, Fredy—who had built his empire by betraying Helen's mother—tried to break her spirit. He blackmailed Helen into attending a high-society gala by threatening to cut off her grandmother's medical funds. At the gala, Candice squeezed into a diamond-encrusted gown, desperate to seduce the guest of honor, Damian Montgomery. Damian was the most powerful man in New York, and he was currently tearing the city apart looking for a mysterious woman named Jane. Overhearing this, a sick, greedy smile spread across Candice's face. She planned to impersonate Jane to claim Damian's wealth and completely crush Helen under her heel. "Hide in the corner tonight. Don't you dare try to speak to anyone important!" They all thought Helen was just a helpless, uncultured country girl they could easily manipulate and step on to secure their stolen legacy. What they didn't know was that Helen was the real Jane. She was the lethal shadow who had saved Damian in the woods, shattered his grip, and robbed his highly guarded vault just the night before. Helen calmly adjusted her simple black dress and stepped into the ballroom, ready to tear their stolen world apart.

When I woke up on the muddy bank of the freezing river, I unlocked a brutal, unfiltered preview of my actual future. For the past six months, I had been the town's ultimate joke, chasing after a city boy who looked at me like a diseased insect. Everyone thought I jumped into the river because he rejected me. But the nightmare didn't stop there. In the future I foresaw, my entire family was destroyed. My eldest brother was handcuffed and dragged into a squad car. My second brother died in a pool of blood on the asphalt. My parents passed away from sheer grief and humiliation, and our farm was foreclosed. Meanwhile, Bart Hawkins—my family's sworn enemy, the boy everyone accused of pushing me, but who actually jumped in to save my life—became a billionaire tech mogul. I ended up starving to death in a damp, moldy basement, completely alone. I finally understood that I was just a pathetic, tragic side character meant to drag my family into hell. My own sister-in-law, Felicie, had been stealing our food and money, laughing at my misery behind my back. But right now, my mother was still alive, my brothers were safe, and the farm was ours. When Felicie walked into my bedroom, playing the devoted sister-in-law with a bowl of clear, meatless broth while a stolen roasted chicken thigh leaked grease through her apron pocket, I didn't play along. "What's in your pocket, Felicie?" This time, I was going to tear that horrific future apart with my bare hands.

Sera was the obedient, spoiled Hollywood socialite of the Beaumont family, completely devoted to her fiancé, Ethan. But her life ended in a freezing Eastern European warehouse, chained to a damp concrete floor. Right before she died, her captors shoved the transfer documents in her face. Ethan had sold her to human traffickers to cover his massive underground gambling debts. While she suffered in absolute hell, her adoptive mother went on national television. She squeezed out fake tears, publicly framing Sera for stealing family funds and eloping with a secret lover. Sera's reputation was completely destroyed, and she was left to die a miserable, agonizing death in the dark. She didn't understand why her family treated her like a disposable piece of trash. She understood even less how the man who promised to marry her could hand her over to monsters without a second thought. When she opened her eyes again, the biting cold and heavy iron chains were gone. She was back five years in the past. She was lying on a hotel bed, her limbs heavy with date-rape drugs, while a predatory Hollywood director hovered inches from her face. It was the exact "exclusive audition" Ethan had arranged to exploit her for the very first time. Sera didn't scream. With lethal, practiced precision, she shattered the director's wrist and brought a heavy crystal ashtray down on his skull. The bleeding man collapsed onto the carpet and whimpered. "Ethan promised... he said you'd be compliant..." Staring at his pathetic face, a cold, predatory smile stretched across Sera's lips. This time, she was going to systematically dismantle their lives.

For years, I exhausted myself trying to be the perfect, obedient heiress of the ultra-wealthy Carlisle family. But my reward wasn't their love. Instead, I was abruptly branded a fake, thrown out of the estate, and sent to a brutal black-site prison to take the fall for someone else's crimes. My cold CEO brother, Julian, didn't lift a finger to save me. My carefully selected boyfriend, Connor, sold me out without a second thought. In that maximum-security cell, I was stripped of my dignity. I ate moldy, insect-infested bread, and my soft hands were covered in thick, ugly scars from fighting off murderers. I watched inmates get beaten half to death over a single cracker, while my so-called family continued their pristine, luxurious lives on the outside. "She's just a parasite, let her rot." I died in that dark cell, completely abandoned. The sheer exhaustion of trying to please them, of trying to be flawless, washed over my final moments like a physical sickness. I didn't understand why my absolute loyalty was repaid with such ruthless cruelty. Then, water rushed out of my lungs in a violent, burning surge. I opened my eyes to the pristine blue pool of the Carlisle estate, my body completely unscarred. I had reverted to being fifteen again. This time, I was done playing the perfect daughter. If my fate was a prison cell, I was going to spend my remaining freedom tearing their perfect world apart.

For five years, I was the invisible force behind my charismatic architect boyfriend's empire, painstakingly designing the dream home we built together. But for the eighteenth time, Jayson canceled adding my name to the deed, rushing out on our candlelit dinner for yet another "critical emergency" with his young, attractive mentee, Ciera. He left me alone at our custom dining table, blindly prioritizing her manufactured crises over our future. Hours later, Ciera posted a photo on Instagram. She was sitting in his executive chair, wearing his unbuttoned dress shirt, with two empty wine glasses on the desk. When I finally confronted him the next morning, he didn't apologize. Instead, he looked at me with arrogant amusement. "Where are you going to go, Allison? Without me? Without this firm? Don't forget, I made you!" My love didn't die in a sudden explosion; it bled out drop by drop over eighteen broken promises. I had poured my soul into his success, only to be treated like a disposable asset in my own home. To make the irony even more suffocating, a plastic stick in my bathroom soon revealed two stark red lines. I was pregnant with his child. I didn't cry, and I certainly didn't use the baby to beg for his love. Instead, I packed a single suitcase, accepted a senior role at his biggest rival firm in London, and left a resignation letter on his desk. This time, I am building an empire of my own.

On our fourth wedding anniversary, I prepared a perfect home-cooked dinner for my husband, Carlisle. But the moment he walked in, he threw a marital settlement agreement right onto the table. "Sign it. Celine is back. There's no place for you here anymore." His mother and sister immediately marched in to supervise my packing, calling me a barren gold-digger and trying to smash my late mother's only keepsake. I signed the papers and walked out into the freezing night, thinking the nightmare was finally over. But the next day, a heavily edited video of a childhood friend helping me into his car went viral online. Carlisle's PR team released a public statement branding me a cheating wife, completely destroying my reputation. He let the world tear me apart, using my ruined name to play the victim and justify bringing his first love home. I had sacrificed my own dreams and endured his family's endless abuse for four years, only to be discarded like trash and framed for the exact emotional cheating he had been doing all along. Watching the vile comments flood my screen, my heartbreak hardened into pure, unbreakable ice. I calmly picked up my phone and dialed my father's number. "Dad, it's time. I want to come home and take over Mcneil Industries."