Faking Love To Save The General
For five years, I was locked away in the freezing royal dungeon, starved and used as a bloody plaything by the kingdom's sadistic Cabinet Minister, Brandt Fischer.
He tortured me daily for one twisted reason: I simply looked like someone else.
When he visited my cell to casually announce my father's execution and drag a silver dagger across my neck, he expected me to beg.
Instead, I laughed, sank my teeth directly into his carotid artery, and was violently thrown against a jagged stone wall to my death.
As my skull cracked and my blood stained the moss, I thought about my so-called family. The moment Brandt had demanded me, my father, the Duke, handed me over without a single hesitation to save his own political career.
I was nothing but a disposable pawn, left to rot in the dark while the monsters who ruined my life thrived.
I died suffocating on my own blood and absolute, destructive vengeance.
Then, I opened my eyes.
I was lying in my silk-sheeted bed, reborn as my fifteen-year-old self.
Today was the exact day Lord Daryl Langley, the God of War, would be ambushed and crippled—the event that allowed Brandt to seize ultimate power.
I immediately stole a horse, rode to the palace gates, and threw myself directly in front of Daryl's moving carriage.
"I just didn't want to see a hero die like a slaughtered pig."
I didn't care if I had to shatter my own ankle to hijack his convoy. This time, I was going to save the general, and he would become the blade I use to slaughter them all.
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Chapter 3
Eulah threw off the thin silk blanket.
Her bare feet hit the floor. The thick wool rug was freezing against her toes.
She stumbled forward, her legs shaking so badly she almost collapsed. She crashed into the mahogany vanity, her hands gripping the cold marble top to keep herself upright.
She stared into the brass-rimmed mirror.
A young, pale face stared back. There were no scars. No hollowed-out cheeks from starvation. Just the beautiful, untouched features of a teenage girl.
Eulah raised a trembling hand. She traced the smooth line of her neck, pressing her fingertips against her pulse point.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
It was strong. It was real.
A wave of overwhelming disbelief crashed over her. Her eyes burned. A single, hot tear slipped down her cheek and splattered onto the marble surface.
Suddenly, her stomach violently contracted.
The phantom smell of the dungeon-the rust, the rotting flesh, the metallic tang of Brandt's blood-flooded her nasal passages.
Eulah bent over the vanity and dry-heaved. Her throat spasmed painfully, but her stomach was empty.
She dug her fingernails into the palms of her hands. She pressed so hard the skin broke.
The sharp, stinging pain grounded her. It forced the PTSD-induced panic back into a locked box in her mind.
Knock. Knock.
Two muffled thumps sounded against the heavy oak double doors of her bedroom.
Agnes, her personal maid, pushed the door open. She looked exactly as she had five years ago-young, vibrant, holding a silver washbasin filled with warm water.
Agnes gasped when she saw Eulah standing barefoot on the rug. She quickly set the heavy basin down on a side table and grabbed a cashmere shawl.
"Miss Eulah, you'll catch your death of cold," Agnes fussed, hurrying over.
Eulah stared at the living, breathing maid. Before she could stop herself, she threw her arms around Agnes and hugged her tight.
Agnes froze. She was terrified by the sudden, uncharacteristic display of affection from her usually reserved mistress. But slowly, she raised a hand and patted Eulah's back.
Eulah took a deep, shuddering breath. She forced her muscles to relax and pulled away.
She needed to control her voice. She needed to sound normal.
"Agnes," Eulah said, her voice slightly hoarse. "What is today's exact date?"
Agnes blinked, confused as she moved to straighten the silk bedsheets. She clearly recited the year and the exact day according to the Foundation Calendar.
The moment the date registered in Eulah's brain, her pupils shrank to pinpricks.
A bloody, forgotten memory tore through her mind like a lightning bolt.
Today. She was eighteen. Today was the day Lord Daryl Langley, the Kingdom's God of War, returned to the capital in triumph.
And today was the day he would be ambushed.
In her past life, Daryl had been attacked while entering the Royal Palace to report his victories. He survived, but he was severely crippled and stripped of his military power.
That ambush was the exact moment Brandt Fischer and the King began their systematic destruction of the military's influence.
Eulah's mind raced. Daryl was the only military force in the entire kingdom capable of standing against Brandt.
If she could save Daryl today, she would be holding the ultimate trump card in this deadly game of chess.
The grandfather clock against the wall chimed eight times.
Daryl was scheduled to enter the palace in less than two hours.
Eulah shoved away the complicated, heavily corseted gown Agnes was holding out to her. Noblewomen's clothing was designed to restrict movement, to keep them docile. She didn't have time for docile.
She tore through the silk dresses, pushing aside the frilly, pastel gowns until she found an old, unadorned riding habit from years ago-the simplest garment she owned. She pulled it on with frantic, jerky movements.
Agnes watched in absolute shock. "Miss! What are you doing? You cannot go out like that!"
Eulah ignored her. She yanked open a drawer and grabbed a leather riding crop.
When she turned back to Agnes, her eyes were completely devoid of warmth. They were cold, calculating, and utterly ruthless.
"Stay in this room," Eulah ordered, her voice cracking like a whip. "Cover for me. Do not let anyone inside. Do you understand?"
Agnes flinched. The sheer, overwhelming authority radiating from the young girl paralyzed her. She nodded dumbly.
Eulah didn't wait. She threw open the heavy glass French doors leading to her balcony.
She grabbed the thick, sturdy vines clinging to the stone exterior of the manor and slid down into the back garden.
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9.3
Alyssa Gregory slept with Benton Steele, a recently disgraced and bankrupt heir, just to humiliate him.
She threw a massive check at his bare chest, treating the former prince of Wall Street like a cheap escort.
But Benton didn't take the charity.
Instead, he manipulated her anger, tricking her into signing an ironclad contract that surrendered absolute control of her entire trust fund to him.
When her abusive mother found out she had funded a penniless outcast, she slapped Alyssa across the face.
Her mother froze all her bank accounts, locked her inside her bedroom, and arranged to sell her off to a degenerate politician.
Desperate to escape, Alyssa climbed down her balcony, falling fifteen feet and shattering her ankle on the stones below.
Stripped of her money and freedom, she dragged her broken body to a VIP club just to publicly declare that Benton belonged to her.
She thought she was the boss, playing a rebellious game with a broken man.
But when Benton effortlessly carried her away from the club and locked her inside his rundown apartment, the terrifying calculation in his dark eyes shattered her illusion.
How could a man stripped of his entire empire still radiate such suffocating, violent power?
"You bought me," Benton whispered, his massive frame trapping her against the sofa. "That means I have to take care of you."
Physically trapped and completely broke, Alyssa stared into his consuming eyes, her mind racing to find a way to turn the tables.
7.2
Azura Briggs was just a broke college student working freezing valet shifts to pay her adoptive mother's crushing medical debt.
Her desperate life shattered the night a bulletproof Maybach violently cornered her in an alley, and a ruthless billionaire kidnapped her by mistake.
After a harrowing escape, Azura was forced to take a humiliating "plus-one" gig at a high-end gala just to survive. But her date turned out to be the billionaire's arrogant nephew, who promptly abandoned her to the wolves. Cornered by a sleazy executive and his psychotic wife, Azura was publicly slapped, her dress torn, and left bleeding on the floor while hundreds of elites watched in disgust.
Just as she prepared to fight to the death, the crowd violently parted. Hunter Mcintosh, the terrifying man who had kidnapped her days ago, dropped to his knees in the broken glass and wrapped his bespoke jacket around her trembling shoulders.
Azura was completely paralyzed. Why was the monster who threatened her life now destroying billionaires just to protect her?
But the illusion of safety didn't last. Trapped in his Maybach hours later, Hunter threw a draconian employment contract at her feet.
"Sign it, and her care is covered. Forever."
He knew exactly how to break her. He was offering to pay off her mother's debt, but only if she signed her life away to become his personal assistant. With no other way out, Azura picked up the heavy pen.
8.6
Today was my father's grand second wedding, but for me, it was the anniversary of my mother's death.
My new stepmother, Marley, who was only four years older than me, cornered me. To establish her dominance as the new Luna, she ordered her servants to force me to my knees and violently ripped my late mother's necklace from my neck.
It was the only memento my mother had left me. Marley sneered, threw it to the ground, and shattered the gems. When I scrambled to pick up the broken pieces, she dug her high-heeled shoe into the back of my hand, mocking me as dirty trash. No one stepped in to help. My father was too busy celebrating his new marriage under the dazzling lights, completely erasing my mother's memory and leaving me to be abused in my own pack.
My heart was full of grievance and despair. Why did my mother's lifelong devotion end with her grave desolate and her daughter humiliated? I swore I would never become a weak, discarded she-wolf whose life depended on a man.
Desperate to escape the suffocating wedding, I ran outside and stumbled right into the chest of a terrifying stranger.
"No one should ever touch what is precious to you."
His golden eyes blazed with fury as sparks instantly shot through my veins. He was Kade Blackwood, the ruthless Alpha of the feared Blood Moon Pack—and my fated mate.
9.4
I was a New York photographer, but I woke up under the brutal sun of the African savanna.
Worse, I wasn't human. I was trapped in the body of a male cheetah, with two starving cubs clinging to my fur, telepathically calling me "Mom."
But I am a real man!
To keep my adopted sons alive, I had to fight hyenas and dodge rogue lions. But the real nightmare was my bizarre survival mechanism. Under extreme threat, I would uncontrollably shift back into my human form—stark, undeniably naked. I was forced to sprint across the plains with my bare skin exposed, carrying two cubs while escaping furious lionesses. I became a freak, the most confusing and humiliating legend of the animal kingdom.
Covered in bloody scratches and mud, I was pushed to the brink of despair. Why was I thrown into this beast's body? Why did my only defense mechanism involve profound social death?
Just when I barely survived a cliff dive to escape the lions, my path was blocked by two massive, highly intelligent prime male cheetahs.
But the alpha, Bradley, didn't want to kill me for my territory.
His intense gaze raked over my naked, bleeding human body with a dark, possessive hunger.
"You are full of surprises."
He purred smoothly, teaching me to magically summon a fur skirt before demanding I join his coalition.
"Oh, you'll come to me. I guarantee it."
Looking into his predatory eyes, I realized I was no longer just surviving the wild; I was the prey of a completely different kind of beast.
9.3
A pitiful wolfless Omega, Lana discovers that she is pregnant for her beloved fiancée and Alpha to be, Asher. He is the only man she has ever loved, but her world turns upside down when her Fiancée coldly reveals that he is getting married to her sister who is also already pregnant for him.
To make matters worse, her cruel sister and cheating Fiancé banish her from her only home!
Lana is devastated, but thankfully, her best friend Jasper, helps her runaway and hide her pregnancy from her former fiancée.
8 years later, Lana has become the mother to Asher's triplets and is engaged to be married to her best friend Jasper.
But by a cruel twist of fate, Alpha Asher suddenly changes his mind and kidnaps her!
So what is Lana supposed to do when she forced to choose between two powerful men, while also fighting off the traitors and enemies surrounding her?
8.6
For two years, I was trapped behind my own eyes, a prisoner in my own skull.
A crazed fan had hijacked my body after a brutal car crash, wearing my skin like a cheap suit.
When my soul finally locked back into my flesh in a cramped hospital room, I realized she had destroyed everything I built.
This parasitic stalker had drained my massive fortune to zero, buying luxury gifts for a mediocre actor and turning me into the internet's most hated woman.
My phone was flooded with death threats, and the hashtag demanding I go to hell was trending at number one.
Even the hospital nurses despised me. One marched into my room, raising her hand to violently slap my pale cheek.
"You psychotic bitch, you make me sick!"
Worse, my sprawling Beverly Hills estate had been foreclosed and sold to a mysterious billionaire named Kasey Dominguez.
I had absolutely nothing left. No money. No reputation. No home.
The sheer violation of watching a psychotic stranger ruin my life while I was locked in the passenger seat of my own mind made my blood boil.
I refused to let her destroy my legacy.
As the nurse's hand descended, my atrophied muscles snapped into action.
I twisted her wrist until the joint popped, grabbed the keys to my freedom, and slipped out into the cold Los Angeles night.
I was going to take my life back, starting with the billionaire who thought he owned my house.