Flash Marriage To My Disabled Commander
Six years ago, my adoptive family framed me for commercial espionage, stripped me of my identity, and threw me out. Now, I finally returned to the Solis estate as a commercial pilot to take back what was mine.
But the first thing my adoptive mother did was threaten me with that forged evidence again. She demanded I take my sister Kiana's place in a marriage contract with a disabled man, simply because Kiana refused to marry him.
When I refused, Kiana ambushed me at the airport with a mob of reporters. She cried for the cameras, publicly accusing me of causing our father's and brother's deaths. She painted me as a ruthless monster who bankrupted the company and ruined the family. The crowd instantly turned on me, screaming that I was a murderer and a gold-digger. Kiana wanted to completely destroy my reputation so I would have no choice but to submit to her arrangement.
I looked at her fake tears, feeling a cold, absolute fury. How dare she use the tragic deaths of the only family members who actually loved me as a prop for her sick show? They had ruined my life once, and now they wanted to bury me alive.
I didn't hesitate. I slapped her hard across the face right in front of the flashing cameras.
"That was for my father and brother."
Then, my real fiancé, a decorated Delta Force commander, rolled through the crowd in his wheelchair. He tossed a classified Pentagon file to the reporters, completely clearing my name and exposing Kiana's lies. I married him to start my revenge, but as I stepped into his heavily secured penthouse that night, I realized my powerful new husband had been preparing for me for a very long time.
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Chapter 1
The wheels of the carry-on clicked against the polished marble floor, the sound sharp and rhythmic in the oppressive silence of the Solis family estate. Elianna Baker kept her chin up, her pilot uniform crisp and stark against the gilded excess of the living room. She hadn't changed out of it deliberately. She wanted them to see it-the symbol of the life she had built for herself, the dignity they had tried and failed to strip from her. The gold leaf on the mirrors, the antique vases, the silk rugs-it all suffocated her. It always had.
Genevieve Solis sat on the main sofa like a queen on a throne, holding a delicate porcelain teacup. Her eyes, cold and calculating, dragged over Elianna from head to toe. The corner of her lip curled in disdain.
"Six years," Genevieve said, her voice slicing through the quiet. "You finally decided to crawl back."
Elianna stopped the suitcase. She didn't flinch. She didn't blink. She just stood there, her hands relaxed at her sides. "I came to get what's mine."
Genevieve let out a short, humorless laugh. She placed the teacup down on the saucer with a sharp clink. "Yours? You have nothing here. Except, perhaps, a debt." She leaned back, crossing her legs. "The Cromwell marriage contract is still valid. Kiana refuses to marry him. You will go in her place."
Meredith Adler stood near the fireplace, wringing her hands. She looked at the floor, unable to meet Elianna's eyes. "Julian Cromwell was in an accident," Meredith said, her voice trembling. "But the Cromwell family's influence is still crucial to us. You have to understand, Elianna-"
Elianna slowly turned her head to look at the woman who had raised her. The woman who had stood by and done nothing six years ago. "Understand what?" Elianna's voice was flat. "That Kiana's trash is my treasure?"
"Watch your tone," Genevieve snapped. She reached into the drawer of the side table and pulled out a yellowed piece of paper. She held it up between two fingers. "Don't forget how you left. Commercial espionage. Industrial theft. I have the evidence right here. One phone call, and you'll be arrested the second you step out of this house. You won't be able to get a job cleaning toilets in this country, let alone fly a plane."
Elianna looked at the paper. A wave of nausea hit her stomach, but she forced it down. Her face remained a mask of stone. Another lie. Another chain they thought they could use to bind her. She would break it, just like all the others.
Genevieve misread her silence. She thought she had won. She pushed herself up from the sofa, taking a step toward Elianna, her eyes glittering with malice. "You're just like your mother. A nobody. A cheap woman who didn't even know her own place."
The air in the room vanished.
Elianna's vision tunneled. The blood rushed in her ears, a roaring sound that drowned out the ticking of the grandfather clock. Her hands curled into fists so tight her nails bit into her palms. The coldness that swept through her was absolute.
She took a step forward. Then another. Her boots were silent on the rug, but the intent behind them was deafening.
Genevieve faltered. The smugness cracked. She took a half-step back, her hip hitting the arm of the sofa.
Meredith gasped, rushing forward. "Elianna, don't-"
Elianna shot her a look. It was a single, slicing glance that froze Meredith exactly where she stood. Her feet seemed glued to the floor. Her face went pale.
Elianna stopped right in front of the coffee table. The distance between her and Genevieve was only a few feet. She looked down at the older woman, her eyes dead and dangerous. "You can call me a thief. You can call me a liar. You can call me whatever you want." Her voice was low, a dangerous rumble. "But you do not get to speak about my mother."
Genevieve swallowed hard. Her hand holding the paper trembled slightly. She tried to summon her authority, straightening her spine. "You... you wouldn't dare touch me. I'll call the police. I'll-"
Elianna smiled. It was a slow, chilling expression that held no warmth. She didn't move a muscle, but the promise of violence hung heavy in the air. It was a predator assessing its prey.
Genevieve saw it. The realization hit her like a physical blow. The girl who had left six years ago was gone. The woman standing before her was something else entirely. Something she couldn't control. Something that frightened her.
Elianna let the silence stretch, letting the fear sink into Genevieve's bones. Then, she slowly relaxed her posture. The killing intent receded, replaced by an icy calm. "It seems you've forgotten," Elianna said, her tone conversational, "about the numbers on the Solis Group balance sheet. The ones that don't add up. The offshore accounts. The creative accounting."
Genevieve's face drained of color. The paper in her hand shook violently. "How... how do you..."
"You think I spent the last six years just flying planes?" Elianna asked, her voice dripping with contempt. "My passport. My birth certificate. Now."
Meredith looked at Genevieve, panic-stricken. Genevieve's jaw was clenched so tight a muscle jumped in her cheek. She didn't speak.
Elianna tilted her head. "I don't like repeating myself. I won't say it a third time."
The silence was deafening. The power had shifted completely. Genevieve was cornered, and they all knew it.
Meredith didn't wait for permission. She turned and practically ran for the stairs, her footsteps echoing frantically above them.
The living room was quiet again. Just Elianna and Genevieve. The older woman stared at her, a mix of hatred and terror in her eyes. Elianna stared back, unblinking, unyielding.
A soft vibration came from Elianna's pocket. She broke eye contact to pull out her phone. It was a secure messaging app. One new message from an encrypted contact.
She glanced at the screen. The message was brief. A confirmation of the next phase.
She slid the phone back into her pocket and looked up, her expression unreadable.
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8.7
For seven years, I was Alpha Zane’s Chosen Mate, suppressing my warrior instincts to be the docile, supportive partner he demanded.
On our seventh anniversary, while I waited by a candlelit table, I accidentally overheard his mind-link with another woman.
"Seven years is a habit, my dear, not love. She's docile, she'll understand."
He told Seraphina, his new political ally, laughing as he dismissed my entire existence.
I didn't scream or cry. I scraped the anniversary cake into the trash, drafted a formal rejection letter, and walked out of the packhouse.
But Zane didn't even notice my departure. He was so consumed by his new lover that my rejection letter was treated as garbage and tossed into the incinerator.
He paraded Seraphina around the pack, even handing my hard-earned strategic command over to her—a woman who knew absolutely nothing about war.
When my loyal subordinates protested, he violently suppressed them, declaring my absence a "childish tantrum" and framing me as the bitter obstacle to his destined romance.
He honestly thought I was just hiding in my room, waiting to beg for his charity and accept a humiliating demotion.
He had no idea that I had already crossed the border into enemy territory.
Tonight, I am attending his grand celebration.
Not as the heartbroken mate he discarded, but as the newly appointed Gamma of his deadliest rival, the Sterling Pack.
7.2
Elara Vex had everything-a flawless ice core, the title of prodigy, and a place at the pinnacle of the High Tower. But in one brutal night, it was all ripped away. Her mentor tore the core from her chest. Her fiancé drove a sword through her back. Her own sister smiled as she bled out on the cold marble floor.
When Elara wakes, she's years in the past, mere hours before her core is scheduled to be stolen. This time, she won't be anyone's sacrificial lamb. She shatters her own core with forbidden blood magic and forges something far more terrifying in its place-a bottomless, ravenous Chaos Core that devours magic itself.
Now, branded a worthless cripple and cast into the deadly Abyss, Elara is pulled from the darkness by the outcasts of Elysium Academy-a school for heretics, psychopaths, and everything the Tower despises. Under the tutelage of a reclusive principal who knew her murdered mother, Elara will master her forbidden power and uncover the Tower's darkest secrets.
When the Five Academies Ranking Tournament arrives, Seraphina Vex stands in the arena, draped in white saintess robes, ready to claim ultimate glory. She doesn't know that a ghost from her past has clawed her way back from hell. She doesn't know that Elara is coming-and this time, the prodigal sister isn't asking for mercy. She's bringing chaos.
9.6
She was sold as a broodmare. He was a warrior with no memory. Together, they'll burn down the world.
Lyra has been called many things: half-blood, mongrel, dirty blood. Rejected by every pack she's approached, she's given one final chance-as a bride to Ronan, the cruel Alpha of Red River Pack. But when her wedding night becomes a nightmare, she stabs her new husband and flees into the frozen wilderness.
Stellan remembers nothing. Not his name, not his past, not the ancient tattoos covering his body. He only knows that when he sees a terrified woman falling from a cliff into an icy river, he must save her-even if it kills him.
On the run from a vengeful Alpha and his army of hunters, Lyra and Stellan discover an impossible bond growing between them. The moon has chosen them as mates. But Stellan's memories are returning, and with them, a devastating truth: he's not just any wolf. He's the Alpha of the North Star Pack. And a half-blood can never be his Luna.
Now Ronan's brother has sworn revenge, an ancient prophecy awakens, and three packs prepare for war. Lyra must prove that bloodlines mean nothing-and that the most powerful bond of all is forged in ice and fire.
He lost his memory. She lost her freedom. Together, they'll find everything.
7.5
Kaitlyn Barton POV:
After three years building my family's hotel empire abroad, I came home to New York, expecting a warm embrace from my childhood fiancé, Edwin.
Instead, he greeted me with a warning. He told me to be gentle with his new girlfriend, Kacy, painting me as a villain before I even knew her name.
At my own welcome-home party, he let her stage a dramatic fall and then publicly blamed me for it, his eyes burning with a hatred I'd never seen.
He cradled her in his arms as if she were a fragile doll I had broken.
"Happy now, Kaitlyn?" he snarled, shattering twenty years of our shared history in front of everyone we knew.
In his eyes, I was no longer his love, but a monster he needed to protect his new flame from.
As he stormed out, my phone buzzed. It was a text from Everett Rowe, the man who had quietly loved me for five years.
"If you are truly ready, I will marry you. Right now. Just say the word."
My fingers moved on their own.
"Yes," I typed. "I'll marry you."
The moment I stepped back onto New York soil, a city I had once shared completely with Edwin, he greeted me not with a hug, but with a warning about his new girlfriend, painting me as the villain before I even knew her name. Three years abroad, cultivating my family's hotel empire, had prepared me for many business battles, but nothing for the cold, calculated betrayal that awaited me at home. He had replaced me, and then twisted our shared history, turning me into the aggressor he now needed protection from. This was not the reunion I had envisioned, nor the Edwin I remembered. My heart, which had swelled with anticipation, now froze into a solid block of ice.
7.7
I worked three double shifts at the garage just to buy a velvet-boxed cake for my wealthy girlfriend, Arleen.
But when I pushed open the VIP room door, I saw her lover kissing her bare leg.
She didn't push him away. Instead, she laughed and swirled her martini.
"I only forgot Finn because I knew he would stay. He is a poor boy from Queens who follows me around like a loyal dog."
Later that night, her lover intentionally crashed a Porsche to scare me, sending a piece of jagged metal into my skull.
Lying in a growing pool of my own blood, I watched Arleen crawl out of the wreckage.
She didn't even look at me. She threw herself at her uninjured lover, screaming for a medic.
"He just got scraped by a piece of plastic. He is faking it. Deal with Jaquez first!"
When I woke up, I wasn't free. Arleen had locked me in a private hospital wing with 24-hour security, planning to isolate me and keep me as her broken, captive toy forever.
My blind, pathetic devotion finally froze into absolute disgust.
I looked at the heart monitor next to my bed and grabbed an IV needle.
I severed the sensor wire to trigger a flatline, slipped out the fire stairs while the nurses panicked, and burned my identity to ashes.
This time, I was going to disappear to London, build my own empire, and watch hers burn.
7.3
Seven years ago, my fiancé, Don Dante Moretti, sent me to prison to take the fall for my adopted sister, Chiara. He called it a gift-a way to protect me from a worse fate.
Today, he picked me up from prison only to abandon me at my family's estate. His reason? Chiara was having another one of her "episodes."
My parents then informed me I'd be staying in the third-floor storage room, so as not to disturb the fragile girl who stole my life.
They celebrated her "recovery" with a lavish dinner party, while I was treated like a ghost. When I refused to join, my mother hissed that I was ungrateful, and my father called me jealous.
They assumed I couldn't understand their venomous whispers. But prison was my university. I learned Spanish. I understood every word.
It was then I realized I wasn't just a sacrifice; I was disposable. The love I once felt for all of them had turned to ash.
That night, in the dusty storage room, I logged onto an encrypted channel I'd set up years ago. A single message was waiting: "The offer stands. Do you accept?" My hands, scarred and steady, typed back, "I accept."