Forced Marriage To The Alien General Chapter 1
The flatline tone of the medical scanner pierced Allegra's skull like a hot needle.
She snapped her eyes open.
Blinding, sterile white light assaulted her retinas. She gasped, a sharp, ragged intake of air that burned her dry throat. Her chest heaved. The sudden movement sent a violent wave of nausea crashing through her stomach.
Her gasp triggered the life-support monitor beside her bed. The machine shrieked. Red warning lights strobed across the pristine walls of Trauma Center Room 402, shattering the dead silence.
The automatic doors slid open with a pneumatic hiss.
A nurse rushed into the room. Allegra's breath caught in her throat. The woman was wearing standard medical scrubs, but protruding from the top of her head were two long, white rabbit ears. They twitched frantically, swiveling toward the sound of the alarm.
Allegra's brain short-circuited. She scrambled backward, her hands gripping the sterile sheets. Her weak limbs gave out instantly. She collapsed back against the pillows, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird.
"Hey, hey, it's okay," the nurse said.
Her words were soft, spoken in a language that her brain somehow flawlessly translated as if it were her native tongue, but those ears were still moving. Paige Foster-her name tag read-pressed a firm, warm hand against Allegra's trembling shoulder.
"Try to breathe. You're safe," Paige coaxed, her rabbit ears flattening slightly in a universal sign of appeasement.
Allegra stared at the ears. She couldn't look away. Her mind spun, desperately searching for a logical, Earth-bound explanation. A cosplay convention? A hallucination from the crash? The lack of oxygen made the edges of her vision go dark.
Heavy footsteps echoed from the corridor.
Dr. Owen Reynolds strode into the room. Allegra's survival instincts screamed. His eyes were a piercing, unnatural gold. The pupils were vertical slits that caught the harsh overhead light. A wolf. The man had the eyes of a predator.
Owen didn't offer a comforting smile. He pulled a handheld metallic scanner from his coat pocket and leaned over her.
"Hold still," he murmured, his voice a low, gravelly rumble.
He moved the scanner toward the side of her neck, searching for a data port. Allegra panicked. She thought it was a weapon. She jerked her head away so violently her neck popped. The scanner's red laser beam missed her skin and painted a bright line across the white bedsheets.
Owen stopped. His golden eyes narrowed.
"Why isn't your Bio-ID chip emitting a signal?" he asked. The coldness in his tone made the blood freeze in Allegra's veins.
A chip. They were looking for a microchip. She didn't have one. She had no identity, no record, no legal existence in whatever nightmare world she had woken up in.
Allegra forced herself to take a shallow breath. The metallic tang of fear coated her tongue.
"I... I don't remember," she lied, her voice shaking perfectly. "My head hurts. The crash... everything is blurry."
Paige's rabbit ears drooped in sympathy. She looked at the doctor.
"The impact from the military hovercar was severe, Dr. Reynolds," Paige said softly. "She likely has a severe concussion. Retrograde amnesia isn't uncommon."
Owen stared at Allegra for a long, agonizing second. Then, he accepted the lie. He lowered the scanner and tapped a few commands into a holographic clipboard that materialized in the air.
"Noted. Unreadable ID due to trauma," he muttered.
Allegra let out a breath she didn't know she was holding. Beneath the heavy blanket, her palms were slick with cold sweat. She dug her fingernails into her own thighs to keep from shaking.
Owen swiped the hologram away and looked down at her.
"You were struck by a military-grade hovercar," Owen stated, his tone entirely clinical. "The vehicle belongs to General Benedict Blackwell."
The word military felt like a physical blow to Allegra's stomach.
"The General has already covered all your medical expenses in full," Paige added, offering a reassuring smile. "He is waiting right outside to check on you."
Allegra's pulse skyrocketed again. "No. Please. I need to rest. I don't want to see anyone."
"Military protocol dictates the responsible party must visually confirm the victim's status for the settlement," Owen said. It wasn't a request.
He pressed a button on the bed rail. The mattress whirred and mechanically forced Allegra into a sitting position. Her escape route of pretending to sleep was instantly cut off.
Paige uncapped a vial of pale blue liquid and pressed it into Allegra's trembling hand.
"Drink this. It's a nutrient serum. It will help with the dizziness," Paige instructed.
Allegra stared at the glowing blue liquid. It looked like antifreeze. But she knew she couldn't act too suspicious. She closed her eyes, tipped her head back, and swallowed it in one gulp.
Instantly, a rush of warm, electric energy flooded her veins. The numbness in her limbs vanished. Her eyes snapped open in shock.
Owen nodded in satisfaction. He reached for his communicator and pressed a glowing green button.
"Send him in," Owen ordered.
The heavy, rhythmic thud of military boots echoed from the hallway. Each step vibrated through the floorboards, traveling straight up Allegra's spine.
She instinctively pulled the blanket up to her chin, trying to shrink into the shadows of the hospital bed.
Paige stepped back into the corner of the room. The nurse lowered her head, her rabbit ears pressing flat against her skull in a display of absolute submission.
Even Owen straightened his posture, tugging at the collar of his white coat. The shift in the room's atmosphere was suffocating.
The heavy metal doors groaned and slid apart.
A blast of freezing air swept into the warm room. It smelled of ozone, crushed pine, and raw power. Allegra shivered uncontrollably.
A massive figure filled the doorway. He was dressed in a pitch-black military uniform, the chest adorned with cold, gleaming medals. The sheer size of him sucked the oxygen from the room.
He stepped inside, ducking his head slightly to clear the doorframe.
Behind him, a thick, muscular tail covered in white fur and black rosettes lashed the air with agitated force. A snow leopard.
Allegra's breath hitched.
Benedict Blackwell stopped at the foot of her bed. He lifted his head. His eyes were the color of glacial ice, piercing and utterly ruthless.
His gaze locked onto hers, and the air in the room turned to solid glass.
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Forced Marriage To The Alien General of Contents
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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.
Eva Brooks, a 25-year-old woman, was set up by her best friend. Her fiancé broke up with her and demanded compensation for allegedly cheating on him.
Eva had a one-night stand with the richest CEO in Dominic City, Ethan Owen. He was arrogant and offered her a job as his secretary.
As his secretary, Ethan couldn't shake his fondness for Eva. He became obsessed with her, worrying that she was cheating on him.
He broke up with his fiancée to become engaged to Eva, but will his fiancée let him go? Will Eva accept a relationship with her boss?
For three years, I played the perfect, submissive housewife to billionaire Julian Harrison.
But right after an intimate night together, he coldly threw a divorce agreement onto the bed.
"Scarlett landed an hour ago. I need my single status restored to welcome her back."
That same night, I ended up in the emergency room and discovered I was pregnant with twins.
When Julian found out, he didn't show a shred of joy. Instead, he stormed into my hospital room, threw a blank check directly at my face, and ordered me to get rid of them.
He accused me of using the babies as a sick game to trap his assets.
Then, his ruthless lawyer kicked me out of our penthouse, confiscating the jewelry he gifted me and tossing my worn-out notebook onto the floor like garbage.
Standing in the freezing rain, my heart completely died.
I had swallowed my pride, managed his life, and cooked his meals to his exact standards for three years, only to be thrown away the second his first love returned.
But he didn't know that the notebook his lawyer discarded contained the secret formulas of Aura Beauty, a billion-dollar empire I built in the shadows.
I tore his check into pieces, blocked his number, and left in a Maybach sent by my associate.
Logging into my global CEO database, I looked at his company's fragile stock chart with a predatory smile.
The docile Mrs. Harrison died in the rain. It was time to crush his empire.
I was the top commander of a black-ops military program. After slaughtering my way through a hellish mission, I reached the extraction helicopter, trusting my second-in-command to watch my back.
But the moment our hands locked, he didn't pull me up. Instead, he plunged a syringe of lethal neurotoxin directly into my neck.
He aimed his gun at my chest, coldly stating that I was too dangerous to live. My lungs stopped, and I died in a pool of my own blood. But the endless blackness suddenly shattered. My consciousness violently forced its way into a new, broken shell. I woke up in a freezing alley, soaked in muddy rain.
This body belonged to seventeen-year-old Eliza Wyatt. A massive wave of foreign memories crashed into my brain. Her own younger sister had just stood at the top of the stairs with a mocking smile, watching street thugs beat Eliza to death.
"Take good care of the Wyatt family's eldest daughter. Tonight is the night she finally disappears."
The endless humiliation, the cold stares of her family, and the brutal betrayal by her own blood flashed before my eyes. Why was this fragile girl treated like garbage and pushed to her death by the very people who should have protected her?
I looked down at my pale, trembling hands. The top commander was dead, but in this bleeding shell, Eliza Wyatt was very much alive. I picked up a switchblade from the bloody puddle and stood up in the storm. It was time to hunt.
Justine abandoned her career as a top trauma surgeon to marry Congressman Carl McConnell. She did it to fulfill her dying sister's last wish: to protect her son, Leo, from this ruthless political family.
But the seven-year-old boy she swore to protect shoved her into a freezing koi pond, then cried to his father that Justine tried to drown him.
Carl didn't even check the security cameras. He hugged his precious heir and looked at his freezing wife with pure disgust.
"Are you out of your mind? Trying to hurt the heir to the McConnell family!"
He locked Justine in a 55-degree wine cellar while she was burning with a 102-degree fever. When she finally told him the truth, Carl flew into a rage and hurled a heavy brass-cornered book at her face, slicing her cheekbone wide open.
His mother even ordered the staff to starve her for seven days to reflect on her sins.
Justine stood in the dark, blood dripping down her face, her heart completely dead. She had sacrificed her brilliant future and her pride for this family, only to be tortured and discarded like garbage. How could they be so utterly devoid of humanity?
She pulled out her old medical kit and stitched up her own face.
Then, she signed the legal documents to permanently relinquish her stepparent rights, threw them at the housekeeper, and calmly looked at her abusive husband.
"I am divorcing you, Carl."
On the eve of my glamorous Waldorf Astoria wedding, I went to the penthouse to surprise my fiancé, Hugh, wearing my late mother's heirloom pearls.
Instead, I heard my stepsister's familiar laugh and caught them tangled together on the sofa.
Through the cracked door, I heard Hugh slur that he was only marrying me for my family's financial backing.
"As soon as I secure my inheritance, she's the first thing I'm getting rid of," he promised her.
Floy giggled and asked for my mother's pearl necklace, my only legacy. Hugh agreed without hesitation, mocking my dead mother's naivety and my desperate dreams of building a family.
Every sweet word he had ever said was a lie, a knife he had been patiently sliding between my ribs for years. They planned to strip me of everything the moment I signed the prenup.
I didn't cry or scream. The crushing weight of their betrayal hollowed me out, leaving behind a terrifying, absolute calm.
Why should I be the one to lose everything while they stole my future and insulted my mother's memory?
I calmly walked down the hall, set the prenuptial agreement on fire, and vanished into the rainy night.
If Hugh wanted to play dirty for the Maxwell empire, I would play for keeps.
Using a forgotten, century-old family covenant, I was going to marry Hugh's uncle-the comatose, paralyzed war hero, Fleet Maxwell.
I would return not as a naive bride, but as their worst nightmare: his aunt, and the new lady of the house.
