His Unwanted Mate: The Secret Silvermoon Heir
I waited a year for my mate, Alpha Justin, to return from the border war. While he was gone, I used my ten-million-dollar dowry to keep his crumbling pack afloat and buy life-saving elixirs for his mother.
But when he finally walked through the door, he reeked of another female's scent.
He brought back Gamma Brenna and a Royal Decree, coldly announcing she would be his "Co-Luna."
His family, who survived entirely on my wealth, immediately turned on me. They mocked me for being a wolfless orphan since my father and brothers were slaughtered defending the kingdom.
"You're just a fragile woman who belongs hidden away," Justin told me.
They demanded I accept this humiliation, step aside for his new warrior mate, and continue funding their luxurious lifestyle. Justin even arrogantly offered to sleep with me just once to give me a pup as a "consolation prize," declaring his heart and body belonged entirely to Brenna.
They thought my ruined pack meant I had no backing. They thought I was a pathetic victim who would cling to their scraps and accept a polluted mate-bond just to avoid being cast out into the woods as a Rogue.
They had no idea I had already visited the Alpha King.
I wasn't going to cry, and I certainly wasn't going to share my mate. I packed up every last cent of my ten million dollars, secured a Royal Severance Decree, and prepared to watch their arrogant pack starve to death.
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Chapter 2
Isla POV
He stared down at me, his chest heaving with arrogant indignation, waiting for the tears and submission he believed he was owed.
I didn't give him the satisfaction. Instead, I let out a soft, humorless laugh that echoed in the dim Luna's Suite.
"A Gamma aura?" I repeated, my voice dropping to a deadly calm. "Justin, you speak of strength, yet you are blind to the reality of your own Pack. Bloodfang is a hollow shell."
His eyes narrowed. "Watch your mouth, Isla."
"Or what?" I challenged, remaining seated but projecting a stillness that made his Inner Wolf twitch. "Will you cut off my funds? Oh, wait. You can't. Your Pack's vault couldn't even produce a hundred thousand dollars if your life depended on it. For the past year, I have been the one keeping this estate from crumbling. I am the one paying for the food on your Warriors' tables."
I tilted my head, locking eyes with him. "And your mother, Luna Bertha? Those Lycanthrope Elixirs from Doctor Fritz Klein cost ten thousand dollars a pill. My dowry paid for every single one of them to keep her failing heart beating."
Justin's face flushed a dark, ugly red. His Alpha pride, fragile and unearned, shattered against the cold, hard truth.
"You dare throw your money in my face?" he snarled, his voice vibrating with a pathetic attempt at an Alpha's Command—which washed over my dormant White Wolf like a light breeze. "I am the Alpha! I am informing you of a Royal Decree, not asking for your permission. Brenna is moving in, and that is final."
He spun on his heel and stormed out, slamming the heavy oak door behind him. The suffocating reek of cheap spices and metallic blood trailed after him like a plague.
As his footsteps faded down the hall, the fragile mate-bond in my chest gave a pathetic, dying throb. But deep within my soul, my White Wolf let out a low, rumbling scoff of pure disdain. He wasn't worthy of us.
A soft sniffle broke the silence. Effa Rose, my loyal wolfless maid, slipped out from the shadows of the adjoining dressing room. Her round face was streaked with tears, her eyes red and swollen.
"Oh, My Lady," she wept, dropping to her knees beside my chair. "How could the Alpha be so cruel? After everything you've done for this Pack..."
"Do not call him that, Effa," I said quietly, my voice devoid of the sorrow she expected.
I reached up, brushing my fingertips against the smooth, unblemished skin of my neck. "He is no true mate of mine."
Effa blinked through her tears, staring at my neck. "But... the Moon Goddess..."
"A year of marriage," I murmured, my eyes turning cold. "And he never gave me his Marking. Our bond was never sealed. He is nothing to me now."
Effa choked on a sob. "But your mother's dying wish... she wanted you safe here, hidden away from the wars."
The mention of my mother sent a violent jolt through my mind. In a flash, the opulent walls of the Luna's Suite melted away, replaced by the burning ruins of the Silvermoon Pack. I could smell the suffocating stench of Rogues, the metallic tang of fresh blood, and the searing, unnatural burn of Silver weapons. I saw my father, Alpha Arthur Crawford, and my brothers, their bodies torn apart defending our home. My mother's desperate, tear-soaked face flashed before me, forcing me to hide my White Wolf bloodline just to survive.
The memory didn't bring tears; it brought a lethal, icy clarity.
I was done hiding. I was done playing the weak, wolfless victim for a Pack of leeches.
I reached out and firmly tapped Effa's forehead, snapping her out of her crying fit.
"Safety is an illusion, Effa," I said, my tone leaving no room for argument. "Dry your tears and go to my private vault."
"M-My Lady?" she stammered, rubbing her forehead.
"Bring me the Dowry Ledger," I commanded, standing up to my full height. "Every last cent of the ten million dollars I brought to this pathetic Pack is leaving with me."
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8.9
For three years, Alana acted as the sole tactical brain for the Dawnbreaker squad, keeping them alive despite being labeled a useless "Dud" Conduit.
But right before the crucial Ascension Trials, squad leader Cash handed her a corporate sponsorship contract. The condition? She had to become the "private companion" to a greasy corporate heir just so the squad could get high-tier gear.
When she refused, the teammates she had bled for unanimously voted to kick her out.
"You're just window dressing, a liability."
They revoked her safehouse access, burned her belongings, and the academy advisor even tried to force her into a state-sanctioned breeding program. They left her to freeze in the slums, betting she would desperately crawl into the rich man's bed.
What they didn't know was that her inability to summon an Eidolon wasn't a lack of talent. Her teammate Dallin had been secretly sabotaging her rituals for years, crippling her potential just to keep her chained as their free tactician.
Stripped of everything and pushed to the absolute brink, Alana's despair morphed into a deadly resolve.
Using a million-credit black market loan and a forbidden blood matrix, she forcibly anchored an Apex-Tier cosmic wolf disguised as a harmless silver pup.
When her ex-squad tried to publicly humiliate her and burn her new "pet" alive in the cafeteria, a flash of silver light severed Dallin's hand instantly.
Looking at her screaming former teammates, Alana finally smiled.
8.2
Trapped in a deadly fire at my own engagement party, my lungs burned as I reached a shaking hand out to my fiancé for help.
He stopped and looked right at me through the thick smoke. But instead of saving me, he wrapped his jacket tightly around my stepsister and ran, leaving me to burn.
I barely survived. But when I woke up in the hospital, my father and stepmother didn't even ask about my injuries.
They threw a stack of legal documents right onto my bed.
"Sign the papers, Avah. Step aside. Jaclyn is far better suited to be Kain's wife."
My fiancé then stormed into the room, publicly humiliating me with false rumors of an illegitimate child and threatening to bankrupt my company.
Four years of swallowing my pride to be the perfect, obedient pawn for our family business, all for nothing.
They threw me to the wolves without a single second of hesitation, expecting me to just lower my head and cry like I always did.
But the fire had burned that pathetic version of me away.
I ripped out my IV, letting the blood drip onto the sheets, and tore their contracts straight down the middle.
"The engagement is over."
I threw my million-dollar ring right at my ex's chest, then picked up the phone to call my trust lawyer. They wanted to take everything from me, so I was going to make them bleed.
7.9
Valerie Ashford, a girl who had just turned twenty-one, was introduced by her father to his business associates at a grand party, where she met a frightening, cold-blooded man.
That man was none other than her father's business partner, the CEO of a major corporation. He was taken with Valerie and had wanted her from the moment he first laid eyes on her.
For Rovano Morvane, whatever he desired was absolute and he had to have it, even by the worst means possible.
That night Valerie vanished without a trace and Rovano became the prime suspect, yet the Ashford family could not prove their allegations.
"P-please, I don't want to die, sir..." Valerie whispered so softly that Rovano had to bend down even lower.
"Didn't you just say you didn't care whether you were kidnapped or not? So shut your mouth." Rovano ordered.
Cold, Valerie felt the other side of the folding knife pressed against her cheek.
Rovano was going to mark Valerie.
It felt like something was missing if Rovano didn't take out his psychopathic urges on someone.
And this time, for the first time, he wanted a girl: Valerie Ashford.
Would Valerie's life end here?
7.6
Overnight, Ella lost her family, her home, and her entire life. Discarded by the foster system, she was left shivering in the freezing mud outside her ruined estate.
That was when Javier Shepherd appeared. The terrifyingly cold, powerful billionaire pulled her from the dirt, threw her into a massive glass penthouse, handed her an unlimited black card, and vanished overseas, leaving her in the hands of a cruel caretaker.
The caretaker treated Ella like garbage, feeding her cheap, processed meals while using the black card to buy designer bags. The toxic food triggered a severe allergic reaction. Ella collapsed in the dark hallway, her throat swelling shut, gasping for air while the caretaker locked the door and turned up the TV. She almost died on that cold hardwood floor.
When Javier found out, he ruthlessly destroyed the caretaker and sent her to prison. He guarded Ella's hospital bed with terrifying intensity and even moved into her apartment to stop her panic attacks. Yet, when Ella finally broke down crying over her dead parents, his eyes turned to ice.
"Losing emotional control over a juvenile past is an inefficient waste of energy."
He sneered, treating her grief like a bad financial investment. Ella was completely bewildered. Why did this dangerous man protect her so fiercely, yet hate her past so deeply?
It wasn't until his cousin visited the hospital that the cruel truth was revealed. Javier wasn't saving her out of kindness. He had been obsessed with Ella's mother—his family's adopted daughter who ran away years ago. To him, Ella wasn't a person to be loved. She was just a replacement asset, a ghost of the woman he never got over.
8.1
My billionaire husband, Cooper, was thirty minutes late to my father's funeral.
When the heavy cathedral doors finally opened, he wasn't there to comfort me. He was tightly shielding his mistress, Celeste, under his umbrella, treating her like a fragile lily while I stood alone in my black mourning dress.
The whispers in the pews were deafening, but they were nothing compared to the truth I soon uncovered.
Cooper hadn't just humiliated me—he had secretly taken my father's life-saving spot in a medical clinical trial and given it to Celeste's family. My father died gasping for air because of him.
Days later, while I was shivering in the ER with a 103-degree fever, I saw Cooper sneaking into the VIP maternity ward. He was holding Celeste, his face glowing with the ecstatic joy of a man about to become a father.
For three years, I swallowed my pride to be his perfect, obedient wife, only to let his elite friends openly mock me to my face.
"You were just keeping the seat warm until the real queen came back."
He let my father die, hid all our marital assets in offshore trusts, and made me take birth control every single morning, claiming he wasn't ready for kids.
I didn't scream, and I didn't let him see me break.
Instead, I hired Manhattan's most ruthless divorce lawyer, smiled sweetly as I handed Cooper his coat at home, and began secretly gathering the evidence to burn his entire empire to the ground.
7.7
Dasia's twin brother, Gerald, was an e-sports prodigy, the rising star of the Glory team.
But during a crucial moment, he was framed by his own teammates. They orchestrated a trap that completely destroyed his reputation and left his right hand brutally crushed.
Instead of getting him medical help, the club threw him out into the freezing rain, bleeding and disgraced. The manager labeled him useless trash and slapped him with a five-million-dollar termination fee to bleed him dry. Stripped of his pro status, the wealthy bullies at his prep school relentlessly targeted him, mocking his crippled hand and beating him down.
Dasia watched her twin brother cry in his room, his life and dreams shattered by the people he trusted. A violent, suffocating rage boiled in her chest. How could they smile while crushing his hand? Why should the victim be treated like a rotting piece of garbage while the perpetrators get rich and celebrated?
She didn't shed a single tear. She stood in front of the mirror, took a pair of scissors, and ruthlessly hacked off her waist-length hair. She wrapped her chest in coarse medical bandages until her ribs screamed, and pulled on his oversized black hoodie.
"Everything you took from him, I am going to take back with interest."
The girl in the mirror was gone. She was Gerald now. She secretly passed the brutal online tryouts for Glory's biggest rival, the elite Blackflame team, and signed their official contract. The revenge had officially begun.