The Discarded Heiress Owns The Wasteland

I found out my husband of three years had cheated on me and his mistress is the one who told me-because he didn't have the balls to do it himself. I move out and get a new apartment, a job as a bartender, and try to move on with a broken heart. I wonder where it all went wrong, if I hadn't been enough for him, if I'd been stupid for marrying him in the first place. I'm at work one night when he walks inside-the most beautiful man I've ever seen. He sits at the bar and a forest fire burns between us. I was depressed the moment before he entered, but the second I look at his blue eyes, I forget the dumpster fire that my life has become. I invite him back to my place and it's the most passionate night of my life. I expect to never see him again. I just want him as an anti-depressant-but he wants me all to himself. I just got my heart ripped out of my chest so I want something easy and no-strings-attached, but he wants all the strings because he's hooked. I don't get much of a say in the matter, and that's not surprising when I learn why-because he's the Butcher. The crime lord of all crime lords, the boss that overshadows all of Paris, that makes everyone abide by his rules-or pay. And now I'm his.

My father ordered me to marry into the cursed Vaughn family. Their heirs were rumored to die young from a mysterious genetic agony. My sister Kayden laughed, saying she wasn't going to waste her youth planning a funeral. So, I became the sacrificial lamb. When I refused, my father slammed his hand on the table and threatened to throw my dead mother's ashes into the city dump. "You are a struggling actress with no money and no power. You have no choice," he told me coldly. To make matters worse, my own agent drugged my drink at a business dinner, trying to sell my body to a sleazy investor just to secure project funding. I was completely cornered, suffocating under the weight of their cruelty. I couldn't understand how my own flesh and blood could be so vicious, treating me like a worthless pawn to be traded and discarded. But none of them knew that while escaping the drug-laced dinner, I crashed directly into the terrifying Vaughn heir, Algot. When his glowing crimson eyes locked onto me during a violent episode of his cursed pain, we discovered an impossible truth: my physical touch was the only cure for his agony. Looking at the dark bruises he accidentally left on my neck, I chose not to run. Instead, I pulled out the private business card he gave me and dialed his number. "You need me," I whispered to the dangerous billionaire. "And I am going to use you to destroy them all."

"You can't escape me, Aurora. You are mine!" The Alpha King's roar echoed through the palace walls. But Aurora just tightened her grip on the blade hidden beneath her cloak. She would never-never-give herself to the monster who murdered her father. Even if the Moon Goddess cursed her to be his mate. *** Aurora Regalia once had everything-a loving father, a prosperous pack, and a future that glittered with promise. Her father, the king, even chose her a mate: Logan Charming. Powerful. Charismatic. Cursed. She thought he was her destiny. Then she watched him tear her father's head from his shoulders. One night. One betrayal. Her entire family, slaughtered. Her pack, reduced to ashes. Aurora jumped off a cliff that night-not to die, but to survive. To become something her enemies would never see coming. An assassin. A ghost. A blade wrapped in silk. For years, she trained in the shadows, fueled by one single purpose: revenge. Blood for blood. She would make Logan Charming suffer the way she had suffered. She would carve his heart out and feel nothing. But fate had a cruel sense of humor. The Moon Goddess looked down at her shattered daughter and laughed. Because the man who destroyed her life? The monster who wore her father's blood on his hands? He was her fated mate. Now Aurora stands at a crossroads she never asked for. Every instinct screams for vengeance. Every fiber of her being recoils at the bond pulling her toward him. But Logan? He doesn't care about her hatred. He doesn't care about her blade. "You can run, little mate," he whispers, crimson eyes gleaming in the dark. "But I will always find you." And when he does? He won't just cage her body. He'll claim her soul.

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 am the biological daughter of the wealthy Fitzpatrick family, but I spent my childhood eating out of dumpsters. When I was finally brought back to the estate at age seven, I thought I would experience my parents' love. Instead, my biological parents looked at my dirty clothes with raw disgust. They only cared about Hallie, the fake daughter who lived like a princess. The moment I walked in, Hallie hurled a heavy ceramic cup at my head, slicing my hand open. "Get out of my house!" My father didn't even look at the blood. He raised his hand to strike me, accusing me of bringing trailer park rules into his home. In my past life, I dropped to my knees and begged for their forgiveness. I endured their abuse, hoping they would eventually love me. But they let the maids humiliate me, let Hallie steal my identity, and eventually threw me back onto the streets to die. Even my playboy Uncle Byron, the only person who ever showed me mercy, was driven to suicide by them. I didn't understand why my own flesh and blood hated me so much, or why a vicious liar deserved everything while I was treated like a jinx. Opening my eyes again, I was back on the exact day I first returned to the estate. As my father raised his hand to hit me, I didn't cower. Instead, I looked at the family patriarch and pointed directly at my notorious, alcoholic uncle. "I want him to be my new guardian."

I died on the cold delivery table, bleeding out while the heart monitor flatlined. Through the blinding surgical lights, I heard my husband Damon's cold, final order to the doctors. "The child is the priority." He didn't care about my life. To him, I was just a vessel to produce an heir, a tool to fulfill his prenuptial clause and secure his billionaire empire. While I took my last agonizing breath, he was already planning his future with his fragile, theatrical mistress, Jasmin. In my past life, when he first brought her into our home claiming she was a helpless victim, I shattered. I screamed, threw vases, and played the hysterical wife perfectly. My desperate pleas for his affection only gave him the exact weapons he needed to ruin my reputation, isolate me, and ultimately force me onto that fatal delivery bed. Until my very last moment, the suffocating pain in my chest wasn't just physical. I couldn't understand how the man I loved could treat my death like a simple business transaction. Why was my absolute devotion rewarded with a carefully calculated execution? But then, my eyes snapped open. I was sitting on the edge of my king-sized bed, exactly three years before my death. From downstairs, I heard Damon's voice echoing in the foyer, bringing Jasmin into our home for the very first time. This time, the scream building in my chest turned to ice. I didn't cry or throw a fit. Instead, I calmly swallowed a secret birth control pill, smiled at his mistress, and dialed the most ruthless divorce lawyer in Manhattan.