The Lycan King's Secret Deal with the Broken Omega

As a wolfless Omega, I just wanted to be worthy of my Alpha mate, Kael. So when his mother asked me to secretly deliver a classified treaty, I didn't hesitate. But it was a trap. The room she sent me to held a half-naked Rogue and a forged treaty ceding Pack lands. Kael kicked the door down and caught us. He didn't listen to my pleas. My best friend stood by and lied, claiming I was planning to fake a pregnancy to trap him. When I desperately cried out that I was actually two months pregnant with his heir, Kael looked at me with absolute disgust. "The thought of you carrying anything of mine makes my very soul sick." He formally rejected me, severed our mate-bond, and banished me to the wild. That night, a Rogue hired by his mother attacked me in the woods. He kicked my stomach until my baby was gone. When I woke up in a sterile hospital, I sent Kael one last desperate text about our murdered child. His reply was cold: "Stop the lies. You are dead to me." He then used his billionaire influence to blacklist me from every home and job in the city. I was left penniless, bleeding, and hunted by the man who once swore to protect me. My grief calcified into pure, vicious hatred. With nowhere to go, I risked my life to save an elderly woman in an alley. Her grandson arrived—Declan Kane, a terrifyingly powerful Lycan King whose authority dwarfed any Alpha. He offered me absolute protection from the Blackwoods if I agreed to a deal. I took his hand. This time, I would survive, and I would make them all bleed.

Chapters

Chapter 7

Seraphina POV

Two days. That was how long it took for my body to heal enough to be discarded, and for my soul to bleed out completely.

Standing at the hospital billing counter, I stared at the sleek black card Kael had given me months ago. Stop the lies, Seraphina. I don't care about your games. You are dead to me. The text he sent two nights ago echoed in my hollow chest, a phantom blade twisting in my heart. Using his money meant accepting his narrative—that our murdered pup was just a trick.

I shoved the card back into my pocket and pulled out a thick envelope of cash, my entire life savings from my days as a Pack secretary. The human clerk's eyes widened in pity as I paid the astronomical bill in full. I was penniless, but I was free. The last chain binding me to Kael Blackwood was severed.

Walking out into the biting wind, the sterile hospital scent faded. I thought of the money, of the Pack House, of Genevieve Blackwood. The Moon Goddess never blesses a traitor's womb. Her venomous whisper before the attack played in my mind. It wasn't just a cruel taunt; it was a confession. Genevieve had orchestrated the Rogue attack. She murdered my baby to keep her precious Alpha bloodline pure. A dark, vicious hatred took root where my grief had been. I swore to the Goddess, I would make her pay.

By nightfall, my exhaustion was bone-deep. I dragged myself to the cheapest motels on the city's edge. The first two claimed they were full the second they saw my ID. At the third, a dingy place smelling of stale smoke, the manager didn't even pretend.

"Mr. Blackwood put the word out," he muttered, avoiding my eyes. "No legitimate business in this city will take you in. We don't want Pack trouble."

I was a wolfless Omega, exiled and now hunted by the very Alpha who was supposed to protect me.

With nowhere to go, I collapsed onto a freezing park bench. My fingers numb, I pulled out my phone and searched my name. The results were a tidal wave of filth. Rogue's whore. Wolfless parasite. Articles and Pack forums accused me of faking a pregnancy to trap the Alpha. My photos were plastered everywhere, drowning in vicious comments. Kael was letting them crucify me. His silence was his endorsement. My heart turned to absolute ice.

A muffled scream shattered the quiet night.

I bolted up, my instincts overriding my exhaustion. The sound came from a dark, trash-littered alley nearby. I crept closer and saw a massive man—reeking of the sour, metallic stench of a Rogue—trying to drag an elegantly dressed elderly woman toward a rusted sedan.

"Hey! Let her go!" I screamed, stepping into the dim streetlight.

The Rogue paused, sniffing the air. A cruel smirk twisted his scarred face as he registered my scent. "A wolfless little bitch. Go away, before I gut you too." He pulled a hunting knife, the blade glinting in the dark.

I had nothing left to lose. As he lunged, underestimating my desperate rage, I grabbed a heavy metal trash can lid. I swung it with every ounce of strength I possessed, smashing it directly into his face. He stumbled back, stunned. I shoved him hard. His head cracked sickeningly against the car door, and he crumpled to the asphalt, out cold.

Panting, I dropped the dented lid and rushed to the trembling woman. "Are you okay? We need to get out of here before he wakes up."

She didn't seem to hear me. Her wide, tear-filled eyes were locked on my face. Slowly, a trembling hand reached up, her soft fingers brushing my cold cheek. The sheer reverence in her gaze made my breath hitch.

"Agnes?" she breathed, her voice breaking with a miraculous, agonizing joy. "My beautiful girl... I knew you were alive."

Continue to next part

I was tracing the gold paint on my own tombstone when a hand tapped me on the shoulder. It was Clayton. The same man who, five years ago, had left me bleeding out in a ditch because he didn't want to be late for my sister's engagement party. "Die quietly, Ivy," he had said over the phone before hanging up. Now, standing over my grave, he dropped his cheap plastic flowers in shock. "Ivy? You're... we buried you." They hadn't buried me. They had buried an empty box to save face, mourning a "troubled" daughter they had actually discarded like broken trash the moment I became a liability. Clayton's shock quickly turned to that familiar, arrogant anger. He accused me of faking my death for attention. He told me I was sick for putting the family through such pain. He even reached out to grab my arm, intending to drag me back to my father to apologize. "You're coming with me," he spat. "You owe us an explanation." But he made a fatal mistake. He thought he was talking to Ivy Dillard, the soft girl who cried when she skinned her knees. He didn't notice the town car waiting at the curb, or the man stepping out of it. Before Clayton's fingers could graze my coat, a hand made of steel caught his wrist. Collin Richardson, the most feared Capo in Chicago, stepped between us. "Touch my wife again," Collin whispered, his voice promising violence. "And you lose the hand." I smiled at the terror draining the color from Clayton's face. I didn't come back from the dead to explain myself. I came back to bury them.

Mafia Modern Romance

8.0

Flash Marriage To The Hidden Billionaire

8.0

My abusive step-family isolated me completely, holding my mother's medical funds hostage to control my every move. Yesterday, they finalized my sale. "You will marry Rudy Petrov next month. He is fifty, wealthy, and willing to overlook your lack of pedigree." Pushed to the absolute edge, I did the insane. I posted an ad online offering my life savings of $50,000 for a contract husband. A stranger named Brennan agreed. But my family wouldn't let me go. They forced me back for a dinner by threatening my mother's life-saving prescriptions. At the table, they relentlessly mocked my new "poor IT guy" husband and intentionally burned my hand with boiling tea. Worse, the housekeeper locked me in a guest room and forced drugs down my throat so Rudy could come in and assault me. I lay there paralyzed on the floor, bleeding from Rudy's slap, utterly terrified. I couldn't understand why my own family would throw me to the wolves, and I felt a crushing guilt for dragging an innocent, ordinary guy into my nightmare. Until a pitch-black Maybach smashed through the estate's wrought-iron gates at eighty miles an hour. My "poor" husband kicked the solid oak doors off their hinges, beat Rudy half to death, and carried me out into the rain. I didn't know it yet, but the ordinary man I hired to save me was a ruthless billionaire, and he was about to erase my family's entire empire by morning.

Billionaire Modern Romance

9.6

Framed By Betrayal: Billionaire's Possessive Contract

9.6

Haylie waited nervously at the Wall Street charity gala for her boyfriend Bryan, but a spiked drink hit her hard, leaving her stumbling into a VIP lounge. There, Chester Steele, the ruthless CEO of Steele Industrial, found her—drugged and vulnerable. What started as a frantic claiming in the shadows ended with him whispering she was his. But moments later, a security alert shattered everything: data breach traced to Haylie's terminal. Chester's fury exploded. He saw her brush past a Logan Group rival on footage and dumped her in the rain, firing her as a corporate spy. Bryan answered her desperate call with ice: "It's over." Reporters swarmed her door, branding her a traitor. Arrested at the office by FBI agents, she watched smug coworker Erin wave goodbye. Thrown in a cell, chained and grilled with fake evidence—offshore accounts in her name—Haylie learned the worst: charges now included her sick father, Ernest, framed for laundering the leak money. Plead guilty or he dies in prison. Innocent and raging, she couldn't fathom who planted it all—the gala bump, the logs, the forgeries. Why her? Who hated her enough to destroy her life? Chester burst in, posting unlimited bail but forcing her signature on a slave contract: live in his penthouse, serve him 24/7. As she collapsed in his arms, trapped in his gilded cage, Haylie vowed silently—she'd uncover the real traitor and make them pay.

Billionaire Modern Mystery

7.4

Pampered By The Fierce Tiger Shifter

7.4

Cadence, a modern botanist, woke up to a glaring sun and massive, alien purple leaves blocking the sky. She was stranded in a terrifying, primal world. Before she could process the metallic smell of blood in the air, a white tiger the size of an SUV crushed a giant boar's neck right in front of her. The beast locked its piercing blue eyes on her hiding spot. But instead of tearing her throat out, a blinding flash of silver light erupted, and the monster transformed into a towering, heavily scarred naked man. He was Harlan, a shifter who immediately claimed her as his mate under tribal law. Dragged back to his primitive village, Cadence faced a brutal reality. Unbonded females were targets, and she was expected to take multiple mates just to survive. The tribal women mocked her fragile frame, calling her useless. To make matters worse, her foreign scent attracted a rogue serpent-shifter who violently ambushed her in the river. The icy shock of the serpent's attack plunged Cadence into a deadly, burning fever. The tribe's Shaman tried his healing magic, only to shake his head and abandon her. "She lacks primal fortitude. She will rely entirely on her own weak vitality. I can do nothing." As Harlan held her shivering body in despair, Cadence felt a deep sense of desperate injustice. Was she really going to die in a filthy stone hut in an unknown universe, killed by a simple cold? No. She remembered her grandfather's strict survival lessons. Forcing her heavy eyes open, she grabbed her terrified tiger mate's hand. She didn't need their failing magic; she had science. "I need specific plants to live. I need white willow bark. And a spicy, ginger-like root." She rasped, preparing to show this savage world the true power of a modern survivor.

Fantasy Modern Werewolf

9.1

Reborn To Ruin My Cheating Fiancé

9.1

Isabella thought she had the perfect life as the wealthy Conrad family heiress, complete with a loving childhood sweetheart. Until she woke up drugged in a hotel bed, blinded by paparazzi flashes, as her fiancé pointed a shaking finger at her, screaming that she had drugged and seduced him. "She threatened to ruin Kaylie if I didn't sleep with her!" he yelled to the cameras. Kaylie, the newly discovered biological daughter, stood in the doorway weeping perfectly. Within hours, Isabella's adoptive father publicly severed all ties, froze her assets, and kicked her out into a violent thunderstorm. Fleeing the city, her car's brakes suddenly failed. As Isabella lay dying in the crushed metal of her Porsche, Kaylie strolled up with a pristine umbrella and a genuine smile. "The mechanic was quite expensive, but cutting the brake lines was worth every penny," Kaylie laughed. Isabella coughed up blood, her heart turning to ice. Her twenty years of family, love, and loyalty had been nothing but a cruel joke, destroyed by a calculated frame-up. She died suffocating on absolute betrayal and unadulterated hatred. Then, she gasped for air. She wasn't dead. She was sitting in the driver's seat of her car, staring at her flawless reflection in the rearview mirror. It was exactly four years ago—the day the real heiress first arrived. A chilling smirk curled the corner of Isabella's mouth. This time, she was going to rip their lives apart from the inside out.

Billionaire Modern Romance

7.1

Signed The Papers: Watch Me Shine Now

7.1

For six years, I was the perfect, obedient wife to billionaire Hartwell Ware, enduring his coldness because I thought my love could eventually thaw his heart. Then, my friend sent me a photo. Hartwell was at the airport, tenderly holding the waist of his first love, Eveline Craig. He came home smelling of her synthetic rose perfume, accused me of stalking him, and coldly demanded a divorce. His lawyer handed me a thick settlement agreement. It offered astronomical alimony and luxury properties, but it came with a humiliating ten-page non-disclosure agreement. He wanted to buy my silence. He wanted to strip me of my rights to our son and gag me permanently, just so he could parade his new life with Eveline without any PR backlash. Even now, he still thought I was a gold digger who had orchestrated a media scandal to trap him into marriage. I stared at the man I had worshipped for two thousand days. My six years of desperate devotion had been nothing but a humiliating, one-sided delusion. Hope was finally dead, and with it, my tears had completely dried up. He expected me to cry, to beg, to negotiate for more millions. Instead, I snatched the pen, crossed out the massive alimony, and signed my name on the dotted line. "I am taking the basic child support, and not a single red cent more." Leaving my five-carat diamond ring on the marble table, I walked out the door with nothing but my old suitcase.

Billionaire Modern Romance

The Lycan King's Secret Deal with the Broken Omega

Chapter 7

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