The Rejected Omega's Secret Royal Lycan Bloodline
I spent two years scrubbing locker room floors and collecting trash just to buy gifts for my girlfriend, Sylvia. I thought she was the only one who didn't care that I was a "wolfless" Omega.
But the day before my eighteenth birthday, I caught her in the arms of Dixon, our pack's future Alpha.
She laughed in my face, calling me a scentless puppy and admitting our entire relationship was just a cruel bet. When I lunged at him, Dixon beat me half to death. He pinned my bleeding face to the wet tiles with his combat boot and used a permanent marker to scrawl "WOLFLESS LOSER" across my chest. My pack cheered, and even at a party later, the people I thought were my friends treated me like a contagious disease.
I laid in my cramped dorm, suffocating under the crushing despair. Why was I born so weak? Why did I have to endure this brutal humiliation just for existing?
Then, my phone buzzed with an unknown number, and a cold, elegant voice spoke.
"Your trial is over, Aden. You are a royal Lycan, and your hundred-million-dollar trust fund has been activated."
Looking at the impossible string of zeros on my screen, the ancient beast in my blood finally woke up. It was time to make the Alpha who broke me choke on his own arrogance.
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Chapter 3
Aden POV
I dragged my battered body up from the damp tiles of the Warriors' Changing Room. Every step back to my cramped dorm room felt like walking on shattered glass. The black ink on my chest—*WOLFLESS LOSER*—burned like a physical brand against my skin.
I locked the flimsy wooden door behind me and collapsed onto the thin mattress. The room was suffocatingly silent, smelling only of stale air and the bags of recyclable cans I hoarded in the corner.
Sylvia’s cruel laughter echoed endlessly in my skull. *Scentless, wolfless puppy... just a stupid bet.*
I wasn't crying over a lost love. I was suffocating under the crushing weight of my own pathetic existence. Two years of scrubbing floors, starving myself to buy her gifts, and swallowing my pride, only to prove I was exactly what they said I was: a bottom-feeder unworthy of a Mate. A strange, dark power churned deep within my veins, a violent heat that threatened to consume me, but I dismissed it as nothing more than the impotent rage of a broken Omega.
My phone buzzed against the cheap linoleum floor, jarring me from my misery. An unknown number flashed on the cracked screen.
With trembling, bloodied fingers, I swiped to answer.
"Aden," a woman's voice spoke. It was calm, elegant, and laced with an unquestionable, terrifying authority. "I am Evangeline. Your trial is over."
I froze, my breath catching in my bruised throat.
"You are a Sharpe," she continued, her tone smooth as silk. "A royal bloodline that bows to no Alpha. Everything you have endured was to awaken the Lycan dormant within you. You are coming home."
A bitter, hysterical laugh tore from my chest. A Lycan? A royal? It was the most absurd, sadistic script Dixon could have possibly written. They weren't done breaking me. They wanted to build me up with a fairy tale just to watch me crash back down into the dirt.
"Tell Dixon his joke isn't funny!" I roared, my voice cracking with raw agony. "Tell him he won!"
I didn't wait for her response. I hurled the phone across the room. It slammed into the wall and dropped to the floor. I curled into a tight ball, letting the darkness and physical exhaustion finally drag me under.
Morning light stabbed through the grimy window, waking me with a pounding headache. My jaw throbbed violently where Dixon's boot had pinned me. I groaned, rolling over to retrieve my battered phone from the corner. The screen was spider-webbed with new cracks, but it still worked.
There was a notification. Not a mocking text from Dixon or Brennon. A banking alert.
I blinked, my blurry eyes struggling to focus on the screen. I rubbed them, my heart suddenly stopping in my chest.
*Available Balance: $100,000,000.00.*
I stopped breathing. One hundred million dollars.
This couldn't be a prank. Dixon was rich, but the Black Moon Pack didn't have this kind of liquid cash to throw into a fake app interface. This was real. The cold, hard numbers stared back at me, violently clashing with the pathetic reality of my dorm room.
My hands shook violently as I dialed the unknown number from last night. It rang only once.
"I see the trust fund has been activated," Evangeline's voice answered, completely unbothered by my outburst the night before.
"Who... who are you?" I choked out, staring at the impossible string of zeros on my screen.
"I told you. I am your sister, Evangeline," she said, her tone as casual as if we were discussing the weather. "I will be returning to Jork tonight to see you. I just have to finish dealing with the North American Alpha King. He’s been a bit... disobedient lately."
The casual mention of disciplining an Alpha King—a being whose mere command could force an entire Pack to their knees—shattered the last remnants of my reality.
The phone slipped slightly in my sweaty grip. I looked down at my chest. The black marker was still there, but the despair that had chained me to the floor was evaporating. In its place, that ancient, dormant heat flared into a raging inferno, whispering promises of absolute power.
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8.8
Strapped to the cold metal table in the hospital basement, I begged my Fated Mate, Alpha Marcus, for mercy.
He ignored my tears. With a voice devoid of warmth, he ordered the doctor to inject liquid silver into my veins—a poison designed to dissolve the wolf spirit.
"Do it," he commanded. "If she remains a wolf, she is a liability. As a human, she can stay as an Omega."
I screamed as the silver acid ate through my soul, severing the connection to my wolf.
Marcus didn't flinch. He wasn't saving me from my burn injuries; he was clearing the path for his mistress, Rachel, and their secret illegitimate son.
Broken and wolfless, I was forced to watch him publicly claim his bastard child as the new heir.
He thought I was submissive. He thought I would quietly fade into the servant's quarters to be his charity case.
He didn't know I had cracked his safe and found the DNA tests proving his three-year betrayal.
On the morning of his wedding to Rachel, I smiled as I climbed into the car that would take me to my "exile."
Ten minutes later, my scheduled email exposing every lie hit the Council of Elders.
And while Marcus fell to his knees screaming at the sight of my burning vehicle, realizing he had destroyed his True Mate for a fraud, I was already gone.
8.5
"Oh. God, Eli, please! I'm not on the pills," I gasped, my fingers clawing at his shoulders.
"With a pussy as sweet as that?" he growled against my neck. "Jett was the loser. I'm not. I'm gonna fuck this pussy till the end. Afraid you're gonna have my child?"
My head dropped as a shudder ripped through me. "You're crazy!"
His voice dropped to a whisper. "You're mine now. My woman. And I'm gonna fuck you until this pretty body of yours only knows me."
---
Rowanne Steele thought she had it all. A perfect marriage to Jett Carter, heir to the Carter empire, and a future filled with love. But when Jett dies in a tragic car crash, her world shatters. Her mourning days aren't over, still clinging to his memory, drowning in grief and loyalty to the man she thought she knew.
Until one night, a hidden truth rises from his belongings and everything Rowanne believed about her husband was a lie.
Lost and heartbroken, she runs into the only arms that feel safe, Eli Carter, Jett's younger brother.
What begins as a moment of comfort in the rain turns into a mistake neither of them can forget. A mistake that feels far too much like fate.
Rowanne swears it can't happen again. Eli refuses to let go. Whether forbidden or not, he's determined to claim her. And this time, he won't lose.
7.5
"I know you're pregnant, Valentina. That's why you have to die tonight. Two lives for the price of one, efficiency was always my strong suit."
On her third wedding anniversary, Valentina was gifted a shallow grave.
Her husband, Kennedy, the man she adored, was never a billionaire. He was a fraud who drugged her, watched her drown in a poisoned bath, and ordered her burial so he could marry his mistress.
He didn't know the gardener would hesitate. He didn't know she would crawl out of the mud, pregnant, broken, and alive. And he never imagined that ghosts would come back with teeth.
Dragged from the storm by Ian Kingston, the Titan of industry, Valentina is saved by a man so powerful that Kennedy is nothing more than a disposable bookkeeper in his empire.
To the world, Ian is a monster.
To Valentina, he is survival.
But Ian doesn't see a victim.
He sees Misha, his vanished wife, the mother of his two children, the woman who disappeared without a trace.
"You have 365 days to prove you aren't her, little bird. Until then, you will sleep in my bed, wear my name, and obey every rule I set."
Trapped in a deadly case of mistaken identity, Valentina signs the contract.
She becomes Misha Kingston, cold, ruthless, untouchable. Wrapped in emerald silk and Ian's dark protection, she walks back into the world that tried to bury her.
The next time Kennedy sees his dead wife, she isn't in a coffin.
She's in the arms of his boss. Wearing a queen's crown. Looking down at him from a throne of gold.
But as Ian's control turns into obsession, Valentina faces an impossible truth.
She is hiding a child conceived by her enemy... While being claimed by a king who refuses to let her go.
He buried a wife.
He's about to kneel before a Goddess.
8.2
Ashley was tied to a rusted iron pillar in an abandoned warehouse, the noxious fumes of gasoline soaking her clothes.
Her fiancé Devon and her stepsister Brittany stood before her, revealing a horrifying truth. Devon never saved her from that fatal car crash three years ago; he merely stole the credit.
Worse, Brittany smirked and confessed that Ashley's own father had orchestrated her mother's murder. Before Ashley could process the betrayal, Devon callously tossed a lighter. A wall of blistering heat instantly consumed her. Even when Bennett Hawkins, the cold and untouchable billionaire, rushed into the inferno to shield her with his body, they were both swallowed by the explosion.
As the fire melted her skin, Ashley died with agonizing hatred. Why did her own flesh and blood want her dead? What dark secret were they hiding about her mother's tragic death?
Opening her eyes again, freezing saltwater violently flooded her lungs.
She was back at her twentieth birthday yacht party, right after Brittany had secretly pushed her into the freezing Hudson River.
Staring at the hypocritical faces of her family pretending it was an accident, Ashley didn't cry or beg. She calmly snatched a phone and dialed 911.
"Yes. I need to report an attempted murder."
9.2
Five years ago, I faked my death in a yacht explosion just to escape my ruthless, controlling husband, Gerald Sinclair. Now, I have returned to Boston as the new Dean of Medicine at St. Jude Hospital.
My only goal was to secretly check on my seven-year-old daughter, Cassidy. But what I saw shattered my heart. She was locked inside a heavily guarded VIP suite like a prisoner, so psychologically broken that she was standing on a windowsill, ready to jump.
Gerald's armed security team treated the hospital like a military base, forcing her to swallow heavy psychiatric pills. When she managed to escape through the air ducts and collapsed into my arms in the courtyard, her small, feverish body trembled violently.
"No! I don't want to go back to the white room!"
She begged me, crying in terror. But because my identity was a secret, I could only watch helplessly as Gerald's security chief tore my own child from my embrace and locked her back in the cage.
I didn't understand why Gerald would rather destroy our daughter's mind than let us go. Was his twisted obsession and need for control worth driving his own flesh and blood to the brink of death?
Now, my cover is blown. Gerald just received the message that I am alive, and he is flying back in a blind rage, freezing my accounts and locking down the entire city to trap me.
But he forgot one thing. I am no longer the helpless wife he backed into a corner. This time, I am taking my daughter back.
9.0
Ellen had spent ten years cleaning her husband's home, a quiet devotion to the man who demanded her constant labor. But while vacuuming under their bed, her world shattered with a single, horrifying discovery. Hidden away was a secret phone, revealing a life her husband had built with another woman and child for the past eight years.
A decade of devoted homemaking for Adrian in their Los Angeles home was Ellen’s life. While cleaning, she found a hidden compartment and a new iPhone, which she shockingly unlocked. The wallpaper revealed Adrian with a secret family in Austin—a double life since her own pregnancy. Texts detailed a $1.2 million house and lavish expenses for “Angel.” Adrian stirred, forcing Ellen to hide the device. Her son was denied a $200 class, while her $50,000 inheritance funded Adrian’s secret family. Rage replaced her tears. Ellen photographed all incriminating details, hid the phone, and forced a submissive smile. Her quiet devotion was over; her war had just begun.