His Unwanted Mate is a Secret White Wolf

His Unwanted Mate, Her Forbidden Magic

For five years, I was the Alpha's mate, but my husband, Mark, saved all his affection for another woman. At a grand pack gala, our fragile charade came crashing down when a massive crystal chandelier tore from the ceiling, plummeting towards the three of us. In that horrifying second, Mark made his choice. He violently shoved me aside-not to safety, but directly into the path of splintering debris. He used his own body as a shield, but only for Isabella, his mistress. I woke up in the infirmary, my body shattered and my connection to my wolf spirit crippled for life. When he finally visited, it wasn't with remorse. He stood over my bed and performed the ultimate betrayal: the rite of severance, brutally tearing our sacred bond in two. The spiritual agony was so profound it stopped my heart. As the monitor flatlined, the pack doctor burst in, his eyes wide with horror as he looked from my lifeless body to Mark's cold face. "What did you do?" he screamed. "By the Moon Goddess, she's carrying your heir."

The Placeholder Bride's Secret Billionaire Revenge

For two years, I was the invisible force behind tech billionaire Kieran Douglas, convinced that our "private" romance was his way of protecting us from the tabloid spotlight. I managed his mergers, warmed his bed, and waited for a future that didn't exist. The illusion shattered at 6:00 AM when a Page Six alert debuted Kieran’s "real" romance with socialite Aspen Schneider. Before I could even process the betrayal, Kieran sent me a cold, professional text: "Order flowers for Aspen. Pink peonies. Her favorite." When I tried to walk away, my own mother called me a disgrace and threatened to lock my inheritance forever unless I married a sixty-year-old businessman to save her failing estate. At a high-society gala that same night, Aspen intentionally crushed my burned hand in front of the cameras, while Kieran stood by and dismissed me as a "mediocre assistant" who had overstayed her welcome. I stood in the cold New York rain, drenched in champagne and humiliation, realizing that every sacrifice I made for Kieran was a joke. I was a ghost in a penthouse that was never mine, discarded the moment his "soulmate" returned. To the world, I was just a placeholder whose time had run out. But Kieran forgot one thing: my father’s multi-million dollar trust fund unlocks the moment I legally marry. I didn't need love; I needed a signature and a shield. I walked into a discreet law firm and signed a marriage contract with a man I believed was the city’s most notorious, scandal-ridden playboy. I thought I was marrying a degenerate "beard" to buy my freedom and secure my revenge. I didn't realize the man who signed that paper wasn't a playboy at all, but Gaston Collins—the most powerful and dangerous man on Wall Street—and he had no intention of letting our fake marriage stay fake.

Viral Betrayal: A Wife's Agony

My husband Jeremy crashed a wedding for his ex, Donnie, and the video went viral. I was at home, pregnant and making his favorite lasagna, when I saw him screaming about saving her from the groom. This wasn't the first time. Three years ago, his obsession with playing her hero cost me our first baby. He swore it would never happen again. He had promised to be there for my prenatal check-up, but he abandoned me to rescue her instead. When he finally came home that night, he fell to his knees, crying and begging for another chance, just like he did before. He looked pathetic. But this time, I felt nothing but a cold, hollow emptiness. The woman who loved him was already dead. I looked him straight in the eye and calmly delivered the final blow. "I had an abortion today. The baby is gone." "Sign the papers, Jeremy."

The Stuttering Heiress's Revenge

My name is Jennifer Smith, and for eight years, I believed I was the luckiest woman alive. I was marrying Ethan, the charismatic musician who' d promised to be my rock, the one who saw past my severe stutter. At our rehearsal dinner, my parents gifted us millions: a trust fund and a historic Beacon Hill brownstone. Then, Ethan' s mother, loud and sharp, mocked my stutter, questioning my ability to speak my own vows. Before I could even react, Ethan, my supposed protector, brazenly addressed my parents. He claimed that due to my "condition," managing such assets would be overwhelming. He suggested all wedding gifts be put under his name, for my own protection and to prevent anxiety that triggered my stutter. My father roared, slamming the table, refusing to make his daughter a business deal. The stress and betrayal were too much; he clutched his chest, gasped, and collapsed onto the floor. My father suffered a heart attack. While he fought for his life in the hospital, Ethan' s mother posted a viral video, painting us as cruel rich people who gave my father a heart attack for refusing to give them money. This malicious lie, going viral as #JusticeForEthan, reached my father's tablet. He saw it, and his heart gave out. In that moment, I knew. They killed him. Grief consumed me, but underneath it, a cold, hard fury solidified. I saw Ethan in the hospital, smirking, already plotting his next move to exploit my father' s death for gain. But he didn't know the game had just fundamentally changed. My father' s funeral would be the beginning of my war.

The Divorce That Broke Them All

The sound of shattering glass was the first thing I heard, a familiar prelude to years of belittlement and control in my own home. My husband, Ethan, his voice cold and cutting, threatened to take our children and leave me with nothing, casting me onto the street. My mother-in-law and sister-in-law snickered from the couch, reinforcing the lie that I was worthless, just as they always did. His words, his family's disdain, echoed the desperate, lonely motel room where I would die, twenty years from this very moment, abandoned and full of regret. But this time, as I stood there, watching my life unravel, I felt an icy calm replace the rage, because I knew this was my second chance.

Beyond the Betrayal: Gabby's Sweet Comeback

My hands, my father' s legacy, were destined for culinary greatness. I was just days away from the Golden Whisk competition, a scholarship to Le Cordon Bleu within reach, my dream of becoming a master pastry chef about to ignite. And Caleb Scott, the man I loved, my seemingly devoted partner, was supposed to be my biggest supporter. Then, with a sharp click, the heavy industrial mixer door slammed shut, my hand trapped inside. A white-hot explosion of pain, a raw scream. Caleb stood before me, his eyes cold, resolute. "Molly' s father died for me, Gabby. I owe her this." In an instant, he shattered not just my bones, but my future. My career was over before it began. Staring at my mangled hand, then at his impassive face, I couldn' t comprehend this monstrous betrayal. He offered to "take care of me," an insult layered on top of the injury. Molly, his childhood friend, later visited me in the hospital, feigning sympathy, holding the trophy I should have won. His mother then offered me a fortune – a bribe to disappear and erase me from their perfect narrative. I took the money, feeling my spirit crush under the weight of their callousness. How could the man who claimed to love me orchestrate such a cruel, calculated act? What kind of debt repayment costs another person their entire life' s ambition? Why would he so casually destroy everything I worked for, for someone else' s perceived gain? But as I packed the last remnants of my old life, clutching my father' s recipe book, I felt a new flicker within the devastation. This wasn't the end; it was a forced redirection. I would not disappear. I would reclaim my love for baking, on my own terms.

A Favor To My Boss

Emma had agreed to pretend to be her boss's girlfriend at an event where his ex-wife planned to show up with the guy she had cheated with. "We'll see how this turns out."

Love's Sweetest Surprise: From Brokenhearted To Billionaire's Wife

For five years, I believed I was living in a perfect marriage, only to discover it was all a sham! I discovered that my husband was coveting my bone marrow for his mistress! Right in front of me, he sent her flirtatious messages. To make matters worse, he even brought her into the company to steal my work! I finally understood, he never loved me. I stopped pretending, collected evidence of his infidelity, and reclaimed the research he had stolen from me. I signed the divorce papers and left without looking back. He thought I was just throwing a tantrum and would eventually return. But when we met again, I was holding the hand of a globally renowned tycoon, draped in a wedding dress and grinning with confidence. My ex-husband's eyes were red with regret. "Come back to me!" But my new groom wrapped his arm around my waist, and chuckled dismissively, "Get the hell out of here! She's mine now."

Hell In His Eyes, Heaven In His Kiss

Gabriela learned her boyfriend had been two-timing her and writing her off as a brainless bimbo, so she drowned her heartache in reckless adventure. One sultry blackout night she tumbled into bed with a stranger, then slunk away at dawn, convinced she'd succumbed to a notorious playboy. She prayed she'd never see him again. Yet the man beneath those sheets was actually Wesley, the decisive, ice-cool, unshakeable CEO who signed her paychecks. Assuming her heart was elsewhere, Wesley returned to the office cloaked in calm, but every polite smile masked a dark surge of possessive jealousy.

The Mute Heiress's Fake Marriage Pact

I was finally brought back to the billionaire Vance estate after years in the grimy foster system, but the luxury Lincoln felt more like a funeral procession. My biological family didn't welcome me with open arms; they looked at me like a stain on a silk shirt. They thought I was a "defective" mute with cognitive delays, a spare part to be traded away. Within hours of my arrival, my father decided to sell me to Julian Thorne, a bitter, paralyzed heir, just to secure a corporate merger. My sister Tiffany treated me like trash, whispering for me to "go back to the gutter" before pouring red wine over my dress in front of Manhattan's elite. When a drunk cousin tried to lay hands on me at the engagement gala, my grandmother didn't protect me-she raised her silver-topped cane to strike my face for "embarrassing the family." They called me a sacrificial lamb, laughing as they signed the prenuptial agreement that stripped me of my freedom. They had no idea I was E-11, the underground hacker-artist the world was obsessed with, or that I had already breached their private servers. I found the hidden medical records-blood types A, A, and B-a biological impossibility that proved my "parents" were harboring a scandal that could ruin them. Why bring me back just to discard me again? And why was Julian Thorne, the man supposedly bound to a wheelchair, secretly running miles at dawn on his private estate? Standing in the middle of the ballroom, I didn't plead for mercy. I used a text-to-speech app to broadcast a cold, synthetic threat: "I have the records, Richard. Do you want me to explain genetics to the press, or should we leave quietly?" With the "paralyzed" billionaire as my unexpected accomplice, I walked out of the Vance house and into a much more dangerous game.

From Trophy Wife to Scientific Queen

My husband Julian celebrated our five-year anniversary by sleeping with his mistress. He thought I was a clueless trophy wife, too dim to notice the vanilla and tuberose scent on his expensive suits. He was wrong. For years, I played Mrs. Vance, hiding my brilliance while Julian claimed my patents. An anonymous email confirmed his ultimate betrayal: photos of him and Scarlett Kensington in ecstasy. My heart didn't break; it solidified into ice at five years wasted. I activated "The Protocol" for a new identity and escape countdown. Playing the doting wife, I plotted his downfall, catching him with his mistress selling my work, and publicly snapping his credit card. His betrayals and stolen work ignited a cold, calculated fury. He had no idea the monster he'd created. I was dismantling his empire. I shredded his patent papers, stripping him of his ill-gotten gains. With a final tap, I initiated "Identity Erasure." Mrs. Vance was dead. Dr. Evelyn Thorne had just begun her counterattack.

Between Ruin And Resolve: My Ex-Husband's Regret

After two years of marriage, Sadie was finally pregnant. Filled with hope and joy, she was blindsided when Noah asked for a divorce. During a failed attempt on her life, Sadie found herself lying in a pool of blood, desperately calling Noah to ask him to save her and the baby. But her calls went unanswered. Shattered by his betrayal, she left the country. Time passed, and Sadie was about to be wed for a second time. Noah appeared in a frenzy and fell to his knees. "How dare you marry someone else after bearing my child?"