JANICE KELLEY

I was the crippled joke of the Silver Ridge Pack, while my cousin Elara was the perfect future Luna. When a seemingly weak rogue named Dravon arrived to claim Elara as his fated mate with a bouquet of withered flowers, she publicly humiliated and rejected him. To save the pack's face, I stepped up and accepted his bond, becoming the ultimate laughingstock. Elara tossed his wedding gift—those withered weeds—into a muddy animal trough. Out of quiet defiance, I picked them out of the slop and ate the mud-stained petals. But those weeds turned out to be mythical Blood Moonflowers, priceless treasures that triggered a violent, agonizing healing process in my cursed leg. Seeing my pain, my terrified mother and the arrogant pack healer restrained my mate. "Apply the silver dust salve," the healer declared proudly, ignoring Dravon's desperate warnings. Silver was a death sentence for my dark magic curse. I lay helpless on the cot, watching my own mother eagerly assist the man about to permanently destroy my leg. Why was my family so blind? Why did they always choose to break me? Just as the deadly silver paste was about to touch my skin, a terrifying, god-like pressure suddenly shattered the air in the tent. My "weak" rogue mate's voice echoed directly in my mind. "Close your eyes. Don't be afraid."

Today was supposed to be my fiancé's uncle's funeral, a solemn day for the billionaire Aldridge family. But right outside the memorial hall, I caught my fiancé and my sweet, innocent half-sister rolling around half-naked on a velvet sofa. I smashed the door open and exposed their affair to two hundred of Boston's wealthiest elites. Instead of apologizing, my fiancé cursed me for making him a laughingstock. My biological father, who had always favored his mistress's daughter, disowned me on the spot. They mocked my callused hands, calling me a cheap mechanic who never deserved to marry into high society. I was ready to walk away from this disgusting family forever, but then the military crashed the funeral with shocking news. The "dead" uncle, Callan Aldridge, was actually alive. He was brought back completely paralyzed with locked-in syndrome, given less than three months to live. His greedy brother and my cheating ex immediately began plotting to pull his life support and carve up his twenty-billion-dollar aerospace empire. It was a blatant, sickening murder hiding behind medical care. I thought it wasn't my problem, until Callan's lawyer handed me a marriage contract. Looking at the paralyzed war hero on the bed, I saw his eyes tracking me—cold, sharp, and entirely conscious. "Interesting. So the dead man picks his own knife." I picked up the pen and signed my name, ready to become their worst nightmare.

I was the legitimate daughter of the Gray family, surviving by acting like a timid, freckled outcast to appease my stepmother and my fiancé, Victor Sinclair. But at the charity gala, the two people I was supposed to trust the most drugged my champagne. They paid thugs to ruin my innocence, all just to steal my late mother's trust fund. Cornered on the sixty-eighth floor, I had no choice but to leap across the freezing balcony. I crashed into a neighboring penthouse, accidentally falling into the arms of Jeremie Stafford, the ruthless billionaire ruler of Wall Street. Driven out of my mind by the drug, I dragged the most dangerous man in New York into bed. When I woke up, my body was aching, and the blood on the sheets mocked my tragic fate. Returning home in my ugly disguise, my fiancé grabbed my bruised arm and looked at me with pure disgust. He cursed me for disappearing, threatening to ruin me, all while secretly laundering my family's assets with my stepmother. I didn't understand how they could be so vicious, treating me like absolute garbage while leeching off my mother's legacy. But they didn't know I wasn't the helpless idiot they thought I was. I had just left the furious billionaire a mocking one-dollar tip, fried his entire hotel server in seconds, and silently copied the evidence of Victor's crimes. "Jump while you still can, Victor. Your funeral is in two days."

They buried me alive before dawn. Bound, gagged, and choking beneath the dirt, I heard the old servant above me mutter, "Don't blame me. Blame yourself for getting in Lady Annabella's way." That name unlocked a lifetime of memories that did not belong to me. Clara Adkins-the wolfless Omega, the shame of the Stonecrest Pack, and the perfect victim. Her stepmother, Debora, had poisoned her for years while pretending to care for her. Her stepsister, Annabella, drugged her into humiliating herself over the Alpha King's son, turning her into the Pack's favorite joke. And when Clara finally became inconvenient, they decided to erase her for good. The original Clara died in that grave. But I woke up inside her body. In my former life, I knew poisons. I knew how to fight. And I had already learned what trusting the wrong people could cost me. Their mistake was leaving me enough strength to strike back. I killed the servant sent to bury me, crawled out of my own grave, and returned to the Pack covered in blood. They expected the same weak, obedient Clara. Instead, they got a woman who remembered every insult, every betrayal, and every debt. Then I crossed paths with Kane Travis-the ruthless "Hell Lord" of the Northern Ridge, an Alpha powerful enough to make princes kneel. I only used a stranger's shadow to escape another public humiliation. But Kane stepped out of the darkness, wrapped his coat around me, and claimed before the entire town that I was his. Now my enemies want me dead, the Pack is terrified of what I might become, and the mother's locket around my neck is awakening a power they tried to poison out of me. They buried a wolfless Omega. What climbed out of that grave will rule them all.

Chloe woke up in an unfamiliar hotel suite, her veins burning with a chemical fire. Her gambling-addicted stepfather had drugged and sold her to a wealthy predator to cover his debts. The buyer, Ethan Carlisle, expected a submissive toy. Instead, Chloe smashed a crystal lamp over his head, jumped out a third-floor window into the freezing rain, and threw herself directly in the path of a sleek black Maybach. The man inside was Julian Carlisle, Ethan's ruthlessly cold billionaire cousin. He didn't save her out of pity; he took her purely to humiliate Ethan. Julian treated her like tainted property, forcing her into an ice-cold shower to wash off his cousin's "filth." He even nearly strangled her when she tried to bandage his injured hand. Desperate, Chloe stripped naked to prove she was completely untouched, negotiating a single chance to interview at his investment firm. But the nightmare was far from over. Furious at losing his payout, her stepfather kidnapped her critically ill mother from the care facility. "Three million dollars in three days, or accidents happen to her," he threatened. Pushed to the absolute brink, Chloe realized she was surrounded by monsters who viewed her as nothing but a pawn to be sold, used, or broken. She refused to die a victim. Dragging her bruised body to the Apex tower for her interview, Ethan cornered her in the stairwell, violently ripping her clothes. When Julian and his top executives suddenly opened the door, Chloe didn't cry for help. She looked the cold billionaire dead in the eye and weaponized his own corporate reputation against him, forcing him into a corner. She lowered herself, tried her best to seduce him, advancing step by step with calculated moves...

I married the ruthless mafia Don, Zane Falcone, at seventeen to pay off my father's blood debt. For three years, I played the obedient wife, secretly hoping my childhood love would thaw his cold heart. But on our third anniversary, he left me dining alone, openly flaunting his cartel heiress mistress to the entire underworld. The final blow came when my father was dying in the hospital. I called Zane, begging for a car. "I am in the middle of entertaining our southern allies, Aria. Stop being dramatic." He hung up on me. Through the receiver, I could hear him dancing with his mistress. By the time I rushed to the hospital, my father was already dead. At the funeral, Zane abandoned me in the pouring rain to answer his mistress's phone call. When he finally came home, he didn't offer condolences. Instead, he ordered me to pack his mistress's bags. I handed him the divorce papers, telling him the debt was paid, but he tore them to shreds. "Nobody leaves the Famiglia! You are mine until you are dead!" Looking at his unhinged rage, a switch flipped inside my chest. I didn't understand why I had wasted my youth hoping to change a monster who saw me as nothing but a breathing contract. The next morning, I grabbed my fake passport, snapped my SIM card in half, and disappeared.

Tonight was supposed to be Cordelia's grand engagement party, the night she finally secured her future. But an hour before the banquet, she received an anonymous video. Her fiancé was in the hotel's penthouse, tangled in the sheets with her stepsister. They had even paid off her trusted staff to keep her isolated. Cordelia didn't shed a single tear. She walked onto the grand stage, hijacked the screens, and broadcasted their betrayal to hundreds of New York's elite. She tore up the multimillion-dollar prenup and threw the pieces in his face. "The engagement is canceled. My legal team will seize your family's assets by tomorrow morning." But instead of support, her own father violently grabbed her wrist, furious that she ruined their reputation. Her stepmother tried to slap her for the cameras, and her ex-fiancé threatened to completely destroy her career. Surrounded by the people who were supposed to be her family, she was treated like the villain. Just as she was cornered, Justice Duncan, the most ruthless billionaire on Wall Street, stepped out of the shadows. He offered her absolute protection and capital, but only if she signed a five-year contract marriage to mother his four-year-old heir. But when Cordelia finally met the little boy, her blood ran completely cold. The boy was the exact baby she was told she had miscarried four years ago. And the billionaire handing her the marriage contract was the same stranger who had taken him.

I snuck into the Long Island estate’s private study, desperate to find my boyfriend, Channing, and beg him for the money to save my mother’s life. But when I wrapped my arms around the man standing in the dark, I felt a body of cold, hard muscle that didn't belong to Channing. The lights flickered on, and I found myself pinned against the window by Constantine Warner, the ruthless head of the empire who despised me more than anyone on earth. He didn't pull away; he held me there, his gray eyes burning with a mix of razor-sharp disgust and a dark, violent hunger that terrified me to my core. Outside the room, my boyfriend Channing walked in, but instead of defending me, he laughed at my humiliation just to please his powerful brother. I was left with nothing—no money for my mother’s surgery, no dignity, and the haunting realization that the man who hated me most was the only one who truly saw me. Why did Constantine look at me like I was his prey, and what happens when the parasite finally decides to bite back?

In my last life, my fiancé and stepsister stole my company and left me for dead. Now, reborn, I have to watch it all happen again. At a lavish ball, Christian publicly humiliates me, flaunting his affair with my stepsister, Genevieve. They think I'm the same weak woman who will crumble. Genevieve even steals the one proposal that could save my mother's legacy, texting me that I'll end up with nothing. At a family dinner, Christian tries to force my hand, falsely announcing we're already married to secure his position. He expects me to play along in front of the one man who could change everything: the legendary tech titan, Immanuel Romero. But I refuse. When Christian grabs me in a rage, a powerful hand stops him. Immanuel Romero steps between us, his voice like ice. "Never touch her again." Then, he looks at the stunned room and makes an announcement that shatters their entire plan. "Eliana is my fiancée."

For three years, I made my husband, Kane Chandler's, life a living hell. The day my family went bankrupt, he became a billionaire and handed me divorce papers. "My true love has returned," he said coldly. "I have no more use for you." To save my desperate family, I was forced to accept his cruel offer: become his live-in mistress. I had to serve him and his perfect new girlfriend, Astrid, in the penthouse that was once my home, enduring his cold, calculated revenge every single day. But then I stumbled upon a devastating secret. His "true love" Astrid was secretly plotting with his brother, Cade-the man I once adored-to destroy him from the inside. Astrid begged me to steal a file from Kane's safe, claiming it was the only way to save him from blackmail. I agreed, ready to sacrifice myself to set him free. I never imagined this was the final move in a twisted, three-year-long test of love he had designed just for me.

I was the fiancée of Bryant Barnes, the cold heir to a tech empire. Our engagement was a dynastic merger, a picture-perfect lie splashed across magazines. But behind closed doors, our life was a bizarre war fought with money and public humiliation. The war turned brutal when his mistress, Kalia, broke into our home with her friends and had me beaten, stomping on my hand until it broke. I pressed charges, but when Bryant arrived at the police station, he took one look at my bruised face and walked past me to comfort a sobbing Kalia. "Don't make a scene, Charlotte," he said, his voice laced with annoyance. He had them released without a second thought. The final betrayal came when Kalia pulled me into a lake. I can't swim. Bryant dove in, swam right past me to save her, and turned his back as I sank beneath the water, leaving me to die. A stranger pulled me out. In that moment, I finally understood. It wasn't that he was incapable of love; he was just incapable of loving me. For the one he loved, he would destroy anyone. For the one he didn't, he would leave her for dead. The last embers of my foolish love turned to ash. Lying in my hospital bed, I took out my phone and called the one man who had ever shown me kindness. "Jaden," I said, my voice steady. "I'm ready to burn it all to the ground."

Six months after losing my husband, Mark, I was a ghost in my own life, scrolling through Instagram when a photo ripped me from my numbness. It was Chloe' s account, a former intern I' d mentored, but the background-our living room. My living room. Only it wasn' t. The minimalist haven I designed was desecrated by gaudy gold wallpaper, a hideous leopard-print sofa, and a cheap crystal chandelier. Strangers laughed, red plastic cups in hand, in the space Mark and I built as a testament to our love. The house, bleeding, was screaming. Chloe was at its center, champagne flute in hand, her arm around David, Mark' s business partner. My husband' s friend. He smiled smugly, possessively, kissing her cheek. The caption: "New beginnings in our new home! Out with the old, in with the new! #blessed #bosslife." Our new home? My blood ran cold. My kitchen, painted garish pink. My garden, a frat house with a hot tub and beer bottles. They had taken my sanctuary, our legacy, and turned it into a mockery. The rage arrived like a physical blow, a hot spike in my chest. My hands shook, but my mind was terrifyingly clear. I called David. "What the hell are you and Chloe doing in my house?" His slick, unbothered voice, punctuated by Chloe' s infuriating giggle, coolly informed me Mark had signed everything over to him. It was his house now. His company. All perfectly legal. "People do strange things when the end is near," he sneered, dismissing Mark as a mere business transaction. He hung up, leaving me with the silence screaming in my ears. Just a house. It wasn' t just a house. It was my life. The last piece of Mark. And they had taken it, desecrated it, and were laughing. The grief that had fogged my world for six months burned away, replaced by a cold, hard resolve. They thought I was beaten, a grieving widow easily pushed aside. They had no idea who they were dealing with. I am a brilliant architect. I am meticulous. I see the flaws in every design, the stress points in every structure. And I designed that house. They' d started a war. I was going to finish it.

My life was finally mending after the nightmare that shattered everything. I was rebuilding my academic career, my family was recovering, and my fiancé, David, and I were slowly piecing our lives back together. Then, a text message flashed across my phone, sending a shot of ice through my veins: a seemingly innocent invitation from my old friend, Kate, to a university exhibit preview. My stomach clenched, remembering the chilling déjà vu. Last time, that exact invitation led to a priceless historical artifact appearing in my bag, my academic dreams dissolving into dust. It cost my parents their retirement savings, tarnished David’s promising career, and culminated with me bleeding out, left for dead in a desolate parking lot by a deranged fanatic. I knew this was the trap again, meticulously set. How could I possibly prove my innocence when the truth had failed me before? But I wasn’t the naive victim I once was. This time, I had a plan, born from the bitter ashes of my past. I made a desperate, calculated choice: I got intentionally drunk and drove. The flashing blue and red lights in my rearview mirror were a grim confirmation of my sacrifice, my pre-planned alibi. They would arrest me, document my whereabouts, miles away and undeniably off-campus when the theft surely occurred. This time, the system couldn't use me. This time, I would fight back to expose the real mastermind, no matter the cost.

My decorated PMC team leader wife, Sarah, asked the impossible: be a live target for her protégé Dylan's shooting qualification. I agreed, suppressing my own combat medic skills and hidden past as my CIA father’s son, all for her, trusting she’d ensure safety with “non-lethal” rounds. The instant the first bullet tore into my thigh, searing pain exploding through me, I knew Dylan had swapped live ammunition. As he systematically shot me, shattering my hand and destroying my fertility, Sarah stood by, dismissing my screams as “dramatic” and her “savior” Dylan’s cruel acts as mere training. She tightened my restraints, praised his accuracy, and accused my loyal teammate Maria of jealousy and faking when she tried to intervene, even after Dylan shot Maria too. How could the woman I’d secretly saved, the hero firefighter who once rescued my sister and me, be so utterly blind and complicit in my torture, believing every poisonous lie from her manipulative golden boy? Only when my sister Emily burst in, interrupting Dylan’s final kill shot, and security footage exposed his monstrous deception, did Sarah's delusion shatter. But by then, I was already rebuilt, untethered from her, ready to finally choose myself. I donated every cent Sarah left, facing her ultimate end with a profound, unburdened peace.

Locked away in a mental health center, my only window to the outside was a rickety tablet. I watched, hopeful, as my sister Chloe walked down the aisle, her smile a burst of sunlight on her wedding day. But the joyful scene shattered in an instant. A woman, face grotesquely scarred, shrieked venomous accusations about Chloe ruining her life. Without a word of defense, her fiancé Mark, twisted with rage, slapped Chloe across the face, declared her "poison," and had her violently dragged away to a sinister "farm" for "purification." The livestream cut out, leaving me in stunned silence. Then came Mom’s call, her voice a thin, broken wire: Chloe was gone. Dead. An "accident" at that farm, they said, left without medical help. When Mom tried to get answers, Mark’s men beat her and threw her out. My sister, the kindest soul, was brutally taken from us. Chloe, gone due to such callous cruelty and calculated neglect? The unbearable injustice, the suffocating grief, sparked a suppressed fury I’d carried for years. They called me dangerous, diagnosed me with an explosive disorder, and for years, I'd fought it. But now, that dark fire felt like the only truth. No longer fighting my demons, I unleashed them. In a cold, calculated move, I forced my way out of that institution, leaving chaos in my wake. The cool Oregon air hit my face, carrying the scent of impending rain and undeniable revenge. My sister deserved justice, and I was going to deliver it, no matter the cost.

Lola is forced to marry Basil against her will. Basil is the epitome of mystery. Nobody knows what he is up to nor does anyone dare to unravel the secret behind his mysterious demeanor. On their wedding day, Basil throws a document on his newly wedded wife, not giving her a moment of relief. Lola’s life is shattered when she learns this is going to be a loveless marriage. It claims that the marriage would come to an end as soon as she gives birth to his child! It turns out he only agreed to marry her just so she would produce an heir for his family. Repulsed and angry, Lola is consumed with rage. However, she agrees to all of it. But deep down, she is plotting revenge.

I was the legitimate First Miss of the Browning Clan, but because I tested as "Spiritless," my family treated me like dirt. Just days before my wedding, my father stripped me of my noble marriage contract and handed my powerful fiancé over to my half-sister, Jacalyn. Jacalyn flaunted the stolen noble ring in my face, mocking my dead mother while reeking of the secret herbal incense she used to fake her aura. "A Spiritless waste only deserves to wipe filth for that crippled High Lord in the Low Marches!" My father didn't just agree; he exiled me to the rotting roots of the World Tree to marry Adrien, a dying, coma-bound warlord infected by Abyssal cold iron. He cut off my survival rations and locked me in a freezing stone tomb, fully expecting me to die alongside my new husband before morning. Everyone in the High Court laughed at my misery, waiting for the news of my pathetic death. They thought they had drained my worth to pave the way for Jacalyn's glorious future. But they didn't know my soul had awakened with the primordial Old Blood and seventy years of modern surgical knowledge. I calmly forced my father to sign a severance writ, cutting my ties with the clan forever. Looking at the dying war god on the stone bed, I picked up my surgical scalpel. Once I pulled this Sovereign warlord back from the Abyss, the entire High Court would learn what true despair looked like.

"Do you take me for an escort? Or a casual pheromone dispenser?" Quinn Sterling had made the biggest mistake of her life. Climbing into the wrong car was bad enough. Tearing open the bespoke shirt of her ice-cold CEO and triggering his untamed Alpha rut was catastrophic. She thought Winston would demand a non-disclosure agreement. Instead, Manhattan's most terrifying luxury titan handed her a marriage proposal. "Kensington family honor dictates that I do not abandon a mate carrying my scent. I will take full responsibility for you." As an illegitimate daughter battling a betrayal from a two-timing fiancé, Quinn has no desire to play Cinderella in the billionaire's high-society world. She rejects him, draws the line, and dives back into her designs. But Winston Kensington doesn't take 'no' for an answer. When her ex comes crawling back, and corporate rivals circle in the dark, the ruthless CEO steps out of the shadows. "Touch her," Winston growls, his icy aura suffocating the entire room, "and you answer to me."

Lillian woke in a werecreature universe as a total loser. Good news was that women ruled here and could take multiple mates, yet she still ended up as the one everyone looked down on. Compared to her talented sister at every turn, she watched her first match get stolen and her next four mates reject her without mercy. The first mate was the King of Succubine himself. On their very first meeting, he warned Lillian that he was only staying long enough to recover from his injuries-and that there could never be anything between them. The second mate was a merman. He took one look at her and said he had no interest in a loser like her, tossing her some cash so she could break off their bond herself. The third mate was the progenitor vampire-over a thousand years old. He admitted to admiring her sister instead and made it clear he had no interest in a layabout like Lillian. Lillian cut every bond and chose her own path instead. But as she rose higher and higher, those same men returned, full of regret and begging her to look at them again. The fourth mate was a werewolf Lillian had rescued from an underground fighting ring. She thought he might actually stay-until he revealed himself as royalty. And of course, he wanted to break their bond for more power.

I knelt on the cold stone of the Dragon God Altar, waiting to marry Lord Harper Carney. It was my only chance to escape the gilded cage of my family. But when Harper finally arrived, he wasn't alone. His arm was wrapped tightly around my cousin, Hettie. Right in front of the entire court, he coldly announced that our marriage was a mistake. Hettie leaned into his embrace, wearing a triumphant smile while playing the innocent victim. The assembled nobles openly jeered at me. They mocked my greatest failing—that I was a worthless "Dragonless" born without the inner fire. My own father was furious, not at them, but at me. He demanded I go to Hettie's estate and beg for her forgiveness. When I refused, he threatened to cut off all my funds and revoke my only job at the Royal Scribes' Office. I was publicly abandoned, stripped of my dignity, and left with absolutely nothing. I didn't cry, and I didn't scream. Why should I be the one to apologize when they were the ones who betrayed me? For years, I had endured their abuse, treated like a pawn to be sacrificed at will. But looking at their smug faces, my despair turned into cold resolve. I took off my betrothal coronet and dropped it at Harper's feet, publicly nullifying the contract myself. I thought I would have to face the ruin alone, until a mysterious, powerful man with burning golden eyes stepped out of the shadows. "Marry me," he said. "I will be your shield, and we will crush them together."

I woke up to the stench of rust and rotting flesh, no longer a master botanist who commanded life itself, but a D-class exile dumped on a wasteland planet. Memories that weren't mine flooded in. I was framed by my stepsister, betrayed by my fiancé, and banished by my own family to the Ashfall Peninsula to die. The original girl actually starved to death in despair. The moment I opened my eyes, a scavenger tried to smash my skull with a rusty pipe just to eat me. After I killed him to survive, I discovered a harsher truth: in this universe, plant seeds are classified as A-level strategic resources, completely monopolized by the Imperium. But the universe had a sick sense of humor. A mandatory background scan suddenly triggered a galactic broadcast: I, the exiled trash, was a perfect genetic match for the Imperium's top war hero, General Alexander Orr. The family that ruthlessly erased my existence instantly saw me as a golden ticket. My cheating ex-fiancé was dispatched to drag me back, furious that his "property" was matched with someone else. They all thought I was still that weak, naive girl they could manipulate. But as I held the pure, glowing Life Source Crystals I had secretly extracted from the scrap heap, a cold smile crept onto my face. "I didn't come here to die. I came here to build an empire." I turned my back on the galactic broadcast and stepped into the deadly wilderness.

In the final days before the world collapsed, Ivy Brooks died... betrayed by the very people she trusted most. She had fought, struggled, and sacrificed everything just to survive the apocalypse only to be pushed into death along with her three daughters at the very end by her own husband. With her last breath, Ivy made a vow. If she could turn back time...she would never be weak again and of course protect her daughters. This time, she would stand at the top. When Ivy opened her eyes, she found herself back in time with her still rounded belly of her third baby.... Twenty days before the apocalypse. Armed with memories of the future and a mysterious system in her mind, Ivy moved without hesitation. She hoarded supplies, secured weapons, and took control of every resource she could get her hands on. While others laughed, doubted, and wasted time... Ivy was building her empire along with her daughters. In this life, she would not be prey but will be an hunter. With danger closing in and only twenty days to prepare, Ivy must outplay enemies both old and new, uncover the truth behind the system, and carve out her own kingdom in a collapsing world. Because this time...she wasn't just going to survive the apocalypse. She was going to rule it along with a man, a love interest from the past before her marriage collapse. He provided everything Ivy needed. Money especially in change of a marriage with her and when the apocalypse started too....he ruled it with her as well as her daughters.

Haley woke in a galaxy of werecreatures as a princess-until the real one returned. The crown cast her onto a deserted planet, saddled with eight disabled, low-ranked mates. Some demanded freedom; others schemed or had volatile esper powers. Sick of it all, she ended their bonds. More mates were coming anyway. Only then did those arrogant males kneel. "I'll reclaim your palace." "Use me, Domina. I can do even the impossible." "I'm your loyal pup. Only you matter." "My fortune and I are yours." Haley only shrugged. "You begged for this."

Elyse, a fierce warrior from a post-apocalyptic world, awakened as a wererabbit in an interstellar world where her engagement was canceled and an entire pack wanted her dead. A mysterious system offered one way out: win over a ruthless serpent commander, an arrogant merman warlord, and a cunning werefox leader. She expected protection, not three possessive mates willing to defy the universe for her! Elyse insisted she could never have children, but the commander begged only for her love, while the merman threatened a planet for her sake. Then unexpectedly, her belly began to grow. "System, didn't you say I was infertile?!"

My engagement to Kile, the heir of House Golden, was witnessed by the Duke himself. I thought my days as a helpless orphan were over. But right before our wedding, he coldly informed me that my status was being revoked. I was to enter his family as a lesser consort. The title of primary wife was being given to his lover, Journey. She hid behind Kile, wearing a spotless white dress and trembling like a fragile lotus. "Cassie, please don't blame him, I can live without a title," she cried, playing the perfect victim. Kile shielded her, glaring at me with pure disgust, shouting that I was being completely unreasonable. The next day, the entire Elder Council cornered me in their grand hall. They told me that as a "Dragonless" nobody, I should be immensely grateful for any scrap they threw my way. They all stared at me, waiting for me to swallow my pride and accept a lifetime of humiliation. They thought I was entirely broken. They thought I had no backing and no choice but to bow down to their cruelty. Instead, I looked straight at the Chief Elder and smiled. "I refuse to be a lesser consort," I announced clearly, watching Kile's smug expression freeze. "But to preserve our families' dignity, I will fulfill the contract." I looked right into Kile's shocked eyes. "I will marry your dead older brother, Lord Ayden."

I was the adopted, "Dragonless" daughter of the Sterling family, bound by a prestigious marriage contract to my fiancé, Julian. But during the annual charity ball, I followed a secret note to a guest suite, only to catch him tangled on the sofa with my cousin, Isabelle. When I calmly called the Dragon Guard to expose their affair, my adoptive parents didn't comfort me. Instead, they furiously blamed me. "It was an emergency! Our kind Isabelle used her scent to save him, and you just tried to destroy him!" They praised her as a hero, officially handed my fiancé over to her, and decided to punish me for tarnishing the family name. Their revenge was a new marriage contract. They were going to sell me off to Lord Valerius, a cruel, elderly man notorious for outliving three wives. I stared at the death sentence in my hands, my blood running cold. I was the one betrayed, yet I was being discarded like useless trash to pave the way for my cousin's happiness. Why should I let them destroy my life just to protect their twisted, perfect image? I didn't cry, and I refused to be their sacrificial lamb. I drafted a cold, calculated business proposal, packed my bags, and walked out of that toxic house forever. I was going to propose to the most ruthless, powerful predator in the kingdom-Gideon Montgomery. If I had to step into a dragon's lair, I would be the one to choose it.