The Neglected Wife's Billion Dollar Sweet Revenge

Being born a defective "wolfless" in the bankrupt Mccall pack meant I was treated worse than a stray dog. While running from rogue enforcers collecting my family's debts, I accidentally triggered a fated mate bond with a terrifying, dominant Alpha in a hotel elevator. But after a night of intense passion, I woke up bruised and alone, finding a crisp one-hundred-dollar bill on the nightstand. He had treated me like a cheap, nameless prostitute. When I fled back home, my family didn't care about my trauma. My stepmother slapped me, and my father held a knife to his own throat to force me to take my sister's place in an arranged marriage. They sold me to the ruthless Mejia Clan to clear their fifty-million-dollar debt, shoving me into a musty, wrinkled gown. My new husband didn't even show up to the wedding, and his family dumped me at his penthouse, leaving me to be humiliated by a woman claiming to be his cherished mistress. Why was I always the sacrificial lamb, destined to be used and discarded by everyone? But I was done being their victim. "If you ever pull another stunt in my house, the next thing I pour over your face won't be cold water." I smashed a pitcher of ice water over the mistress's head, claiming my territory. I only had to survive this fake marriage for sixty days, and this time, I refused to bow to anyone.

Dulce Long went to the Grand Regency expecting a proposal—and her first night with the man she loved. Instead, someone lured her into Suite 808. Inside the dark penthouse, a powerful stranger was burning with fever, drugged out of his mind, and convinced Dulce had been sent by his enemies. Before she could escape, he pinned her to the bed and took the one thing she had only intended to give her boyfriend, Kai. Hours later, Dulce stumbled barefoot into the rain. Then Kai called. "Never trust... Justice." Before Dulce could reach him, Kai fell from the roof of a thirty-story building and died in her arms. His wealthy mother blamed Dulce for his death, had her beaten in front of the press, and threw her into the flooded streets like trash. Six weeks later, Dulce discovered she was pregnant—with twins conceived in Suite 808. Because of severe uterine scarring and a critically low ovarian reserve, the twins might be her only chance to become a mother. Terrified of the powerful Justice family and the unknown man who had destroyed her life, Dulce fled the country. Nearly seven years later, she returns to New York with two genius sons and one purpose: uncover the truth about Kai's murder. Her first target is Justice Enterprise, the corporate empire that swallowed Kai's firm after his death. Hiding her beauty beneath sallow makeup, a frizzy wig, and thick glasses, Dulce becomes the CEO's personal assistant. There is only one problem. Her new boss is Brendon Justice—the man from Suite 808. Brendon has spent years searching for the mysterious woman who vanished from his bed. Dulce believes her disguise will keep her safe, but one accidental encounter is all it takes for him to recognize her. She is hunting the man who killed Kai. Brendon is hunting the woman who escaped him. And neither of them is prepared for the two six-year-old boys carrying the Justice bloodline.

I was a Dragonless orphan taken in by a noble family, forced to be the substitute bride for my cowardly stepsister to marry a comatose, cursed Dragon Lord. To ensure I couldn't refuse, my stepmother drugged my wine at a family dinner. She locked me in a dark hotel room with a stranger, planning to have me ruined so I'd have no choice but to take her daughter's place. I barely escaped the terrifying, burning man in that room, only to be dragged back to the estate. When I stood in the grand foyer and refused the marriage, my stepmother smiled coldly. "It would be a terrible shame if your foster mother's health were to suddenly decline." She threatened to murder the only person who ever loved me. Even my childhood best friend betrayed me, selling me out for a plot of land and threatening to frame my healing skills as witchcraft. I was completely cornered, forced to walk into a tomb of a marriage as a sacrificial lamb just so my stepsister could chase after a handsome prince. Why did my life have to be treated like disposable trash for their greedy ambitions? But they severely underestimated me. Before leaving, I extorted a massive fortune from my stepmother as my dowry. And on my wedding night, when I realized my "comatose" husband was actually the lethal, fully awake man from the hotel room, I didn't panic. I looked into his murderous eyes and offered him a deadly deal. This time, I was going to burn their entire world to the ground.

My family tried to sell me to a monster. Frankie Glover was a low-ranking Warrior from the Glover Pack, notorious for his violent temper and wandering hands. To everyone else, I was just a wolfless girl with no rank, no claws, and no power to fight back. To my mother and sister-in-law, I was even less than that. I was a price tag. So I ran. In the middle of a freezing Chicago storm, I jumped into the first Uber I saw and begged the dangerous-looking driver to take me anywhere but home. He smelled like cedar, rain, and something darker beneath the scent suppressant on his skin. I should have been afraid of him. Instead, I heard myself say the craziest words of my life. “I’ll pay you five hundred dollars a month. Just... marry me.” I expected him to throw me out. He drove me straight to City Hall. By morning, my family had disowned me, Frankie was furious, and my new husband had become the only thing standing between me and the Pack that wanted to claim me. Everyone thought Damien Montgomery was just a broke, unaffiliated Uber driver. A Rogue with no money, no status, and no Pack behind him. Then Frankie cornered us at a restaurant. He threatened my best friend. He mocked her child. He tried to hit me. Damien caught his wrist before the blow landed. “Don’t touch my wife.” The room went silent. Even the wolves stopped breathing. One moment, Damien was the quiet man who drove a beat-up Toyota and lived in an old apartment building on the edge of neutral territory. The next, he snapped Frankie’s wrist, exposed his fake Rolex scam in front of everyone, and made three Glover Pack Warriors run like frightened dogs. That was when I started to understand. My husband was hiding something. The spacious top-floor apartment. The black credit card he claimed was just a bank promotion. The way Pack men lowered their eyes around him before they even knew why. The terrifying grandfather who showed up alone with a jade wolf-fang heirloom and called me the Luna of the family. None of it made sense. Damien said he was nobody. But nobody did not carry the scent of old bloodlines under layers of suppressant. Nobody did not make wolves tremble with a single word. Nobody did not look at a wolfless girl like she was already his. I married a stranger to escape one monster. Now I’m beginning to wonder if I accidentally married the most dangerous Alpha in Chicago.

I was lying in a hospital bed, my body shattered from a terrible car crash. My best friend Belinda walked in, but she didn't come to comfort me. She came to gloat. "You didn't really think the crash was an accident, did you?" She told me that she and my fiancé, Braxton, had tampered with my brakes. She stroked her slightly curved belly, smiling as she confessed that she was carrying his child. They needed me dead so Braxton could take over my family's company. Even worse, they had paid a drunk driver to run my parents and my brother off the road. My entire family was wiped out by design. As my world crumbled, a lawyer walked in. He was sent by my husband, Julian, who hadn't visited me once. The lawyer coldly handed me divorce papers to sign on my deathbed. I died alone, suffocating on my own blood, consumed by a burning hatred for the people I trusted most. Why did they destroy my family? Why did Julian abandon me when I needed him the most? But when I opened my eyes again, the sterile hospital room was gone. I was standing in my childhood bedroom, staring at my flawless, eighteen-year-old face in the mirror. It was exactly one week before my engagement party with Braxton. This time, I wouldn't be their victim. I would burn their worlds to the ground.

In her past life, Christabel was locked in an abandoned medical facility, her fingers crushed and her vision blurred with her own blood. Her stepsister, Hilary, stood over her in a pristine white Chanel suit, smiling as she delivered the final blow. "Derrick's plane went down. No survivors." Hilary whispered the words with fake pity, throwing a stack of newspapers directly at Christabel's face. The bold headlines screamed about the Sanders family's absolute bankruptcy and liquidation. Christabel's parents and brother had already died trying to protect her. Now, Hilary was sealing her inside this rusted, pitch-black room to rot away completely. Christabel couldn't even move her dead limbs to fight back. She could only wait for her heartbeat to stop, drowned in absolute, crushing helplessness. She hated herself for being so blind, for letting Hilary and her fiancé Jaylon manipulate her, destroy her family, and steal everything she ever loved. In her final agonizing second, a vicious curse echoed in her mind. She swore that if she had another chance, she would drag them all to hell. Then, a violent sensation of falling ripped through her, and her eyes snapped open. Blinding light from a crystal chandelier stabbed her eyes, and an unnatural, burning heat rushed through her veins. She had been reborn. She was back at eighteen, in the exact hotel room where Hilary and Jaylon had plotted to drug her and ruin her reputation forever. This time, the show was hers to direct.