Little Pink Lace

At the royal feast, the Dragon King raised his goblet to announce my greatest honor: a betrothal to Crown Prince Damien Beaumont-Carlisle. The hall rippled with laughter at me-a cold-blooded "Dragonless," an orphan of a fallen house, clinging to her pathetic, unrequited devotion to the future king. But staring into Damien's golden eyes, I could only feel the agonizing ghost of my past life. He had never loved me. After tiring of me, he threw me into his dungeons and left me to starve. As I lay dying in that endless, freezing darkness, the only warmth I ever felt was a stranger's kindness-a piece of bread and a cup of water, slipped through the bars by Gideon, the "crippled" Dragon Lord of the North. I died forgotten, my years of devotion worth less than nothing to the man I had loved. Then I opened my eyes-and I was back at the exact moment before the King sealed my fate. "My heart already belongs to another," I interrupted, my voice ringing through the silent hall as I stared straight into Damien's shocked face. "I wish to marry the Lord of Ironfang Keep. Gideon Beaumont-Carlisle." I would trade the powerful, living prince for his comatose, wounded uncle. And this time, I would not wait for death to find me. I would wake the sleeping dragon-and make every soul who wronged me regret the day I was reborn.

I was the devoted wife of Pietro, the untouchable Don of the New York Syndicate. I thought my love could bridge the gap between my civilian life and his brutal underworld. Then, I swiped open his unlocked private tablet. I discovered he had been forwarding my most intimate boudoir photos, desperate texts, and sweet voice notes to a dark web group chat filled with his ruthless soldiers and his female associate, Zoya. They dissected my naked body for amusement. Pietro captioned my lingerie photo, "Like a starving animal," and told his men I was just a "stable cover" with a clean background. When I cried over his safety during a turf war, his Capos joked about my whimpers. Pietro bragged to them that starving me of attention was standard protocol to break me. When I confronted him with the evidence, he didn't apologize. "You are acting bitter and hysterical. A Don doesn't have time for civilian trivialities." He warned me that if I walked out, I would be dead to his world, dismissing my absolute humiliation as mere locker-room talk. My affection for him had been a form of worship, yet my marriage was nothing but a spectator sport for his entire regime. He traded my dignity to feed his god-complex. I didn't cry, and I didn't beg for his love. Instead, I packed my bags, transferred every damning screenshot to a secure drive, and calmly handed the files over to the Syndicate Elders. It was time to burn his empire to the ground.

For five years, Nora Vance's marriage to billionaire CEO Julian Sinclair existed solely on paper, sustained by a monthly wire transfer and an unbreakable rule of total anonymity. As a purser for his airline, she was perfectly content being a ghost in his life. That fragile peace shattered the day she caught him emerging from an airport restroom with a disheveled socialite. Instead of ignoring her, Julian grabbed her wrist in front of her entire crew, dragged her into the very same restroom, and punished her with a brutal, claiming kiss. Her quiet life was instantly destroyed. He forced a massive diamond ring back onto her finger and dragged her to his family's sprawling estate, throwing her to the wolves. At the dinner table, his mother openly humiliated her, while Julian merely used her as a shield to deflect his father's demands for an heir. When her abusive stepfather called to extort her, Julian intercepted the phone. But instead of helping her, he cornered her on the dark terrace, his eyes filled with absolute contempt, accusing her of conspiring to siphon his family's wealth. Nora's heart turned to ice. For five years, he hadn't cared if she lived or died. Why was he suddenly dragging her into the light, changing the rules without warning, and treating her with such possessive cruelty? "Starting tomorrow, you're moving back into the estate. Remember your place." Looking at the ruthless man who held all the power, Nora stopped fighting and smiled a bitter, brittle smile. If he was determined to brand her as a grasping gold-digger, then starting tomorrow, she would show him exactly how expensive playing his wife could be.

The biopsy report slid across the cold metal desk, stamped with a brutal death sentence: advanced gastric cancer. Aretha had exactly ninety days left to live. It was her twenty-sixth birthday, but her phone only rang with a furious call from her husband, Anders. "Do you have any idea how much of a joke you made this family look like today? Post a public apology to Kelli right now." He had completely forgotten her birthday, only caring that she skipped her adopted sister's yacht party. When Aretha dragged her failing body back to the family estate, her biological mother slapped her across the face just for looking pale and embarrassing them in front of guests. Seeing Aretha wasn't submitting to the usual abuse, Kelli deliberately threw herself down the stairs, playing the innocent, depressed victim. Anders rushed in and shoved Aretha brutally against the wall to protect Kelli, while her biological father delivered his ultimate threat. "I am freezing your trust fund. Get on your knees and apologize to Kelli right now, or you won't see another dime." A massive, suffocating sense of absurdity washed over Aretha. She had spent six years lowering her head and begging for their approval, only to be treated like a disposable placeholder. Why should she spend her final days enduring this agonizing torture for people who didn't even care if she breathed? Aretha wiped the blood from her chin and laughed. She publicly severed all ties with her family, whipped the signed divorce papers directly at Anders's face, and walked out into the freezing storm—ready to fight for her own life.

Keely returned to her Manhattan penthouse a day early, expecting the loving billionaire husband who had just told her how much he missed her. Instead, the scent of cheap vanilla perfume led her to the guest room, where she found Haden tangled in the sheets with his timid, soft-spoken secretary. To the world, Haden was the flawless, devoted partner. He would even beat a man to a bloody pulp at a high-society gala just for insulting her, violently claiming he was protecting his wife. But behind his golden-retriever facade lay a narcissistic monster. While begging for her affection and making her breakfast, he was secretly draining their marital assets into offshore accounts in the Cayman Islands. Keely had to swallow her disgust, forcing a perfect smile as she played the clueless, dependent trophy wife he wanted her to be. It made her physically sick. She couldn't understand how the man who looked into the camera with eyes full of love just last night could be the same thief plotting to leave her with nothing. Was his violent, suffocating obsession with her just a sick cover for his betrayal? But Haden didn't know his "helpless" wife was actually the ruthless CTO of a tech empire. She had already hacked the home surveillance and traced the missing funds, ready to make him bleed. Then, her private investigator called with a medical report that pushed her revenge to the edge. "Mrs. Jones, Darlene Sutton is six weeks pregnant."

I was hemorrhaging on the cold linoleum of the emergency room, my jeans soaked in blood as I begged the nurse to call my husband. I needed Erik’s signature for an emergency surgery to save my life, but he wouldn't pick up. When I finally reached his assistant, the truth hit me harder than the physical pain. Erik was in the same hospital, just a few floors up, giving strict orders not to be disturbed because his sister-in-law, Athena, was having a "difficult" delivery. I signed my own consent form and woke up hollow, the pregnancy gone. Shaking and barely able to walk, I dragged myself to the VIP ward only to find Erik rocking Athena’s baby with a look of pure, paternal love—a look he had never given me. "You’re just trying to pull focus because my brother’s heir was born," he sneered when I finally confronted him at home later that night. "Stop the drama, Carie. Was it a migraine or just cramps this time?" He didn't believe me when I told him I’d lost our child, and he certainly didn't believe me when I told him Athena had intentionally rammed my car two years ago to cause my first miscarriage. To him, I was just "low-stock" trash who couldn't provide an heir, while Athena was the fragile widow who needed his protection. His mother stood there laughing, threatening to freeze my credit cards if I walked out the door, while Erik watched with cold indifference. They thought they had trapped a penniless orphan, but they forgot one thing: I was the one who designed the very empire they were standing on. As I walked out into the blizzard, I didn't just leave a divorce petition on the floor; I triggered the code to short their family stock into the ground. "I'm not just taking my name back, Erik," I whispered as the gates slammed shut. "I'm taking everything."

At St. Jude’s Prep, I was the "scholarship waste" in a sea of navy blue blazers and old money. I purposely handed in a blank placement exam, accepting a spot in the remedial track just to gain access to the school's high-speed server backbone. While my teachers mocked my "inevitable failure," I was secretly fighting a digital war. I intercepted a high-level breach by the notorious hacker Black Eagle, bricking his hardware and neutralizing the threat before he could touch the school’s financial records. But at home, the victory tasted like ash. My socialite mother, Inger, called me a "useless stain" and a "waste of space" over a dinner of roast beef and expensive wine. My stepsister Erika mocked my lack of talent, never realizing that the "freak" she despised had just earned a $50,000 bounty for a single hour of work. I lived as a ghost, hiding my genius behind a frayed gray hoodie and a mask of indifference. I thought I was invisible, but the school nurse, Fielding Pickett, saw through my cover, tracing my pulse and my code with predatory precision. "Nice code, Ruiz," he whispered, a warning that my sanctuary was crumbling. The pressure finally broke me. I collapsed in the infirmary with a 103-degree fever, my secret identity hanging by a thread. As I lay half-conscious on the cot, the IT administrator burst in, screaming that the Dark Web had just put a million-dollar bounty on the head of a hacker named "Q." Fielding leaned over me, his eyes dark and knowing, as the world outside began hunting for my life. "I've got you, Q," he whispered, just as the darkness took me.

For five years after an accident stole his memory, my husband Ethan treated me like a ghost. He flaunted his affair with his mistress, Kasey, while I endured their daily cruelty, hoping the man I loved would return. My escape was planned to the last detail, a contract that would give me back our gallery and my freedom. But they found out. Kasey framed me for hurting her children, then had them spray acid on my hands. Ethan, consumed by her lies, dragged me to a museum for his final, brutal act of punishment. He had my mouth, eyes, and ears sewn shut. Then he hung me upside down for the world to see. He thought he had broken me. But he didn't know about the hidden cameras. Or the powerful family I had kept secret. They left me for dead, but they only started a war.

Everyone told me I was "too much," but billionaire Conor Hudson seemed to love my chaotic energy. I thought his quiet demeanor was a safe harbor. I was wrong. His silence wasn't love; it was a cage he built to hide his obsession with his adopted sister, Hillery. When Hillery committed a hit-and-run, Conor didn't call the police. He grabbed me, his eyes cold and terrifying, and demanded I take the fall for her. "You're my wife," he snarled. "You owe me this." When I refused to be their scapegoat, he imprisoned me in a windowless room, weaponizing my severe claustrophobia to break my mind. That' s when I uncovered the sickest truth of all. Hillery wasn't just his lover. She was a fraud who had stolen my dead sister's art legacy-and was the very reason my sister was murdered. Conor thought he could torture me into silence. Instead, I escaped. On the night of Hillery's lavish engagement party, I hijacked the global live stream. I looked into the camera, smiling at the husband watching in horror. "I' m giving you exactly what you wanted, Conor. You' re free."

The air in the Hayes family ballroom was thick with money and expectation. Five years. It had been five years since Ethan Miller, a man on the cover of tech magazines, had last stood in a room like this, surrounded by the same welcoming, curious faces. Then he saw her. Chloe Hayes, weaving through the crowd, a vision in silver. She stopped before him and got down on one knee, producing a ring from a small, velvet box. "Ethan Miller," Chloe announced, her voice ringing with confidence. "I was a fool to let you go. Marry me." Everyone stared at him, their faces glowing with anticipation, recalling the boy who loved Chloe with a desperate, all-consuming passion. But Ethan's gaze was flat. His mind drifted back to their engagement party five years ago, the night she stood on a stage and accused him of being a fraud, claiming he stole the technology meant to make his name-all to protect another man. The memory didn't sting anymore; it was just a fact. He finally broke the silence. "I'm sorry, Chloe. I can't accept." Whispers erupted. Chloe's perfect facade cracked. "Moved on? Ethan, don't be ridiculous. It's always been you and me." "No," he corrected gently. "It was you and me. It isn't anymore. I'm married." As if on cue, a woman with warm, intelligent eyes and a little girl with Ethan's dark hair entered the ballroom. "Daddy!" the little girl cried, running to him. Ethan knelt, not for Chloe, but for his daughter. Chloe remained on the floor, the ring box in her hand, her reality shattered. "No, this isn't real. You're lying." "I don't entertain trash, Chloe," Ethan said, his voice cold. His wife, Sarah, stepped forward, fierce and protective. "He's my husband. We were married three years ago. If you continue to harass my family, I will see you in court." Ethan turned his back on Chloe, walking away with Sarah and Lily. He was finally, completely free.

I put the divorce papers on the mahogany desk, a soft thud in the quiet study. Ethan didn't even look up from his laptop. "Divorce papers," I said, my voice steady, betraying none of the thousand times I' d practiced this moment. He signed them without a glance, dismissing a decade of my love, two years of marriage, with a casual flick of a pen. "I' m going to be busy with Isabella for the next few days," he added, attention already back on his screen. "Don' t call me unless the house is on fire." His indifference was a physical blow, a chilling premonition of the betrayal to come. Just three weeks ago, I had held a positive pregnancy test, naive hope swelling in my heart that our baby would finally make him see me, make our house a home. Instead, I watched him propose to Isabella, his college sweetheart, on the evening news, a public spectacle of his true affections. The shock sent me to the floor, pain tearing through me, and I woke up in a hospital bed-alone-the doctor' s grim words confirming I had lost our child. He never even knew it existed. Now, I found myself packing a single suitcase, leaving behind everything, even the life I had so desperately tried to build. My best friend, Chloe, asked, "He didn' t even ask why?" "No," I whispered, my hand instinctively going to my flat stomach, an ache, a constant, dull reminder. I felt empty, completely empty, yet a strange sense of calm settled over me. Because as I looked at the signed papers, I knew this wasn't just a divorce. It was a declaration of independence.

The humid air in front of the Marriage Bureau was thick with my unease. I was marrying a stranger, Julian Sterling, a man as cold and imposing as his family's fortune, all to save my family from ruin. Just as I thought I'd survived the sham ceremony, my ex, Caleb, and his fiancée, Chloe, appeared, dripping with condescension. Chloe, whose family had crushed my father's business, smirked about her upcoming lavish wedding, intending to humiliate me. Suddenly, a wave of defiant fury washed over me. I clung to Julian' s arm, forcing a syrupy smile, declaring we'd be there, and then brandished our freshly signed marriage certificate, promising his legal team would handle any further slander. My cold husband' s indifferent confirmation froze Caleb, making Chloe' s triumphant facade crumble. But their shock soon turned to malice, as Chloe escalated her attacks, spreading vile, AI-generated intimate photos of me across my university forum, aiming to destroy my reputation and career. The university dismissed my pleas, leaving me alone and shattered, walking aimlessly towards the Hudson, feeling utterly hopeless and violated. Why was this happening to me? Just when I thought I was completely adrift, Julian, the man who cared about nothing, found me. He was enraged, not at me, but at the injustice, revealing he' d already unleashed his formidable resources, tracing the digital assault directly back to Chloe. He secured her suspension and initiated a police investigation. In that moment, he wasn't just my contract husband; he was my unexpected protector, and for the first time, I felt a fragile thread of hope, ready to fight back.

I was an ancient nature spirit, bound by a vow to protect the Beaumont family, a debt paid by saving young Clara-Belle from a deadly sickness, transforming myself into a human and pouring my essence into a spectral snake that rested on my arm. She became my wife, but her childhood sweetheart, Beauford, returned, whispering tales of magic to cure his feigned illness. Then, Clara-Belle, the woman I loved, looked me dead in the eye and flatly demanded my snake' s heart for Beauford, calling it "just a snake" as if it weren't my very spirit. I felt every agonizing slice as they cut the heart out, my strength draining, my hair turning white, a pain so profound it ripped through my very being, yet she only showed annoyance at my "drama" while Beauford reveled in my torment, plotting to boil what remained of my essence into a "revitalizing stew," then setting a cruel hawk on my fading form. How could she forget the life I poured into her, the sacrifice I made, the vows she swore, trading true magic for a charlatan' s lies and calling me a trickster for the very protection that shielded her family from a centuries-old curse? With my essence unmade and my heart utterly broken by her betrayal, I shattered the ancient plaque symbolizing my vow, and as my human form shimmered and faded, a cosmic voice called me to ascend, leaving behind the mortal realm and my tormentors to face the true consequence of their monstrous acts.

Tonight, as CEO of Sterling Corp, I was on my victory lap. My three years had transformed the company, culminating in a billion-dollar 'Solar City Initiative'—a triumph of my life's work. The gala hummed, celebrating my success. Then, my wife, Chloe Sterling, made her grand entrance—on the arm of her college flame, Blake Jennings, patting a swollen belly that wasn’t mine. "You're done, Michael," she announced, her voice echoing through the stunned ballroom. "You're fired. Get out." My in-laws, the founders, stood by, their faces blank. The crowd, who moments before lauded my brilliance, now smirked or pitied. Chloe offered a paltry $100,000, calling my work "chump change," and brandished divorce papers demanding everything. Blake gloated, "Know your place. You’re less than nothing." Despite the public humiliation and losing absolutely everything, I simply signed the papers. My calm unwavering. "This isn't over," I murmured, a faint smile on my lips. "The real show is about to begin." The whispers started: "Is he delusional?" "He’s snapped." What could possibly fuel such impossible confidence? Just as security moved forward, the ballroom doors opened. My 'mother' and 'father,' William and Elizabeth Sterling, walked in. I turned to them, my voice cutting through the silence: "Mom? Dad? I think it’s time you explained."

On the first day of her internship, Ada ran into a naked man in the shower, who she soon realized was the director of the thoracic surgery department--the man who would decide her internship score. Just as she thought that her luck couldn't get any worse, he appeared before her for the blind date her mother had set up for her. And before she could even snap out of the shock, he and her mother agreed upon the engagement date. He was now not only her director but also her fiance.

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.

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."

After dying from overwork, Rena woke in a werecreature world as its weakest female. Instead of accepting a pampered life, she chose battle and bonded with the Enchantress System, which rewarded her for winning males' favor. Soon, she was matched with five elite males: a stoic commander, a gentle healer, a cunning tycoon, an aloof scientist, and an underworld king. But while others chased romance, Rena built an empire and rose from F-rank weakling to SSS-rank war goddess. Then the males she was meant to charm started chasing her instead. "So, what are we to you?" they asked eagerly. Rena shrugged. "Just friends, babes."

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.

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.

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."

On my eighteenth birthday, I expected the Federal Matchmaking Bureau to give me the same answer it always had. No Match Found. For years, I had survived as the Greer family's defective male Omega-an embarrassment with no detectable pheromones, no beast-mark potential, and no chance of producing the powerful Alpha heir my father wanted. A failed test meant freedom. It would unlock my late mother's fortune and let me disappear for good. Then the machine demanded a blood sample. The next second, the entire Bureau went into lockdown. Duncan Cain, the Empire's youngest war general. Hollis Beaumont, the crown prince of our enemy empire. A pirate lord, a king, the Alliance's chief diplomat... Six of the most powerful Alphas in the galaxy. All matched to me at 100%. My father, who had treated me like a worthless stray for eighteen years, suddenly seized my arm with greedy eyes. "Ansel, you're going to make this family untouchable." My stepsister watched in horror as the Bureau declared me a Shared Treasure of Humanity. Armed guards surrounded me. The Empire decided my body, my future, and six Alpha suitors all belonged to them now. They had no idea I was never the weak, obedient Omega they thought I was. I was an ace mech pilot, the secret heir to a fortune large enough to buy my freedom, and I had spent years preparing one perfect escape. So while my father dreamed of selling me to the highest bidder, I opened my terminal and sent a single encrypted message. They thought they had trapped a helpless Omega. Instead, they had just started my contingency plan.

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?!"

I was the neglected foster daughter of the wealthy Sterling family, treated like dirt while their real daughter was treated like a princess. Suddenly, they ordered me to take her place and marry the Dragon Lord, Gideon Carlisle. He was a fearsome, disfigured ruler confined to a wheelchair, rumored to have torn a handmaiden apart with his bare hands. They didn't want their precious daughter's future ruined by a crippled monster, so they threw me to the wolves. They expected me to cry, beg, and accept my tragic fate. On my wedding day, when I arrived at the Dragon Lord's palace, the steward pointed me to a narrow side entrance-a literal dog door. The guards and servants lined up to watch, snickering as they waited for the terrified country bride to disgrace herself. Did my foster parents really think I was just a pathetic, obedient pawn born to be sacrificed? Did this crippled tyrant think a closed door and some cheap humiliation could break my spirit? I didn't shed a single tear. Instead, after extorting 200,000 gold marks from the Sterlings as my survival fund, I walked right up to the palace. I ripped off my bridal veil, picked up a 500-pound stone gargoyle with my bare hands, and smashed his massive iron gate to pieces. "If he won't open the door for me, I'll open it myself."

"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."