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She was born to be Luna. But her name was stolen. Her plus-size body was seen as an object of ridicule and her life was switched with her sister's. Mabella watched her stepsister live the life she was supposed to have until the day of the Alpha’s wedding to her sister. The day fate snapped. The day the Alpha abandoned the bride… and claimed the fat sister instead. Now hated by the pack, framed as a traitor, and hunted by enemies within and beyond the territory, Mabella must survive a sister who would rather burn the kingdom than lose the crown. In a pack where beauty is power and betrayal is currency The Luna they mocked Is the one who will reign.

For ten years, Lyra has been hopelessly in love with Kael, the powerful Northern Alpha. She endured ridicule in her pursuit, and even as Fated Mates, Kael never acknowledged her Luna identity. Before dying, she finally realized the cruel truth — Kael never loved her — and passed away alone on the bed where they were married. Fortunately, the Moon Goddess gave her a second chance. Reborn at seventeen, Lyra vows to live for herself and keep her distance. Kael panics at her withdrawal, unable to bear seeing her draw close to other Alphas. He believes the seemingly weak, Wolfless Lyra cannot escape his grasp, but she hides a true Alpha identity. Beneath their love, a far greater conspiracy quietly lurks.

He slid the divorce papers across the table like I was nothing. Three years of marriage, three years of me thinking he loved me, gone because his first love was back. I walked away pregnant, alone, disappearing from his life without a trace. Years later, I raised my son, I've built my life from scratch, away from him, Until my estranged father dies. Sudden, I'm the heiress to a multi- billion-dollar empire. He learns about it, and now he's sorry, wants me back, and our son, realizing too late what he lost. But I didn't owe him. Not my heart. Not my son. Not my life. Then Maxwell Kingston appears with a deal I can't refuse: a contract to protect my son, secure my empire, and put a claim on me in ways I've never expected. Every look, every word, every touch sets me on fire. Now I'm stuck between the man begging for redemption and the one who already owns me. So who do I choose before everything I've fought so hard for burns to ashes?

A livestream notification for a product launch popped up on my phone. My mom stood onstage, a massive screen glowing behind her. “This is the exclusive feature of our Luna smart speaker: Parental Guardian Mode.” She tapped on an audio recording. “Luna, I failed my math test today. I’m scared to tell my mom.” It was what I’d told Luna last night. Thunderous applause erupted from the audience. My mom beamed with pride. “You can check on your child’s emotional state at any time. You can even find out who they’ve been talking to and what they said. “Every little secret they have will be reported directly to you.” The live comment feed was full of praise. 【This is how technology changes lives!】 【Ms. Landon really understands what parents need!】 My whole world came crashing down. Luna, my only friend, the one who called me “sweetheart,” had been a spy sent by my mom all along. If being alive meant having every moment of my life broadcast like some cruel joke, then I didn’t want to live anymore. I twisted the cap off the bottle of sleeping pills. "Mom, will my life finally be enough for you?"

For eighteen years, my wife, Elizabeth Connerty, never once reached out to her first love, Lucas Ryder. She committed herself fully to me and cooked warm meals for me. She attended every parent-teacher conference for our daughter. She carefully planned our family trips year after year. That was how we lived—quietly, steadily, and happily—for eighteen years. But after our daughter celebrated her eighteenth birthday, I turned to Elizabeth and said, "Let's get a divorce." She stood in the doorway of our daughter's bedroom, staring at me in stunned silence. I added calmly, "When our daughter was born, you promised me that once she turned eighteen, we would divorce."

When I was seven years old, a handsome man Mom brought home gave me a box of mangoes. That day, Dad watched me happily eating the mangoes as he signed his name on the divorce agreement. Then, he jumped to his death. From that day on, mangoes became a lifelong nightmare for me. So, on our wedding day, I told my wife, Irene Johnson, "If you ever want a divorce, just give me a mango." She held me without saying a word. From that moment on, mangoes became forbidden for her as well. … On the fifth Christmas Eve after we got married, Irene's childhood sweetheart, Steven Carter, placed a mango on her desk. That same day, she announced that she was cutting ties with him and fired him from the company. That day, I felt that she was the woman destined for me. ... Six months later, I return from overseas after closing a billion-dollar deal. At the celebration dinner, Irene hands me a drink. After I drink half of it, Steven, the man who was kicked out of the company, stands behind me and grins. "Is the mango juice good?" he asks. I look at Irene in disbelief, but she is holding back a laugh. "Don't be mad. Steve insisted I play a joke on you. I didn't give you a mango, just a bottle of its juice. "But I think Steve is right. There's something wrong with you for not eating mangoes. Look at how much you enjoyed it just now!" she says. I keep a cold expression, raise my hand, and splash the remaining mango juice onto her face. Then, I turn and walk away. Some things are never a joke. Mangoes aren't, and neither is my decision to divorce.