Who Are The Main Characters In 'She Called Herself The Boss’S Wife'?

For five years, my relationship with Vampire Lord Dominic had endured every trial set by my grandfather—the reigning Vampire King. He had finally been prepared to pass the Vampire King’s throne to me— until the truth surfaced: my bond with Dominic was never real. The Sterling family’s wealth—worth hundreds of billions—and the Vampire King’s crown could be inherited by me alone. “Miss Sterling,” the Council archivist informed me coldly,“the Blood Registry confirms that your Blood Bond was formally dissolved one year ago.” “Dominic Costa’s registered Bloodbound Consort is… Ava Morgan.” “You are currently listed as unbound.” “Which means,” the message concluded,“Lord Dominic Costa is disqualified from inheriting the Sterling family’s assets, titles, or the Vampire King’s throne.” Ava Morgan.Dominic Costa’s human companion. I stared at the message sent by the Sterling Council Elders, unable to steady my breathing. So all these years—his devotion, his exclusivity, the affection he claimed was meant for me alone— had been nothing but a carefully constructed lie. I had planned to tell him about my pregnancy on the fifth anniversary of our Blood Bond. After all, for five years of marriage, this child had been the future we both claimed to long for. But now, it was clear—perhaps he had never been waiting for a child at all. I rested my hand against my abdomen and thought quietly: my twins do not need a father to exist. As for a man who built our love on deception— the only thing left for me to do is to leave.

I'd just put the condom on when someone started pounding on the door. My wife, Jocelyn Gill, shoved me aside, panic all over her face. I shot a glare at the door. Her adopted brother, Calvin Tyler, stood there, flushed, staring at her. The bulge in his pants wasn't subtle. "Jocelyn, please help me. I feel awful. I think I'm having an episode!" Seeing him like that, nothing like before, my temper snapped. "Then go get treated. Why are you barging into your sister's room? You got no shame? You can't even get married because of this, so now you're wrecking mine?" Jocelyn rushed over and slapped me. "Finley, how can you say that? Calvin's still a kid. How could he think something that disgusting? Before his parents died, they asked me to take care of him. I'm a psychiatrist—if I don't treat him, how do I face them? You're acting nothing like a brother-in-law. Apologize to Calvin right now, or we're getting divorced!" In two years of marriage, I'd lost count of how many times she'd pulled that card over Calvin. Back then, I'd risked my life just to win her. She thought I'd never leave. She was wrong. This time, I was done loving her.

As a world-renowned genius, I only gave up on the top universities' offer and went to the same community college as her because she asked, "Will you go to the same college as me? I'd love to see you every day." I thought I had met the right woman until her conversation with her friend suggested otherwise. "He's not my boyfriend," she said. "Think of him as a clever dog. I only keep him around because he entertains me." Her friend mentioned a name, Aidan Stewart. Her expression softened at the mention of Aidan. "Aidan isn't like him. Aidan is a blessing heaven sent to me." At that moment, I finally realized what I was to her. I didn't wait any longer. I called the professor who favored me and said, "Dr. Anderson, I'll take on the drug research."

I've protected Rachel Mead for ten years. After taking bullets three times and being paralyzed five times for her sake, she finally agrees to marry me. But on the wedding day, her assistant, Quentin Sorenson, stumbles into the church. "Rachel, my groin got bitten by a leech! Does that mean I won't be able to get it up ever again?" Rachel's expression changes drastically. She moves to ditch me and the wedding guests just so she can leave with Quentin. I stop her immediately before suggesting that we complete the wedding ceremony before seeking out a doctor to save Quentin. But Rachel responds by slapping me heavily on the face. She glares at me ferociously the whole time. "Charlie Lund, just how petty are you? Can't you tell that Quentin is in major discomfort right now? If you truly love me, you won't stop me at all!" After that, she drags Quentin into a nearby lounge. By the time I open the door, I see the naked Rachel straddling Quentin while bouncing at a regular rhythm. Their faces are already flushed with pleasure, and condoms can be seen strewn all over the floor. Rachel, who has once promised me that she'll preserve her precious virginity till our wedding night, meets my gaze nonchalantly. "Quentin is already in a serious condition. How could I just sit by and do nothing for him? Besides, isn't my hymen just a layer? Since you want to pop it that much, I can always get it fixed for you next time." I remain rooted to the spot, feeling as though my blood has turned into ice. To think that my ten-year relationship with Rachel is worth nothing at all. At that moment, I realize just how big a loser I am.

The Moon has ruled the werewolves for centuries—granting power, choosing Alphas, crowning Lunas, and demanding obedience. Nyxara was never meant to exist. Born without a howl, without a lunar mark, and without the Moon’s blessing, she should have been weak. Instead, the Moon grows dim whenever she draws near. Rituals collapse. Alphas lose control. Wolves feel hunger where faith once lived. Hidden by the Moonscar Pack and condemned by ancient law, Nyxara is whispered about as a coming disaster—until Kaelion, a Moon-bound Alpha raised to serve prophecy, crosses her path. His authority falters in her presence. His bond to the Moon fractures. And for the first time in werewolf history, the Moon does not answer its chosen Alpha. As the night sky begins to darken and packs turn on one another, forbidden truths rise from buried myths: the Moon Goddess is dying, and Nyxara is not a curse sent to destroy them. She is the vessel meant to replace her. To survive, the werewolves must choose between clinging to a fading god… or kneeling before the woman who was born to end an age.

A little over a month pregnant, I was happily looking forward to my wedding—until my fiance teamed up with my parents and brothers to put me on trial at the Court of Justice. They fabricated charge after charge, hoping to have me executed in the name of the law. If the judge found me guilty, I would be sentenced to death on the spot. Once I was dead, my corneas would be transplanted into my adopted sister, and everything I owned—my assets and insurance—would be claimed by them. Faced with my fiance’s betrayal and my family’s treachery, I fought back. I demanded the judge use the latest medical technology to extract my memories and project them on the big screen, letting the judge and hundreds of public jurors decide my fate. Just as everyone was smugly certain of their victory, the truth revealed by my memories moved the entire courtroom to tears.