The Love Machine

As I bent over to do the laundry, a man suddenly pressed himself against me from behind, thrusting me forward into the washing machine. My hips were left exposed to the open air, held firmly in the grasp of his hands. I was trapped, unable to move. His large hands roamed freely over my body, sending waves of heat coursing through me against my will. Pleasure shuddered through my limbs, making my legs tremble uncontrollably. When I finally managed to look back, I saw—to my shock—that the man behind me was my father-in-law.

"When will you finally be willing to love me?" My Alpha, Jack Newman, pins me beneath him and asks in a hoarse voice. His tail brushes lingeringly across my waist, sending a shiver through me. This is the seventh night we are tangled in bed together, our bodies bare and inseparable. Seven days ago, he returned from the battlefield, carrying the scent of bloody slaughter and long-suppressed desire. One year ago, I became his Luna. But I never truly open my heart to him. My wolf, Hannah, refuses to acknowledge the man who takes me by force. But over this past week, under his repeated, forceful confessions, my defenses crumble bit by bit. I think he loves me desperately. After he once again takes me tirelessly, I finally admit, "I love you..." He smiles in satisfaction and leaves his mark on my neck. A month later, the doctor says I am carrying a pup. I think this is the beginning of my happy life. Just as I decide to accept him wholeheartedly, his first love, Isabella Boyd, returns. Dressed in a set of armor, she is seen alongside Jack at the border training grounds, stirring rumors throughout the pack. He comes back at dawn once again. As I look at his handsome sleeping face, I quietly go to the council of elders and submit a request to dissolve our mate bond.

My junior accidentally broke the most expensive piece of equipment in the lab and asked me to help fix it. I had just started touching the instrument when she suddenly stepped back, tears brimming, and said, "Michelle, I can't take responsibility for this. I really can't afford it." Before I could even process her words, Nicky Hardy—the unattainable crush I had chased for three years—rushed in and shielded her behind him. Then he turned to me with a glare that could freeze fire. "Michelle, don't go too far. You can't expect her to take the fall for you." I stared at him, dumbfounded. "You know full well I was shoved into this research group. I don't understand any of this stuff. How could I do the experiments on my own?" His eyes grew colder, dripping with disdain. "I've been saying it—what can a nepo baby actually accomplish? And now the equipment's ruined, and you still have the nerve to push the blame onto Elizabeth?" I opened my mouth to argue, but then I caught a flicker of triumph across Elizabeth Horwitz's face in Nicky's arms. That was when it clicked. They only knew I got in through connections—they had no idea I'd financed this very equipment myself. They wanted to play their petty power games over a piece of lab equipment worth over ten million? Interesting.

I was like the pure and innocent Cinderella of a school romance novel. Unlike the aristocratic students around me, I didn't come from wealth or privilege. I earned my place at this elite academy through merit alone, my high scores opening the gates to a world far beyond my means. Cinderella is supposed to be stubborn, proud, and righteous—standing tall despite her humble origins. But I have none of those qualities. All I have is poverty.

I was madly in love with James Gates for 10 years. So mad that everyone in the Imperium said that I was addicted to him. How far did it go? I wouldn't allow any woman to get close to him. I wanted to eliminate every woman around him. In the end, James sent me to rehab. While others quit smoking, drinking, or gaming, I was quitting James. But later, I truly moved on from him. Yet, he regretted it and, in the pouring rain, begged me to love him again.

“Where’s the ring?” "Huh?" She pulled her hand back. “I asked, Where’s the ring?” Chris repeated the question, staring at his fiancée with displeasure. “It’s at the office. Since I have to wash coffee cups often, I took it off and put it away. I was afraid it might get worn out.” Her answer made Chris feel slightly relieved. "If you take off that ring again, I’ll take it as you ending our engagement. No games." "I’m not breaking off the engagement. I just took off the ring to keep it safe." “Then put it on. Right now.” Chris’s glare was unwavering, his words almost a command. "Alright, alright," she muttered in protest, reached into her bag, took out her ring, and put it on. Then she turned her hand to show him.