Nouvelles Plot Twists & Romans Homewrecker Cheating

Eight years ago, at Black Pine Pack's full moon trial, my wolf went silent forever. Vivian Hale was responsible. She was my best friend. She was also the woman my Alpha mate Adrian Cross had protected since childhood and never been able to let go of. After the accident, Adrian personally banished Vivian from Black Pine territory and severed her mind-link with the pack. Vivian bore the blame before the Inter-Pack Council. For eight years, she was too afraid to return, and Adrian never said a word in her defense. Adrian stayed by my side through the agony of every failed shift and helped me adjust to a life where I could no longer hear my wolf or feel the pack. Then Vivian came back. She wanted to rejoin Black Pine Pack, and she asked Adrian to preside over her reinstatement ceremony himself. I refused on Adrian's behalf. I said, "She hurt the pack's future Luna eight years ago. She has no right to stand before the Moon Goddess and take the oath." But Adrian suddenly smiled. The smile stayed on his face even as his eyes reddened. "Eight years. "I haven't seen her, haven't protected her, haven't spent a single full moon with her. "Because of you, she lost her pack, her family, and her standing. She's been in exile for eight years. "All you lost was a wolf. "What she lost was me." My inner world went dead silent. But he seemed unable to feel the mate bond in my chest suddenly constrict. "I've already acknowledged you as my fated mate and let you serve as acting Luna for eight years. "What more do you want from me?" I once believed that losing my wolf was the most hopeless moment of my life. It wasn't until that moment that I learned what despair really was. That night, I signed off on the paperwork for Vivian's reinstatement ceremony. Then I left my resignation as acting Luna on Adrian's desk. Then I booked a flight to Silver Ridge territory. From that day on. His pack, his beloved, his belated concern—none of it had anything to do with me anymore.

At our engagement party, my fiancé, James Pierce, and my best friend, Rachel Bellini, slipped into Italian again. Years ago, the two of them had gone off to college in Milan together, leaving me to study alone in America. Right before our engagement speeches, James leaned close to Rachel's ear and murmured in low, husky Italian, "If you were the one standing here beside me today, I'd be so much happier." I turned to stare at him in disbelief, every ounce of joy draining out of me in an instant. But James just smiled at me, all innocence, and switched to English. "What's wrong, sweetheart? Nerves getting to you?" I had lost count of how many times James and Rachel had talked in Italian right in front of my face. At dinner, they critiqued the dishes in Italian. At the movies, they joked about the plot in Italian. Over afternoon tea, they traded old stories and private jokes in Italian, things only the two of them understood. I had protested. We had even fought about it. But James would only say impatiently, "Isabella, this is how we lived for four years of college. Can you stop making a scene over nothing? If you can't understand Italian, go learn it yourself!" Rachel glanced at me, smothered a laugh, and went on in Italian, "Look at that shocked little face. She clearly has no idea how hard you went at it with me the night before your engagement party." James answered with utter contempt and absolute certainty. "So what if she found out? You think she could survive without me?" The note card with my speech slipped from my fingers and landed without a sound, but the weight of it hit me like a blow to the chest. They had no idea. My father is Italian. I was born in Italy. After my parents divorced, I moved to America with my mother, Eleanor Bennett, when I was ten. I understood every word they said in Italian.

Despite being a healthy werewolf, I had terrible night blindness. The moment the sun went down, I couldn't see a thing. On the night of my sister's birthday, my parents booked the best restaurant in town to celebrate. After dinner, she suddenly said she wanted to walk home. I was afraid I wouldn't be able to see the road, so I tried to turn her down. My future mate, Theodore, cut me off. He told me it was Willow's birthday and I should let her have her way. Then he promised he'd hold my hand the whole way and told me not to be scared. I finally agreed. I never noticed the knowing look Theodore and my sister exchanged. Before long, we turned into a dark alley. I could no longer see where I was going, so I clung to Theodore's sleeve, too afraid to let go. A few steps later, there was suddenly nothing beneath my foot. I lost my balance and fell straight into a creek beside the road. The next second, four phone flashlights swung onto me and the laughter broke out all at once. That was when I realized Theodore had slipped out of his jacket without me noticing. I had been holding on to an empty jacket the whole time. My parents laughed and pointed at me while Willow took pictures of me at my worst. My future mate stood beside her, holding her carefully so she wouldn't lose her balance. It was obvious now. They had used the mind-link to plan the whole prank without me knowing. At that moment, I no longer wanted to call this place home. There was no warmth here for me anyway.

My husband, Mitch Cooley, has been with me through my fifth year of battling depression. While searching for recipes online, a notification for a late-night livestream for anonymous confessions pops up on my phone screen. "What's the biggest lie your husband has ever told you?" I tap on the notification out of curiosity as my eyes are drawn to the profile picture showing two hands tightly clasped together. The interviewee replies, "I'm still single, but if it's about my stupid best friend, then she'd been lied to by her husband three times. "The first time, her ex-boyfriend died in a car crash while cheating on her, and her now-husband hid the truth on purpose so that she thought the main reason her ex died was that she wanted to break up with him. "Her husband knew all along that her ex-boyfriend had been cheating on her with me, but he watched her try to slit her wrists in remorse multiple times without telling her the truth. "As for the third time, I just mentioned to her husband that he could only ever have a baby with me, and he immediately got himself a certificate proving that he was sexually frigid and refused to sleep with her. "But the most ridiculous thing is that my best friend still stupidly went to get an IVF done while I was rolling in the sheets with her husband every night." I feel alarm bells go off in my head. Mitch had also suddenly experienced sexual frigidity recently. The hospital he went to for treatment was one recommended by my best friend, Lexie Moyer. My hands tremble as I click on the interviewee's profile picture. I then realize that the red mole on the ring finger is the exact same one on Mitch's finger. The interviewee's tone suddenly turns low and restrained. "Even when her husband told her today that he would be working overtime at the company, when he was actually keeping me and our son company, she still made a whole table of dishes waiting for him to come home." I freeze on the spot the moment the interviewee's voice changer malfunctions for a bit. I know that voice too well. It is Lexie's.

My fiancé's stepsister, Adina Mercer, claimed to be a messenger of the Moon Goddess, able to relay divine decrees on Her behalf. Because of that, everything in our relationship had to be arranged by her. From when I should go to the hospital after an injury to the brand of protection we used in bed, she decided everything. Today marked the ninety-ninth time Kellan Ashford had skipped our mating ceremony because of something she said, leaving me standing alone at the altar. When I called, his voice was calm as he gave me the same line he always did. "Adina divined it. Today isn't a good day for us to mate. If we force it, we'll put both our lives at risk." I gripped my phone and laughed. "Did she also divine that if you keep refusing to mate with me, your pack will be destroyed?" A beat of stunned silence. Then he softened his tone. "I know you're upset, but there's nothing I can do. It's the Moon Goddess's decree. "Be good. There'll be another auspicious date next month, and I'll definitely mark you then. "Adina hurt her hand. I need to go bandage it for her. Figure out how to explain this to everyone." The call ended. Every wolf in the hall was watching me, waiting for my humiliation. I closed my eyes and let the stillness settle over me. They had no idea that their pack should have been swallowed whole by the far more powerful Mooncrest Pack long ago. I had fallen in love with their Alpha and begged my father to turn a conquest into a marriage alliance. That was the only reason they had known peace. Too bad they didn't appreciate it. Fine, then. Let Mooncrest's claws tear this land apart.

A typhoon warning had been issued. I drove out to pick up my mother, who lived by the coast. My car broke down halfway there. I called my boyfriend fifty-eight times, and every single one was declined. The rain kept getting heavier. No rescue services were available, and the water was rising. My hands were shaking so badly that all I could do was get Mom to a nearby bus shelter. That was when I scrolled past a Facebook post from my boyfriend's assistant, Megan. "Derek is such a sweetheart. Spent two hours searching, and the little stray finally has a home." In the photo, Derek was at Megan's place, giving a stray cat a bath. I looked at my mother, soaked to the bone, and a wave of hurt washed over me. By the time evening fell, my boyfriend finally called back, but the wind was so strong that the signal kept cutting in and out. I was about to ask him to come get us when his voice crackled through the receiver, broken up by static. "Don't let your mom... the seafood... mess up the car." Before I could say a word, he hung up. The rescue team arrived. As we climbed in, Mom was still shivering, fretting over the seafood that had spoiled during the delay. I picked up the bag and tossed it into the trash. If it's spoiled, there's no point keeping it. Same goes for people.

After Lucas's first love Mara returned from abroad, he became obsessed with rolling a die and set a rule: odd numbers meant he'd stay with me, even numbers meant he'd go to her. But over three long years, every single roll came up the same: a glaring six. The day I had a miscarriage and nearly bled to death, he tossed out the words "Six is even, I should go be with Mara" and left without looking back. Eventually he moved out altogether and stopped caring whether I lived or died. It wasn't until Mara latched onto a billionaire and publicly cut ties with him that Lucas came crawling home, broken and lost. He burned everything that belonged to Mara, tried every trick in the book to win me over, and got on his knees begging for my forgiveness. On New Year's Eve, eyes red and brimming with tears, he pulled me into his arms. "Brenna, let's start over. From now on, my life is yours." I pushed him away, pulled out that brass die, and hurled it at his feet. It landed on six. I listened to the sound of Elliot honking outside and smiled. "Lucas, I've got a rule of my own." "Odd numbers, I stay with you. Even numbers, I go with Elliot. "See? Even God isn't on your side. Don't make a scene."

Before our mating ceremony, my mate, Pavel Blackwell, took me and my older sister, Vivienne, out for seafood. The server recognized them and came over smiling. "The usual for you two?" Pavel nodded. He slid into the seat beside Vivienne without a second thought. The crab came out of the steamer, and he cracked the shell open piece by piece and passed the meat to her. I had been put at a spare chair shoved into the aisle, without so much as a dish of sauce in front of me. Halfway through the meal, the server appeared with a couples' silverware set. "Pavel, Vivienne, this is your hundredth visit to us. That means you get your custom set." A line was engraved on the back of each piece. "Pavel and Vivienne. Never apart." The earliest date on the record was three years ago today. It took me a moment to place the date. That was the day a severe allergic reaction sent me into surgery and I nearly didn't make it out. So for the three hours my life hung in the balance, Pavel had not been waiting outside that door at all. Vivienne ran a finger over the engraving and gave a mischievous smile. "Pavel, once you and my little sister are mated, she won't stop you from going out with me, will she?" Pavel ruffled her hair and turned to look at me. "Of course not. She's always been reasonable. "Besides, you and I have known each other for ten years. Ashlyn and I have only known we were fated mates for four. If it bothers her, she can learn to live with it." On the way back, I got into the back seat on my own. The front seat had always belonged to Vivienne. Then the car's voice assistant chimed in. "Welcome aboard, Vivienne! Pavel will get you home safely!" I watched the scenery stream past the window, and suddenly I was tired of all of it. So I took out my phone and sent my father a message. "I agree to the pack's arranged mating." Ten years of closeness had turned the two of them into a habit. Then let me be the one to quit mine. Four years of it.

Half an hour before I was to seal a blood bond, my vampire fiance's steward stopped me outside my own bedchamber. "I'm sorry, Your Grace, but your key doesn't fit this lock." His words made my stomach drop. "That's impossible. Crowley Ashbourne handed it to me himself." "According to our records, the bedchamber is currently occupied by Lady Elsa Ashbourne, Lord Crowley's adopted sister. She set a ward over it, and only Lord Crowley's blood seal can open the door." My lady's maid, Marta Bell, went white at the steward's answer. The bonding gown, the moonstone ring, every single thing the ceremony required, all of it was still inside that room. In half an hour, vampire nobles from every territory would be seated in the great hall. And I, the bride, could not even get to my own ceremonial dress. I sent Crowley a blood message at once. He came quickly, but his gaze went first to the closed door. Only after he had sensed that Elsa's aura was steady did he turn to me. "Elsa has spent every day helping us prepare this ceremony. She has only just managed to lie down. Go and get ready in my room. Don't wake her." I looked straight at him as he blocked the doorway. "Crowley, everything we need for the bond is in that room!" "What's the rush? When she wakes up, I'll get everything for you." I didn't argue with him any further. I looked at the clock on the wall and gave him an ultimatum. "You have three more minutes to open this door. Otherwise, there will be no blood bond."

The Price of Failing a Bond On the second day of Alpha Andy’s “Routine Patrol and Pack Bond” with his junior assistant, Scarlett, I completed all my administrative handovers within the pack and went to the High Elder to process my Pack Withdrawal. In less than ten minutes, my phone vibrated with a notification: Alpha Andy had “APPROVED” my departure. “Looks like she is leaving.” “Do you think Alpha Andy wanted to get rid of her from her position?” “I don’t know. It looks like Alpha Andy is good enough to her. She is the one complaining. Maybe she’s self-aware enough to leave.” “She is always making a fuss out of a molehill. Who knows if she is the spy another pack!” “Yeah, a future Luna from another pack only brings frustration to our pack. It’s better for her to leave early. Not only from her position, but from our pack.” “I agree. How could she be in that high position but for Alpha Andy. If she is on herself, she won’t survive a day outside.” “Why are we low-level wolves worrying about her? She’s Alpha Andy’s future fated mate. I dare say she gets a lot of gold coins from him, so she’ll live an adequate life.” “Who knows?” While I packed up my personal belongings, my pack-mates hurled sarcastic remarks, watching my embarrassment with glee. Laugh as you like, but soon we won’t be pack-mates any more. I was used to it. I, Lynda Roskruhe, was from another pack. My grandfather and Andy’s grandfather became friends due to a joint fight against the common enemy. When Andy and I grew up, we fell in love with each other. He persuaded me to live with him. So I moved here and helped him with the pack business. We had a very happy time. Then everything changed after Scarlett became his assistant. From the very beginning, Scarlett and I didn’t get along. My fiancé, Andy? To everyone’s great surprise, he always took Scarlett’s side just like the other pack members. He said she was young and innocent, and that I should help her to be familiar with the work. Initially, the pack

It was the seventh year we spent living separately after the marriage. I came to see Blake Shaw, and once again, my key broke and was stuck in the keyhole. I quickly called Blake. He said, "You probably got the wrong key again. Stay in a hotel. I'll come back and open the door." I looked at the sticker on the key and froze. The key was right. He changed the locks. Before I could think further, my father called, and he laughed heartily. "Of course he's out! He came over first thing in the morning, and he brought gifts! Then, my best friend's call came in. She was drunk from the sounds of it. "He's drinking with Zack. Your man's growing to be a good drinker." Then, my brother's call came. "He's a busy guy. Finally found the spare time to help me out with my investments." My mind was reeling. They had no idea I just asked the guard if this house's owner was home, and they said he was. I stopped asking questions. Instead, I called a locksmith. A strange curiosity took hold of me. I wanted to find out what secret my friends and family were keeping from me.

I rushed back from out of town overnight when my best friend, Siobhan Coventry, went into labor. After learning that both mother and child were safe, I got teary-eyed with emotion. "Have you decided on the baby's name yet?" I asked. Her smile stiffened unnaturally for a moment. "Leonard Kessler. We'll call him Leo." "Kessler?" I stared at her in surprise. "I thought you said the baby would take your last name. Is his biological father's last name Kessler?" She gave me a vague hum before quickly changing the subject. "Ginny, I've been craving the wraps from that place in the college town." I nodded, forcing my doubts aside, and went out to buy one for her. It was only when I reached the hospital entrance that I suddenly remembered I hadn't given her my gift yet. I hurried back upstairs, only to see my husband—who had been away for two years, supposedly carrying out a classified project and never once returning home—walking into my best friend's hospital room with a bouquet in his hands. He sat down beside her bed and took her hand, his face full of concern. "You were so amazing, my love." My mind went completely blank, and all the blood rushed to my head. My hand was still on the doorknob when I saw my mother carrying the baby over to them, beaming with delight. "Look—the baby smiled as soon as he heard his daddy's voice." So her baby's last name was taken from Vincent Kessler—my husband's last name. The classified project… The whole story about having a child without the father in the picture… It had all been a lie. Even my own mother had helped her goddaughter and son-in-law deceive me. The people I loved most in the world didn't want me involved with this family at all.

Ten minutes before the wedding ceremony is about to begin, I receive a disturbing photo on my phone. In it, a man with deeply sunken eyes is crawling on the ground like a dog. He is so skinny that he's nothing more than skin and bones. Meanwhile, my bride, Waverly Suther, is looming over the man on the floor as she gazes down at him with a disdainful sneer. Just as I'm about to block the number of the person who sent me this disturbing prank photo, that person sends me another two messages. "Run away from the wedding! Right now! Don't marry Waverly Suther, no matter what!" "That man on the floor is you ten years from now!"

My wife is pregnant, and I'm a little worried. Before bed, I scroll through a parenting forum and come across an anonymous post. "My husband won't let me have my male best friend's baby. Is this a serious violation of my reproductive rights?" The poster pours her heart out, each line of the post dripping with self-pity. "My doctor said my progesterone levels are low, my her HCG levels aren't doubling as expected, and the gestational sac is implanted close to the scar tissue from my last surgery. If the pregnancy continues, it could cause massive bleeding and put my life at risk. "That's why my husband refuses to let me continue the pregnancy. But he doesn't understand. This baby is the only reminder my best friend left me. How can I force my husband to willingly raise another man's child?" The comments section is buzzing. Then, one highly upvoted reply makes my blood run cold. "Girl, you can't fight a man like that head-on. You have to destroy his confidence at the root. You should slip something into his drinks that reduces sperm activity. Then, trick him into getting a fertility test. When he sees a diagnosis saying he has a low sperm count, he'll be devastated. "After that, when you tell him that you're determined to give him a child no matter what, he'll be so grateful that he'll worship both you and that baby for the rest of his life!" Staring at the vicious scheme on the screen, I break out in a cold sweat. Just then, my wife walks into the bedroom carrying a warm glass of milk. "Honey, you've been so stressed taking care of me lately. You're even starting to get gray hairs. Here, have a glass of milk."

My mistress tries to take Scarlett Astin's place as my wife, so I kill her, burn her body to ashes, and bury her in the middle of nowhere. Five years later, I become a general manager. Scarlett gives birth to twins, a boy and a girl, and we settle into a happy life together. I gradually forget about the past. Then, after Scarlett is discharged from the hospital, she suddenly says, "Don't forget to invite Madeline Brown to the twins' sip and see. She's an old friend of yours, right? She took such good care of me during my hospital stay." A chill ran through me, and the hair on my arms stood on end. Madeline Brown is the name of my dead mistress.

Grad school was about to start, and my fated mate, Elias Thorne, offered to buy my plane ticket. But on the day we were supposed to leave, he handed me a bus ticket with a smile. "We wanted to see what a weak little werewolf like you would look like after a full day on a bus, so we only bought you a bus ticket." He took my sister's hand and boarded a business-class flight while I hauled my suitcase off to begin a twenty-four-hour coach ride by myself. After a full day of travel, I reached the school at the very last moment of registration day. When I handed the staff member my enrollment paperwork under the name Liliana Moretti, he said the documents contained errors and did not match the information in the system. The delay cost me my last chance to register. Just as I was standing there in tears with no idea what to do, Elias appeared, pointed at me, and burst out laughing. "Got you. Your parents swapped your paperwork ages ago." My sister, Giulietta Moretti, stepped out from around the corner too, holding up her phone. "You look ridiculous right now, Liliana. I got it all on video. Mom and Dad think it's funny too." Elias patted my shoulder. "Don't be mad. It was only a prank." Looking at their smiles and the dark, hollow camera lens pointed at me, I suddenly could not shed another tear. I was done playing along with what they called a prank.

Ten seconds before the bomb detonated, I decisively clipped the blue wire, saving hundreds of lives inside the high-rise building. At the celebration dinner, Robert Vance—our bomb squad captain—handed the top honor to the new rookie, Vivian Reed. “Let the new girl have it. You don’t want people to say I favor you, do you?” Throughout our five years of secret dating, he had used this same excuse repeatedly to shut me up before I could even complain. Every life-threatening mission fell entirely on my shoulders. Yet every honor and public commendation was without fail handed to someone else. Clutching my bleeding side, I retreated to a corner. From afar, I watched Vivian accept the vibrant bouquet and medal, soaking in everyone’s adoration under the blinding glare of the live broadcast cameras. During dinner, a teammate curiously asked her how she had possessed the nerve to make the critical choice. Vivian cast a shy, fluttering glance at Robert, covering her mouth with a coy laugh. “Oh, that wasn’t any technical strategy. Red was our captain’s favorite color, so I just couldn’t bear to do it.” The hall erupted into a wave of suggestive laughter, even colleagues chanting for them to kiss. Swept up in the electric mood, Robert—who had always shunned my very shadow in public—cupped her chin and pressed his lips to hers right before everyone’s eyes. A pang erupted in my heart. Five years of life-or-death missions together had taught Robert to take my presence and devotion for granted. He had forgotten one fundamental truth: elite bomb technicians never hesitate. It was high time I defused him like the ticking time bomb he was.

The day my husband kicked me off the Rinaldi family council, Irene Costa was sitting in my chair. She had been engaged to his late brother. She was wearing my pearl necklace, and the brooch pinned to her chest was reserved for the Donna of the Rinaldi family. My mother had left me that necklace. I kept it in a safe, and the only person who knew the combination was my husband, Victor Rinaldi. He looked at me, his voice cold. "Irene is taking your place at tonight's South Port negotiation. When you learn to control your jealousy, I'll give you your seat back." No one at the table said a word. My pin, my necklace, and the South Port proposal I'd spent three months working on now lay in front of Irene. Everyone had forgotten that when I married Victor three years earlier, I brought my father's port and connections with me. I was the reason he still held the Don's seat. I was the reason the Rinaldi family had risen again. I reached for my necklace. Victor thought I was reaching for the pin instead and stepped in front of Irene. "It's just a pin. You're still the Donna. Be generous. Don't embarrass Irene." I said nothing else. Four days later, I set a stack of documents in front of him. "The South Port agreements. They need your signature." He was replying to a message from Irene. He picked up the pen without glancing at the documents. "You've checked them, haven't you?" Victor had always trusted my work. He had also always believed that no matter how badly he humiliated me, I would never leave. I watched him finish signing, then pulled the dissolution of our marriage contract from beneath the South Port agreements. In seven days, I would leave with the port my father had left me, the people loyal to me, and everything Victor had spent years mistaking for Rinaldi property.

I was in the living room, handling some work, and casually asked the smart assistant to play some music. "Alexa, play some jazz." "Sure. By the way, just a reminder—four days from now, at ten in the morning, you're scheduled to accompany Sienna to her prenatal checkup." My hand froze midair. My name is Victoria. And I'm not pregnant. Jonathan was walking out of the bathroom, towel-drying his hair. He saw the look on my face and pulled me into his arms. "What's wrong, sweetheart?" I casually darkened my phone screen and smiled. "Nothing. Just a little tired." Jonathan kissed my forehead, his eyes tender and full of love. "Go get some sleep. Don't miss your birthday party tomorrow—you're the star of the night. I can't wait to spend it with you." I leaned into his chest, my lips curling into a cold little smile. My dear husband, you'd better not have done anything to betray me. Otherwise, you're about to find out exactly what it costs to betray the daughter of a mafia family.