Independence Female Growth Short Stories & Novels

Just before our mating ceremony, my fated mate, Keane Blackwood, told me out of nowhere that he had to mark his widowed sister-in-law, Elara, first. He needed a pureblood heir. And I was a half-blood werewolf. "Talise, Elara is the best choice. Don't worry. This is purely political. You're the only one I love. "It's only for a year. Wait for me." His warm palm cupped my cheek, and he looked at me with the same love I'd always seen in his eyes. I believed him. But the very next day, news broke that Elara was pregnant. Three months along. They'd been sneaking around behind my back for a long time. "Why did you hide it from me?" I ran to confront him, my eyes red and my lips trembling. "It's all for the pack." He sighed, looking tired. For the Blackwood pack, he could put off our dates, stay out all night, and put my feelings dead last. In the end, even my anger was dismissed as immature, and I was supposed to graciously hand over my own mate. Suddenly I was so tired I could barely stand. But Keane didn't seem to notice. He even asked me to give up the Luna's master suite on the top floor. I scoffed, turned, and stormed home. Then I opened my laptop and replied to the email from the Mediterranean medical project. "I accept your offer," I wrote.

On my eighteenth birthday, I finally got the first key that had ever belonged to me. The mattress, desk, space heater, and blinds in my bedroom had all been paid for with tips from three summers of waiting tables at a restaurant by the harbor. Then my brother brought his fiancée home for Christmas. To impress her, my parents dumped my clothes in the basement and announced that my room would become the newlyweds' room after the wedding. Dad said, “Madison’s never stayed with us before, and your room gets the best light. Sleeping in the basement for a few nights won’t kill you.” My married sister leaned against the kitchen island with a nasty little smile. “Quit acting like somebody stole your crown. You’ve always been good at turning nothing into the end of the world.” Mom reminded me that Carter’s marriage mattered to the whole family. My only job was to keep my mouth shut and not ruin Christmas. The truth was, it had never been about one room. It was about the fact that, to them, I had never really belonged in that house. I finally stopped trying.

I was the Holy Maiden of the Beast World, foretold by the High Priest. I was also the future Beast Lady. Three of the best males were carefully selected to become my mates. However, I knew that they disliked me, even planning to kill me on our wedding night and hand my Holy Maiden position to my half-sister, whom they truly loved. Thus, when my father asked me to choose one of them to be my chief mate, I knelt on the sacred ground and drew lots, hoping the heavens could help me. Unexpectedly, I drew the clan's High Priest.

After my parents died in battle saving the Alpha, Theron Blackwood, the Blackmane Pack took me in as an orphan. To repay them for saving his life, Alpha Theron laid down a rule: whoever became my mate would be the next Alpha. Growing up, I always believed that person would be Damian Blackwood. He was Alpha Theron's chosen heir and the man who had pulled me away from Redfang's silver blades twelve years earlier. I loved him, loved him enough to believe him without question, no matter what he said or did. But on the night of the blood moon, when the groom who looked exactly like Damian pushed back his hood, I instinctively reached for the mole at the corner of his eye. The ink wasn't dry yet. The mole smeared. I froze, realizing that the man at the altar, the man who had just exchanged vows with me, was not Damian. He was Damian's youngest uncle, Adrian Blackwood, identical to him except for the missing mole at the corner of his eye. Damian had thrown our mating contract, and me, to someone else. He was certain I loved him more than life itself, certain he could switch everything back before long. But this time, I was done bending to his will. So the first thing I did that night was wipe away the painted mole, along with twelve years of love.

Today is the Full Moon Ceremony, all members of the Wigner pack, along with the elders, have come to our mansion to celebrate together. But I wasn’t invited, even as Leon’s Luna. I was in the storage room with a report from the midwife in my hand. I was pregnant with three pups. This was supposed to be a surprise for Leon, until I heard Leon talking with his friend Demon just now. Demon asked, “Are you sure you won’t let your Luna join this party?” “My Luna is just a party bomber, she’ll only ruin tonight’s atmosphere.” “I heard Lisa is back. What do you think she’ll do when she finds out you married her twin sister? But I wonder, between the twins, which one do you prefer?” Demon laughed. “Carla is just a substitute for Lisa, you know. She will even die for me. But she’s useless, I’ll leave her soon.” Even the money for his party came out of my pocket. I brought in over $20 million in profits each year with my wolfsbane antidote formula. I was the one kept this company running, and still, I wasn’t even invited to his party. He was thinking about how to get rid of me. I covered my mouth to stop myself from sobbing. I pulled myself together five minutes later and left this party. I could feel that three strong heartbeats in my belly. “My pups, mommy is sorry. I have to leave your father-wolf…” My Luna’s Coronation Ceremony was only 5 days away. By that time, I would have already taken my triplets away and leave him forever.

Everyone in Harbor City knows that the city's prince, Brandon Schmidt, is a devoted husband. Countless homewrecker wannabes are dealt with before they can even reach me. But one day, I see Brandon's text conversation with one of his mistresses. "You're going to open up for me tonight." "It's so embarrassing to be doing this on your wife's bed." Meanwhile, my arm is shattered from dealing with one of his competitors. The conversation makes my stomach turn. So be it, then. No one's getting off easy now.

Perry Hughes' desk was stuffed with love letters again. He sent me $40, as usual. "Tsk. Take care of these for me?" I nodded. That night, I was about to throw the love letters away. Then I noticed that the letter at the very bottom was signed by the girl Perry had a crush on.

Everyone on the terrace laughed when Mara Brennan slipped her room key into my fiancé’s jacket pocket. “Does she honestly think a room key will make Adrian overlook that face? The Morettis don’t take in damaged goods.” A second later, someone dumped a glass of wine over her head. Mara went still. I stepped in front of the cameras and offered her a handkerchief, but she shook me off. “Drop the saint act, Vivian. You just got luckier with your parents.” The next morning, I woke above an auto restoration shop, unable to lift my left shoulder. Raised scars ran along my neck. An old tablet lit up beside the bed. In the video, Mara kissed an emerald brooch, wearing my face. [That woman in New Orleans actually pulled it off. I gave her my savings, and she put me in your body. Your name, your lakefront mansion, Adrian—they’re all mine. You can spend the rest of your life being the freak nobody wants to touch.] I switched off the video and pressed a hand to my scarred cheek, then laughed. Mara thought she’d stolen the Falcone family’s greatest treasure. She had no idea how long I’d been begging someone to let me out.

I’d been through seven foster homes. Before each one sent me away, they stopped answering my questions, stopped looking at me, and let the house grow silent. I couldn’t stand that kind of silence. So I became someone who talked too much. When my biological mother finally brought me into the powerful Moretti family at seventeen, I tried even harder to make people like me. Within one day, I knew the guards’ birthdays, the school nurse’s favorite podcast, and where my classmates kept their emergency medication. My stepsister Bianca called it manipulation. My stepbrother Luca called it an addiction to attention. To cure me, he ordered my entire school and family not to speak to me for seventy-two hours. My calls were blocked. My messages were quarantined. Even my mother promised not to answer. Then I had an accident. Bianca secretly switched the trail marker on my backpack, sending me down an abandoned path by mistake. I fell forty-five feet into a flooded smuggling tunnel, my leg shattered beneath a slab of concrete. I called everyone I knew. Ninety-nine times. No one answered. Before I closed my eyes, I sent one last voice message. “I’m sorry. I know I talk too much. But don’t worry. I won’t bother you anymore.”

It's our fifth wedding anniversary. I've booked a table at a riverside restaurant and set my pregnancy test report right in the center of the table. 9:00 pm comes and goes with no sign of my husband, Yosef Sinclair. Just as I reach for my phone, the cake delivery person texts to ask for my location. I send it over, then call Yosef. A ringtone chimes right behind me. I turn around and see Yosef walking in, looking sharp in his suit. I'm about to nag him for being late until I see him holding a cake box and answering his phone. "I'm working. I'll—" Before he finishes speaking, he visibly pauses, then asks in a low voice, "You ordered this? Meeting friends? Just don't stay out too late." He sets the cake down right on top of my test report and turns on his heel. All that I'm left with is the sight of his retreating figure. A moment later, his voice floats back in from outside. "Nobody. Come on. Let's just finish this last order, and I'll treat you to a nice dinner today!" I look out the window. Yosef is getting into a car with Clara Lawson, the bakery owner. She slips into the passenger seat like she's done it a thousand times. A minute later, my phone vibrates. I tap it open with my numb fingers. It's a new Instagram post from Clara, showing a pink rose bouquet with a sliver of a black suit in the background. The caption reads, "A guy who buys me flowers, works overtime with me, and takes me out for dinner? He's a keeper!" I like the post, put my phone down, and quietly tell the waiter to bring out the food. I've spent three months trying to snag a table at this place. No way am I letting good food go to waste. Besides, I'm leaving this city in three days and putting an end to this broken marriage.

Jonathan Shaw is busy taking his mentor's daughter, who's burning up a fever, to the hospital on the day I fall. I'm pregnant. I need to undergo surgery to stabilize the pregnancy, but it's risky. However, Jonathan's tone is icy on the other end of the line. "I know you've always been biased against my mentor, Tessa. Still, do you think you can use something like this as an excuse to get me there?" I lose hope in him as a lone tear rolls down my face. "Don't bother saving the child. Help me abort it." My love for Jonathan leaves with our child.

I was born with broken blood and fragile senses. At twenty, I was revealed as the fated mate of Gavin Silverthorne, Seattle's top pureblood Alpha. The entire pack mocked him behind his back. Still, I celebrated in secret. We grew up together. I had loved him in the dark for years. Every Spring Hunt, every full moon, whenever danger struck, he was the first to put himself between me and the threat. Without the Moon Goddess's blessing, I would never have felt worthy of him. I thought he felt it too. Every time he stepped closer, my heart raced with joy. Yet he never truly touched me. Whenever I leaned in, his muscles locked up, like my presence was pure torture. I was a fool. I mistook it for restraint. Then came the annual pack summit. Under the blinding lights of the group photo, I gathered my courage and stepped to his side. "Stay away from me," he muttered under his breath. The shutter clicked. He did not stay for a single second. He walked away, leaving me stranded under the stage lights. That was the moment I finally understood. To him, I was nothing but an embarrassment. Ten years of quiet, desperate love died right there. That night, I tore up my Seattle pack contract. I booked a one-way ticket to Manhattan. Any life tied to Gavin Silverthorne was a life I no longer wanted.

I am the sole heir of the Corsini family, the biggest mafia family in North America. The first Don left behind one ironclad rule: blood comes before everything. But ever since I was a kid, I've fainted at the sight of blood. Even the smell of gun oil makes me sick. So my father chose Arthur Cole, who had once saved my life, to sit at the negotiating table for me. He'd serve as acting Don, one year at a time. Every Christmas Eve, I had to press my signet ring into the wax before he could run the family for another year. In those ten years, I never once interfered in family business. Everyone thought the annual seal was just a formality. Then Arthur fell for Vivian Miller, a senator's daughter. But her family looked down on him for coming from the mob. So I signed over our most profitable shipping company to Vivian as a gift. Only then did the senator give his blessing. Before the wedding, Vivian sweetly told me we'd be real family from then on. But not long after the wedding, she threw an agreement at me. She wanted to marry me off to a Mexican drug lord. "Marrying General Juárez is the only way you can be of any use to this family." I looked at the agreement and laughed. They'd forgotten who really ran this place. Christmas Eve was five days away. This year, I was planning to pick a new Don.

The witch's prophecy crystal showed me my future. My fated mate, Alpha Adam, would betray me before our bond was ever sealed. The one he chose instead? My own sister. And me? I gave up my healer trials for him. Became nothing. Lost every right to ever stand as this pack's Luna. In the end, my sister shoved me off a cliff with her own two hands. I didn't want to believe it, until I saw them at the border. Tangled. Kissing. Unmistakable. Then it all clicked. Adam made me quit the healer trials just to keep me trapped in this pack, where he could control me. And he used that pathetic excuse, "protecting the pack," "calming your sister's wolf," to screw around behind my back. The sister I spoiled rotten. The one who wanted what was mine. I took a breath, turned, and walked away. The healer trials came right on schedule. I walked into that hall, calm and ready— I was going to become the Chief Healer. And I was never, ever giving myself up for anyone again.

I walked in on my husband, Dante Cavallaro, in bed with three women. This time, I didn't shoot any of them in the head as I once would have. I slipped off my wedding ring and tossed it onto the card table. "Fifty thousand says I leave the Cavallaro family today." Everyone bet I wouldn't dare. Five years ago, my family was slaughtered. To pay my father's crushing medical bills, I was forced to sign a contract promising the Cavallaro family a child. I had five years to give them an heir. When I was eight months pregnant, Dante found the contract and decided our marriage had been a setup. In the middle of the fight, he lost control and shoved me down the stairs. I lost the baby and the chance to ever have another. After that, he started bringing home one woman after another. Now he was threatening to cut off my father's oxygen because his new favorite had hurt herself and blamed me. Dante was sure I'd never leave him. I needed his money to keep my father alive. What he didn't know was that the contract had one more clause. I'd bought myself a way out with every port my family owned. "If no heir is born within five years, the woman may end the agreement on her own and leave freely." Today was the last day of those five years.

I was the Romano family's sole heir. After my mother fell gravely ill, I took over her position at a young age. To train me and help me, she brought in Angelo Rizzo as my deputy. Every year on Family Day, I renewed his appointment with the family seal. Angelo helped me each time. So it went on for twelve years, and he treated me like his own sister. A year after my mother passed, Angelo decided to marry Layla Gallo. The Gallos heard he'd run the Romano business for twelve years and agreed at once. I was happy for him. I even gave him three properties as a wedding gift. The day after the wedding, Layla sold them. On the third day, she cut off my access to the family funds. On the fourth, she brought me a ledger. "Your food, clothes, and everything else over the years add up to a hundred and fifty million dollars." "Sign an IOU." "You can't keep leaning on Angelo forever." I stared at the IOU, dumbfounded. Wait. Did she really think twelve years of Angelo managing the accounts made the Romano family his? I was the one who renewed his appointment every year with the family seal. And here's the thing. Three days later, it was Family Day again. This year, I didn't feel like renewing it.

My husband, Adrian Locke, was obsessed with saving money. He said we needed to cut unnecessary spending, so I went three years without buying new clothes. He said our bills were too high, so I handed over my entire paycheck and lived on a 200-dollar monthly allowance. I ate at the hospital cafeteria, took the bus, and used the cheapest skincare products I could find. Then Jenna, the new intern in his department, had a birthday. Adrian spent 28,000 dollars on our joint credit card. He booked a luxury restaurant and filled a room with balloons and flowers. I texted him to see what he'd say. "The cafeteria raised the price of lunch by five cents, so I'll skip it." His reply came instantly. "Okay. Just eat more at home tonight." Then I got a notification. Jenna had posted nine photos on Instagram. The caption read, "Adrian said the internship has been exhausting, so I deserve to treat myself." So he wasn't frugal. Just with me. I cut that joint credit card in half, then called a lawyer. "Hello, I need legal advice about dividing marital property in a divorce."

Damian made a habit of letting everyone wait for him. Including me. I waited at the restaurant until every last guest had gone, and only then did he show up in the doorway. Our wedding anniversary. He dragged it out until past midnight before he finally came home with a gift. Even at my mother's funeral, he didn't arrive until after the priest had finished the eulogy. I asked him why. He said he was used to it. He said his line of work was all about making people lose track of time. After all, he was a Don. The casinos under his name didn't have a single clock on the walls. It wasn't until I was hospitalized after a car accident that cost me my early pregnancy that I called him, enduring the pain, and he said he'd get back as soon as he could. He told me to wait. But he never showed. Not once, all the way through to the end of my surgery. As I lay there in that hospital bed, I saw that Vera, his business partner, had posted an update on social media. [Stayed up with me across the day-night divide, just to make up for a birthday wish that was one second late.] In the video, Damian was personally placing a diamond-studded birthday crown on her head. The timing was perfect. Not a second off. He'd traveled tens of thousands of miles with Vera. All to chase back the time difference, so Vera could have her birthday all over again. I stared at the phone screen, my eyes burning, tears spilling over. Everyone had to wait for Damian. Everyone except one person. That person was Vera. Not me. Finally, a message came through from Damian. He said he was almost there. He told me to just wait a little longer. I pressed the screen dark. I wasn't going to wait for him anymore. I chose to leave.

Caine Black and I were in love for seven years. From our first meeting at the Imperial Academy to being officially recognized by both packs as promised mates, I thought we would be together forever. That certainty lasted until the day before our marking ceremony, when I canceled it. The priest stared at me in shock. "Eileen, the marking ceremony is in twelve hours. Are you sure you don't want to wait for Caine to come back?" I gently unclasped the pendant from my neck, the one that symbolized the Luna's status, and shook my head. "No. "He's under the northern lights on the Ice Plains right now, completing a marking ceremony with his first love."

I lost my eyesight to save Sean Sherman. He had once made a vow in front of everyone, "Rachel Todd, even if you can't see, I will take care of you for the rest of my life." I was deeply moved. I secretly sought out treatment and I kept the recovery of my eyesight a secret as a surprise for him. But on the day I regained my sight, I saw Sean holding his childhood sweetheart, Vivian Cross, in his arms, fooling around with her right in front of me. "You last really long today. Is it because your wife is watching us?" "What do you think? She was the one who bought me these protection products." I understood every word of their sign language. At that moment, my blood ran cold. Suppressing the nausea that was about to overwhelm me, I pulled out my phone and sent a message to the research team that had been inviting me for a long time. I told them yes—I would join their research project. I was going to leave Sean behind and make sure he lived the rest of his life in regret.