Contos sobre Plot Twists e Romances com Multiple Identities e Campus

The dormitory entrance downstairs is completely blocked. After squeezing to the front row, a he-wolf from the physical training camp next door points and whistles at me. "Look, that's the Luminian vixen. She's famous for being a notch-collector and will do it with any Alpha." My bed is strewn with rotten meat and animal entrails. On the wall, the words "Harlot", "Floozy", and "Tart" are scrawled in bright red lipstick. Jessica Cobb, the blonde-haired, blue-eyed cheer captain, holds up her phone. "Girls, I really don't want to expose her, but she's just filthy," she says with a face filled with contempt. "She's worse than a dog in heat. On Monday, it was the little hottie with the six-pack abs in his Ferrari. "Wednesday, it was the mature Alpha who reeks of cigars and has eyes that look like they want to devour you in his Bentley. Yesterday, it was that old gentleman with the monocle who's into domination in his Rolls-Royce." She shoves the photos right in the faces of the surrounding women. "Clearly, she didn't come here to study, but to find a sugar daddy." Despite the crystal-clear pictures showing me in those cars, I can't reveal that the men with me are my obsessively controlling older brother, my hot-tempered uncle, and my great-uncle. Respectively, they are the Alpha King of Lumin, the Chief Justice, and the Chair of the Elders' Council. The surrounding male werewolves burst into laughter, their eyes roaming over my thighs. "Hey, Luminian doll, how much for one night? I'd like a taste of you too." They have no idea that these men they're fantasizing about as my sugar daddies are actually the werewolf elders they can least afford to mess with in this lifetime.

My family got rich off mining. Like, stupid rich. The day I was born, Grandpa bought half a mountain to celebrate. When I turned three, my family did that birthday thing where you pick an object. I grabbed a gold calculator. By that night, I had my own trust fund. In elementary school, even the principal shot to his feet whenever my parents walked into a conference. Then, when I was ten, someone tried to kidnap me. My parents lost it. They moved me into a normal apartment complex, put me in cheap outlet clothes, and made me eat the cheapest stuff in the cafeteria. Honestly? I loved it. It was quiet. Easy. Then came our five-year class reunion. Dylan, my old crush, spotted me in a delivery uniform and laughed. Then he stuck me at the servers' table. Mandy Lawton, our class's former queen bee, gave me a fake-sweet smile. "Oh, don't say that. For Willow, supporting herself is already a huge accomplishment." Everyone lifted their glasses. "Good thing Dylan rejected her. Otherwise, he'd be crammed into some tiny apartment, eating boxed mac and cheese every night." I didn't even blink. I was too busy staring at the document on my phone. [Ms. Whitford, please confirm your acceptance of full ownership of Evermont Resources by 9:00 p.m. tonight.] I sighed. 'Seriously?' I wanted one quiet dinner. Instead, they had to go and blow up my whole broke-girl act.

My family was the wealthiest in Brightwater, Bellweather. Yet my parents never stopped praising the scholarship student they sponsored. According to them, he was brilliant, disciplined, and a thousand times better than their own daughter. I refused to believe it. Using a fake name, I contacted him online, pretended to be a struggling student just like him, and flirted with him for months while searching for something I could use against him. Instead, I discovered that Elliot Pierce was almost painfully honest. Determined to expose the act I was sure he was putting on, I enrolled at Brightwater University through its competitive dance program. On move-in day, I pulled my sports car beside him and deliberately splashed muddy water across his shirt. I lowered my sunglasses and smiled at the mess. "I'm Sienna Wilde, the daughter of the people paying your scholarship. "And you're Elliot Pierce? You're not much to look at. I have no idea what my parents see in you." He calmly wiped the mud from his face, said nothing, and walked away. That night, my phone lit up with a message. Elliot: "Molly, I met the Wildes' daughter today. Compared with her, you're an angel."