Actually I Was There Alone Novels & Stories

The Day I Was Reborn, I Rejected the Alpha In my previous life, on my third year as Luna, I took an arrow tipped with wolfsbane meant for my Alpha mate Julian. My wolf was nearly killed, and I lay comatose for three full years. When I finally woke, Julian held my sister Lyra's hand and told me they were in love. He wanted me to step aside. My adoptive mother, Eleanor, pressured me to accept it. I refused. When the three of them closed in on me, I appealed to the Council of Elders. In the end, the Council ruled that Lyra be exiled. She couldn't bear the humiliation, and took her own life. Julian let me keep my title as Luna, but he hated me for the rest of his life. He would look at me with cold, dead eyes. "You should never have woken up. Then I wouldn't have lost Lyra." My adoptive mother blamed me too — for killing my sister, for destroying our family. Seven years later, grief and alcohol had hollowed Julian out completely. On his deathbed, the cold mask slipped. He gripped my hand. "In the next life... will you let me have Lyra?" Something in me went numb. After Julian was gone, the pack fell apart without an Alpha. Every one of them cursed me for being the one still alive. In the fighting that came after, my own pack handed me over to a rival pack. They put a dozen arrows through me. I died alone in the wilderness. When I opened my eyes, I was back — back to the day I first woke up.

I had been married to Derek for six years, and we had a three-year-old son. He was poor, earning only $2,000 a month, but I had no complaints; I took care of everything at home for him. After getting dinner on the table for the whole family, I finally had a minute to check my phone. A video popped up on my feed: a twenty-two-year-old girl from a rural area whose hands, roughened by years of hard labor, looked like they belonged to a sixty-two-year-old woman. I looked down at my own hands, just as worn and scarred, and stared at them blankly before tapping into the comments. I expected people to feel bad for her. However, to my surprise, the comments section was flooded with a single sentiment: "Why would anyone marry a penniless loser?" One of the top-liked comments came from a couple; in their photo, they were pictured holding hands—fingers tightly intertwined—with the girl sporting a massive diamond ring. The accompanying caption read: "A man who truly loves you would never bear to let you suffer." I felt a pang of envy. Given the choice, who wouldn't want a glamorous life? As I was about to close the app, I accidentally tapped on the couple's photo, enlarging it. In the background, previously too blurry to make out, was a face I recognized. It looked exactly like my husband, Derek Sterling. I froze, and almost against my will, I tapped into the account's profile. Post after post of lavish photos of them together flooded my screen. And then I saw him clearly. The scar above his brow, the one he got when a shelf fell on him while protecting me, was still plainly visible. It was my husband. It was Derek.

They called her a Cheater. But Camille Laurent was the one who caught her husband in another woman’s arms. The night she found Marcus her husband with his mistress, she thought the truth would destroy them. Instead, it destroyed her. By morning, the scandal had a new story. Photos surfaced and headlines exploded. Camille was accused of having an affair with Adrian Steele. The husband of the Mistress her husband cheated on her with. One of the richest billionaires in Valmont. Marcus filed for a divorce during the scandal. While their spouses burned down their marriages, Camille and Adrian formed a dangerous alliance. What Valmont doesn’t know is that Camille left pregnant with twins. She isn’t just a discarded wife, she’s a long lost heiress.

Calliope: All my life my parents have sheltered me and now I find out not only am I a damn fairy, I have been promised to some psycho Warlock who thinks he's a God among women. DId he really think I would just drop to my knees right then and there in the damn dining room? Why does he have to be so damn hot....maybe once couldn't hurt, I can always leave tomorrow. I will show him who the God is here, he will be begging for me. Alexander: Who the hell does she think she is? She should be so lucky to be my wife, like she is some prize. This whole arrangement is ridiculous, I am only marrying her for her kingdom why should i care? I have to admit I wouldn't have a bad time with just a 5 minutes alone with her, no strings attatched, the things we could get up to....I'll have her begging me to marry her then ill be the one to cast her aside. Either way I will be her undoing.

My boyfriend was crippled when he saved me, while his adoptive sister suffered from heart failure after protecting us from misfortune. She had to depend on the expensive imported medicines to sustain life. To pay for their treatment, I sold myself as a lifecasting model on the black market. Not only were my hands and feet coated in the heated silicon, but I also needed to endure strangers touching me without flinching. I needed to pay if the replica was damaged. I begged through my tears, only to receive a few slaps to my face in return. They scolded, "You signed up for this. Don't act innocent now." Humiliated, exhausted, and aching, I still took the money straight to the hospital to buy medicine for his sister. When I passed by the VIP lounge, I heard a familiar laughter. "Chris, this is the 998th test, isn't it? Are you really marrying her once she passes the 999th test?" With a slight frown, Christopher answered, "Yeah. Although testing her is a family tradition, and they're having you to supervise, don't overdo it. I won't have another bride." I froze. Every sacrifice. Every humiliation. Every bit of pain I had endured—it had all been a test. A game to see whether I was worthy of marrying him. Staring at my bruised reflection in the fire-resistant glass, I let out a sudden chuckle. Then, with trembling hands, I turned on the old phone I hadn't touched in two years. I felt tears roll down my cheeks when I told the other person on the line, "Declan, take me home. I regret everything."

The day before the long weekend, I stopped by the branch office to deliver a file in my capacity as chairman. I had barely stepped through the door when I saw my old college classmate, Whitney Sims, surrounded by her usual circle of admirers. One of them said enviously, "I heard your fiance, Shane, is taking you home for the holiday? That's basically meeting the family, right?" "And tomorrow night at the corporate gala, he's bringing you out for the first time? Looks like the position of Mrs. Wilson is already secured!" I didn't react. I lowered my gaze and walked straight toward the office. Whitney called out behind me, "Skylar? I sent you my wedding invitation this morning–why didn't you reply?" "Oh–right, I almost forgot. The wedding's at the Grand Bellevue. You need at least a million in assets just to get in. I'm guessing you don't qualify?" She tapped my shoulder lightly, a faint smile on her lips. "Tell you what–I'll have my fiance speak to your supervisor and get your name on the guest list for tomorrow's gala. You can come watch me have my moment. Think of it as a preview of my happily-ever-after." I didn't even look up. "I'm busy that night. I won't be going." The moment I finished speaking, the woman beside her shoved me. "Who do you think you are? You're just a clerk running paperwork between offices–what are you putting on airs for? "Our Whitney is engaged to the CEO! She's being nice offering you a seat–don't push your luck!" "And don't think we don't know–if you hadn't stolen Whitney's college thesis, how would you have even gotten hired?" I almost laughed. I was the only daughter of the Reed family. Before I had even finished college, my parents had already handed over Reed Group to me. I was the chairman. What interview would I ever need?

Adrian Moretti’s adopted sister—She knew perfectly well that I suffered from severe asthma and could not be exposed to smoke or strong scents. Yet during the yacht reception, she deliberately dragged me onto the open deck, where cigars burned nonstop and the wind howled. Within seconds, my chest tightened. When I reached for my inhaler, my blood ran cold. It was empty. I collapsed against the railing, gasping violently, my lungs burning as if they were collapsing in on themselves. She crouched beside me and smiled. “You’re always so dramatic. It’s just a little smoke. You don’t need to act like you’re dying,” she said softly. “You’re too weak. You need to build some tolerance.” I looked toward Adrian, my vision already blurring. “Adrian,” I choked. “Give me my inhaler. If I don’t use it right now, I’m going to suffocate.” He frowned slightly. “Don’t you think you’re overreacting?” he said coldly. “I’ve never heard of anyone dying from a bit of smoke. She’s right—you’re always seeking attention. We finally gathered tonight, and you’re ruining it.” My heart dropped. I fumbled for my phone and called my mother. “Mom,” I sobbed, barely able to breathe. “I’m being bullied… and I can’t breathe.” My voice shook violently.

After five long years of dating, Winona Shaw finally said yes. I was elated, like a scavenger who'd struck gold. I put everything I had into the engagement party, but out of the blue, Winona embraced Claude Landton instead. She even tried to frame me and boot me to jail. I canceled the party and called the cops instead. That made Winona mad, and Claude started panicking. Icily, I said, "Now, calm down. We have a lot of trials to go through. See you in court."

To the world, I was Mrs. Ward—the untouchable queen beside the mafia king of New York, Elias Ward. But I knew my husband never loved me. His heart had always belonged to Harper Dinah. His nephew’s wife. And after that nephew conveniently died, Elias brought her into our mansion, “I just want to take better care of her,” he’d said. And his version of “care” was where he’d throw a man out of a party for daring to flirt with Harper and got her pregnant. Elias likes to praise me in public like I was the perfect wife to him. And I was. I helped build his empire. I was the one who smiled and played nice. I made his casino shine while he hid Harper away like she was something sacred. Because of all that praising, one of his enemies set his sights on me. They took me. Sent Elias a message soaked in blood and threats: Back off. Leave New York. Or your pretty wife dies. Of course, Elias didn’t choose to back off.. “Just wait,” he said over the phone, “They won’t hurt you, Noa. You’re leverage. Just hold on until Harper gives birth. Then I’ll come for you.” Eight months of being held in a filthy hole, starved, beaten, degraded. The gang leader raped me over and over again. And still, Elias never came. Finally, I escaped when they were all drunk. Went home, only find my twins sleeping in the maid’s room, eating scraps while Elias was too busy hosting a party for his newborn. I didn’t confront him, just packed my babies and disappear.

"Here's 1 million dollars. Take it, leave the Star Moon Pack, and go somewhere my son will never find you." My boyfriend's mother looked at me with scorn as she handed over a check. If this had happened in the past, I would have told her that I loved her son—not because he was an Alpha, not for the title of Luna, and certainly not for his family's vast fortune. I loved him because of the deep bond we shared. I was carrying his pup. We were supposed to become mates and build a happy life together. But now, he was about to hold a bonding ceremony with another woman. He was planning to mark her and let her bear his pup. He said it was all just to appease the Pack's elders and his parents. What they didn't know was that as the daughter of the Alpha of the Golden River Pack, I'd never need a bond to gain status, power, or wealth. So now that he'd chosen someone else, the only thing left for me to do was to walk away with dignity.