He Failed

Elowen Vale is fresh out of high school, with no college plans and an invisible place in a home that never truly felt like hers. Pressured by her sister and her best friend to celebrate their final night of freedom, she agrees to a party, a reckless decision that changes everything. There, she meets billionaire Mael Virelis. A mistaken encounter. A disastrous one-night stand. A stolen identity, and a pregnancy she never expected. Elowen runs, disappearing into a new life, far from betrayal, shame, and the man who never looked her in the eyes. Three years later, she's a successful artist and a mother to a little girl with his eyes. When she returns home for her adoptive mother’s funeral, she comes face to face with the man who unknowingly broke her– in a tailored suit and cold, familiar eyes. Now, the past is a battlefield. And the war of hearts has only just begun.

During the holiday, a hashtag related to honeymoon trips goes viral on social media. The topic is, "How are you planning to spend your honeymoon?" One of the threads that has the most replies reads, "I have to bring my mistress along, of course." "Wow! That's crazy. Can you teach us how to pull that off?" I frown as I scroll down the thread and find the reply. "There are a lot of poor, female backpackers these days. As long as the mistress acts pitiful enough, you can pull the wool over your wife's eyes. And just like that, a couple's haven will become a world of three. "My wife and I will be going on our honeymoon trip tomorrow. I'll give everyone live updates in this thread." Feeling disgusted, I close the thread. … The next day, my husband, Sean Clifford, and I meet a poor, female backpacker on the road. She has no car, money, or any suitcases with her. Sprawling herself across the windshield, she begs, "Can you give me a ride, sir? I have blisters all over my feet. I can't walk anymore."

On our tenth anniversary, I came home with roses and the biggest deal of my career. I expected celebration. Instead, I found my husband in bed with my cousin. They looked at me like I was the one who had interrupted something that mattered. That night, I walked away from the man I thought loved me and the company I built. They thought I vanished. They rebranded everything in my absence, twisted the story, and erased my name from what I created. But I did not disappear. I became Juliana Cross. And I am not here to beg for what was mine. I am here to take it all back.

My daughter was born with silver poisoning in her blood—passed down from me—which made it hard for her to sense her wolf, and even harder for her to shift. I worked tirelessly, taking on every job I could, to earn enough money to find a cure for her. One night during a late shift, I saw her. My daughter, dressed like a princess in an elegant, Silverlight-woven gown, sat at a table in a high-end restaurant. With her was my mate—supposedly bedridden and paralyzed—wearing a tailored haute couture suit. Across the table sat the famous she-wolf of our pack, the daughter of a respected elder. They had ordered a lavish dinner, the bill totaling over $500,000. After the meal, I overheard my mate ask our daughter, “You remember how to tell the story, right?” She nodded and replied, “Yes. I’ll tell Mom we were working as werewolf junk collectors all night, collecting waste paper crates, and in the end, we only earned enough to buy half a loaf of bread.” My mate smiled, pleased with the answer. The she-wolf then gifted my daughter an entire collection of newly released moonstone jewelry. Before they left, my mate tipped each waitress $5,000. I stood frozen, tears falling as the truth shattered my heart: my mate—and even my beloved daughter—had been lying to me. Even in dormancy, my wolf mourned. A colleague saw me crying and asked what was wrong. I forced a smile and said, “I’m just happy. I got $5,000 tonight. It would’ve been even better… if it hadn’t come from my mate, the one who’s supposed to be paralyzed and lying in bed.” No one knew what I had sacrificed to be his mate. I waited for an apology. But it never came. So I made my decision. I called my father—the one who had been waiting all these years for me to return as his heir. When I disappeared from their lives, just as they had always secretly wished... That’s when they finally began searching for me across the world.

Kapag ang isang tahimik at mahinhing babae ay hindi inaasahang mapadpad sa mundo ng isang propesor na reserbado at malamig sa damdamin, sisiklab ang apoy na hindi nila inakala. Mula sa mga ilang at alanganing pagtatagpo at mga lihim na unti-unting nabubunyag, mamumulat ang isang ugnayang puno ng lambing at tukso. Sa gitna ng mga hindi pagkakaunawaan, halakhak, at mga sulyapang palihim, matutunaw kaya ang kanilang mga puso at mahahanap ang pag-ibig na mas higit kaysa sa kanilang inaakala?

For ten years, I was a peace offering to Alpha Kane. And he chose his adopted sister, Fiona, over me 77 times. He planned my birthday around her tastes. At the Hunter’s Moon festival, she stood beside him in the Luna’s ceremonial gown. My gown. Even on our mating night, he left me. Fiona faked a panic attack, claiming her wolf was losing control. He spent the night coddling her. I forgave him the first 76 times. Because he’d saved my life once, even if he didn’t remember. But when I was kidnapped, he had to choose: trade the pack's sacred artifact for my life, or stay with Fiona and her latest self-made drama. He chose her. The kidnappers injected me with a lethal dose of wolfsbane. I felt it tearing my wolf apart, devouring my life force from the inside out. The 77th time. I was finally ready to give up. But I was saved. By Drake, Alpha of the Nightfall Pack. The one who'd been watching over me for fifteen years.. That’s when I learned the truth. I’d been thanking the wrong man. The one who saved me was always Drake. Never Kane. So I went back. I filed to sever our mate bond with the Elders. In four days, I'll be free. And Kane can be with his precious Fiona forever. So why, now that it’s all over, is he on his knees, begging for me back and crying that he always loved me?

I first met Kai Valentine at the basketball court when I was ten years old. Kai was taller, louder, and faster than me. And from that day on, Kai became my best friend, my safe place. But then my parents passed away, and my family went bankrupt. After that, we weren't best friends anymore. We were just two strangers living in completely different worlds. Then, Kai starts "stealing" from me. He manages to steal every single girlfriend I've ever had. The day he steals my eighth girlfriend, I finally break. That's when I decide to fight back and get myself a boyfriend instead. That's right; I'm going to pretend to be gay! Let's see how he plans to steal this one. However, I never thought that my actions would make Kai go absolutely berserk. That night, Kai presses me against a dim corner in the stairwell. His fists slam into the concrete wall, his breath hot against my cheek. "If even he can be your boyfriend," he grits out, "then why can't I?" I laugh. "Are you out of your mind?" Kai just keeps pressing closer, his scorching gaze burning into me as his lips inch closer until he is just a breath away. "Do you still not get it?" Something hot and erect presses up against me. He then growls softly in my ear. "I never wanted to steal any of your girlfriends. The only person I ever wanted was you, Aiden Winston!"

It had been ten years, and Ethan—my mate—and I still didn’t have a pup. One day, he suggested we adopt one from the Werewolf Orphan Charity Agency. “My mate,” he said gently, “pregnancy is too hard for you. You’d have to go through so many checkups and herbs. Your wolf shouldn’t have to suffer like that.” When others heard this, they all said Ethan loved me deeply—that he couldn’t bear to see me in pain. But I saw the truth with my own eyes. He took an infant pup from another she-wolf. “Luckily, Mia isn’t pregnant,” he said. “That way, the excuse of adopting an infant works—and the pup can have a legitimate status in my clan.” I knew that she-wolf well. The same one Ethan used to call a “stupid omega.” Swallowing the bitterness in my heart, I called my mentor at the Werewolf Research Academy. “I want to devote myself to herb research,” I said calmly. Three days from now, during the pup’s first New Moon blessing, I’ll fake my death in a fire. No one will be able to stop me.

During a company team-building event, I collapse from a seafood allergy. Yet my fiance, Frederick Scott, rushes Beatrice Sutton, who only twisted her ankle, to the hospital. I come close to dying because I don't get treatment in time. Later, Frederick explains, "Beatrice is my best friend's sister. He's seriously ill now, and I promised him I'd take care of his sister. I swear I'll keep my distance from her from now on." This isn't the first time I've heard an excuse like that. On our fifth anniversary, Beatrice accidentally deleted a work file and burst into tears out of worry. When Frederick heard about it, he left me stranded on a mountain and drove back to the office himself. I spent a whole day and night walking home through the rain. On Christmas, Beatrice's house lost power. Frederick was worried that she might be scared of being alone, and he rushed over to her place without even telling me, leaving me out in the snow waiting for him until dawn. These kinds of things have happened countless times. Afterward, he always brushes them off with the same excuse. I've long since lost all faith in him and no longer believe a single word he says. I pick up my phone and call the company that keeps reaching out to me. "I've decided to accept your offer from last time. I'll bring the core technology with me."

By my third month on the job, I discovered that my coworkers had been calling me "the old crow" behind my back. The nickname came from none other than Jace's condescending secretary—because at 32, I was still clutching onto an eight-year relationship that hadn't ended in marriage. I confronted Jace. "Do you know your employees have been calling me the old crow?" He didn't even bother to look up. "That's just Sadie—she speaks her mind and means no harm. You're 32; why get so worked up over what a young girl says?" Then he gave me a faint, mocking smile. "Though honestly, it's a pretty fitting nickname." It felt like a cold hand had wrapped around my heart. So that was it—eight years of my youth, nothing more than a joke to him. I turned and walked away, handed in my resignation, and blocked every way he could reach me. But for the first time, the man who had always seemed so calm and untouchable finally panicked. "Elara," he pleaded, "please come back."