Hung Arknights

I'm Lilith. My biggest trauma used to be my dad forgetting to book my Santorini villa, I know, the absolute horror of it all. I had the Porsche, the diamonds, the designer wardrobe that took up two whole rooms, and Jax, the perfect boyfriend who looked at me like I hung the moon. I thought I was the main character. Plot twist? I was wrong. Turns out I wasn't being raised as the Alpha's darling. I was being fattened up for slaughter. My parents didn't love me, they were just my wardens, keeping me soft and pretty and completely clueless. And that Gala everyone kept whispering about? Not my debutante ball. An auction. I got sold to the Triad like a piece of art, like a handbag, like I was something to own. The Triad. Three terrifying, bloodthirsty Alphas who make the monsters under your bed look like stuffed animals. They need me for some twisted prophecy I never signed up for, and they don't care what I want. Obviously. And the cherry on top of this hot-mess express? Jax held the door open for them. My perfect boyfriend counted his money while they dragged me away. They think they can break the spoiled princess. They think I'm just a "Spawn of Lilith" meant to be served on a silver platter. Soft and sweet and easy to swallow. Here's what they don't get. When you take away a girl's credit cards, her freedom, her whole damn life? The monster underneath is way more expensive to deal with than a few Birkins ever were.

On the eve of my engagement banquet, news broke that my fiancé had fathered a child with his mistress, and it spread like wildfire. Before I could confront him, Jayden Ford brushed it off casually. "It was just an accident. Focus on organizing the engagement banquet first. Besides, your dad’s in the late stages of stomach cancer. Calling off the engagement now won’t do either family any good." That night, he skipped the banquet but posted a photo of a swaddled newborn on social media. When I video-called him, he was bottle-feeding the baby. "I’ve been busy taking care of the kid. You know how it is. Our family lineage has always been sparse and dwindling, and the child takes priority." He wiped milk from the baby’s mouth. "But don’t worry. Once he’s a month old, I’ll send him to the overseas. Just show up on holidays and pretend to be his mom. The title of Mrs. Ford will always be yours." I stared at the matching diamond ring on his finger and couldn’t help but laugh. "Jayden, this engagement is off." He scoffed, "You're really throwing a tantrum over something like this? Don’t be so childish." I hung up on him and called his father—Charles Ford—directly. "I heard you’re looking for a new wife? Why not consider me?" I ran a hand over my belly and smiled. "After all, I’ve got a naturally fertile body. I can give you as many sons as you want." So much for being the sole heir. I’ll make sure he has plenty of brothers to keep him company.

My crippled sister, Monica Porter, jumped from the roof of the classroom building. The day before she died, she had just been fitted with the custom prosthetic legs I had paid for with ten years of savings. She was glowing, excited to finally stand up on her own. But my wife's best friend, a guy she said was just like a brother to her, locked Monica inside an empty art room. He smashed her new legs, forced her to crawl on the floor and lick paint clean to retrieve the broken parts, and recorded everything on video. And my wife, a judge, ultimately ruled that the case could not stand. "The video cannot confirm the time it was recorded and may represent consensual performance art between both parties," she said. Sandra Pauley's final judgment was simple. "The deceased had a history of depression. The school and the defendant bear no responsibility." I smiled and cooked her a full table of food. The next day, I hung the bully, Eric Hoyles, from the school's flagpole and livestreamed it to the entire internet. "Honey, remember how you said Monica had such pretty legs?" I raised a claw hammer and brought it down on his ankle. "If you don't hand over the video evidence right now, I'll hook out his Achilles tendon one strand at a time and let him learn what it feels like to crawl!" The wind passed through. His screaming broke apart in the air, mixing with the strained creaking of the flagpole until it sounded almost like music. The live chat went insane. Meanwhile, I laughed until my eyes filled with tears.

After ten years of being mated, I discovered my aloof Alpha mate had been keeping a sunshine-like Omega lover. That Omega could bring warmth and light to everyone she meets. My Alpha mate, Dominic, who had spent his childhood in the doldrums, was easily attracted by that kind of pure warmth. That very night, I presented him with a mate bond severance agreement. Dominic sneered coldly as he tore up the agreement, throwing a psychiatric evaluation at me instead. "Sign this. Admit you have delusional disorder, and I'll send you to the best mental hospital to live out your days. I know all about your dirty little tricks. I won't give you any chance to hurt her." So, all these years… every little thing I’d done to protect him? To him, it was just despicable scheming. I refused to sign. Dominic had me bound and tortured with silver powder, watching coldly as I convulsed in agony. He even had our two five-year-old pups hung from the bow of massive ships about to collide. "Either sign, or watch them get crushed to pulp. Your call." I dropped to my knees on the deck, banging my head against the wood like a madwoman, begging him to let me sign. But it was too late—I watched helplessly as my pups' small bodies got torn apart by metal shrapnel. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day I discovered he was keeping that girl. I decided never to love him again. But after I left him, Dominic suddenly went mad searching for me everywhere.

Natalie Underwood and Damian Abbott were high school sweethearts. Both of them were the most good-looking students back in high school, and when they began dating, they were the most well-known golden couple on campus. There was once when they had made a vow to get married once they reached the legal age to do so. But just when their love for each other reached its peak, Natalie suddenly broke up with Damian before leaving the country with a rich scion. On the day of their break-up, Damian chased after Natalie for a very long time with red-rimmed eyes. To think that a young man as prideful as him kept begging her not to break up with him. He kept promising her that he would be successful one day. Damian begged Natalie not to act so rashly. He pleaded with her to wait for him and not to fall in love with someone else. But Natalie remained cold and aloof to him. She didn't even want to waste her breath on him. Heck, when she witnessed him getting into a car accident during his pursuit, she didn't bother returning to him. It was an extremely serious car crash. Damian's kidney was completely ruptured. He needed a kidney transplant in order to survive. Although he was lying on the surgical table while drenched in his own blood, he insisted on getting up so that he could call Natalie on the phone. But the calls that he had mustered all of his strength to place ended up getting hung up by Natalie repeatedly. For as deep as Damian's love for Natalie ran, hatred could run just as deep. From that day onward, Damien had nothing but burning hatred for Natalie.

After eight years of love, Liz Smith went from being the woman Zac Lincoln once saw as the love he could never forget, to someone he couldn’t wait to get rid of. She had spent three years trying to hold on, giving everything she had. But once her last bit of affection ran dry, she finally gave up and walked away. On the day they broke up, Zac sneered coldly and said, “Liz, I’ll be waiting for you to come crawling back, begging me to take you back.” But what came instead wasn’t a plea—it was news that she was getting married. Furious, he called her. “Are you done with your little game?” A deep male voice answered from the other end. “Mr. Lincoln, my fiancée is in the shower. She can’t come to the phone right now.” Zac let out a bitter laugh and hung up. He convinced himself it was just another one of Liz’s tricks—playing hard to get. It wasn’t until her wedding day, when he saw her in a white gown, holding a bouquet, walking down the aisle toward another man, that reality finally hit him. Liz had truly let him go. Like a madman, he pushed through the crowd and rushed to her. “Liz, I know I was wrong. Please don’t marry someone else. Please.” Liz lifted her dress and walked right past him. “Didn’t you say you and Xena were perfect for each other? Why are you kneeling at my wedding now, Mr. Lincoln?”

“You kept dancing for other men, knowing fully well that I was glaring at you. I wanted you to stop, come down from the pole and crawl to me like the slut that you are, but you didn't, did you?” His hands had pushed my panties aside, and flicking a finger through my folds, he let out a dark, primal chuckle. The fact that I couldn't see his face heightened my excitement and fear. I felt both in good measure. “So what are you going to do about it sir?” Lust had clouded my sense of reasoning and it made me bolder. “I'm going to punish you. It's only fair. Don't you think so?” Fuck. The steady rise of my chest went haywire. I had spiraled out of control, out of primal need to please this man. “Yes please, punish me.” I let out a desperate plea. “Good girl.” His deep voice rumbled, and the heavy promises of what he would do to me hung in the air. ……… I fell for my brother's best friend when I was thirteen but he rejected me, patted me on my head and said I was cute. I fell even deeper, but as I grew up and realized how embarrassing I was, my crush turned into hate, until I saw him again for the first time after eight years. He pleasured me for a whole night, and I didn't even realize who he was until the very next day, but it had already happened. Things became awkward and even though I still hated him, I couldn't resist going back for more…

I was dying from my fear of heights, but my husband, Don Vincent, was busy with his assistant, savoring the latest coffee flown in from Hawaii that morning. "You're a grown woman, Bella. What's the big deal? You're stuck on a roof, figure it out." Then he hung up on me. I collapsed onto the hot tar of the roof, my body shaking uncontrollably before everything went black. It was two hours before building security found me. When I got home, I asked Vincent for a divorce. He rubbed his temples, his patience worn thin, looking at me as if I were a child throwing a tantrum. "Over a cup of coffee? I told you, the heights are all in your head. You’re perfectly safe now. Stop making a scene alright? What's this nonsense about a divorce? I have more important things to deal with. Calm yourself down." I stared at his back as he left, tears already streaming down my face. Something important? Did he really think I couldn't hear his assistant, Sophia, murmuring in the background? Did he think I didn't know he took her to the last family gathering? I had loved Vincent for three years. Everyone knew he was the center of my world. They all thought an orphan like me could never leave him. But now, all the love I had was eclipsed by a profound, soul-crushing exhaustion. I was done. I picked up my phone and dialed a number I hadn't touched in three long years. "Uncle, book me a flight to Seattle. I'm ready to leave Vincent."

Betrayal, fear, and confusion clouded her thoughts as she faced the harsh reality of her existence. The daughter of the Shadow Weaver's ruthless leader, she had been molded into a weapon, a puppet dancing on her father's strings. Yet, beneath the facade of loyalty, her soul yearned for something more, something real. Trapped in enemy territory, she found an unexpected solace in the arms of Christian Darwin, the Royal Beta of the Red Moon pack. His eyes, like twin galaxies, held a promise of protection and understanding. "You need to trust me," he whispered, his voice a soothing balm to her wounded spirit. "I will take away your pain. I will make them pay for what they've done to you. They'll regret every moment of it." His words hung in the air, laden with a fierce determination that resonated with Mia's shattered soul. As he opened his arms, a silent plea for her to find refuge in his embrace, she hesitated for a moment, her teary eyes searching his face for sincerity. In that fragile moment, she made a choice – to let go of the chains that bound her and to embrace the warmth of his presence. With a rush of raw, unfiltered emotion, she threw herself into his arms, seeking solace in the midst of chaos. What happens when secrets are revealed and she finds out that her life has been nothing but a series of lies? What happens when the truth unfolds and she finds out that the only person she was ever devoted to, was the one who betrayed her? She is yet to discover her true identity so join Mia on this rollercoaster journey where her mate will bring her wildest fantasies to life, where she has only one mission: Make The Culprit Pay.

“Cassie Vaughn. Failed to crawl into my bed, so you started stealing from my casino?” The giant screen lit up. Every inch of it was covered with my nude photos. “Holy shit. A janitor actually thought she could seduce Lucien Moretti?” “She wanted to climb the ladder so badly she started stealing dirty casino money?” I was shaking with rage. The moment I said, “Those are AI-generated,” the entire room burst into laughter. “You think Lucien Moretti would fake photos for trash like you?” The next second, Lucien slid a phone across the poker table toward me. “Thirty million dollars from my casino.” “How exactly are you planning to pay that back?” But only I knew the truth. Lucien himself had stolen that money. I had simply seen it happen. On the screen, my parents hung from chains inside a warehouse, blood covering their faces. A document titled Organ Valuation Agreement was pushed in front of me. “Sign it.” “Or your parents die.” I fought with everything I had. Still, they dragged me toward the crocodile pit. Then I opened my eyes again. I was back at the poker table. Across from me, the butcher himself lazily rolled casino chips between his fingers. And on the giant screen behind him, my AI-generated nudes were still playing. He smirked. “Still trying to seduce me?” I lowered my eyes and checked the time. Forty-three minutes remained before I would be thrown into the crocodile pit. But I smiled. Lucien Moretti. This time—we’re gambling with your life.