Imelda Coco

I was with Don Massimo for five years. The whole time, he never hid his favorite: Cara. His driver’s daughter. The man who took a bullet for him. He called it paying a debt. Like a fool, I bought it. He gave her jewels. Fast cars. He even bought her an island. Three days before the wedding, I found out he'd moved the venue. Not to my family's estate in Sicily. But to the island. Her island. His excuse? Cara was claustrophobic. Couldn't handle a big indoor wedding. I was done. Three days later, the wedding happened on that island. But the bride was a no-show. Massimo was publicly humiliated. He tore the city apart looking for me. That’s when he found out. He thought he was marrying me. Instead, I married his greatest enemy. Nikolai Volkov. The Godfather of the Russian Bratva. He ditched Cara. He ran to my family's estate and waited. Seven days and nights. With flowers, a ring, and a whole lot of begging.

Studying abroad can be incredibly lonely at times. That night, I was in my room, indulging in a little treat for myself, when my best friend suddenly burst through the door. "Doing it yourself is no fun. Come on. There's a super cool cabaret show going on. Let's go see it together!" On stage, my friend was reclining in a chair behind the curtain, with two strong-looking men on top of her. "Come on. Join us for a group dance..."

My marriage to Dante Moretti shocked everyone. I’ve got a fiery temper and I don’t back down. Three years into our marriage, the entire Chicago underworld knew we were at each other's throats. Except in bed. There, our bodies just fit. The only time we weren't at war was when we were tangled in the sheets, lost in a storm of desperate kisses and raw pleasure. Countless times, he’d tell me he was obsessed with my body, always right as he was sinking into me. I thought it was his way of saying he was falling for me. That all came crashing down at an auction, when he snatched my mother's heirloom from me, only to give it to her—a fragile-looking girl named Ava. That’s when he showed me a cruelty I’d never seen. "It's time for a reality check, Elara," he’d said, his voice cold as ice. "Marrying you, fucking you… it was all just to keep the peace between our families. Ava is the one I want to protect." But the day I finally left Chicago, the day I announced our divorce to the world… That cold, calculating Mafia Don hunted for me like a man possessed.

We were supposed to be in love for eternity. But my vampire fiancé, Caius, has stood me up at our blood-bonding ceremony thirty-three times. The first time, the girl he’d sired, Evangeline, lost control during a hunt. He raced to her side, leaving me alone in the church under the blood moon. The second time, he vanished mid-ceremony because Evangeline was being bullied by another clan. He left me to face the elders’ mockery alone. After that, his little fledgling always had some fresh disaster for him to avert. And he always had an excuse: “I sired her. She’s like a child to me.” Then I saw the fresh bite marks on their necks. They had shared blood—the ultimate intimacy between mates. My heart turned to ash. It was time to burn our betrothal to the ground. The day I finally disappeared, he went mad, tearing our world apart to find me.

I fell asleep in my fated mate Alpha Zane’s office. When I woke up, a magical seal was branded on my face. “Blackmoon Pack’s Slut.” And there was Dahlia, Zane’s new omega assistant. She held an Alpha’s seal, a taunting smirk on her face. “Why is a porcelain doll like you meddling in pack business?” she sneered. “You should just stay in your castle and be the pretty little trophy you are.” My wolf snarled, ready to crush her with my aura. But just as a vase flew at her head, Zane was suddenly there. He shielded her with his own body, his own Alpha power flaring to meet mine. He scowled at me, his voice tight with fury. “Dahlia was just playing a prank. Don’t be so dramatic.” But my eyes locked on the exposed skin of Dahlia's neck, where she was nestled in his arms. There it was. A fresh bite mark. And it reeked of him. Dahlia let out a contented purr, her voice dripping with sickly sweetness. “My Alpha knows I never attended the academy, and I was getting so bored. So to entertain me, he let me play with his Alpha’s sigil to practice creating magical marks.” She giggled. “I was just playing a little game with the princess. You’re not going to be a sore loser, are you?”

For ten years, Alpha Ryker was my mate. And for ten years, he slept with other she-wolves. Every time he touched another woman, the mate bond burned through me like a brand. Still, I played the part of the dutiful Luna. I stood by his side. His excuse? The pack needed a strong heir. A past injury had broken my wolf, leaving me barren. He claimed any pup I conceived would be too weak to survive. But when he brought home his 100th conquest, a she-wolf named Lorelei, I finally broke. I saw the love in his eyes for her. I felt his wolf stir. It was different. He hurt me, abandoned me for her, again and again. He even destroyed my ten-year-old moonflower garden because of her. I couldn't take the nightly agony anymore. I asked him to sever our bond. The first time I asked for a rejection ceremony, he panicked. He begged me with red-rimmed eyes not to leave. I tearfully agreed, still clinging to him. But then he left my side to comfort Lorelei after she had a nightmare. I asked ten, twenty, thirty more times. He grew numb. By the fiftieth time, he just sneered. "Enough, Carys. You're a she-wolf with a dormant inner wolf. Being my Luna is the best you'll ever get. You can't leave me." But he didn't know. He had already signed our rejection papers. In three days, our mate bond would be gone for good. And my phone held an ultrasound of twin pups, along with another message. "The full moon is in three days. We'll have our mating ceremony then."

For seven years, I thought Declan was just an ordinary Beta. That was until I secretly traveled a thousand miles to his pack, wanting to surprise him. Only to find other werewolves calling him Alpha. And more importantly, he already had a Luna. The wolves around me started whispering. “Is that the Alpha’s secret lover?” “The nerve of her, showing up here… so shameless.” I wanted to argue, to tell them they had it all wrong. I was his real girlfriend. His Fated Mate. But then, a woman in a gorgeous dress walked over. The wolves bowed their heads respectfully. “Luna.” She was on the phone, her voice a sweet, playful pout. “The blessing ceremony for the heir is about to start, and the Elders are getting antsy… I know you’re busy, but this is our child. You have to be with me.” The man’s voice on the other end was deep and gentle, a voice I knew better than my own. “I know, my Luna.” Just a few nights ago, he had whispered loving words into my ear with that same gentle voice, his body moving powerfully inside mine, holding me so tight. It was my lover, Declan.

After I was reborn, I was the one who changed the name on my blood bond with Prince Mortlock. I wrote in “Isabella”—the other vampire he’d always cherished, always protected. When Isabella wanted the ruby necklace, the one that marked the Prince's Mate, I let her have it. The wedding dress Mortlock had prepared for me? I gave that to Isabella, too. I did it all because in my past life, I got my wish. I became Mortlock’s mate, but I lived every moment in Isabella’s shadow. In the end, during a battle with vampire hunters, Mortlock ran to a wounded Isabella first. I was the one left to take a silver stake through the heart. So this time, I decided to let them be. To stay far away from Mortlock. But this time, the cold, distant Prince wept and begged me to be his mate again.

The day after I gave birth to Alpha Albert’s pup, while our son was still fragile and my own wounds still fresh, he demanded I give up the Luna Suite. For his old flame, Chloe, and her unborn child. His reason? Chloe was close to her due date, and the suite’s unique moonlight energy was known to soothe expectant mothers and their pups. I stared at him in disbelief. "But that's the Luna's suite. And our son? Doesn't he need that energy?" Albert’s expression was hard as stone. "I owe her." His voice was ice. "If I hadn't been forced into this mating with you, she never would have married that abusive bastard out of spite. You're the Luna. A small sacrifice won't kill you." A small sacrifice. He’d used that excuse to hurt me countless times since our union. He missed our anniversary to play nursemaid to a sick Chloe. He forced me to give up my position as the pack's Head Healer for her… This time, I didn't scream or fight. I just looked at him, my voice eerily calm. "Fine. I'll move." Then I sent a message to my father, the Alpha of the Blood Moon Pack: Father, come get me. I'm rejecting my mate bond with Albert.

The life trial system "If You Think You Can Do Better, Prove It" burst onto the scene like a traveling circus promising wonders. The idea was plain enough: "If you reckon someone's life is a mess, and you think you can do better, go ahead and prove it. There's a reward waiting if you do." Before I knew it, my whole family had me pegged for the fool in the middle of the show. There was my mother, dreaming of turning me into some grand goose; my husband, who'd spent years dodging his rightful share of the family load; and my son, mortified by the very sight of me. They shoved me onto the "judgment seat" like I was the villain of the tale. Every last one of them swore up and down that, given my place, they'd manage my life better than I ever could. The stakes? Well, if they pulled it off, my consciousness would be erased—gone, wiped out like a mistake on a chalkboard—and turned into their personal servant. On top of that, they'd waltz off with a cool million dollars. But if they couldn't? Then I'd be the one raking in three million dollars. Now that's a gamble for the ages, isn't it?