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"Spread your fucking legs for Daddy…" The moment those growled words hit my ears, my thighs trembled, going weak at the knees. I swallowed hard, my throat dry with envy, aching to be the one spread wide and commanded by that deep, dominant voice. Heat flooded my core, soaking my panties with slick arousal, my pussy clenching desperately around nothing. Like the foolish, needy girl I was, I nudged the door open just a crack, peeking into the dim light of his bedroom to see who he was claiming on that massive bed. But shock slammed into me—Alpha Kane wasn't with anyone else. He lounged against the headboard, his massive hand wrapped around his thick, veined cock, stroking it slow and firm while his piercing eyes locked on a spread of my photos scattered across the sheets. Pictures of me in innocent poses, but the way he pumped his shaft, pre-cum beading at the tip and dripping down his length, turned them filthy in his gaze. **** I'd been just ten when rogues tore through our pack in a brutal war, slaughtering my parents and leaving me orphaned in the blood-soaked ruins. Alpha Kane Laskovic had charged in like a storm, ripping through the attackers with savage fury, saving me and the survivors. He became my guardian, my armored knight, pulling me from the ashes and raising me under his powerful protection. I was supposed to call him Dad—respectful, safe. Not Daddy, not while fantasizing about him pinning me down, growling filthy commands as he fucked me raw, claiming every inch of my body as his. But gods, I couldn't stop. The taboo hunger burned too hot, making me crave his cum flooding my womb, marking me as his forbidden little slut.

I don't have any ambitions in life. My biggest dream is to become a rich widow. On the day I'm supposed to go on a blind date, my parents place two photos in front of me. The first photo features Frank Larson, the young and handsome heir of the richest family in the elite circle. The second photo shows his youngest uncle, Henry Larson, who's supposedly dying really soon. It's said that he has never married anyone despite being 35 years old. My younger sister, Lily Nufer, chooses Frank as her future partner immediately. "I want to become the wife of the richest heir in the elite circle! A life of glory and luxury awaits me!" Then, she starts mocking me. "Sarah, you should just marry the walking corpse. Once he's dead, his assets are all yours!" I nod in return. "Okay." Walking corpses are fine by me. I don't have to scrub his back during bathtime. Plus, the sooner he dies, the sooner I regain my freedom. But after I get married, I find out that the so-called "corpse" not only possesses a figure that's sexier than a model's, but his stamina also exceeds that of a bull's. On top of that, Henry is also the one who calls the shots in the elite circle. Later on, Frank gets cast out of the Larson family for embezzling the company's funds. As Frank's wife, Lily is forced to live on the streets with him. Unable to take it anymore, Lily kneels by my feet and offers to exchange Frank for Henry due to their age difference. I'm about to nod and agree to the offer when Henry, my extremely influential and powerful husband, stomps onto Frank's hand immediately. "No way!" I say, "I'm okay with having a younger husband. Youth is nice." Henry chuckles coldly at Frank. "Sarah's your aunt! How dare you try to take her away from me! It seems that you must be tired of living!"

In the two weeks leading up to our fifth wedding anniversary banquet, my wife's secretary, Ronald Piper, sent me photos of the two of them in bed every single day. I pretend not to know. On the day of the banquet, my wife, Jessica Tuttle, books out an entire hotel and gives a heartfelt speech, saying that I am the person she is most grateful for in this lifetime. Everyone applauds through tears. Over the years, Jessica, the aloof and capable CEO, has flown a thousand miles overnight just to come home and cook me broth when my stomach hurts. And when she is sentenced to imprisonment, I willingly serve two years behind bars in her place without hesitation. To outsiders, we are a perfect couple who are deeply in love with each other. While cutting the cake, I notice the pendant on Ronald's wrist. I had to call in every favor I had to get that pendant for Jessica. Back then, she says to me, "As long as the pendant stays on, our love remains. If it's ever removed, our relationship is over." I look at Jessica, who sighs with a helpless and indulgent expression. "Felix, Ron has been having nightmares lately. He's been down with a fever, too. I lent it to him for a few days to ward off bad luck. Don't argue with a kid over something so small, okay?" She then pats Ronald's shoulder reassuringly and urges, "You should thank Felix. He's always been understanding. It's just a trinket. He wouldn't be reluctant to part with it." Ronald looks at me timidly and says, "Thank you for letting me have it. With it protecting me, I can finally sleep peacefully every night while holding it in my arms. When I get better, I'll give it back to you." My best childhood friend is furious upon hearing this. "How can you turn a blind eye to all this?" he hisses. Of course I can.

On the day of my wedding, the video I had painstakingly prepared was suddenly replaced with intimate photos of my fiancé and my foster sister, Lindsey Remmington. Within minutes, it hit the top of the trending list. Overnight, I, a celebrated actress, became the abandoned bride of a wealthy family and a public laughingstock. Just when I thought I'd reached rock bottom, Connor Presley, the heir of Elluel City's most powerful family and the boy I'd grown up with, returned from abroad. In front of flashing cameras, he knelt with a diamond ring and proposed, silencing every rumor and every sneer. After we married, we appeared inseparable, our affection the picture of perfection. The only flaw was his infertility—his condition made it nearly impossible for me to conceive. For three long years, I underwent countless rounds of IVF. At last, I became pregnant. Connor was overjoyed. To celebrate, he threw an extravagant party in honor of our long-awaited child. But in the middle of the revelry, one of his closest friends, drunk and unguarded, muttered in Russian, "Connor, you've gone too far. Just because Lindsey was afraid pregnancy would ruin her figure, you put the zygote into Rachel's body and let her carry the baby for you two? If she ever finds out the truth, you'll regret it for the rest of your life." Connor's expression didn't waver. "This was Lindsey's only wish. I had to grant it," he replied coolly. "Besides, having a child with Lindsey has always been my dream. Only her child deserves to be the heir of the Presley family. The days ahead are long—I'll make it up to Rachel, eventually." I stood frozen, my body trembling uncontrollably. That night, I made an appointment for an abortion. When Connor stormed into the hospital, raging like a madman, I looked up at him with chilling calm and said, "I understand Russian."

Valentina whispered, her voice trembling. “You’re two? Like two different men?” Massimo stepped closer with a dark smirk. “Took you long enough, little queen.” Marcello spoke in a low, slow voice. “Every night you screamed for ‘him’… it was us. Switching. Sharing.” Valentina’s eyes widened. “The bruises… the whispers… two different men?” Massimo grabbed her wrist firmly. “One hard, one slow. Both filling you. Both owning you.” Marcello’s fingers tangled in her hair, tilting her head back. “You came harder knowing deep down, didn’t you?” Valentina breathed shakily. “You monsters.” Massimo pressed his chest against her and moved slowly. “Your monsters. Say it.” Marcello brushed his lips against her neck. “Say you want both of us again. Right here. Right now.” Valentina’s thighs clenched. “I want both of you.” Massimo’s dark smirk deepened. “Good girl. Spread for your kings.” Valentina Ferraro was the invisible outcast until her jealous sister drugged her and delivered her straight to the Caruso twins. Massimo and Marcello, ruthless mafia kings, identical in looks and cruelty. They have watched her for months. Obsessed. Waiting. When scandalous photos explode across Italy, her father disowns her. The twins claim her as payment. Now she is their contract wife in a cliffside villa. One rule: every day she spreads for them until she carries their heir. Massimo takes her hard. Marcello takes her slow. They mark her. Fill her. Own her. But the twins knew she was drugged that first night… and they did not stop. Secrets bleed. Revenge burns. A rival strikes. When the real pregnancy test turns positive, the monsters kneel. From captive to queen, Valentina rises. In Naples’ shadows, she is no longer forgotten. She is bred. She is claimed. She is theirs.

The news of Jared Foley and me breaking up completely stuns our social groups. After all, we've been together for ten whole years. Even the invitations to our wedding are printed. When faced against our friends' doubts and questions, I merely reply, "We broke up over a joke." At a classmates' reunion on the day before, the drunken Chuck Garner, the class president, suddenly asks Jared a question. "Heather's your fiancee, whereas Paige is your first love. Who would you rescue if both of them fall into the sea at the same time?" Jared doesn't even bother glancing at me as he answers immediately, "Paige, of course!" For a moment, the atmosphere in the private room becomes awkward. Soon, someone quickly eases the tension. "Have you all forgotten that Heather used to be the swimming champion back then? She doesn't need Jared to save her!" Jared shoots it down immediately. "Nah. It's because Heather talks too much." A pause later, Chuck bursts out laughing. "It's been ten years! To think that the top scorer has picked up a sense of humor!" Everyone else joins in on the laughter except for me. After all, I know that Jared is speaking the truth. He's already sick and tired of me rambling on and on when I share every little detail that happens in my life with him every day. That's why he mutes my chatbox on WhatsApp. I've always thought that this is a part of Jared's personality. That is, until I accidentally stumble upon the chat history between Jared and Paige. He even makes sure to take photos of what he has for breakfast and sends them to Paige every morning. Only then do I realize that Jared isn't cold and aloof by nature. He's just cold and aloof toward me. In that case, why should I stubbornly cling to the ray of light that has never illuminated my life?

I couldn’t cum ,not once in two years with him nor with someone. Then Sophie,my best friend….slid a card across the table. Dr. Vincent Kane; Specialist in women’s sexual dysfunction. The man who could fix what felt permanently broken. She didn’t mention he was her ex-husband Or that his “program” meant thirty locked days at his private estate. No sterile exam rooms, Just silk-draped suites, candlelit treatment spaces, and a discreet staff who vanished when he entered. In our first session he asked me to undress behind a screen and i did. When I stepped out in the thin robe, his gaze dragged down my body,slow, deliberate,before snapping back to my face. His throat worked. “Lie back,” he said, voice rougher than the day before. His gloved fingers parted with me for the exam. Clinical and professional until they lingered, circling my clit with the lightest pressure, testing responses I didn’t know I had. My hips jerked. A gasp tore from my throat. He froze, knuckles white on the table edge, breathing hard through his nose. He didn’t stop….Night after night the sessions grew bolder. His mouth replaced fingers, tongue stroking in slow, deliberate circles until my thighs shook and my back bowed off the massage table. When I finally shattered, clenching, crying out, soaking his chin, he pulled back, lips glistening, eyes black with something feral. He pinned my wrists above my head one evening, cock hard against my thigh through his trousers. “This is still therapy,” he growled, grinding once, twice. “Tell me to stop.” I arched into him instead, nails digging into his shoulders. My ex is threatening to leak photos, ruin us... Sophie keeps texting: How’s the retreat? He’s helping, right?

I'm abducted the day before my wedding. My abductors lock me in a dark cellar and repeatedly violate me. My legs are snapped, and I'm thrown out with a pile of trash while undressed. Someone takes a photo of me and shares it online. My family finds me a disgrace, so they send me to a hospital in the suburbs and hide me there. After half a year of treatment, my ovaries are removed due to extensive damage. My broken legs can't recover, and I lose the ability to walk. I'm supposed to be a rising star in dancing. Now, however, I'm forced to spend the rest of my life in a wheelchair. I can't even have children anymore. The Levy family sees photos of me online and immediately calls off my engagement to their son, Quentin Levy. They call me a shameless woman. Then, they make Quentin marry my sister, Laura Sorensen. I think my family will pity me, but my grandfather calls me a disgrace. He wants to disown me. At that moment, Quentin's brother, Elias Levy, proposes to me. "You've only had eyes for my brother in the past. Now that he's married, will you give me a chance to care for you?" He sounds determined, and the heartache in his eyes moves me. I agree to marry him. After we're married, Elias gives me the love and care I need. He doesn't allow anyone to harm me. A year later, I complete my treatment earlier than expected and return home to surprise him for our anniversary. That's when I overhear his conversation with my brother. "Elias, I helped you trick Jean out of the house two years ago, leading to her abduction and torture. That's why she's like this now. So you can't let her down." "I did all of this for Laura's happiness. As for Jean, I'll make sure she doesn't have to worry about survival for the rest of her life…"

On the day of the divorce hearing, the judge went through the usual questions. “You’ve only been married for three years. Are you certain your marriage has broken down beyond repair?” I forced a bitter smile. I took off my wedding ring and placed it on the table. “We were married for three years, yet we were never together for all three years. “Your Honor, is there anything left between us?” We dated for five years before marriage. My name was pinned at the top of his WhatsApp. I was his emergency contact. I was even the beneficiary of his insurance policy. I thought I had married the right man. But on our wedding day, he received a phone call, and his face instantly turned pale. I asked him what happened. He only said his mother was sick. He left everything behind and immediately booked a flight back to his hometown. For the next three years, he sent me photos of his three meals every day, but his mother never appeared in any of those photos. I felt sorry for him. I even offered to quit my job and go back with him to take care of her. He had refused and said softly, “I can’t bear to let you do that.” A month ago, I saw a cancer influencer’s account online. Orion Young appeared in one of her vlogs. The caption was heartwarming. [He’s there when I wake up. He’s there for every meal. His hands are always there for me to hold.] What did that make me? For 1,095 days, I had only myself. He had been lying to me. The judge struck the gavel for the final time and asked, “Have you made your decision?” I nodded firmly. The court officially ended the marriage. I looked at the divorce judgment in my hands, and my tears finally fell. I thought, “Orion, I’m setting you free. I’m setting both of us free.”

I'd been with Alpha Adrian Grant for eight years, but he never once allowed me to go public with our relationship. On the eve of my birthday, I learned he'd bid on a priceless moonstone ring at auction. I could barely contain my excitement—I thought he was finally going to claim me openly. But on my birthday, I saw the photos on the news. Adrian, kissing another she-wolf. And on Vivian's hand—the one wrapped around his neck—was the very moonstone ring I'd been dreaming about. It hit me like a bolt of lightning. I drove toward Moonlight Forest, but halfway there, a pack of rogues ambushed me. Desperate, I reached through the mate bond, trying to connect with Adrian. Every single time, he shut me out. Just when I'd given up hope, a passerby drove the rogues off and rushed me to the hospital. My pup was gone—lost in the attack. I called Adrian through my tears, over and over. On the twenty-fifth try, the call finally connected. But the voice I heard wasn't his. "Ugh, so annoying. You promised you'd spend today with me—just me. Why are you taking calls from other she-wolves?" Adrian immediately set me aside, his tone turning honey-sweet as he soothed the woman in his arms. "I know, I know. I'll ignore her. She's just some orphan with no family—how could she possibly compare to you?" Their smug laughter pierced through the phone like a knife to the chest. But what they didn't know was this: I was the true daughter of the Oceanridge Pack Alpha—his only heir. Vivian Blake was nothing more than a girl my family had taken in out of pity. I opened the mind-link to my father. "Dad, I'm coming home. And that arranged mating you mentioned—I agree. But I have two conditions. First, remove Vivian from the pack. Second, cut all ties with Crescent Moon Pack and pull every cent of funding we've ever given them."