The Wrong Prom Date

‘’I’m talking to you weirdo’’ studently Rachels voice brought me out of my thoughts. When she realized that she had my attention she continued ‘’you are a servant and you better learn your place, soon enough Sebastian will find his mate and you will have no one to turn too’’. ‘’Maybe, we will see about that. But how does it feel to know that you aren’t Pablo’s mate?’’ as soon as I said that her eyes turned red and you could see how furious she was. She grabbed me by my neck in an instant and she was choking me. There wasn’t much that I could do. She had her wolf and I wasn’t. That’s how I know that she isn’t Pablo’s mate. They both have turned sixteen and got their wolves, if they were mates they would have known in an instant. I was choking and as hard as I could try to remove her hand from my neck It was useless, I kicked her many times but nothing. I hadn’t my wolf so I couldn’t mind link anyone. I was feeling helpless and completely in her mercy but I was trying as hard as I could not giving up. I was starting to lose my senses, that would be the death of me. But I won’t whine, that isn’t me anymore.

I was sold to the devil in a bespoke Italian suit. Andre Volkov. The Alpha of the Onyx Pack. A cold, tattooed sadist who views me as nothing more than a merger acquisition to secure his European borders. I hated him before I even met him. I hated the way his eyes stripped me bare, and I hated the shiver of fear that raced through me when he forced his ring onto my finger. I vowed to lock my heart in a cage of ice. I vowed never to let him break me. But on our wedding night, something changed. The man who came to me in the dark wasn’t the cold, loud tyrant who mocked me at the altar. He was silent. Intense. His touch wasn't just possessive; it was worshipful. Dangerous. When he sank his teeth into my neck, claiming me as his mate, I didn't push him away. I burned for him. I thought I was falling for my husband. I didn't know the Volkov bloodline carried a secret. I didn't know there were two of them. And now, I’ve been marked by the wrong brother.

For four years, I worked three jobs to support my husband, Edward Godfrey, while he chased his PhD and battled ALS. And somehow, in all that time, I'd never stepped foot on his campus. Not because I didn't want to. Every time I brought it up, he had some excuse ready. When graduation came, I asked to go to his hooding ceremony. He shut it down fast. "It's just a formality. A bunch of lab nerds. You'd be bored. Once I bring the diploma home, we'll have a candlelight dinner." I didn't argue. Just helped him straighten his doctoral gown. But I couldn't hide how excited I was. So I dressed up. And secretly followed him. Onstage, Edward stood beside his wheelchair, voice thick with emotion. "I want to thank my wife. She stood with me in the lab, even while pregnant, helping me grind out countless precious data points." I froze. My hand pressed against my flat stomach. Cold crept down my spine. For four years, I'd busted myself raw to support his PhD. I went from the girl everyone on campus admired to a fish seller, reeking like seafood every day. Worked so hard I miscarried twice. So who exactly was this "wife" he was thanking?

To defuse the bomb strapped to the hostage, I had no choice—I cut off all her clothes. My clueless new wife, Dana Poole, blasted it online. She cried as she faced me. "Why not at least leave her underwear on? You were saving her, I get it—but did you have to take everything? Doesn't a girl's dignity matter? With cameras everywhere, how is she supposed to live after this? You couldn't even cover her up?" The backlash exploded. The unit benched me to calm things down. So I stopped caring. I followed procedure, no improvising, no extra effort. Then one day, at the busiest mall in the city, Dana's mom got strapped into a brand-new linked bomb. This time, the whole unit panicked.

“Your mate will appear at twenty.” Nathan waited years for that moment. For one person. Mikhail. His best friend. His first love. The one he could never have. So when Nathan turns twenty and sees Mikhail walk in with a girlfriend, smiling like nothing ever mattered, he finally lets go of a love he’s held onto since childhood. He drinks. He laughs. He pretends he’s fine. Until the string appears. A burning thread wraps around his wrist—tight, inescapable. And it doesn’t lead to Mikhail. It leads somewhere else. Somewhere worse. Right beneath a half-open door. Valentino. Mikhail’s older brother. The man Nathan has always hated. The man who looks at him like he’s a problem. The man fate has chosen for him. Now bound by a string he can’t ignore—and refuses to accept—Nathan is faced with a cruel truth: What if destiny doesn’t care who you love? What if it ties you to the one person you never wanted? And what happens when the more he tries to cut the string… …the tighter it pulls?

“You are not going to disrespect me! She is a commoner, and I’d rather die than let you be with her!” Isaac’s father was very loud and his tone was threatening. “Then you better drop dead right now, because I’m sick of being caged by the standards and rules that this family has set for me! I’m sick of being a robot built for the sole purpose of being the heir to the Ford fortune!” Isaac spat the words in his father’s face.

I was nineteen the first time Cole Whitfield broke me. Not with cruelty. With a single word. Why. Not did you — why. Like the answer was already settled and he just wanted the story to make sense. I told him the truth anyway. He said nothing that mattered. So I picked up my bag, walked out of his apartment, and decided that a man who trusted a rumor over two years of me wasn’t worth a correction. I spent the next two years becoming someone I actually liked. New city. Graduate program. A published paper with my name on it. I was done with Cole Whitfield in every way a person can be done. Then I walked into Seminar Room 114 and he was sitting right there, gray eyes already on the door, like some part of him knew. I sat down. I opened my notebook. I did not look up. Here’s the thing about studying how people form beliefs: you understand exactly why he believed it. That doesn’t mean you forgive it. That doesn’t mean two years of silence disappear because he’s learned how to look at you like he’s sorry. He wants a conversation. I want my degree. But the campus is small, the seminar table is round, and the boy who broke my heart at nineteen is doing everything right at twenty-one — and I’m starting to understand that composed isn’t the same thing as healed. I hate that I still know the exact sound of his voice.

Cleo Carrington used to be Northvale's brightest spark—wild, fearless, impossible to pin down. And then she married Damian Joubert. The most controlled, rigid heir in their world. Damian ran like a machine. Perfect standards. Zero slack. And he expected the same from his wife. Cleo loved noise—clubs, music, bodies moving. He had every venue in the city blacklist her. She loved freedom—the blazing Afriyan sun, the northern lights in Icelorn. She raced cars. She jumped out of planes. He took her passport. Shut it all down.

Every moment with him tempts me closer to my own destruction. I was supposed to marry Ethan Volkov, the golden-hearted heir of the most feared mafia empire. He thought I was fragile, innocent, easy to control… just another pawn in his game. But his older brother Adrian Volkov had other plans.Ruthless, magnetic, sinfully powerful, he kidnapped me in front of everyone and made it clear I belonged to him… and I couldn’t resist the darkness he brought with him. Adrian doesn’t know I came with a secret mission, one carefully planned from the start, designed to destroy everything he loves. I’m the genius hacker the clan has been hunting for years, and I’ve spent my life preparing for revenge. Every touch ignites a fire I shouldn’t feel. Every look drags me deeper into his dangerous world. And every whisper reminds me of the man I swore I would never love. Hating him should be easy. Killing him should be simple. But craving him… is impossible. In a world ruled by blood, betrayal, and obsession, I’ve fallen for the wrong Brother.

The care center called. "Hi, just wanted to ask if you're happy with our service so far." Well, that was odd. I was only eight months along. My baby wasn't even born yet. I had no need for the care center at the moment. So I kept digging. I pressed my husband for answers. He was the one handling the talks with the care center. I wanted to know what was going on. He gave me an apologetic look. "This center costs 120 grand, honey. We can't afford that. They must've gotten the wrong number. You should stay at home instead. I'll give you the perfect care you need." That was it. I wasn't going to waste my time talking to him. My sister, Jessie Gibson, owned the care center, so I called her instead. "Jessie? Yeah, it's me. William sent another woman to your place and stole my spot. I want you to find out who. He's cheating on me, and I'm getting proof!"