What Was The Strongest Empire

Jace Maddox is a billionaire tech CEO known for his cold heart and strict routines. Behind closed doors, he's a man haunted by betrayal, grief, and secrets too heavy to share. River Hale is an ex-military bodyguard with nothing left to lose. Disgraced and angry, he’s hired to protect the one man he can’t stand, Jace Maddox. When a dangerous scandal threatens to destroy Jace’s empire, the only way to survive is a fake relationship. A staged romance to control the media. But fake feelings start to feel real. As secrets unravel and enemies close in, both men must face their pasts, and the truth about what they’ve come to mean to each other.

Braston thought Molly was just a call girl when she entered his office in disguise. She had no idea what to do, even though she was a virgin, she faced that mobster just to rob him and save her family from imminent death. but ended up taking much more than a ring and keeping her identity secret, she stole much more than a ring from that mobster, and he will only find out when he is with a child whose kidnapped for revenge. However, Molly will never let it go and will do everything to get her son back without even knowing that she is in a fight, not only with a mafia man, but with her son's father.

I was once the pack's strongest beta. I broke my wolf saving my mate, Alpha Damon. I lost my hearing. I lost our mind link. But Damon never treated me like I was broken. He learned sign language for me. He made sure the whole pack respected me as their Luna. Our daughter was sweet and perfect. She always showed me how much she loved me. Then one day, it happened. My hearing returned. The mind link snapped back into place. I was so excited. I wanted to tell Damon and Lily at the full moon ceremony. Instead, I heard them. Lily, my precious daughter, talking to Damon on our link. "Daddy, the cripple is still carrying my brother. When can we bring Momma Elara home? I want her to be our real Luna!" That’s when I knew. My daughter. The son in my womb. They were never mine. They belonged to Elara. Elara was a half-breed omega. She couldn't carry an Alpha’s pups. I was just a surrogate. A living incubator. Damon fed me poison to make me barren. Then he used black magic to implant his lover's child inside me. I trembled. Tears streamed down my face. Damon betrayed me. I would burn his entire world to ash. Then, I would vanish from his life forever.

After eighteen years of wandering alone, I looked like a tomboy covered in dirt when I was found and brought home. Just as I was about to shower, there was a loud scream in the bathroom. The fake heiress rushed out. She pushed me down before she threw herself into Mom’s arms and cried. “He… He peeped on me while I was showering. He even tried to touch me inappropriately!” Mom was furious, and Dad raised his arm to punch me. My brother was so enraged that he even wanted to throw me out! However, I was a girl! Did they forget that the child they lost was a girl?

She underwent a death experience—at the hands of the family she cared for most, who then sold her off. At eight years old, Seraphina Valeza was adopted from an orphanage by the Hawthorne family, a run-down third-rate family in Lunada City. She lived for fifteen years there, always careful, thankful for a house that was not her home. She was an excellent student, kept her sufferings to herself, and obeyed them in return for their "kindness." When the Hawthorne family was on the verge of bankruptcy, they chose survival over conscience. Seraphina was forced to marry Julian Moreau, the heir of a second-rate elite family. The marriage was hell. Behind closed doors, Julian humiliated her, controlled her every move, and crushed her dignity. In public, she was paraded as a trophy wife; in private, she was nothing more than a disposable tool. Once Julian seized full control of the Hawthorne family, Seraphina lost even her last value. With no way out, she resorted to suicide. But destiny wanted otherwise and gave her another chance. She found herself in the same spot as she was on the day of her marriage. This time she did neither crying nor begging. Instead, she smiled and switched the groom. In front of stunned guests, Seraphina walked past Julian and stopped before a man sitting casually at the banquet table, dressed out of place and enjoying the food as if the wedding had nothing to do with him. Lucien Cross. The annoying guy she constantly quarreled with in college. The man who cried while carrying her dying body in her past life. The one whose love she came to realize onlqy when it was too late. This time, Seraphina will not let him go. And all those who wronged her will be punished, without exception.

My superior loved tricking me into wearing tight-fitting pencil skirts to serve wine to sleazy clients while sticking close to them. Then, she would hint that I was single and a valid target while she excitedly waited for the clients to make a move on me. It was all in the name of checking the integrity of the clients and whether they were worthy business partners or not. The moment a client fell for it, she would rush over with righteous anger and throw wine in their faces. Then, she would lecture me with a voice heavy with anguish. “Do you lack money so much that you’d throw your dignity away just for better results?” She would trample all over my dignity to set up her image as a refined, noble woman. This time, she even prepared a gown with a super low neckline and pushed me to serve a client with a rich and powerful background. She threatened me by saying that if I did not go, she would deduct my bonus for three whole months of full attendance. But when I saw the familiar, cold man sitting in the seat of honor, it was my turn to laugh. If my brother saw me serving wine in this kind of dress, I did not doubt that by tomorrow, the company would be under my name.

I was born broken. My Alpha mother was the one who branded me. She said emotion was a sin. A weakness. Especially for a werewolf. Especially for an Alpha’s heir. The day we were born, she clamped emotion-suppressing collars around our necks. Mine and my twin sister's. The slightest flicker of emotion, and the collar flashed red. My mother would then push the button, injecting me with a diluted "silver solution" to suppress my feelings. But my sister Cassia's collar? Always a calm, steady blue. Even when she shattered Mom's precious moonstone, it just pulsed gently. And me? I’d just whisper, "Mom, the thunder scares me," and my collar would erupt in a violent red. Then came the sting of silver poison burning through my blood.. I used to argue. But Mom always said the same thing. "The data doesn't lie. Pain is a teacher. This is for your own good." After thousands of these injections, I started to believe it, too. That I was born out of control. The night of the alliance's Moon Goddess Festival, Mom was taking my sister to the rooftop party. Something scared me during the day. The collar flashed red, and my mother started the punishment. But this time, the collar malfunctioned. It shot a dose a thousand times stronger into my neck. I collapsed on the carpet, begging, "Mother, the collar... it hurts so much... help me." My collar was flashing a frantic red. My mother just looked down at me, drenched in a cold sweat, and pressed the button for the maximum dose. "You'd lose control like this just for attention? You're a lost cause." She turned, took my sister, and slammed the door. I couldn't help but think, Mom must be right. The collar is red. It doesn't really hurt. I'm just being dramatic, looking for pity again. I'm sorry, Mom. In my next life, I'll be the perfect daughter you always wanted.

Two years ago, as a graduate of Werewolf Medical School, I volunteered to go to the most remote and poorest pack, as it had always been my dream to help werewolf patients in need. I heard from my teacher that the werewolves in the Rogue Pack were the poorest and that their living conditions were the worst. Most of the werewolves there were old and weak, so I volunteered to go to that pack as soon as I graduated. After I arrived, I helped them build an infirmary and even set up a blood station. Every year, I led them in voluntary blood donations. But one time—right after I had taken a short break following a blood donation—they turned on me. They slandered me, calling me a selfish and heartless healer. Worse still, they accused me of faking illness, claiming I was lying comfortably in bed while patients were dying—refusing to lift a finger to save them. Not only that, they stormed into the infirmary, seized all my herbs and equipment, and completely trashed the place I had built for them with my own hands. Recalling the days I had spent day and night healing them—only to see my infirmary destroyed and my dream shattered—I let out a bitter smile. I picked up the phone and called the dean of my home pack. "I'm ready to return," I said. "I want to serve the patients in our own pack." Then, without a trace of regret, I left that place behind. However, after I gave up, the whole pack regretted it and begged me to return.

The day my mom was beaten up for being a mistress, I slammed the family crest into my dad’s face. I had been studying abroad, and on my return flight, I came across a video. The title read, [Richest Family’s Heirs Defend Their Mom and Beat Up Mistress.] In the video, my mother was wearing coarse linen clothes while my brothers surrounded her. They were punching and kicking her. They even tore her clothes and cussed her out as a shameless mistress. Her eyes were teary as she desperately tried to explain. However, she was only met with mocking laughter. A stranger in haute couture stood shielded behind them, and she sweetly said, “Alright, I know you’re doing this for me, but we don’t need to waste our time on ungrateful people.” The surrounding guests showered her with birthday wishes and praised her for her graciousness. “This is the grace befitting Mrs. Roth! Do some people really not own a mirror at home?” “A mistress dares to call herself Mrs. Roth? Doesn’t she know the entire Roth family was built on her assets? Which part of her looks like a lady?” Hearing them call her “Mrs. Roth,” I clenched my phone, and the screen reflected my icy expression. I had only been away from home for three years. How did I not know that I had acquired such a despicable “mother”?

His gun-roughened hands burned against my waist, every breath laced with the cold, unyielding possession that had made him the most feared Cosa Nostra Don in all of Sicily. A shrill ring sliced through the haze. He answered in guttural Sicilian. It was the dialect I’d learned years ago to fit into his world, so I caught every word. His consigliere was screaming down the line at him for filing a valid, legally binding marriage license with Sofia Lombardi, the woman who’d abandoned him when a bomb left him mute for seven years. Luca’s order was cold as a trigger pull. “Secure the original license in the family vault. Draw up a forged, null-and-void marriage license for Isa to keep her compliant.” In the eyes of the law, of his entire crew, I was nothing but his mistress. After seven years of laying down my life for him, I’d been reduced to nothing but his mistress. Another call flashed. Luca turned to me, the lie already shaping his mouth. “Family matters. The guards will see you home.” Without a word, I stepped out into the Palermo night, my hands shaking as I dialed his mother, Anna Vitali. “I’ll take your fifty million euros. I’ll leave Luca. For good.” Anna once said Luca and I were worlds apart. I had to admit she was right. This time, I want to leave with dignity.