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Two rival pack alphas unite through marriage, making their children unwilling step-siblings. When he saves her from bullies, a mate bond ignites. She plans to break it before the next full moon; he bets she’ll fall first, using a secret to bind her. Under one roof, rivalry turns into forbidden love.

I printed out three documents. The first was a petition for divorce. The second revoked my husband, Graham Whitaker’s, medical power of attorney. The third prohibited him from using any of our remaining frozen embryos. An hour ago, at a charity gala being livestreamed across the internet, my husband of six years—the man I had married in secret—declared that his first love was “the woman who taught me what home means.” Then he placed the Whitaker family ring on her son’s hand. On TikTok, everyone was praising him as Stepdad of the Year, waiting for him to give his first love the grand wedding she deserved. And I had just lost our baby, alone on an operating table. Late that night, Graham finally came home. He saw me watching the video of him putting the ring on that child and snatched the iPad from my hands. His brow furrowed, his voice sharp with impatience. “It’s PR, Nora. Why are you getting so worked up?” I looked up at him and smiled. He had no idea I’d channeled all that agitation into three notarized documents. Soon enough, his lawyer would tell him just how “worked up” I was. ... The moment he finished speaking, I turned and walked toward the study. I could feel his gaze on my back, laced with the irritation of a man who’d been defied. I stopped in front of the safe and looked back at him. “Where’s the ring?” I meant the Whitaker family signet ring, the one that had been passed down for a century. He had inherited it from his father and given it to me to keep. Tonight, that same ring had been on another woman’s son’s hand. Graham’s gaze flickered away, instinctively avoiding mine. “The foundation needed footage for the annual report. Something about family legacy. I just… lent it to Elise for a while.” The explanation was so clumsy it was almost funny. If this had been the old me, I would have pressed him until I got the truth. I would have demanded to know why the legal wife was absent from......

Grant and I were secretly married for six years. At his family foundation’s gala, he slipped off his wedding ring to lead the opening dance with Meredith, his pregnant ex-fiancée. He told the press she was the one who had always understood his dreams. Every newspaper in Boston celebrated them finding their way back to each other. When he came home, he warned me, “Don’t make a scene.” I didn’t. On our wedding anniversary, I left a gift for him in his study. A velvet box, the kind meant for a celebratory gift. Inside were the divorce petition I’d already signed, the property settlement agreement, and the eight-week ultrasound of our baby, tucked beside an appointment confirmation for a termination procedure. He never even glanced at it. He was already out the door, rushing to comfort his ex, who had supposedly “had a nightmare.” He didn’t know he’d just thrown away his last chance. ... I looked at him, at the bare finger where his wedding ring should have been. Grant rubbed the pale indentation, an unconscious gesture, as if soothing a phantom limb. “The gala was crowded. My grandmother was there,” he explained, his tone as flat as if he were discussing the weather. “It would have caused unnecessary complications.” The excuse was so lazy it was almost laughable. In the past, I would have pushed. I would have demanded to know where he’d put the ring, made him fish it out of his suit pocket, and watched him slide it back on his finger. This was, after all, the man I had once fought so hard for. Over the years, I’d grown adept at making excuses for him. Just like six months ago, when Meredith returned to Boston after her own divorce. He’d left me burning with a fever to drive halfway across the state to pick her up from the airport. When he got back, he ignored my protests and insisted on hiring her as a consultant for the family foundation. Back then, I’d chalked it up to his sense of responsibility, to the pul......

I didn't know I was my sister's stand-in until I found the love letters my husband had written to her. Reborn, I handed him over to my sister. But he went crazy… "Miss Windsor, have you finished signing your form?" Clara Windsor stared blankly at the City Hall before her, then heard the staff member's urging voice again. Only then did she finally realize. She had been reborn? Reborn on the very day she was supposed to get her marriage license with Caspian Blackwood. In her previous life, she had been overjoyed that morning—waking early, eager to drag him to wait in line. Now she fingered the registration form in her hand, but there was not a trace of happiness on her face. The Blackwood Family was the most powerful noble house in Kingsbridge—strict, ritualistic, and unforgiving. As the heir, Caspian needed a wife who would be his steadfast support: gentle, utterly devoted to him and the family, and able to leave him with no worries at home. So in her past life, to be the perfect wife, she had abandoned her future, her sense of self. She resigned from her post, bore children, managed the household, and sacrificed everything. By the time she was barely past fifty, illness had worn her down. Lying on her deathbed, she discovered the love letters he had written to her younger sister. "You are a free bird, meant to soar across the blue sky. Because I love you, I cannot bear to trap you." "Your sister resembles you a little. Whenever I look at her face, I can fool myself into thinking the woman spending her life with me is you. In the future, let your sister handle the children, the elders, the housework—I only want you to live happily, freely, and brilliantly every single day." Only then did she understand: Caspian Blackwood, the man she had grown old with, had always loved her sister, Vanessa Windsor. He had married her only because she served another purpose. After discovering the truth, she was consumed by agony. Her son rushed back, but instead of comforting her, his face lit up. He kept urging her at her bedside. "Mom, since Dad really loves Aunt Ness, you should just divorce him already." "All these years, you've never measured up to Aunt Ness. She's a diplomat, while you've just stayed home doing chores. You don't suit Dad at all. You've kept the whole family running smoothly—now Aunt Ness can marry in without a care and live blissfully with Dad. Just let go and make way for them." That day, she died from sheer rage, slipping from the world. Opening her eyes again, she was back on the day she was supposed to get her marriage license with Caspian Blackwood. To love others, you must first love yourself. In this life, she would not repeat her mistakes. She was about to speak when the phone in Caspian's pocket rang. It was Vanessa. Seeing the caller ID, his cold expression instantly softened. He stepped aside to take the call. A minute later, he returned. "Clara, your sister sprained her ankle. As her brother-in-law, I should go see her. After you sign, just go home by yourself." Without waiting for her reply, he hurried out. His assistant, Danny, chased after him. "Mr. Blackwood, the board meeting is about to start—this contract is worth hundreds of billions. You—" "Cancel it." Caspian stepped on the accelerator, and the car vanished into traffic. Watching his receding figure, Clara felt nothing but sorrow and irony. In her past life, her eyes and heart had been full of Caspian Blackwood. She had never known that his eyes and heart were full of Vanessa. Such obvious affection—how had she missed it? She had wasted an entire lifetime. At the counter, the staff member tapped on the glass. "Miss Windsor, are you still signing the form?" Clara curved her lips, but the smile did not reach her eyes. "Yes." She picked up the pen and, stroke by stroke, wrote a name: Vanessa Windsor. Then she slid the corresponding page from the family register across the counter. Caspian Blackwood, since you love her so much, I will grant your wish. Stepping out of the City Hall, she looked at the marriage certificate in her hand and smiled bitterly. Groom: Caspian Blackwood. Bride: Vanessa Windsor. She wondered what face Caspian would make when he saw these two certificates. She had just tucked them into her bag when her phone rang. Minister Sterling's voice came through, tinged with regret. "Clara, have you really decided to resign from your diplomatic post?" "The Ministry of Foreign Affairs chooses only the best. You're someone I've always had high hopes for—limitless potential. I was planning to give you an overseas assignment, and then you suddenly said you wanted to quit." "I know family matters to you, but I have to say a few more words—" Before he could finish, Clara's resolute voice cut in. "Minister Sterling, I'm sorry. I was confused before. I'm not resigning. I'll take the overseas post." In her previous life, she had resigned from the Foreign Ministry, and right after that, the overseas post went to Vanessa. She had naively believed that sacrificing her dreams for love would earn her his love. Instead, she had spent the rest of her life trapped inside the Blackwood mansion, her spirit and talent wilting like an ephemeral flower. Meanwhile, Vanessa went abroad, made a name for herself, became a role model for students, and a national pride. In this life, she would never be hindered by love again. She would never sacrifice her future for Caspian Blackwood. From now on, she would live only for herself, shining brilliantly on her own terms.