Bittersweet Rejection

My mate, Carter, sent me to a werewolf prison for four years. On the day I was released, he arrived holding the hand of his pregnant mistress. “This is what your parents owe me.” “From today on, you’ll take care of Amelia.” I nodded obediently. She made me pick roses with my bare hands. Made me plant a hundred pots under the scorching sun. Made me scrub my allergic, ulcerated skin with alcohol. And I did everything she asked. Until the day they brought me back to my old home. The house was gone. In its place stretched an endless rose garden. And my only sister— had become nothing but a box of ashes. That was the moment I understood. I survived not to atone. I survived to take revenge.

In my fourth year of becoming the wife to Matteo Costa, the Don of the Costa family, as know as La Rosa Nera, I no longer insist on making our relationship public. He has once told me that he will publicly announce my identity as Donna on our wedding anniversary this year. But ever since Vera Barbieri returns to the country, Matteo never brings this up again. He puts all his attention on Vera and always places all her needs first. He even abandons me on the highway because of a single phone call from Vera while my mother is on her deathbed. My mother never gets to see me one last time before she dies. At this moment, I finally give up on him. I prepare the divorce agreement and book a ticket to leave Nevoli. The day after tomorrow, I will leave this place and leave Matteo to his childhood sweetheart.

Waking up hungover next to my arch-nemesis – the city's most notorious fuckboy? Worst. Morning. Ever. I handled the walk of shame with icy dignity, but fate had a bigger curveball: one month later, two pink lines. My baby. My rules. His involvement? Zero. My flawless plan hit a snag when morning sickness ambushed me in the office restroom. He walked in. His eyes locked onto my still-flat stomach, darkening with something dangerous. Before I could blink, he had me pinned against the cold tile wall. "Who's the father?" he growled. I met his glare with a frosty smirk. "Wouldn't you like to know? Definitely not you." Then it happened: a hot tear hit my neck. His voice cracked, raw and desperate. "Don't... don't leave me. Please." Me: ...Dude. Seriously? THIS IS YOURS!

When Eric Sutton—my charming CEO husband—found out I handed a million-dollar project to his assistant Vivien Cheney, he figured his three months of radio silence had finally broken me. Suddenly, he's all, "Let's go to Iceland for our honeymoon!" Vivien heard and threw a fit. Threatened to quit. Classic. Eric, who treated her like royalty, freaked out. After three days of begging, he bailed on the trip—said it was for "work"—then handed her my ticket. Later, he shrugged it off. "Romance's petty. Work comes first. You're my wife. You get it, right?" Right. I just stared at Vivien's new post: a couples selfie—cheek to cheek, hands shaped like a heart. I didn't say a word. Just nodded. Eric thought I was finally playing the role: calm, supportive, mature. Promised an even better honeymoon when he got back. Too bad I'd already quit. Too bad he'd already signed the divorce papers. We were done.

When I got up from Ted Wiley's bed, he lazily handed me my underwear. "I'm changing the door code, so don't come by unless it's urgent." I froze, blurting out, "Why?" He grinned. "She said yes to being my girlfriend yesterday. I can't have her spotting you here—she'd flip. It took me forever to win her over."

It was my birthday. I thought he would take me to see the fireworks by the sea, but he showed up with another woman and her child. “Vera has a kid with her, and it’s inconvenient for them. Be a little understanding. She doesn’t know her way around here, and she has a lot of luggage. I’ll just drop them at the hotel.” He said it so casually, as if he were just explaining some trivial, everyday chore. It was that very gentleness of his that made me feel like I was so unreasonable getting angry over it. He helped them into the car. He leaned down to buckle the seatbelt on the child. Then, he turned to me with a smile. “I’ll be right back. Don’t overthink things.” I stood by the roadside and watched them drive away like a picture-perfect little family. As night fell, the sea breeze turned sharp and biting. Still, I waited until a notification of Vera Cannon’s social feed update lit up my screen. He was holding her daughter in his arms. They were watching the fireworks by the beach. It was a surprise I had planned for my own birthday. The comments poured in. [What a perfect match. What a beautiful little family!] Someone asked him why he was not picking me up. He just smiled and said, “Indy is very patient. She won’t be mad.” At that moment, my birthday cake melted into a puddle of frosting. I finally realized that he had not done that to be cruel to me. He was certain that I would always wait for him. However, even the warmest heart grew cold when neglected too many times. The waves crashed against the shore, over and over. With each crash, another shred of my hope washed away. This time, I was not going to wait for him to come back.

The first time my childhood friend Nathan Sinclair awakened as a werewolf, our friends called me over to help him through his heat. But Nathan shook his head. "I really don't want her to get this so easily. Werewolf love is loyal above all, and the first person I mark becomes my only mate for life. When Bella shows up, I won't give in even if she begs to help me." He waited and waited, but I never came. Nathan didn't know that his brother's bodyguard, Liam Smith, had already flooded my phone with messages. "Ms. York, Mr. Theodore has already claimed you as his mate. Please, can you come and give him a kiss?" It turned out that I had fallen while skiing and died five years ago. His brother, Theodore Sinclair, marked me and gave me half of his lifespan, pulling me back from the jaws of death. That night, I wrapped my arms around Theodore's neck and teased him, "Theo, stop holding back. Tell me, how many years have you secretly been in love with me?"

When I find out that Joe Herring—the man I've loved for ten years—is planning a grand proposal, I'm so thrilled I can't sleep a wink that night. But the next day, everyone in the pack is buzzing about how Alpha Joe just proposed to my stepsister, Nora Safford. He comes to me afterward, trying to explain. "It's not even real, Anna. Nora doesn't have anyone in the pack. I'm just doing her a favor. "Don't worry. I'll break it off before the mate-bonding ceremony next week. Then we'll have our ceremony, just like we planned." But over and over, he keeps asking me to compromise for Nora. And when the mate-bonding ceremony finally arrives, he's still with her. So in the end, I let her have him and walk away without a word.

I had once been the woman Theo Bennett would have risked his life to marry. For six years after our wedding, he treated me like his entire world. He even had a matching tattoo carved into his lower abdomen, identical to mine, as proof of his devotion. But in the seventh year, he coldly demanded that I make a full-body model for his kept woman. "Catherine," he said, his voice sharp with contempt, "this is the price you pay for lying to me about being my savior. You know my tastes better than anyone. Make sure you replicate Hannah's body temperature. She's pregnant. I don't want to hurt her." Hannah Moore lay limp in Theo's arms, laughing so hard her shoulders shook. "How pathetic, Catherine," she mocked. "I'm pregnant, so I can't be with Theo. And yet he'd rather order a model of me than lay a finger on you. Once this one wears out, I guess I'll have to trouble you to make a few more copies of me." Only then did I understand. Theo had mistaken Hannah for the woman who once saved his life. I didn't scream. I didn't cry. I didn't argue. I simply turned around and dialed Sebastian's number. "Sebastian," I said calmly, "Theo is having an affair. I want a divorce."

Four years of loving Marchello Enzo taught me one thing— it was finally time to let him go. He was the Don of the Marchello mafia empire. And I was supposed to become his Donna—his partner, his equal, the woman who stood at his side. But the moment his childhood sweetheart returned, radiant and adored, I understood something painfully simple: The title of Donna was never meant for me. It belonged to her. So before I walked away, I made three quiet decisions— First, I tossed the wedding ring he believed I treasured, and altered my million-dollar wedding dress to the measurements of the woman who had always held his heart. Second, I packed every extravagant gift he had ever given me—and donated them all to charity. They had once felt like proof of love; now they were nothing but proof of my foolishness. Third,I reclaimed a position I once abandoned for him—one I had turned down twice because he wanted me at his side. This time, I chose myself. My work. My life. A path that did not depend on his promises. On the day of his wedding, when he lifted the bride’s veil and realized it wasn’t me… the ruler of a billion-dollar underworld empire shattered. He tore the city apart looking for me— But he never found me. Because by then, I was already thousands of miles away, buried in my work, building the life he never believed I’d choose. I held the one secret he never imagined he’d lose: our child.