I Was His Secret Wife Until the Baby Shower Betrayal

As my client was getting a little too friendly, Nasir Bradley was enjoying a glass of wine with his assistant nearby. Trying to keep the client happy, I ended up drinking more than I should have and felt on the verge of passing out. Yet Nasir didn’t so much as glance at me; he was too busy picking the olives out of his assistant’s dish, encouraging her to eat. After dinner, the assistant remarked that it had been dull, which was all Nasir needed to hear before pulling over and practically pushing me out of the car to take her to the next event. “This young lady has been working hard lately; I'm just taking her out for some fun,” Nasir said dismissively. “You probably wouldn't understand what the younger crowd is into these days, so it’s best if you don’t come along. Besides, I’m going to make sure she has a great time tonight; we can talk about the marriage license another time.” For five years, Nasir had canceled our wedding plans ninety-nine times. I nodded. If he was always busy, there was really no point in going through with it. From the slightly open passenger window, Leah Palmer stuck out her tongue apologetically, "Sorry, Christina, Nasir's just spoiling me a bit.

I tapped my pencil against the edge of my sketchpad, staring at the half-finished design for the ceremonial necklace I planned to surprise Marcus with for our fifth anniversary. The silver and moonstone piece would symbolize our enduring bond—five perfect years as Alpha and Luna of the Silverstone Pack. "What do you think, Lyra?" I whispered to my wolf, who purred contentedly in my mind. *Beautiful, like all your creations, Victoria.* My inner wolf had always been my greatest supporter, even before Marcus. I smiled, setting down my pencil and stretching my arms above my head. The afternoon sun streamed through the windows of our shared study, casting a warm glow over the polished oak desk. Marcus had left his tablet behind this morning in his rush to handle what he'd called an "urgent pack matter." I reached for it, thinking I could review some of the anniversary celebration plans we'd been discussing. We'd granted each other access to our devices years ago—a symbol of trust between mates. The screen lit up at my touch, revealing a messaging app I rarely used. A notification blinked insistently in the corner—from Amber Rodriguez, our new pack coordinator.

The bass from the karaoke bar pulsed through my chest like a second heartbeat, each thump making my temples throb. I watched Lucca laughing with his pack brothers, his arm slung casually over Delta Marcus's shoulder as they belted out some terrible rendition of an old pack anthem. The crowd was a sea of familiar faces from Silvermoon, all here to celebrate our territory's founding anniversary. I'd been smiling for two hours straight, playing the perfect Luna-to-be, but the noise was finally winning. 'I need some air,' I murmured to Mira, who nodded with understanding before turning back to her own conversation. The cool night air hit my face like a blessing as I slipped through the bar's side door. Silvermoon territory at night was beautiful—the trees rustled gently, and moonlight painted everything in silver and shadow. I took a deep breath, letting Selene, my wolf, stretch contentedly within me. For just a moment, I could pretend I was alone with the night sky. Then I heard Lucca's voice.

Chapter 1 It was their seventh wedding anniversary. Carolyn found the divorce agreement in Roger’s nightstand. The pages were covered in scribbles and corrections, as if he’d agonized over them for years. *"If, during the marriage, I fall in love with another person, I voluntarily relinquish all assets and leave with nothing. Asset details as follows…"* His first impulse had been to walk away empty-handed. But the asset section told a different story—a mess of revisions. First, he’d crossed out the property he intended to give her. Then, the fifty million earmarked for her was scratched out and replaced with five hundred thousand. Finally, as if in penance, he had written a single line. *"Better to have Carolyn leave with nothing. No choice, Catherine is pregnant."* … Carolyn sank onto the bed, disbelief washing over her. On the agreement, Roger’s signature was clean and decisive, without a hint of hesitation. And the document had been drafted seven years ago—the very year they married. That year, Roger had been willing to give up everything for her. Yet every year after, he had crossed out another piece of their shared life. Now, seven years later, the one leaving with nothing would be her. Her phone buzzed abruptly. A message from Roger. *"Urgent business. Won't be back."* She called, only to find his phone already switched off. Another notification flashed—a screenshot from a friend. Catherine, the student she sponsored, had posted on social media. *"Wow, got praised! To commemorate my first period without a leak, the big boss said we should celebrate properly!"* In a nine-photo collage, Roger gazed at her, eyes crinkling with affection as he fastened a dazzling gemstone necklace around her neck. The post was tagged at a couples-themed hotel. Carolyn’s breath caught. He couldn’t remember seven years of marriage, of weathering storms together—but he could find the energy to celebrate Catherine’s… leak-free period. And that pendant… she’d seen it at an auction just last week. It was her mother’s lost heirloom. She’d been ready to bid when her bank card was frozen. She’d asked Roger why. A long time later, he finally texted back, telling her not to waste money on such impractical things. Clutching her bidding paddle, she’d sat helplessly in the auction hall. In the end, she resolved to sell one of her own designs to raise the funds. But someone on the phone swooped in with an unbeatable offer and took it. For weeks afterward, Carolyn hated herself—hated that she couldn’t protect her mother’s last keepsake. She never imagined the one who snatched it away was Roger. He knew exactly how much that pendant meant to her. Yet he gave it to Catherine. Even on their seventh anniversary, Roger had lied about being busy with work, while wining and dining the girl she’d sponsored. The anniversary gift he left her was a divorce agreement demanding she leave with nothing. Seven years of marriage. Seven years of infidelity. And Carolyn had known nothing. She’d even introduced the other woman to him herself. Catherine was the impoverished student Carolyn sponsored. The first time Catherine came to their home to give thanks, Roger found her intrusive and disliked her on sight. *"That girl has no manners. Tracked mud all over my cashmere rug."* *"If her grades aren’t up to par, cut the sponsorship."* Back then, Carolyn had teased him, saying not to be jealous—it was good the girl had a grateful heart. She never once suspected Roger and Catherine. For seven years, everyone in their circle believed Roger never played around. That he loved only Carolyn. But by their next meeting, Catherine had become Roger’s personal assistant. Roger explained, *"The girl’s had it tough. You’ve sponsored her for years. Giving her a job is just helping you out."* Carolyn had laughed it off. Now, hands trembling, she opened Catherine’s social media feed. Catherine had always hidden her posts from Carolyn. Now, she seemed desperate to flaunt everything. While Carolyn drank until her stomach bled to secure a deal for Roger, Catherine was using Roger’s card to buy her first Louis Vuitton. While Carolyn changed bedpans for Roger’s bedridden grandmother, Roger was taking Catherine to a perfume atelier for a blending class—calling it a business trip. Catherine had even complained online. *"Your wife is such a pampered princess. Can't handle the tiniest thing without you running back. Can she not live without a man?"* And Roger had replied beneath it. *"If she were half as independent as you, I’d have an easier life."* But that day… Carolyn’s mother had lost her battle with cancer. She’d cried until her heart felt shredded, scrambling to handle the arrangements. All the while, Roger kept checking his phone impatiently, eager to leave. Not for work, she realized now—but because he was desperate to get back to Catherine.

"A toast," Eden declared as servants began distributing crystal glasses filled with deep red wine. "To new beginnings." My stomach clenched as a server approached me with a tray. I started to shake my head—everyone in the pack knew of my severe allergy to alcohol. It had been documented since I became Luna; Eden himself had always ensured non-alcoholic alternatives were available at every gathering. But before I could decline, Eden was suddenly before me, taking a glass from the tray himself. His eyes, once warm amber pools I could drown in, were now cold and distant as he extended the wine toward me. "Surely our former Luna will join us in celebrating this momentous occasion," he said, loud enough for nearby pack members to hear. His emphasis on "former" cut through me like a blade. "Eden," I whispered, my voice barely audible even to werewolf ears. "You know I can't—" "Drink," he commanded, his Alpha tone washing over me like a physical force. "Honor our new Luna. Your new Luna."

In PRICED BY MY BILLIONAIRE NEMESIS, Lena Hale is forced into a humiliating escort assignment to pay off debts. She encounters Adrian Vale, a billionaire seeking revenge for a past betrayal. This modern novel explores power and control as a marriage deal turns resentment into obsession.