Connie Clarke

“Seraphina.” I opened my eyes beneath a blood-red moon. The last thing I remembered was my mate's hand driving a silver blade through my heart. The next thing I saw was seven Alphas staring down at me. One looked terrified. One reached for his weapon. One whispered, “She can't be alive.” Then all seven wolves howled. “Our mate.” I couldn't breathe. Seven Alphas. One mate. Me. I should have been dead. Three nights earlier, Kael—the man I loved, my Alpha, my mate—had murdered me after publicly forsaking me as his Luna. I remembered his eyes. I remembered the blade. I remembered my wolf screaming. I remembered dying. But I didn't remember why he was afraid of me. Now I've returned with a strange mark on my skin, a voice inside my head, and seven powerful Alphas claiming a bond that should be impossible. They each want something different from me. Protection. Power. Possession. Revenge. And one of them wants me dead. The worst part? I know him. I saw his face the night I was murdered. Now he is standing among my seven mates, watching me with the same eyes that haunted my final moments. Everyone thinks my rebirth is a miracle. It isn't. It is a warning. My identity was erased for a reason. My blood carries something the werewolf world was never meant to see. And the seven Alphas weren't brought to me by fate. They were bound to me long before I was born. This time, I won't spend my life trying to make one man choose me. I will find out who killed me. I will discover why seven Alphas belong to me. And I will tear apart every secret that was built around my death. Because I died as a Forsaken Luna. But I came back as something none of them can control.

They took my daughter seven hours after she was born. They forged my signature. They buried the paperwork. They handed my baby to one of the most powerful men in the country and told the world she was gone forever. But I never believed them. For five years, I searched. Then a photograph landed on my desk—a little girl with dark hair and the same stubborn tilt of the head I saw in my own mirror every morning. Her name was Lily Blackwood. She was six years old. And she was mine. Now I'm inside Blackwood Manor—not as her mother, but as her nanny. Close enough to hold her hand. Close enough to hear her laugh. Close enough to watch her look at me as though she's been waiting for me her whole life. Because she has. Lily knows a lullaby I created for my unborn child—a song no one else should have heard. She says things that make no sense. She remembers feelings she shouldn't remember. And every day, she pulls me closer to a truth someone has spent years trying to bury. Damian Blackwood is not the man I expected. Cold. Controlled. Always watching. He lets me into his home when he should have sent me away. He keeps fresh flowers outside a locked room no one is allowed to mention, and every secret inside this house seems to lead back to the night my daughter disappeared. Someone stole my child. Someone built a web of lies to hide the truth. And as I uncover the secrets of Blackwood Manor, I realize there are people who will do anything to make sure I never reclaim the daughter they stole from me.

Her husband sold her on their first wedding anniversary. Aria thought Damien had fallen out of love with her. She never imagined he had married her because he owed a debt—and had already promised his wife to the man collecting it. By midnight, Aria is delivered to Sebastian Vale, a wealthy, feared, blind billionaire who greets her by name before she ever introduces herself. He knows who she is. He knows about the fire that destroyed her childhood. And he has been searching for her for fifteen years. Aria expects Sebastian to treat her like property. Instead, he gives her freedom, protection, and answers—though never all three at once. Because Sebastian has a reason for bringing her into his world. A reason connected to her forgotten childhood. A reason connected to the family she was told was gone. And a reason that could make everything she believed about her marriage, her identity, and the man she is beginning to trust a lie. The more Aria uncovers, the more she realizes she wasn't sold because she was worthless. She was sold because someone was terrified of what would happen if the world discovered who she really was.

My husband left me for another woman. She took my marriage, my home, and the life we built together. Then, two years later, she offered me a job no sane woman would accept. Become her surrogate. I should have walked away. Instead, I signed the contract and moved into the mansion she now shared with my ex-husband. At first, I told myself it was only for the money. Then I noticed the locked east wing no one would explain. The housekeeper who warned me to read the fine print. A missing woman whose name everyone refused to say. A journalist convinced the Voss family was hiding something much darker than a broken marriage. The deeper I looked, the more impossible everything became. Someone had been watching me long before I signed the contract. Someone wanted me in that house for a reason. And every answer seemed to lead back to one terrifying truth— I was never chosen to carry their child by chance. I was brought to Maplewood Estate as part of a plan that began years before I ever walked through its doors. Now I'm trapped inside a house full of secrets... and if I don't uncover the truth before it's too late, I may become the next woman who disappears.

He divorced me on live television. In front of eleven million people, my husband of six years announced our marriage was over — then introduced the woman he'd chosen instead. I sat in Row D, seat twelve, exactly where he'd placed me. I walked out without a word. That night, I met Callum Voss. Cold. Ruthless. The one man my ex-husband feared more than any other. He'd watched the broadcast. He knew who I was. And he had a proposition: marry him — that same night — and help him dismantle everything Derek Cole had built. I should have said no. Then I found my late father's files. Evidence that my marriage had never been what I believed. That the man I loved had used my family's name, buried a woman's career to protect his own, and planned my public humiliation weeks in advance. So I signed the contract. Twelve months. Two signatures. A divorce met with revenge. Callum and I had rules — no feelings, no complications, nothing real. But somewhere between the strategy sessions and the silences, the rules stopped holding. Now the contract is expired. Derek's world has collapsed. And Callum is standing in front of me with nothing to offer except the one thing neither of us planned for. This is not the story of how I survived my divorce. It is the story of what I became because of it.