The Billionaire Heiress's Revenge: Rejecting Her Cheating Mate

I was the Barron heiress, and everyone assumed Damien, the Head Warrior, was my fated match.

But the sickening scent of rotting peaches led me to the garden, where I found him pinning Eve against a tree.

He wasn't just cheating; he was admitting he only wanted me for the Alpha title, while calling that manipulative charity case his "true queen."

When I tried to cut off his funding, he declared war.

He sabotaged my saddle, leaving a silver shard embedded in my leg, and sneered that I was vulnerable without him.

Then came the ultimate humiliation.

At my twenty-first birthday party, in front of every high-ranking wolf, Eve and Damien played a deepfake video of me with Rogues.

Damien looked at me with mock pity, offering to marry me only to "hide my shame," while his six brothers stood as a human shield protecting Eve.

They called me broken. They thought I was defenseless.

But they didn't know I had already sent a message to the most dangerous wolf in existence.

Just as Damien tried to force his claim, the ballroom doors exploded inward.

The Alpha King walked in, eyes glowing gold, and pulled me against his chest.

"She is mine," he growled, silencing the room.

I looked at Damien and his brothers, holding up a silver USB drive.

"You destroyed my reputation to protect her," I whispered.

"Now, let's see if you still want her when you find out she's been sleeping with all seven of you."

I plugged in the drive.

Chapter 1

The Broken Bond

Elena POV:

The scent hit me before the sound did.

It wasn't the crisp pine of the Barron estate, nor the metallic tang of the logistics warehouse. It was something cloying. Nauseating. Like peaches left to rot in the heat, mixed with the heavy musk of aroused wolves.

Midnight, my inner wolf, paced restlessly in the back of my mind. She was usually composed, befitting the Barron heiress, but today she was snarling, claws scratching against my consciousness.

"Turn back," she warned, a low rumble in my head. "It reeks of betrayal."

But I had to know. I pushed through the manicured hedges of the private garden. I was looking for Damien. Damien Paul, the Head Warrior, the man my father intended for me to marry. We had grown up together. Everyone assumed we were Mates-even without the bond completed.

I froze.

There, beneath the shadow of the old oak tree, two figures were intertwined. One was Damien. His broad shoulders were unmistakable as he pinned a smaller figure against the bark.

The other was Eve.

Eve McClain. The charity case my father had taken in years ago. She was supposed to be an Omega, submissive and weak. Yet, she had her legs wrapped around Damien's waist, her head thrown back.

"Damien..." she moaned, her voice dripping with that fake sweetness I'd come to hate. "What about Elena? What if the Princess finds out?"

Damien grunted, burying his face in her neck. "Let her find out. I don't care. I need you, Eve. You're the only one who quiets the noise."

My breath hitched. It felt like a giant paw had crushed my lungs. In our world, the bond is sacred. To betray a partner is to fracture one's own soul.

"But you're going to marry her," Eve whispered, tracing a finger down his chest. I could see a small vial in her hand, uncapped, releasing that dizzying, rotten scent.

"I have to," Damien growled. "She is the key to the Alpha position. I marry her, I become the Alpha male of the Barron Pack. But you... you will always be my true queen. She is just a political necessity."

A political necessity.

The pain I expected-the shattering of a heart-didn't come. Instead, a cold wave of clarity washed over me. I looked at Damien. I waited for the pull, the Spark that defines a true Mate connection.

I felt nothing.

Actually, I felt nausea.

"He is not ours," Midnight growled, settling on her haunches, golden eyes filled with disdain. "We do not bow to traitors. And that smell... it is poison."

I stepped out from the hedges. A twig snapped under my boot.

Damien whipped his head around. His eyes were dilated, swimming in a haze of lust and whatever drug Eve was pumping into the air.

"Elena!" He scrambled back, dropping Eve. She landed on her feet with surprising grace, quickly hiding the vial behind her back.

"Don't," I said, my voice steady. "Don't insult me with an excuse, Damien."

"It's not what it looks like," he stammered, buttoning his shirt. "My wolf... I couldn't control it. Eve, she was in heat, and I..."

"She is not in heat," I said coldly, inhaling. "There is no pheromone spike. Just cheap perfume and your own lack of honor."

Eve stepped forward, eyes wide and teary. "Elena, please! I didn't mean to! He just... he overpowered me!"

"Stop talking," I commanded.

Damien stepped in front of Eve, shielding her. "Don't speak to her like that, Elena. She's fragile."

"Fragile?" I laughed, a harsh sound. "She has been manipulating you and your six brothers for months. Do you think I am blind? I see how the seven of you follow her like puppies."

"We protect her because she is pack!" Damien roared. His voice carried a trace of the Alpha timbre.

It washed over me, but I did not kneel. I was a Barron.

"You protect her because you are compromised," I said. "You just admitted you are using me for the title. You want the Alpha seat? You want to rule the logistics empire?"

I turned my back on them.

"Where are you going?" Damien demanded.

"To see my father," I said over my shoulder. "And to cancel the wedding. You will never sit on the Alpha throne, Damien. You are nothing but a Warrior who lost his way."

As I walked away, I heard Eve sobbing, and Damien whispering soothing words. The bond I thought we had was not just broken; it never existed.

Financial Freeze

Elena POV:

The boardroom of Barron Logistics was conditioned to a temperature that kept humans alert and wolves on edge. My father, Alpha Marcus Barron, sat at the head of the mahogany table.

"You want to cancel the engagement?" he asked, rubbing his temples. "Elena, the elders expect this union. Damien is the strongest warrior we have."

"Strength without loyalty is a threat, Father," I said. "He is sleeping with Eve. He admitted he only wants me for the title."

My father sighed. "Males have... urges. Once the Mating Mark is placed, he will settle down."

"He is not my Mate," I stated. "I feel no Spark. If I let him mark me, I will be tied to a man who despises me."

Father looked at me, eyes softening. He knew the lore. A forced mark without the Fated connection resulted in a weak union.

"What do you propose?" he asked.

"I propose we stop funding his rebellion," I said. I pulled out my tablet. "Damien and the other six adopted wards-they act as Eve's personal guard. They spend pack funds on her clothes, jewelry, and... supplements."

"Supplements?"

"Chemicals," I said. "I am freezing their accounts. All of them. Effective immediately."

My father hesitated, then nodded. "You are the heir. If you wish to wield the whip, be ready for the backlash."

"I am ready."

I executed the command. Within seconds, the notifications would hit their phones.

I left the office and headed toward the main staircase of the manor. As expected, the backlash was immediate.

Damien stormed through the front door, Eve trailing behind him. The other six brothers flanked them.

"What did you do?" Damien shouted, waving his phone. "Card declined? At the pharmacy? Eve needs her medicine!"

"Medicine?" I stood at the top of the stairs. "You mean the scent masker she uses to confuse your senses? Or the suppressants she takes to hide the fact that she isn't an Omega?"

"She fell!" Damien roared.

On cue, Eve stumbled. It was theatrical. She grasped the banister, let out a soft cry, and crumpled to the floor.

"Eve!" The seven men rushed to her.

Damien looked up at me, eyes flashing red. "You did this! You stressed her out!"

"She tripped over her own lies," I said.

"Enough!" Damien bellowed.

He unleashed the Alpha Tone.

It slammed into me like a physical blow. A wave of dominance demanding submission. Using it on a high-ranking female was a grave insult.

My knees buckled. Midnight howled in protest.

"Stand up!" she screamed. "Do not let him see you weak!"

I gripped the railing, knuckles white, forcing my legs to straighten.

"You... used the Tone on me," I whispered.

I remembered years ago, when my father had forced a young Damien to submit. Damien had sworn he would never use such force on a pack member.

Now, he used it to defend a liar.

"Fix the accounts, Elena," Damien snarled, turning to carry Eve away. "Or you will regret it."

"The accounts stay frozen," I called out. "And Damien? You just declared war on your future Alpha."

He didn't look back.

The Sabotaged Shift

Elena POV:

I needed to run.

Politics and heartbreak were suffocating me. Usually, I would Shift, but I was still recovering from the residual pressure of Damien's Alpha Tone.

So, I chose riding.

I saddled Storm, a massive grey stallion only I could handle. The training ring was empty. I mounted, feeling the familiar rhythm clear my head. I urged him into a gallop.

Faster, Midnight urged. Outrun the stench of them.

I pushed Storm harder toward a high wooden oxer.

"Up, boy!" I commanded.

Storm launched. He was perfect.

Then, a sharp snap echoed through the arena.

The girth strap gave way.

Gravity vanished. The saddle slid sideways mid-air. I fell, hard.

I hit the sand with a sickening crunch. My left leg twisted at an unnatural angle. Pain, white and blinding, exploded up my thigh.

"Aggh!" I screamed.

Storm bolted. I lay there, gasping. My vision blurred. I tried to call upon my healing factor, but the pain wasn't fading. It was searing, burning like fire.

I looked down. A piece of the saddle equipment had pierced my breeches.

Silver.

A silver buckle, sharpened to a point, was embedded in my thigh.

"Help!" I grit my teeth, trying to Mind-Link. Father! Anyone!

The Mind-Link was static. Jammed.

The stable doors creaked open.

I looked up through the haze, expecting a stable hand. Instead, I saw Damien.

He was leaning against the doorframe, checking his watch. He didn't rush.

"Damien..." I gasped. "Help me. The saddle..."

He walked over slowly. His face was a mask of mock concern.

"Elena? My god, what happened?"

He crouched down, but he didn't reach for the first aid kit. He just looked at the wound.

"My leg..." I choked out. "It's silver."

"Looks painful," Damien said, his voice devoid of real empathy. "I told you that tack was getting old. You really should be more careful with your equipment."

He reached out, brushing a strand of hair from my forehead. His touch made my skin crawl. Up close, I smelled it on his fingers-leather polish and the faint, metallic scent of silver filings.

"I'll go call the medics," he said, standing up leisurely. "Don't go anywhere."

He didn't run. He walked. Taking his time.

"Why?" I whispered to his retreating back.

He paused at the door, glancing over his shoulder with a cold smirk.

"Maybe a few weeks in bed will remind you who protects this pack, Elena. You're vulnerable alone."

He walked out, leaving me writhing in the sand.

I closed my eyes, focusing on the pain. I wouldn't beg. I would take this agony, this burning fire in my leg, and I would forge it into a weapon.