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My younger sister and I spent ten years fighting over Rowan Vale, the Alpha of Silver Ridge Pack. In my first life, I became his mate. Everyone said he was obsessed with me. Why else would he keep me carrying litters for seven years and give Silver Ridge six heirs? When I went into labor with the seventh, I nearly bled out. Rowan sent the healers away and forced wolfsbane down my throat himself. Only then did he tell me the truth. If it were not for the fact that only a daughter of the Hart bloodline could bear pureblood Alpha heirs, he said, he never would have claimed me at all. I had been useful for one thing only: giving him heirs. Now that he had enough, I had none. I died hating him. In my second life, I handed the bond papers from Silver Ridge Pack to my sister. “Go,” I told her. “You’re the one he wants.” Five years later, she was sent back to me half-starved, shaking, and marked by restraints. Through sobs, she told me Rowan had never loved her either. He had kept her because she was still a Hart daughter, because she could give him heirs, and because her scent could calm him during rut. She died less than two months later. When I opened my eyes again, I was in my third life. The unsigned bond papers from Silver Ridge Pack lay on the table between us, and my sister and I could only stare at each other. Who, exactly, did that Alpha want?

The night before high school graduation, Ethan Luciano pulled me into his bedroom. His hands were rough, his touch demanding, yet my heart overflowed with a decade's worth of unspoken longing. I'd loved Ethan for ten years, and finally, it seemed my silent wishes had come true. Afterwards, as we lay tangled in his sheets, he whispered that he'd marry me after graduation. Once he took over the Luciano family's empire from his father, he'd make me the most cherished woman in the family. I believed him. The next morning, I sat curled up against his bare chest as he casually told my foster brother, Lucas, about us. My cheeks were flushed, and my heart raced, still clinging to the sweetness of the night before. However, then their conversation shifted into Italian. Lucas smirked, leaning back against the doorframe. "Not bad, Young Boss. Your first time, and the school's 'it girl' just threw herself at you. So, how's my little sister taste?" Ethan gave a lazy chuckle. "Looks like an angel, but a freak in the sheets. Who would’ve thought?" The room erupted in low, conspiratorial laughter. Lucas raised a brow. "So, should I call her my little sister or my future sister-in-law?" Ethan’s tone darkened, his arm tightening around my waist for a moment. Then he let out a sigh. "She’s nothing. Just practice," he said, his voice dropping to a whisper. "I’m trying to hook up with the cheer captain, Sylvia Dawson, but I don’t want her thinking I’m clueless in bed. Cynthia Saville’s just a warm-up." He paused. "But don’t tell Sylvia. I don’t need her getting all emotional." They didn't know that I’d spent months secretly learning Italian, preparing for the life I thought I’d share with Ethan. I didn't say a word. Later that day, I quietly withdrew my early decision application to Caltech and applied to MIT instead.