Drama Scene

Drama Scene Contact information, map and directions, contact form, opening hours, services, ratings, photos, videos and announcements from Drama Scene, Cinema, Dubai.

🔥 TRENDING NOVEL SERIES 🔥Next👀👉: https://eng.moboreader.com/1JeCCD/BDHQ💥   The Luna You Betrayed Is No Longer Yours🔥 INT...
24/07/2026

🔥 TRENDING NOVEL SERIES 🔥

Next👀👉: https://eng.moboreader.com/1JeCCD/BDHQ

💥 The Luna You Betrayed Is No Longer Yours

🔥 INTRO 🔥

"This is Virella, my wife."

Three years.

And that was all Alpha Kaelen gave me.

No welcome. No touch. No recognition.

Just another woman at his side, carrying his child.

While I ruled in his absence, I was nothing more than a placeholder. A Luna he never chose.

So I gave up. And I left.

One rejection was all it took to break the bond.

When I returned, I wasn't the Luna he abandoned. I was untouchable, respected, and feared. And no longer his to claim.

Now he watches me like a man drowning...

Because the woman he discarded came back as something far beyond his reach. And this time, I didn't come alone.

The Alpha of Ebonmoon stands beside me, his presence crushing, and his hand firm on my waist...

"Careful, Kaelen," his voice drops, dark with warning. "Rowena isn't yours anymore."

His lips brush my temple, possessively. "She's mine. If you try to take her, I'll end you."

📕👀 CHAPTER 1

_Rowena's POV_
My bedroom door burst open so hard it nearly flew off its hinges.
"My Luna!" Velvet stumbled inside, her voice sharp with excitement, breathless and gasping. "He's back! Alpha Kaelen has returned! He's in the east wing right now, with his grandmother, Lady Maelis."
My hand je**ed. The tip of my pen sliced into my finger, but I barely noticed. Only one thought echoed in my mind.
Kaelen was back.
I pressed my injured finger to my lips, blotting the bead of blood, but I couldn't suppress the surge of joy rising in my chest.
It had been three years since I'd last seen my husband-the Alpha of the Moonreign Pack.
That time had been our wedding night.
We hadn't even had a moment alone before he was summoned to the Federation border.
And ever since, I had served as his Luna, holding the pack together with unwavering devotion, counting the days until his return.
Velvet, my handmaiden, knew better than anyone how I had endured those years. Kaelen hadn't got enough time to mark me. And Kyra-the wolf inside me-had been so long silent that I'd nearly stopped hoping she would ever stir again.
The Moonreign Pack was small, but it was no easy task for a Luna with a fading wolf to care for her ailing mother-in-law, to weather the elders' scrutiny, to balance the pack's countless needs. There were so many nights I had wondered if I could bear it a moment longer.
But I had. And now Kaelen was home. He would mark me. We would shoulder the pack's burdens together. Perhaps we would even raise children of our own.
Everything was about to fall into place.
As these thoughts swirled in my heart, I dressed with more care than I had in years. I fastened my mother's pearl earrings-the ones she had worn as a token of her bond with my father. She had always believed they would guide me toward a marriage as blessed as hers.
I believed it too.
Earlier that morning, Kyra had stirred for the first time in what felt like forever. She paced restlessly in the depths of my mind, her agitation a strange undercurrent beneath my skin. I had found it unsettling then.
But now, I understood.
She had sensed what was coming.
Kaelen had come home.
The walk to the east wing wasn't far, yet each step seemed to stretch endlessly. My usual composure faltered-my stride, once measured and graceful, now carried an unmistakable urgency. But when the doors of the hall came into view, my feet slowed of their own accord.
My marriage to Alpha Kaelen Varkos had begun like a whirlwind.
After my father and brother fell in battle, one after the other, my mother's health had crumbled. Her only remaining wish was to see me wed-to place me in the care of someone she deemed worthy.
Alpha Kaelen was the man she chose.
Moonreign Pack was modest in size, but it had its standing. More importantly, its young Alpha was accomplished and commanding. My mother trusted that he would be my equal, that he would protect me.
We were not fated mates.
But that fleeting wedding night had been enough to sear him into my heart.
He had looked as striking in his military uniform as he had in his wedding attire-perhaps even more so, with a new edge of hardness about him. When those dark, fathomless eyes fixed on me, my maiden heart had thundered in my chest for the very first time.
"You deserve better than this," he had murmured, tucking a stray lock of hair behind my ear. "Wait for me, my Luna."
Those words had carried me through three years.
And now he was back.
I stopped before the doors, steadying myself. Through the decorative glass panel beside them, I caught a glimpse of my own red-rimmed eyes. I took that final moment to check my reflection-to ensure I would meet my husband as the woman he remembered.
And that was when I heard it. A voice from within the half-open door. Authoritative. Final.
"Rowena has no say in this."
I needed less than a heartbeat to recognize it.
My husband's voice.
"I have already agreed to marry Virella," he said. "It is done. I am the Alpha of Moonreign Pack."
The words hit me like a bucket of ice water, dousing every flicker of joy and longing in my chest.
Virella? Who was Virella?
My husband-the man who had asked me to wait for him-was now planning to marry someone else?
I pushed open the door without a second thought, the force of it surprising even myself. Every head in the room turned toward me.
Kaelen sat in silence upon his Alpha throne. Grandmama Maelis occupied her customary seat nearby, her face a mask of stern authority. My mother-in-law, Elira, sat just below her, and when her eyes met mine, she exhaled a quiet sigh. The others in the room wore expressions ranging from shock to barely concealed curiosity. But my gaze went straight to the only face I did not recognize.
No one needed to tell me this was the woman Kaelen had called Virella.
She was not conventionally beautiful, but there was something in her bearing-a slenderness that bordered on sharpness, a self-possession that seemed almost practiced. Her features were finely cut, her dark hair swept back to reveal the elegant line of her throat. Yet her eyes betrayed her. They held too much: greed poorly masked, arrogance barely leashed.
I had never imagined that one day my husband would betray me for such a woman.
"You said you were going to marry whom?" I fixed my gaze on Virella, but the question was meant for Kaelen. My voice carried a weight that made even the younger pack members in the room straighten instinctively.
"Young Luna-" Hannah, the Varkos family's long-serving steward, stepped forward with a strained smile, clearly hoping to smooth things over. "This is merely a misunderstanding-"
"I was not asking you." I cut her off sharply, and then, finally, I turned to face my husband.
Three years had changed him.
He had always been handsome, but now the battlefield had carved something new into him. He sat with a stillness that felt less like composure and more like a predator at rest. Every movement, every shift of his posture carried an undercurrent of danger. This was a man who had learned to make decisions and live with their consequences.
He was studying me too, his dark eyes unreadable. But I did not flinch.
"I am asking you, Alpha Kaelen." My voice did not waver. "Who did you say you were going to marry?"
A cold smile curved his lips, as if my challenge amused rather than troubled him. He reached for the woman at his side and drew her into the circle of his arm with deliberate ease.
"I am marrying Virella," he announced. "She is carrying my child."
His hand settled upon her belly with a tenderness that made my stomach turn.
Only then did I see it-the subtle swell beneath her gown.
So. This was the reason.
The feeling that seized me defied description. It was as if a hand had reached into my chest, seized my heart, and began to squeeze.
I nearly staggered. Velvet's hand caught my elbow, steadying me before I could fall.
"Is this the manners you were raised with?" Grandmama Maelis's voice cut through the room like a blade. "Your husband returns after three years, and your first words are an accusation?"
"Husband?" I swallowed against the thickness in my throat, but when I spoke again, my voice came out sharper than before. "I have held this pack together for three years. I have spent every sleepless night worrying about his safety. And when he finally returns, he brings another woman into our home. What kind of husband is that?"
"Rowena-" Kaelen's voice cut through the air, sharp with displeasure. "Protecting the pack is the Luna's duty."
"It was the agreement we made when our marriage was arranged," he added, as though I needed reminding.
The words lodged in my throat like glass, but I forced them out. "Then you should also remember that agreement came with the promise of respect."
"And have I not given it?" The weight of Alpha command pressed against his every word. "Three years, Rowena. You carry no mark of mine-yet Moonreign has called you Luna. Even knowing you came with no bloodline, no family, no pack."
The smugness curling through his tone made my stomach turn.
Three years ago, I had been foolish enough to feel something for this man.
"So what you're telling me," I said slowly, "is that I've been running your pack, managing your territory, holding your alliances together-and now I'm supposed to step aside gracefully while you parade your mistress in front of me?"
A flicker of irritation crossed his face, gone as quickly as it came. "House Varkos honors its word. I made a promise to your mother. I will not abandon you."
"But Virella," he continued, meeting my gaze with none of the warmth that had graced our wedding night, "I will also take as my wife."
"You've managed the pack well for three years, yes. But you have not given Varkos an heir. Virella carries my child-and she has saved my soldiers, and my own life, more than once on the battlefield."
He straightened, as though delivering a generous verdict. "You may retain your title as Luna. Virella will share equal standing with you. Equal rights. Equal voice in the pack."
The sheer condescension nearly made me laugh.
He hadn't touched me on our wedding night. He'd left at dawn for the front, and by the time he returned, he'd already found someone else. An heir? I would have needed a husband first.
And Virella? She'd bled beside him on the battlefield. I had secured supply lines, negotiated alliances, held the pack together so he'd have something to come back to. But apparently, that counted for nothing.
My eyes burned, but I refused to let the tears fall. This man had never deserved them.
"Equal standing?" My voice came out rough, but steady. "And what makes you think I would accept that?"
I lifted my chin, looking him straight in the eye.
"If this is what's left of your promise," I said, "then I want none of it."
"Let's end this properly, Alpha Kaelen."
My words landed like a blade.
"I want a divorce."

📗👀 CHAPTER 2

_Rowena's POV_
The word hung in the air between us.
Divorce.
I had said it clearly and steadily without flinching. And for one suspended moment, the entire room went still, Grandmama Maelis, Elira, the pack members along the walls, all of them holding their breath like they were waiting to see which way a flame would lean.
Kaelen's expression didn't crack. But his eyes sharpened.
"You want a divorce." He said it the way someone repeats a word in a foreign language, like the meaning hadn't fully landed yet.
"I do," I said. "We never completed the bond. The marriage was never consummated. There's nothing legally binding us that can't be undone cleanly." I kept my voice even. "You have what you want. Let me go."
Something moved across his face, it was not guilt, or regret. Something closer to offense.
"You're being dramatic," he said.
Dramatic.
Three years of running his pack, managing his accounts, holding his family together while he made promises to another woman three states away, and the word he reached for was dramatic.
"Kaelen." Grandmama Maelis's voice cut in before I could respond. "Enough of this. Rowena, sit down."
"I'd rather stand, Grandmama."
Her jaw tightened. "You are Luna of this pack. You will conduct yourself accordingly."
"I am conducting myself accordingly," I said. "I'm asking for a legal dissolution of a marriage that was never properly formed. That's not drama. That's common sense."
Elira made a small sound and then said nothing, the way she always said nothing when it mattered.
Elvira, Kaelen's sister, from her corner of the couch, tilted her head. "I don't see why you're making this so difficult. Virella is already here. She's already pregnant. What exactly do you think you're protecting?"
I looked at her. "My name."
That landed. Even Elvira didn't have a quick answer for it.
Kaelen stepped forward. "I told you - you keep your title. You keep your standing. Nothing about your position in this pack changes."
"Everything about my position changes," I said. "The moment you brought her in here and called her your wife, you changed it. I'm not asking for compensation, Kaelen. I'm asking to leave."
"No."
The word was flat and immovable.
I stared at him. "You don't want me. You've made that perfectly clear. So why...."
"Because I said no." His voice dropped into that register, the Alpha command, the one that pressed against the air in the room like a physical weight. "This conversation is over."
His command did not break me.
Kyra stirred deep within, claws scraping against the walls of my consciousness. My father and brother had fallen in battle. My pack had been reduced to ashes. But that did not mean I had forgotten the Alpha blood that ran through my veins.
My lip curled. My canines ached to show.
And then Virella moved.
It was subtle, I had to give her that. A soft exhale, barely audible. One hand pressing to her stomach. Her head dipped forward just slightly, like something had shifted inside her.
No dramatic gasping, no performance. Just the quiet suggestion of a woman in discomfort, perfectly timed.
Kaelen turned before anyone else did.
"Virella." His voice changed completely, the command stripped out of it, something almost soft underneath. He crossed to her side in three steps. "What's wrong? Is it the baby?"
"I'm fine," she murmured, leaning lightly into his arm. "Just... the stress. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to cause all of this."
She didn't look at me when she said it.
And just like that, the room reoriented itself around her. Grandmama Maelis rose from her chair. Elira's helpless expression shifted to concern. Even Elvira straightened, the mocking curiosity fading from her face.
And Kaelen-Kaelen looked at her as though she were the only person in the room.
I watched it all.
Three years I had given this pack. Three years of holding them together, of sleepless nights and endless negotiations, of bleeding for people who had never once looked at me the way they now looked at her.
A cold smile touched my lips.
I turned and walked out of the hall.
Let Kaelen refuse. Let him command. Let him pretend this marriage was something worth keeping.
It did not matter.
I would have my divorce.
**
I wasted no time.
The moment I returned to my chambers, I set Velvet and Grace to work cataloging my dowry.
I unlocked the strongbox where my mother had stored every document she had transferred to me upon my marriage. She had always been meticulous. Every asset tracked. Every transaction recorded. Property deeds, investment accounts, pack infrastructure funds, the medical endowment-anything she had moved into Moonreign Pack's name when I married Kaelen was documented in her neat, slightly slanted handwriting.
I turned to page four.
Moonreign Pack-Pre-Wedding Financial Assessment.
Before agreeing to the match, my mother had commissioned a discreet third-party evaluation of the pack's finances. I had read it once, years ago, then set it aside. It had seemed irrelevant then. We were married. We were building a future together. The numbers belonged to the past.
Now I read it again.
When I married into the Varkos family, Moonreign Pack had been three months away from collapse. Kaelen's father had died young, leaving behind debts that his family had spent years draping in fine clothes and careful illusions. The estate. The cars. The servants. All of it held together by borrowed credit, wounded pride, and the quiet hope that something-someday-would turn their fortunes around.
What turned them around was my mother's money.
The Ashthorne funds-transferred in full on my wedding day-had cleared every outstanding debt, covered two years of operating expenses, and established the medical fund that still paid for Grandmama Maelis's monthly treatments.
I set the document down. A plan was already taking shape in my mind.
He doesn't know the full picture, Kyra said.
"He knows part of it. Not all."
"Then he's going to be very surprised."
"Yes." I ran my fingers over the papers my mother had left me-her final gift, though I had never expected to use it this way. "I had hoped it wouldn't come to this."
I drew a breath.
"Grace."
"Yes, my Luna?"
"Freeze every fund originating from the Ashthorne accounts. All of them. Assets, endowments, recurring transfers. Nothing moves without my written authorization." I paused. "And find me a family law attorney. Someone outside the pack. Someone who owes Kaelen nothing."
Grace's eyes lit up. She gave a sharp nod and turned, moving quickly-as if afraid I might change my mind if she did not act fast enough.
I looked out the window. Night had fallen. But the chill in my chest had settled into something cold and steady.
Let Kaelen try to stop me.
Without my money, the pack would feel the weight of its choices within a month.

📘👀 CHAPTER3

_Kaelen's POV_
She walked out without looking back.
I stood beside Virella, watching her go from the corner of my eye. The words to stop her did not come.
I told myself the tightness in my chest was nothing more than irritation. Pure irritation. Nothing more complicated than that.
"You know exactly what it is", Shade said.
My wolf had been restless since the moment Rowena walked into that room-crouched low in my mind, pacing with an agitation I rarely felt from him. Like a warrior bracing for a battle he did not wish to fight.
Several times, he had tried to take control. I held him back. I knew he had not abandoned his ridiculous loyalty to our Luna. Even if Rowena did not deserve it.
"You wronged her."
"She should not have challenged my authority in front of the pack."
"You would not be sitting in that chair without her."
"Enough!"
I pushed Shade down. He went quiet, but he did not settle. He never did when he believed I had made a mistake-and lately, it seemed he believed I made nothing but mistakes.
The tension in the room eased when the pack healer confirmed that Virella and the child were unharmed. Grandmama Maelis lowered herself back into her seat. Elvira unfolded herself from the arm of the sofa.
My mother crossed the room and stopped beside me.
"Go and speak with her," she said quietly. It was not a suggestion. From my gentle-natured mother, it was as close to a command as she ever came. "She needs time to calm herself."
"She is not merely angry, Kaelen." My mother's voice carried a careful deliberation. "She is resolved. Those are two very different things. And before you dismiss that out of hand..." She paused, choosing her words with care. "You should consider that in three years, she has never given this family a single reason to doubt her. Not once."
Across the room, Elvira let out a soft laugh. "She has simply grown comfortable. That is the problem. Three years of running a household, and now she imagines she has more say in this family than she actually does."
She examined her nails with studied indifference. "This talk of divorce is nothing more than posturing. She is not going anywhere. What Alpha would take a woman with no family, no pack, and no wolf to speak of?"
I wanted to agree with her. She was right-Rowena had no better option. Her mother had confirmed that herself three years ago.
But the look in Rowena's eyes when she said divorce kept surfacing in my mind. Some part of me knew she was not bluffing.
"Kaelen." Virella's voice came from beside me, still soft from her earlier distress. "Do not trouble yourself on my account. I can leave. I told you from the beginning-I would never be the reason you lose everything."
I looked at her.
She held my gaze, sadness softening her features. I knew she meant every word.
That was who Virella was. She never asked for more than I could give. She had fought beside me in conditions that would have broken most people. She had made decisions under pressure that had saved lives-including mine. She did not complain. She did not demand. She simply stayed, and trusted me to do right by her.
I reached out and covered her hand with mine. "You are carrying my child. You are not going anywhere."
The glistening of tears in her eyes softened something in my chest. Virella had never been one to cry easily-pregnancy had made her more sensitive, that was all. Protecting her and the child was my responsibility.
I gave her hand a reassuring squeeze.
"I will make her agree," I said, the words coming out with more conviction than I felt.
"I will make her understand. She cannot defy her Alpha."
**
The hall between the main wing and Rowena's suite was longer than it needed to be.
I had walked it only once before.
Our wedding night. We had walked it together then, nerves and anticipation tangled between us. I had meant it when I promised her mother I would care for her. I had meant it when I asked her to wait for me.
But in the end, Rowena had never truly been mine.
The war was brutal, but I had not forgotten my wife waiting at home. I wanted to end it quickly, to return to her. Then I learned the truth about her past.
She had chosen me because she had no other choice. Her fated mate had abandoned her when her family fell. She had agreed to marry me only because her mother wished it. I could have overlooked all of that. But when I learned she still carried a torch for the man who had rejected her-that she had been making plans to run away with him while wearing my Luna's title-whatever tenderness I had felt for her withered.
The only reason she was still here was that I had returned victorious. Because she still had enough sense to care about what remained of her family's reputation.
Without my Luna's name, she had nothing. She did not dare to leave me.
"Confident, aren't you?" Shade's voice dripped with mockery from somewhere in my mind.
I did not answer.
I stood in the corridor, staring at the door before me. On the other side, I could feel something-not a mate bond, nothing so clear or definitive, but something I had never found the right words for. It had been there on our wedding night. Three years of silence and distance had not erased it entirely.
I raised my hand to knock.
And then I heard Rowena's voice from somewhere inside.
"And find me a family law attorney. Someone outside the pack. Someone who owes Kaelen nothing."
The cold fury I had nursed for years surged through me.
I pushed the door open.
"You're so eager, aren't you, Rowena?"
I let my Alpha presence fill the room. Her handmaidens flinched at the weight of it but still managed to execute their bows-barely.
Rowena sat on the edge of her bed, her spine rigid. The only sign of weakness was her fingers, white-knuckled where they gripped the bedsheet. A woman, after all.
I eased back on my presence. Velvet, her maid, immediately stepped forward.
"Alpha," she said, her voice trembling but her words bold, "you should not enter without knocking."
I let out a cold laugh. "Since when do I require permission to enter my wife's chambers in my own pack?" I kept my eyes on Rowena. "Is this how you teach them to speak to their Alpha?"
Rowena's brow flickered, but she did not scold her maid. She rose to her feet and faced me squarely.
"What brings you here, Alpha Kaelen?"
The distance in her voice made something twist in my chest. This woman had never truly wanted me home. And now this talk of divorce-it was nothing but an excuse. She wanted to cast me aside and run back to the man who had abandoned her.
The thought took root the moment it appeared, and the more I turned it over, the more it explained everything.
I lowered my voice. "Everyone out. I wish to speak with my Luna alone."
Neither maid moved. Their eyes stayed fixed on Rowena, waiting-waiting-for her permission. Fury coiled in my gut. Three years away, and they had forgotten who held authority in this pack.
Before I could act, Rowena spoke. "Grace. Velvet. Leave us. I can handle this."
They withdrew at last, though I heard them stop just outside the door. As if I posed a threat to my own wife.
"Say what you came to say, Alpha Kaelen." Rowena moved to the table and poured herself a cup of tea.
"Virella stays." I made my voice hard. "She has no family. She saved my life and the lives of my soldiers. This pack owes her a debt, and I promised her a home."
Rowena took a sip of tea. I braced for her protest.
Instead, she smiled-a cold, thin thing. "Did I say I objected?"
I blinked. "You... agree?"
"Do I have the right to object?" She tilted her head. "She carries your child. Did you truly expect me to demand you cast her out?"
Some of the tension in my chest eased. "I am glad you see reason."
"Since I am giving you what you want." She was still smiling, but her eyes had gone flat. "I expect the same courtesy. Give me a divorce. Then we owe each other nothing."
"Owe each other nothing?" I repeated the words slowly, as if tasting them for the first time.
I crossed the room in two strides and closed my hand around her throat. Not enough to hurt-but enough to make her understand.
"I gave you a home when you had nothing. And this is how you repay me?"
"You promised her a home." She did not fight my grip. Her hands stayed at her sides, but her voice came out tight, strained. "What am I supposed to do? Sit beside her and pretend I am content? You cannot have two wives, Kaelen."
"And why not?" I tightened my fingers-just slightly. Just enough to feel her pulse hammer against my palm. "I am the Alpha. I make the laws in this pack."
She wrenched herself free before I could react, stumbling back a step with her hand pressed to her throat. Her composure had finally cracked.
"Have you lost your mind?" Her voice rose, raw and shaken. "You want to make me a laughingstock? Make us both a laughingstock?"
She drew a ragged breath, forcing herself back to calm.
"You do not love me. We have never even consummated this marriage. By any measure that matters, we are not husband and wife. So tell me-why does letting me go cost you anything at all?"
Never consummated.
The words hit me like a spark catching dry tinder.
I closed the distance between us before she could move. My arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her against me. She gasped, her hands coming up to push at my chest, but I did not let go.
"Never consummated," I murmured, my voice low. "Is that what this is really about? Not being truly married?"
I looked down at her-at the flush spreading across her cheeks, the way her breath had gone shallow. "Perhaps I should remedy that."
Her eyes widened.
I kissed her.

---
Full Story👀👉: https://eng.moboreader.com/1JeCCD/BDHQ
---
👀Dive into a world of endless stories waiting for you.🌈

🔥 TRENDING NOVEL SERIES 🔥Next👀👉:https://eng.moboreader.com/1Gu3Hx/904431💥   Jilted Heiress: Marrying The Untouchable Tyc...
24/07/2026

🔥 TRENDING NOVEL SERIES 🔥

Next👀👉:https://eng.moboreader.com/1Gu3Hx/904431

💥 Jilted Heiress: Marrying The Untouchable Tycoon

🔥 INTRO 🔥

Allison Montgomery was waiting at the airport when an audio alert from her parked Range Rover flashed on her phone.

Assuming it was a break-in, she checked the live dashcam feed, only to see her fiancé, Finn, and her younger sister, Cheyanne, passionately making out in the backseat.

"Tell me I'm better than her," Cheyanne whispered. "Tell me I'm better than Allison."

"You are," Finn gasped. "God, you are."

When Allison confronted her family with the video, she expected justice.

Instead, her uncle and mother fiercely defended the cheaters.

They blamed Allison's "cold and frigid" nature for pushing Finn away, victim-blaming her in front of the entire household staff.

To protect their corporate alliance, her uncle ruthlessly announced that the engagement would be transferred to Cheyanne, and threatened to strip Allison of her inheritance.

Stripped of her fiancé, her family, and her dignity, Allison realized her pristine twenty-year life was a complete lie.

The people who were supposed to love her were actively protecting her abusers, leaving her utterly isolated and burning with a cold, protective rage.

Refusing to be their victim, Allison targeted Finn's ruthless, billionaire uncle, Adam Kensington, proposing a fake marriage to secure the capital needed to crush her family.

But when the notoriously untouchable Wall Street phantom not only accepted her proposal, but demanded she immediately move into his penthouse to raise his secret daughter, Allison realized she had just sold her soul to the devil.

📕👀 CHAPTER 1

Allison Montgomery sat in the driver's seat of her Audi, the engine idling quietly in the JFK Airport Cell Phone Lot. Her index finger tapped against the steering wheel in a slow, impatient rhythm—the same rhythm as the ticking of the Rolex on her wrist. The watch had been a gift from Finn Kensington, her fiancé of three years. She checked the time again. The flight from London was delayed. Again. A heavy sigh fogged the cold glass of the driver's side window.
Her phone screen, resting in the cup holder, suddenly lit up.
An in-cabin audio detection alert flashed across the display. It was the synced dashcam app connected to her Range Rover—the one she had left parked in the VIP section of her favorite restaurant in Manhattan.
Allison frowned. Her fingers hovered over the screen. A garage break-in? The VIP lot was supposed to be secure, but Manhattan was unpredictable. Her heart rate elevated slightly, a dull thud against her ribs as she tapped the notification.
The live video feed buffered for a second. Then the screen resolved into the dark, leather-lined interior of her Range Rover.
She squinted. Streetlights outside cast harsh yellow shadows across the dashboard. A familiar designer handbag sat carelessly tossed over the air vents.
She stared at the bag. Her stomach dropped.
It was a limited-edition Birkin. Emerald leather. She had bought that exact bag for her younger sister, Cheyanne, just last month.
Before her brain could process why Cheyanne's bag was in her car, the audio kicked in.
The unmistakable sound of heavy, wet breathing filled the quiet cabin of the Audi. Fabric rustled violently. Then a sharp, breathless moan.
Allison froze. The blood drained from her face so fast she felt lightheaded. Her fingers gripped the leather steering wheel so hard her knuckles turned bone-white.
The camera angle caught the dim, chaotic reflection in the rearview mirror. Streetlights outside cast harsh, sickly yellow shadows across the backseat, illuminating the face.
Finn Kensington. Her fiancé. The man who had looked her in the eyes this morning and said, "I love you, Allie. See you tonight."
His face was twisted in raw, unrestrained passion—a expression she had never seen on him. His shirt was unbuttoned, his belt undone.
Then Cheyanne's face came into view. Her sister's hands tangled in Finn's perfectly styled hair. Cheyanne leaned up, her lips brushing Finn's jaw, her mouth open, breathless.
"Tell me I'm better than her," Cheyanne whispered, loud and clear in the microphone. "Tell me I'm better than Allison."
Finn gasped, his voice cracking. "You are. God, you are. She's never—she's so cold compared to you. You're everything she isn't."
Cheyanne laughed—a low, triumphant sound. "Then why are you still engaged to her?"
"Because of the families," Finn said, his hands gripping her hips. "But it's you I want. It's always been you."
A wave of intense nausea hit Allison. The acid in her stomach surged up her throat.
She had given this man three years. Three years of her life. She had turned down job offers in Europe for him. She had defended him to her friends, to her family, to everyone who said he was too slick, too ambitious, too good to be true.
And this was how he repaid her.
In her car. With her sister.
The initial shock lasted exactly ten seconds. Then the cold, burning rage took over. It spread through her veins like ice water, freezing her tears before they could even form.
Allison reached out with a perfectly steady hand. She hit the record button on the app. A red dot blinked on the screen, ensuring the footage was saved directly to her secure cloud storage. She would not lose this evidence.
She did not cry. She did not scream.
She pulled up her contacts list and found the number for the restaurant's head of security. She pressed call.
"This is Allison Montgomery," she said, her voice flat, metallic, unrecognizable even to herself. "My Range Rover is in your VIP lot. I need you to tow it immediately."
"Ms. Montgomery?" The security chief's voice was laced with confusion. "Is there a problem with the vehicle?"
"There is a severe biohazard inside," Allison instructed calmly, her gaze fixed on the empty tarmac. "Have it towed directly to a scrapyard and crushed. I don't want a single piece of it back. I'll wire a triple bonus to your personal account for your absolute discretion."
She hung up before he could respond.
Her hands shook slightly, adrenaline flooding her system, demanding physical action. She reached down and turned off the Audi's engine.
She needed to walk. If she sat in this car for one more minute, she was going to tear the steering wheel off the dashboard.
She grabbed her beige trench coat from the passenger seat, shoved her arms into the sleeves, and stepped out into the biting wind. The cold air slapped her face, grounding her.
She shoved her arms into her beige trench coat, her four-inch stilettos clicking sharply against the asphalt like a countdown as she marched toward Terminal 4. Her heart hammered a suffocating rhythm against her ribs, but her outward posture was flawlessly rigid.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket.
She pulled it out. A fresh text from Finn.
Miss you. Can't wait to see you tonight.
The sheer audacity of the lie blinded her. She stared at the text, her vision tunneling entirely onto the glowing screen. He was still lying to her face. Even after she had just watched him defile her car with her sister.
She kept walking, her stilettos clicking sharply against the polished marble floor, completely unaware of her surroundings. Her mind was a storm of rage, betrayal, and cold calculation.
She rounded a corner near the exclusive VIP lounge, her vision tunneling so intensely that the world became a blur of cold marble.
Suddenly, she slammed hard into a solid, unyielding chest.
The impact felt like walking directly into a concrete pillar, instantly knocking the remaining breath from her lungs. The sheer force sent her phone skidding across the polished floor, her ankles wobbling precariously on her heels. As gravity seized her, she closed her eyes, bracing for a humiliating, painful crash.
But she never hit the ground.
A massive, impossibly warm hand shot out from the shadows. Long, powerful fingers gripped her waist with a bruising, controlling force, arresting her descent in a fraction of a second. In one fluid, effortless motion, he pulled her upward, dragging her flush against his chest.
Allison gasped, her palms instinctively pressing flat against the ultra-soft fabric of a bespoke charcoal suit. Beneath the layers, she felt the rigid, coiled muscle of a man who commanded absolute authority. A suffocating scent instantly enveloped her—expensive to***co, cedarwood, and a distinct, icy chill that made her skin tingle.
She looked up, her breath hitching in her throat.
She met a pair of dark, predatory eyes.
The man staring down at her was devastatingly handsome—sharp jaw, high cheekbones, lips pressed into a thin, unreadable line. His face was a perfect mask of wealthy indifference, but his eyes… his eyes were burning.
A few feet behind him, another man holding two cups of coffee stopped dead in his tracks, his eyes widening in sheer disbelief as he stared at the physical contact.
"Adam, are you alright?" the man asked, rushing forward.
Adam. The name stuck in her mind.
The stranger—Adam—did not answer. His gaze remained locked on Allison. His thumb, resting heavily against her waist, subtly stroked the fabric of her trench coat. The heat of his touch seeped through the layers of her clothing, burning against her skin.
Allison's heart hammered. She should pull away. She should thank him and leave.
But she couldn't move.
The man behind him—Kip, she would later learn—stared at Adam's hand on Allison's waist. His eyes widened. He had never seen Adam initiate physical contact with a woman. Ever.
Allison finally found her voice. She stepped back, breaking the connection. The sudden loss of his body heat made the terminal air feel freezing.
"Excuse me," she said, her voice dropping into a cold, defensive register. "You should watch where you are standing."
She smoothed the front of her coat, refusing to acknowledge the flush creeping up her neck. She walked over, retrieved her phone from the floor, and continued down the concourse without looking back.
But she could feel his gaze on her. Heavy. Unrelenting.
Adam Kensington stood perfectly still in the center of the terminal. He watched her retreating figure, his dark eyes tracking the defiant sway of her trench coat.
His eyes narrowed slightly. Recognition flickered in their dark depths.
He had seen this woman before. In countless financial reports. In society pages. In the background of photographs of his nephew, Finn.
Allison Montgomery.
Finn's fiancée.
The woman his nephew was cheating on.
A slow, calculated smirk formed on his lips as his mind locked onto her identity. He adjusted his platinum cufflink with lethal precision, turning to his assistant.
"Find out where she is going," Adam commanded, his voice a low, gravelly threat.
"I want to know everything."

📗👀 CHAPTER 2

Adam Kensington watched Allison Montgomery disappear into the crowd. His hand still tingled from where he had gripped her waist. The fabric of her coat had been cold, but beneath it, he had felt heat. Life.
He turned to Kip Downs, his assistant, who was still staring after her with his mouth open.
"Close your mouth," Adam said flatly. "You look like a dying fish."
Kip snapped his jaw shut. "That was Allison Montgomery. Your nephew's fiancée. The one you've been—"
"I know who she is," Adam interrupted. His voice was ice.
He had known who she was for years. Long before Finn ever noticed her. He had watched her from a distance, tracking her career, her accomplishments, her quiet dignity. And he had watched Finn—his spoiled, entitled nephew—win her with lies and charm.
But not anymore.
"Follow her," Adam said. "I want to know where she goes. Who she talks to. Everything."
Kip hesitated. "Adam, are you sure? She's still technically—"
"She won't be for long," Adam said. He pulled out his phone and sent a quick text to his security team. Then he walked toward the exit, his long legs eating up the ground.
Kip hurried after him. "What about the meeting with the Japanese investors?"
"Reschedule it."
Kip sighed. He had worked for Adam Kensington for eight years. He had seen him acquire companies, destroy rivals, and terrify boardrooms. But he had never seen him look at a woman like that.
This was new. And dangerous.
*
Meanwhile, Allison stepped out of the terminal sliding doors. The cold New York air hit her face, grounding her. She raised her hand and hailed a yellow cab, sliding into the worn leather backseat.
"Upper East Side," she told the driver. Then she added, "Actually, no. Just drive. I'll tell you where."
She needed time to think.
The cab pulled into traffic. Allison stared blankly at the Manhattan skyline as the taxi sped down the Van Wyck Expressway. The towering glass buildings looked like jagged teeth against the grey sky.
She opened her phone again. The video was still there, saved to her cloud. She didn't play the audio this time. She just watched the visual evidence of her life collapsing.
Finn's hands on Cheyanne's hips. Cheyanne's smile. The way they moved together, like they had done it a hundred times before.
The anger inside her stopped boiling and began to freeze. Solidifying into a hard, protective shell around her heart. Her breathing slowed. Her posture straightened.
She would not break.
She would not beg.
She would destroy them both.
But first, she needed to get her things.
The cab pulled up to the towering wrought-iron gates twenty minutes later. Allison paid and walked up the sweeping limestone steps. The house loomed above her, cold and grand, every stone screaming old money.
She pushed open the heavy oak front doors.
The scent of fresh lilies and expensive floor wax filled her nose. Immediately, she heard the sound of clinking crystal and light laughter drifting from the formal living room.
They were celebrating.
Allison walked toward the sound. Her heels clicked on the marble floor like a countdown.
She stood in the arched doorway of the living room.
Baker, her uncle and the acting head of the family, sat in his leather armchair reading the Wall Street Journal. Katharine, his wife, was sipping tea from a delicate porcelain cup. Cheyanne and Finn sat close together on the velvet sofa, casual, comfortable, like they belonged there.
Like Allison was the intruder.
Finn looked up first. He saw Allison standing in the doorway. His face paled. His hand trembled as he put down his whiskey glass.
Cheyanne jumped up from the sofa. She faked a bright, overly enthusiastic smile—the kind she always used when she was lying.
"Allie!" Cheyanne chirped, rushing forward with her arms open. "How was the airport run? We were so worried about you in this weather!"
Allison didn't speak. She simply sidestepped the hug.
Cheyanne stumbled awkwardly, her arms grasping at empty air. She caught her balance and looked back at Allison with wide, innocent eyes.
"Allie? What's wrong?"
Baker slammed his newspaper down on the mahogany coffee table. The loud smack echoed in the room.
"What is wrong with you?" Baker demanded loudly, glaring at Allison. "Why are you acting so disrespectful to your sister? She just tried to greet you, and you—"
Allison pulled her phone from her pocket.
She didn't say a word. She tapped the screen, selected the video file, and hit the AirDrop icon connected to the massive smart TV mounted above the fireplace.
The high-definition video of Finn and Cheyanne's affair instantly played on the massive screen. The volume was set to maximum.
Cheyanne's voice: "Tell me I'm better than her."
Finn's voice: "You are. God, you are."
The audio of their moans and Cheyanne's desperate whispers echoed off the vaulted ceilings.
Katharine gasped. Her fingers went slack. The delicate porcelain teacup dropped from her hand, shattering into dozens of pieces on the priceless Persian rug. Hot tea soaked into the wool, spreading like a stain.
Finn jumped up from the sofa. His face was entirely devoid of color. He frantically searched the coffee table for the TV remote, his hands shaking violently.
"Wait, Allison, I can explain!" Finn stammered, his voice cracking. "It's not what it looks like! Turn it off!"
Cheyanne burst into immediate, theatrical tears. She dropped to her knees on the rug, covering her face with her hands, her shoulders shaking in perfect, practiced sobs.
"He forced me!" Cheyanne wailed. "I didn't want to, Allie! He wouldn't let me go! He said he would hurt himself if I didn't—"
Allison crossed her arms over her chest. She watched the chaos with dead eyes. Her heart beat at a slow, steady rhythm.
She waited for Baker—the head of the family, her mother's brother, the man who had promised her father on his deathbed that he would protect her—to throw the traitors out of the house.
Instead, Baker's face went from shock to purple rage. He glared at Finn, then his eyes snapped to Allison.
Baker violently pointed a thick finger at Allison.
"Is this how you handle a family matter?" Baker screamed, his spit flying across the coffee table. "By airing our dirty laundry on a television screen like some reality show? You have no sense of decorum! No respect! How dare you bring this garbage into my house!"
Allison looked at Baker. Really looked at him. And she understood.
He wasn't angry at Finn. He wasn't angry at Cheyanne.
He was angry at her for exposing them.
Katharine rushed over to the sobbing Cheyanne. She wrapped her arms around the younger girl, rocking her gently, glaring up at Allison with pure venom.
"This is your fault, Allison!" Katharine hissed. "You drove him into her arms with your frigid, arrogant attitude! You were always working, always distant, treating him like an employee instead of a fiancé. You made them do this!"
Allison's mouth opened. Then closed.
Made them?
She made them?
Finn saw Baker's reaction. He stopped looking for the remote. He straightened his posture, adjusting his tie, and immediately shifted the blame.
"Katharine is right," Finn said, his voice gaining confidence. "You were never emotionally available, Allison. I tried. God knows I tried. But you were like a wall. I needed a real connection. Cheyanne gave me that. She understood me."
Cheyanne peeked through her fingers, tears streaming down her cheeks. "I didn't mean to fall in love with him, Allie. It just happened. Please forgive me."
Baker cleared his throat, smoothing the front of his vest. He looked at Finn, then at Cheyanne, then back at Allison.
"To avoid a public scandal," Baker announced coldly, "the Montgomery-Kensington engagement will continue as planned."
Allison let out a dark, humorless laugh. The sound scraped against her throat. "You expect me to still marry him?"
Baker looked at her like she was an idiot. "No. The engagement is being transferred to Cheyanne. She and Finn are clearly a better match. The board needs the Kensington alliance. The stock price cannot afford a scandal."
Katharine nodded in agreement, stroking Cheyanne's hair. "You need to step aside for your sister's happiness, Allison. Think of the company. Think of the family."
Finn walked over to Cheyanne and took her hand. He looked at Allison with something that might have been pity.
"I'm sorry it turned out this way, Allison. But you and I were never right for each other. You'll find someone eventually. Someone as cold as you."
Allison looked at the four people in the room.
Her uncle. Her aunt. Her sister. Her fiancé.
All four of them, standing together, rewriting history, making her the villain.
The sheer, absolute absurdity of the situation severed her last emotional tie to the family. She felt a physical snap in her chest. The heavy weight of trying to please these people—the years of proving herself, of working twice as hard as anyone else, of swallowing her pride and her pain—vanished.
Replaced by a terrifying, hollow lightness.
She didn't yell. She didn't cry.
She simply nodded slowly.
A terrifyingly calm smile touched her lips. It didn't reach her eyes—not even close.
"Okay," Allison said softly.
The room went silent.
"Okay?" Cheyanne repeated, confused.
Allison turned on her heel without a single word. She walked out of the living room, leaving them in dead silence.
She walked down the hallway and stopped. She stared at the closed mahogany doors of Baker's study—the room where her father used to work, where he had taught her how to read a balance sheet when she was twelve years old.
The reality of her complete isolation sank into her bones.
She was alone.
But being alone meant she owed nothing to anyone.

📘👀 CHAPTER3

Allison stared at the closed mahogany doors of Baker's study for a long moment. Then she turned and walked up the grand staircase. Each step felt heavier than the last, but she forced herself to keep moving.
She entered her bedroom—a room that had never felt like hers. Soft cream walls, antique French oak furniture, drapes that cost more than most people's monthly rent. It was beautiful. It was cold. It was a museum exhibit she no longer belonged in.
She didn't allow herself to look back.
She walked straight to the closet and pulled a heavy Louis Vuitton duffel bag from the top shelf. The leather was worn, the brass zipper tarnished. She had bought this bag eight years ago, on her first trip to Paris with her father, before he died. It was one of the few things she truly valued.
She began to pack. Mechanical. Efficient. No hesitation.
She grabbed only the essentials: her laptop, two encrypted hard drives containing her personal company data, her father's old notebook—the one where he had handwritten his strategies for Montgomery Group—and three tailored power suits. She didn't fold anything. She just shoved.
Her eyes fell on the vanity mirror. Several framed family photos sat on the glass surface. Her and her father, laughing at a company picnic. Her and her mother, before the disappearance of Cheyanne had turned her bitter. Her and Finn, at their engagement party.
Allison didn't pause. She swept her arm across the vanity, knocking the silver frames face down into the trash can. The glass cracked against the metal bin. The sound was satisfying.
Her phone buzzed. An incoming call from Emilee Costa—her best friend, the only person in the world she trusted completely.
Allison answered, putting it on speaker as she tossed a pair of heels into the duffel bag.
"Hey," Emilee's voice boomed through the speaker, loud and energetic. "Are you ready for our dinner reservation at Le Bernardin? I am starving. I've been dreaming about their lobster thermidor for three days."
"The dinner is canceled," Allison stated flatly, zipping a side pocket.
Silence. Then: "Why? What happened?"
"I caught Finn and Cheyanne screwing in my Range Rover."
A beat of dead silence hung on the line.
Then Emilee unleashed a string of creative, high-decibel curses that would have made a sailor blush. "That worthless, spineless, Wall Street parasite! I am going to fly to New York right now and castrate him with a butter knife! I'll send his balls to his mother in a gift box!"
Allison almost smiled. Almost.
"Baker and Katharine just gave my engagement ring to Cheyanne," Allison continued, her voice devoid of inflection.
Emilee screamed. Not words. Just a pure, raw scream of disbelief and fury. The audio peaked on the phone speaker.
"Are you kidding me?" Emilee finally managed. "They did WHAT? Where are you right now? Get out of that toxic house this instant!"
Allison grabbed the heavy brass zipper of the duffel bag and pulled it shut. "I'm leaving right now. Can I crash at your place in Soho?"
"Yes! Obviously!" Emilee yelled. "I'll have tequila and a baseball bat waiting for you. We're going to destroy them, Allison. Every last one of them. Hurry up."
Allison ended the call. She slung the heavy bag over her shoulder. The leather strap dug painfully into her collarbone, but the physical discomfort kept her grounded. It reminded her she was still alive, still moving, still fighting.
She walked out of her bedroom and headed down the narrow back staircase used by the staff. She would not walk through the main foyer. She would not give them the satisfaction of seeing her leave with her head down.
She slipped out through the massive industrial kitchen. The private chef looked up from chopping vegetables, his eyes wide with confusion.
"Miss Montgomery? Is everything—"
Allison ignored him and pushed through the service doors, walking out into the crisp New York night. The cold air hit her face, clearing her head.
She walked two blocks down the avenue before hailing another cab. She threw her bag into the trunk and slid into the backseat.
"Soho," she told the driver.
As the cab sped downtown, Allison's mind raced. The adrenaline was fading, replaced by cold, hard logic. She mentally reviewed the Montgomery Group's shareholder structure. Her father had left her twenty-five percent of the voting shares. Baker controlled another twenty percent. The rest were scattered among minor shareholders and institutional investors.
Without the Kensington marriage alliance backing her, Baker would immediately call an emergency board meeting. He would try to strip her of her voting rights. He would argue that she was "unstable," "emotionally compromised," "unfit to lead." And the board—most of whom owed their positions to Baker—would likely agree.
She needed a backer. Someone with enough capital to terrify Baker. Someone whose name alone would make the board think twice before crossing her.
Someone whose power outranked Finn's branch of the Kensington family.
The cab dropped her off on a cobblestone street in Soho. She took the freight elevator up to Emilee's loft—a sprawling space with exposed brick walls, a massive skylight, and a kitchen island that had seen more therapy sessions than actual cooking.
The metal doors slid open, and Emilee instantly tackled her in a fierce, bone-crushing hug.
Allison breathed in the smell of Emilee's expensive perfume—Chanel No. 5, the same kind her mother used to wear before everything went wrong. For the first time all night, she felt her shoulders drop an inch.
Emilee pulled back, grabbed two shot glasses from the kitchen island, and poured a full shot of Patron tequila into each. She handed one to Allison.
"Drink," Emilee ordered.
Allison took the glass and downed it without flinching. The liquor burned a fiery trail down her throat, settling warmly in her empty stomach.
They moved to the plush velvet sofa in the center of the loft. Allison sat down, resting her elbows on her knees, staring at the floorboards.
"I'm about to be ousted from the board," Allison said. "Baker is going to use this to take everything my grandfather built. Everything my father died for."
Emilee paced the floor, her heels clicking aggressively. "We leak the dashcam video to Page Six. We ruin Finn's reputation. We burn them to the ground socially. Finn's mother Eulalie cares more about appearances than anything—if that video goes public, she'll disown him."
Allison shook her head. "No. A scandal like that would tank Montgomery stock. That hurts my own inheritance. I need a surgical strike. Not a bomb."
She looked up at Emilee. Her eyes were cold, focused. "I need a marriage of convenience. Someone with enough capital to make Baker back down, and a name big enough to make Finn choke."
Emilee stopped pacing. She let out a dry laugh. "Right. Let's just go to the billionaire store. Should we get a Saudi prince or a tech bro? I hear Elon is single again."
Allison didn't laugh.
Her mind flashed back to the airport terminal. She remembered the impact. The bespoke charcoal suit. The terrifying, suffocating aura of power. The heat of his hand on her waist. And the name the man behind him had called out.
Adam.
Allison's eyes gleamed with sudden, dangerous resolve.
"What do you know about Adam Kensington?"
Emilee dropped her shot glass onto the glass coffee table with a loud clatter, spilling tequila everywhere. Her jaw unhinged.
"Adam Kensington? As in, Finn's uncle? The Wall Street phantom who eats companies for breakfast and leaves global regulators in tears?"
"That's the one," Allison said smoothly.
"Becoming Finn's untouchable aunt is the perfect opening move in my war."

---
Full Story👀👉: https://eng.moboreader.com/1Gu3Hx/904431
---
👀Dive into a world of endless stories waiting for you.🌈

Address

Dubai
0000

Website

Alerts

Be the first to know and let us send you an email when Drama Scene posts news and promotions. Your email address will not be used for any other purpose, and you can unsubscribe at any time.

Share

Category