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Forbidden love with the lycan heir Novel

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Goodbye Scumbag, Hello True Love
Urban Romance"I'm so over Cassandra." Aidan Ziegler sneers, swirling his wine glass with a lazy smirk. "A real woman is soft and sweet—like Clara. As for her..." In the corner, a glass suddenly shatters in a man's palm. Cassandra Callum stands frozen, holding the cake she made to celebrate their three-year anniversary, eyes locked on the blood trickling down from his sharply defined fingers. Tristan Freeman, head of Freeman Group, slowly wipes his hand clean. His dark gaze sweeps over her tear-reddened eyes. "Ms. Callum, would you like to marry me?" The city explodes with gossip. Everyone thinks a broke little designer has climbed her way into wealth and power— what no one knows is that this marriage is a trap Tristan set five years ago. His private gallery holds over a thousand sketches of her profile—from that day in sophomore year when she crouched in a rainy alley feeding a stray cat, to her backstage at a runway abroad, gently arranging jewelry. Late at night, he stares at security footage, cigarette in hand, as Aidan kneels in a storm, soaked and shaking. Tristan suddenly pulls his delicate wife into his arms. Later, a finance reporter captures the once cold and ruthless Tristan, down on one knee before Cassandra. His hands tremble as he holds a pregnancy test. Cassandra flashes her wedding ring and laughs softly. "Surprised, Mr. Freeman?" Tristan, once known for being sharp and vicious, blinks back tears, then presses a trembling kiss to the faded mark on her ring finger. "Cassie, when you were 22, I wanted to say..." "Say what?" He leans in, his voice hoarse as he whispers, "The cake was really sweet."
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Keep the Baby, Leave the Man
Urban RomanceWhen Andrew Bergman's 99th mistress seeks me out, I'm in the middle of a manicure session. She tosses me an ultrasound report. "You must be Andrew's wife, right? I'm pregnant with his baby, so you'd better divorce him soon." I merely shoot her a glance before pulling out a stack of evidence recording her feats of sleeping around with other men and throwing them in her face. The woman's attitude went through a 180-degree change. She ripped up the report instantly. "I'll cut off all ties with Andrew right away!" I admire my freshly done nails, which are painted sanguine red—just like blood. I did spend eight hours on them, after all. One minute later, I tell the nail tech, "You can get rid of them now." After all, I have a "ferocious battle" in bed tonight. It'll be difficult for me to put my skills to good use if I still have my fake nails on. Ever since I got married to Andrew, I've been either dealing with his mistresses or on my way to dealing with them. I've long since become the biggest laughingstock in the upper crust. Whenever the other socialites see me, they tend to make fun of me by asking me for tips and tricks to discover if their spouses have cheated on them. Honestly speaking, I don't care about Andrew's flings with other women. What I care about is the fact that those women will fight with me for his wealth. Besides, whenever I discover a new mistress, Andrew agrees to fulfill one wish for me unconditionally. This time, I wish to have a child with him.
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