From Rejected Omega To The Royal White Wolf

I stood in the rain, watching my ex-mate place fresh white roses next to a toxic silver chain on my headstone.

The epitaph read *Beloved Daughter*, which was laughable.

Five years ago, I called my father from a mangled car wreckage, bleeding out. Instead of sending an ambulance, he asked if the car was salvageable.

Then Clayton took the phone. He didn't offer help. He used the Alpha Command to reject me while I was dying, all because I was a "weak" wolf and his new favorite, Ainsley, needed his attention.

They left me to die in the gutter to protect their reputation.

Tonight, I walked into their desperate charity gala, wearing a dress worth more than their entire failing pack.

My father didn't weep with relief at my resurrection. He looked at me like a stain on his carpet.

"You ungrateful brat!" my aunt shrieked, slapping me across the face hard enough to draw blood. "You were supposed to stay dead! You're ruining Ainsley's night!"

They signaled security to dump me in the alley, thinking I was still the powerless girl they broke.

They didn't notice the air in the ballroom turn heavy with ozone. They didn't feel the crushing weight of a true predator entering the room.

Until the double doors exploded inward.

A man with eyes like molten gold stepped through the dust, his terrifying aura forcing every wolf in the room to their knees.

He looked at the red mark on my cheek and let out a roar that shook the chandeliers.

"WHO TOUCHED MY MATE?!"

My father trembled on the floor, looking between the enraged Alpha King and me. "Mate? But... she is nothing."

I smiled, my eyes flashing silver.

"Hello, husband," I whispered. "Let the execution begin."

Chapter 1

Ivy POV:

The rain in the Dillard Pack territory always smelled like *wet rot and decay*. It was a fitting scent for a place dying from the inside out.

I stepped out of my black SUV, my combat boots sinking slightly into the mud. I adjusted the collar of my trench coat, ensuring the heavy silver chain around my neck was hidden.

*It wasn't just jewelry. It was a cloak, forged by the Alpha King's own alchemist.*

As long as I wore it, I was a ghost. No scent. No aura. To the noses of the wolves guarding these borders, I was nothing more than a passing shadow.

I walked up the hill toward the family cemetery. The iron gates groaned as I pushed them open, a sound that grated against my heightened hearing.

There it was.

A slab of gray marble, cold and unfeeling, just like the people who put it there.

*Ivy Dillard. Beloved Daughter. Tragic Victim.*

I let out a dry, humorless laugh. The sound was swallowed by the wind.

"Beloved," I whispered, tracing the letters with a gloved finger. "That's rich."

At the base of the headstone lay a bouquet of plastic lilies, their colors faded by the sun, and a