Sugarlitics

I let out a bitter laugh. “It’s ironic, isn’t it? You spent years making my life a living hell, and now you look at me like I’m the very air you breathe.”

Lennox’s face fell. “Olivia, it wasn’t supposed to be like this—”

I cut him off, my eyes blazing with anger. “Oh, but it was. You wanted me broken. You wanted me to suffer. And I did.” I paused, my voice trembling. “But not anymore.”

Louis, who had been silent, spoke softly. “Olivia, we—”

I shook my head and took a step back, putting distance between us. “No. Whatever you think you feel, it doesn’t matter. It’s too late. You had a choice. And every single time, you chose her. Over and over again, you chose Anita.”

Levi shook his head. “We were wrong.”

I met their gazes. “Yes, you were. And now, you’ll have to live with it.” 

With that, I turned away, refusing to let them see the tears burning in my eyes.

••••••••
Olivia Parker was once the cherished daughter of a respected Gamma—until betrayal shattered her world. Branded the daughter of a traitor, she was stripped of her title, her dignity, and the life she had known, forced to serve as an Omega among those who once respected her.

But fate wasn’t done with her yet.

On the night of the mating ceremony, Olivia discovered the cruelest twist of all—she wasn’t fated to just one mate, but three. And not just any three. Alpha Lennox, Alpha Louis, and Alpha Levi—the ruthless triplet Alphas who had spent years tormenting her.

Bound to a marriage they never wanted, the triplets made her life a waking nightmare. They paraded their lover, Anita, before her, ensuring she never forgot her place, never forgot that they would never want her.

But fate has a way of playing its own game. As secrets unravel and buried truths come to light, the triplets begin to see Olivia for who she truly is—not just a Luna in title, but the woman they never realized they needed.

Only now, she’s done waiting.

Fated To Not Just One, But Three

With trembling fingers, I reached into the envelope and pulled out the last paper.

It was folded neatly, like someone had taken their time with it. But the moment I touched it, I felt sick. Like something was wrong. Like my soul already knew this would hurt.

This wasn't me. I didn't write this.

But the words… the words felt like knives. Every sentence hurt more than the former. They were mean. Cold. Cruel.

I couldn't believe anyone would say these things to Lennox. Not even someone who hated him.

But this letter—whoever wrote it—pretended to be me.

Not Me