Forced to Sell Myself to the Female Lead After Killing the Male Lead - Chapter 40 -

“I, alpha Dylan, reject you, Anastasia, as my mate”.“An- and, I, Anastasia, accept your rejection, alpha Dylan”. I forced myself to say, before I ran away in tears.As soon as I arrived in my room and shut the door, I burst out laughing to my heart's content.“I can't believe this. Finally, Alpha Dylan is off my back!”.You may all be wondering why I am happy to be rejected by my mate, right?That's because I'm not the real Anastasia.

At nineteen, Dexter was already one of the world’s most celebrated authors. His books topped charts. Critics praised his genius. Fans devoured every word. But behind the acclaim was a lonely boy—raised without parents, love, or real friends—just stories.He published his first novel at fourteen. By seventeen, he was a literary star. But the higher he rose, the hollower it felt.Then came the writer’s block. The headaches. The blackout. And the transmigration.Dexter awoke in the body of Daylan, a disgraced young man in a crumbling, medieval world laced with steampunk tech, divine law, and political unrest. Daylan had already failed two of the three sacred Trials—rites that determine one’s magical potential. He was drowning in debt, entangled in plots to overthrow a corrupt Divine Church, and branded a lost cause.With no way back, Dexter took the final Trial—the most brutal of them all—and began a path that would earn him the whispered title: Soldier, Poet, King.But as his powers grew, one question haunted him: Did he truly die? And if so, who—or what—chose to bring him back?

He called me his ruin. Then he made me one.Alpha Shiloh's rejection wasn’t just a scar—it was a betrayal. He left me shattered. Broken. And I had to rebuild myself in silence.I almost forgot the way his touch once burned like salvation.Now he’s back.Not to beg forgiveness. To bargain. A deadly mission, he says. He promises freedom.But then presence ignites my wolf into a frenzy. She thrashes, desperate to claim him again. But I remember the coldness in his eyes when he exiled me. The way the pack turned their backs as I crawled into the wilderness, half-dead and wholly broken. Hate simmers hotter than desire.Yet here I am, bargaining with the devil who shattered me. Every moment we share is a lie. He doesn’t know about the shadows I’ve fed, the truth I’ve buried.Or the child.One whisper of its existence, and the pack will paint the forest with my blood.But the closer we get to completing his mission, the harder it is to hide… from him, or from the part of me that still craves him.Freedom has a price.So does vengeance.And I’m not sure which will destroy me first.