Pregnant with the Dragon King's Triplets

After the Great War between humans and the Shifter races, an accord was struck, decreeing that the world would be ruled by a hybrid of the two races.

The most powerful human family, a corporate dynasty, was granted the right to the first union with a Shifter leader.

Whoever bore the first hybrid child would become the next ruler of the Alliance.

In my past life, I married the werewolf Alpha, Jacob, and quickly bore him a wolf-human hybrid.

When our son became the ruler of the Alliance, the werewolf clan’s power and influence soared.

But my sister, Isabella, had always favored the beautiful elves.

Her husband's philandering left her barren and riddled with disease after several miscarriages.

She envied everything I had. In her rage, she orchestrated the car crash that killed my son and me.

When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day of the Alliance’s choosing ceremony.

Isabella had already mated with Jacob, brazenly showing off the mark on her neck.

I knew. She was back, too.

What she didn't know was that Jacob was a madman, obsessed with his bloodline above all else.

Without a second thought, I let her have him.

I walked toward the one they all feared—the notoriously brutal and bloodthirsty Dragon Lord, the Dragon King, Damien Wyatt.

In the previous life,my sister, Isabella, was jealous that I had given birth to the heir of the Human-Shifter Alliance. She crawled into my mate Alpha Jacob’s bed, then engineered a crash that killed both me and my child.

When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day of the choosing ceremony.

"Clara, stop playing the victim," my sister Isabella’s voice cut through the ballroom, dripping with the smug satisfaction of a cat that had cornered a mouse.

"Some things were never meant to be yours."

She stood before me, her cheeks still flushed from her tryst with Jacob.

Her dress was wrinkled, but she didn’t seem to care.

Jacob’s scent clung to her, a nauseating mix of possession and conquest.

I let out a soft laugh as the memories flooded back.

In my past life, this was how Isabella had manipulated my father, spinning tales of “priceless true love” and how “Clara shouldn’t stand in the way of her sister’s happiness.”

Seeing that I was ignoring Isabella, my father pulled me aside, his face grim.

“Your sister’s right. Jacob clearly prefers her. Why humiliate yourself?”

Humiliate yourself.

Such familiar words.

All because I was his bastard, while Isabella was the legitimate daughter of his wife.

He was the same in my last life. He never cared what I wanted, only which choice would benefit the family most.

“Then who would you have me choose?” I asked.

“The Elven Prince is a good match.” A calculating glint flashed in my father’s eyes. “Artistic, elegant… a perfect fit for you.”

I glanced across the ballroom.

Prince Freddy of the Elves was chatting with a few noblewomen, his manners indeed refined.

He was the husband Isabella had first chosen in our past life.

As the leaders of the top human conglomerate, our family had the privilege of the first union with a Shifter leader.

In my past life, I married the werewolf Alpha Jacob a. Less than six months after we mated, I gave birth to our hybrid son, Adrian. As the first hybrid born after the Great War, Adrian naturally became the next ruler of the Alliance.

Meanwhile, Isabella, who loved the beauty of the elves, was left diseased by Freddy’s constant philandering. In the end, after multiple miscarriages, Isabella was left barren, and the Elves sent her back to our family in disgrace.

She blamed me for all of her misfortune. Not only did she seduce Jacob and have an affair with him, but she also tampered with my sports car.

The brakes failed. The steering wheel locked.

As I died in the fire, the last thing I heard was her and Jacob’s ecstatic celebration over the phone.

A sharp pain lanced through my heart at the memory.

“I’ve made my decision.” I set down my wine glass, my voice carrying clearly across the ballroom. “I voluntarily relinquish my engagement to Jacob, ceding it to Isabella.”

All conversation stopped.

Hundreds of eyes stared at me as if I’d just said something impossible.

Jacob emerged from a side room, a look of smug satisfaction on his face from his recent tryst with Isabella. But when he heard my words, his expression grew complicated.

“Clara, you—”

"Skip the performance," I cut him off. "I wish you two… all the best."

Isabella was about to shriek with excitement but forced herself to maintain a thin veil of composure, a triumphant smirk playing on her lips.

“Then what about you?” my father asked, his voice tense. “Who will you choose?”

I didn’t answer.

My gaze swept across the room, finally landing on the darkest corner of the ballroom.

Damien Wyatt sat there, alone.

Almost no one dared to approach him. The rumors of the “Doomsday Tyrant” made everyone keep their distance. He was brutal, bloodthirsty, and promiscuous. Some even said he devoured his partners when he grew bored.

But I remembered something else.

In the final moments of the crash, a pair of massive dragon wings had tried to shield me from the fiery explosion.

He had tried to save me. In those golden, slitted pupils, I saw a madness that mirrored my own—the feeling of being isolated and misunderstood by the world.

Even if he hadn't succeeded.

I walked straight toward him.

The temperature in the ballroom seemed to drop several degrees.

Damien looked up, his golden, slitted eyes locking onto mine.

They were so beautiful, yet so dangerous. It was like staring into the abyss.

“Are you sure?” His voice was a low rumble, like distant thunder. “To choose me is to choose darkness.”

I stopped in front of him, meeting his gaze.

“I choose you, Damien.”

A collective gasp echoed behind me.

Isabella laughed, a shrill, mocking sound. “Clara, you really have lost your mind! Trading the future king of the Alliance for a forgotten monster? I guess you truly belong in the shadows, rotting away with the other failures!”

Damien rose to his feet, his tall frame casting a long shadow.

He extended his hand. His fingers were long and elegant, but his nails were as sharp as blades.

“This is your final chance,” he said. “Back out now, and I won’t hold it against you.”

I didn’t hesitate. I placed my hand in his.

Even if everyone thought he was a cruel, wicked monster, and believed the dragons were a dying race.

He was the only one who tried to save me from that explosion. I trusted him.