She Cried Rape, but I’m the Female Alpha

"Alpha Raven, the Council has issued a formal summons. You are charged with the alleged rape and abuse of your authority as an Alpha. The Chairman of the High Council summons you to appear immediately."

The Council enforcers' car pulled into the underground garage of the Blackstone Group headquarters moments after the board meeting had ended. The coffee was still warm.

The enforcer slapped the summons against my chest.

I glanced down at the gilt-edged paper. Then I let out a small laugh. The charge was utterly absurd.

Me? Raven? A pure-blooded female Alpha, raping an Omega?

When I was thirteen, my father was assassinated during a merger negotiation between Packs, forcing my life down a different path.

The very next morning, I cut off my waist-length hair, put on a custom-tailored suit, wore his cufflinks, and seized control of this territory with an iron fist.

Within three months, I purged all the traitors. Within a year, I had tripled the market value of the Blackstone Group.

Since then, I had maintained this sharp, capable, androgynous appearance. My female scent was undetectable to wolves of lower rank. Over time, the Pack simply assumed their Alpha was male.

I never bothered to explain. Gender, to me, was a trivial label, and more often than not, a useful tool.

As for finding a mate, that was never on my agenda. I couldn't care less about the gossip werewolves spread.

But I never imagined that my indifference would one day be forged into a dagger and aimed at my heart.

It was beyond ridiculous.

I had single-handedly built the Blackstone conglomerate into a top-tier business empire. Elite werewolves from all over the country were desperate for a chance to work for us.

Selena Vance was one of them. She was an Omega hired by the HR department two months ago as a junior assistant in the planning department.

Her resume was impeccable and her face was striking, but her ambition was palpable.

She started bringing coffee to my office in her second week. By the fourth, she "accidentally" broke her high heel at my door while working late at night. She seized every opportunity to be alone with me.

I never called her out on it, not until the day she barged into my office and tried to unbutton my shirt.

After I fired her on the spot, she immediately started her first livestream on Wolf-Tok. On camera, her hair was a mess and her eyes were red and swollen, with what she claimed were bruises clearly visible on her arms.

"The Alpha of Blackstone... he pressed me against the floor-to-ceiling window in his office... he bit through my scent gland... I begged him to stop... he said I was his private property..."

She clutched a sonogram printout in her hand, her voice trembling as she described how savage and brutal I had supposedly been that night, claiming I had even gotten her pregnant with a wolf pup.

"I'm already carrying his child, but he's stripped me of my dignity and now he refuses to pay a single cent of my medical bills."

She sobbed her heart out, her descriptions of the assault were disturbingly vivid.

Within twenty-four hours, the topic shot to the top of the trending charts.

[How is an Alpha like this still alive? Is the Council blind?]

[Rapists don't deserve to breathe!]

[ExecuteRavenMake this trend! Let the whole werewolf nation see!]

[The era of Alpha privilege must end! We Omegas are not toys!]

In the Werewolf Council Hall, the Chairman of the High Council initially showed little interest in such a salacious scandal. He yawned from his seat on the dais and waved a dismissive hand at me.

"Follow procedure. Appoint a Council lawyer for the accuser."

The internet, however, instantly interpreted this statement as the highest governing body personally backing the victimized Omega.

That night, Selena posted a photo on Wolf-Gram of herself with that very lawyer, captioned: "Thank you, Council. Justice will be served."

The post was shared over a million times.

With that endorsement, no one in the werewolf world would doubt her flimsy lies. The internet's keyboard warriors had already declared my death sentence countless times.

Even my own board members, whom I kept wealthy with high salaries, were starting to call for my head. My phone rang all night, and the next morning, the Blackstone board convened an emergency meeting of senior executives.

Those stubborn old elders dragged my name through the mud without looking at a single piece of evidence or checking a single surveillance recording. They slammed their hands on the table and roared for me to be stripped of my position as CEO and Pack Alpha.

Of the twelve elders in the conference room, not a single one spoke up for me.

I had personally pulled them back from the brink of bankruptcy, signed billion-dollar contracts for their families, and ensured the safe upbringing of their children. Yet now they sat there like twelve stone statues.

"Marcus..." I rubbed the bridge of my nose and called out to the elder who had watched me grow up.

"You watched me grow up, Marcus. Are you not even going to check the surveillance footage or look at a single medical report? You're going to condemn me based on her word alone?"

Marcus's expression faltered. After a long moment, he stood up, avoiding my gaze. Though laced with guilt, his tone was firm and dismissive. "Evidence? The internet is full of pictures of her injuries. And that Omega's belly…"

I glanced down at my phone. Selena had posted another update. This time, she had attached a so-called "hospital injury report." I had to suppress a laugh. The so-called scars were pathetic; I could tell from the shape of each mark that she had pinched them herself.

"The tyrant of Blackstone dresses like a saint, but behind closed doors, he's just a pervert who only thinks about mating!"

"He didn't just bite my neck with his fangs. He forced me to spread my legs and bend over his desk. He threatened to throw me to the rogues in the underground red-light districts if I dared to resist!"