What Is The Genre Of 'That Trash Was Me'?

Maxwell spent twenty-seven years being mocked, discarded, and humiliated by the family he once saved from bankruptcy. Then one night, bleeding on the floor of his stepbrother's wedding while guests filmed and laughed, a stranger delivers news that changes everything. His real name isn't Lexus. It's Sterling. Overnight, Maxwell inherits a ten-billion-dollar empire. New money. New power. A new name that makes the entire city bow its head. And every single person who ever looked down on him is about to find out exactly what that means. The man they called trash just became the most powerful person in the room.

After graduation, I spend a year interning with my mentor, a healer, out in the neutral lands—no packs, no laws, and no one to protect me. My brother, the Lycan Chairman of all werewolves, nearly loses his mind over it. He's terrified I'll fall for some Rogue and impulsively form a reckless mate bond. As such, he handpicks an arranged mate for me—Falcon Sterling, the Alpha of the strongest pack in Northmere. He's handsome and dangerous, a legendary figure. My brother orders me to come home for the mating ceremony, so I have no choice but to go pick out a Luna crown. At the jewelry shop, my eyes snap straight to a crown made of pure silver and covered in diamonds. Just as I reach out to take it, a sharp female voice cuts in. "I like the one she's holding. I'll take it. Hand it over." Before I can react, the clerk snatches the crown right out of my hands, nearly scraping my skin. I straighten up, forcing myself to stay calm. "Ever heard of 'first come, first served?' I saw it first. Is this how you do things here?" The she-wolf slowly turns toward me, casting me a long, mocking look. "This crown costs 300 thousand dollars. You sure you can afford it, peasant? I grew up with the Alpha of the Silvermoon pack, Falcon Sterling. Around here, I make the rules." I stare at her, almost laughing. Isn't that funny? Falcon just happens to be my arranged mate. I pull out my phone and press the call button. "Hey, Falcon. Your adorable childhood sweetheart just stole the Luna crown I'm supposed to wear for the mating ceremony. What do you think I should do about that?"

After passing through the lowest point in his life, the trash son-in-law has risen. After passing through the lowest point in his life, the trash son-in-law has risen.

Three months before my wedding, my fiancé, Henry Siebert, decided it was the perfect time to drop a maternity photo shoot on social media—with my foster sister, Betty Foster. The caption? Oh, just this gem: [Legally welcoming our little one into the world.] Betty added a shy emoji. And my mom? She liked the post and wrote: [Once the baby is born, I'll help take care of it so you two can enjoy your time together as a couple.] I couldn't help myself. I replied with a single question mark. And then Henry's DMs came in hot: [She's just borrowing me for a year to get married. Once the baby's born, I'll come back to you.]

A future heir of the top wealthiest family in the world got kicked out because of selfishness and greed on money. He married into a family with the most beautiful lady in the city. For the passed six years he endured the all of kind humiliations and being called a useless piece of trash, but they doesn't know that he is a young master of the most influencial and top wealthy family in the world.

My wife, Alisha West, has always been obsessively frugal. After marrying her, my single guilty pleasure became blowing money on luxury watches—almost like revenge for how absurdly tightfisted she was. By the time our daughter, Elyse Day, turned 7, she had inherited every bit of her mother’s penny-pinching nature. The two of them looked completely out of place in our sprawling mansion. And I loved it. I’d slip into my latest custom-tailored suits and watch them wince at my credit card statements, their expressions twisted in quiet pain. Until one day, lines of floating text suddenly appeared before my eyes. [This spendthrift idiot is still shopping? Doesn’t he know his wife’s company is about to go bankrupt?] [She’s been drained dry supporting this parasite. Her T-shirt collar is practically worn out from washing. Good thing the financially savvy male lead is about to show up and save her.] [Can’t wait for Alisha to file for divorce and kick this useless freeloader out. Let’s see how he survives fighting stray dogs for scraps under a bridge.] I slammed the limited-edition Richard Mille watch onto the table. Alisha, who was crouched on the floor breaking down delivery boxes for recycling, and Elyse, who was helping stomp them flat, both jumped in shock. A chill ran through me. I lunged forward, snatched the battered cardboard box from Elyse’s hands, and held it tightly against my chest. "No… no more buying. I’m returning this watch. "And these boxes… don’t sell them. I think we might need them someday… to lay out under a bridge when we’re sleeping outside…"