"Willa... do you remember what today is?"

Riana's voice trembled, the words hanging in the air like shattered glass. She'd imagined this reunion for weeks-her daughter's warm embrace, shared laughter, perhaps even a clumsily wrapped gift.

Not this. Never this.

Willa didn't even look up from her beads. Her big little cute round eyes focused on them as she spoke her words, "Does it matter? I need to finish Aunt Delilah's present."

The dismissal in her tone cut deeper than any claw.

"She is not your aunt!" The words tore from Riana's throat.

Seven years of shielding her daughter from their twisted family history-seven years of swallowing bitterness to preserve Willa's innocence-and it had all been for nothing.

Willa's head snapped up, gray eyes flashing with complaint. "What's wrong with you? Aunt Delilah is nice! And she's your sister!"

"She is not!" Riana nearly screamed. She hated nothing more than being reminded she shared even a drop of blood with that woman.

Her sharp tone startled Willa. Tears welled in the little girl's eyes. "No wonder Daddy likes her better! You're always so... so angry!"

The words landed like a final, crushing blow. Something in Riana snapped.

She reached for her daughter's slender shoulders, a desperate urgency seizing her. "Willa, what did you just say?"

"Mom, you're hurting me!" Willa protested, but Riana needed to understand what had happened in her absence. "When did you see her? Who took you to see her?"

"What's wrong with Daddy taking me to dinner with Aunt Delilah when you were away? She's nice."

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?" Riana's voice was sharp.

"Because Daddy said you'd never allow it. That you were the one who sent Aunt Delilah away in the first place. How could you be so mean, Mom! Do you know how lonely she was all alone abroad?"

A torrent of rage, betrayal, and sheer panic rose within Riana. Her hands trembled, threatening to crush her daughter's fragile frame.

With a strength she didn't know she had, Willa wrenched herself free. "You're being scary! If you're not here to help, just go away!"

Riana stood frozen, staring. In this moment, she scarcely recognized her own daughter. She couldn't believe her child and her husband had formed this secret alliance with her enemy behind her back.

She wanted to shake her daughter, to dig out the reason. But Willa had already turned her back, a wall of resentment in a room dotted with fairy lights.

"I don't want to talk to you. Go away."

Riana's fingers curled into fists, then loosened in defeat. She rose slowly. "You're just tired, Willa. It's late. We should both sleep." She reached over and flicked off the fairy lights. This wasn't the time for a conversation, and she couldn't bear to watch her daughter labor over a gift for her nemesis on her own birthday for a moment longer.

A frustrated groan escaped Willa. "I hate you!"

The door slammed, sealing the words into Riana's heart like a curse.

She stood alone in the darkened hallway, the silence echoing louder than any scream.

Her nails dug into her palms. She'd spent years building walls against Wesley's indifference, Delilah's venom, the Pack's whispers-but her daughter's hatred? This shattered her completely.

It was unexpected to happen to her. For many years, Willa's love for her was the one that filled the emptiness in her heart.

Mrs. Leah materialised from the shadows, her wise old eyes reflecting centuries of pack drama. "Let me talk to her, Luna. "

Riana nodded numbly, navigating the darkened hallway like a ghost. It wasn't until the shower's steam enveloped her that she finally allowed the tears to fall, each one swallowed by the rushing water-a silent requiem for a mother's breaking heart.

Where had she gone wrong?

She had sacrificed everything:

Her independence, for the sake of family honor.

Her prestigious role as the pack's heiress, to become an assistant in his empire.

Her own identity, reshaping herself into the perfect mother, the flawless Luna.

She believed relentless effort could bridge the chasm between her and Wesley. That love, even one-sided, could build a home for Willa.

But one month apart had unraveled seven years of devotion. Wesley must have planned this. She never should have agreed to leave Willa with him for so long.

By the time she stepped out of the shower, Wesley still hadn't returned. Of course. He was playing the carefree bachelor, forgetting the wife and daughter waiting in the silence.

Her new phone felt heavy in her hand. She dialed. No answer.

"Still tangled up with his beloved mistress, no doubt," Riana said while getting dressed to sleep, and she sent him a text.

Riana: Call me back. Or face the consequences.

A moment later:

Wesley: What is it now?

Riana: Lunch tomorrow. You, me, and Willa. Just the three of us.

The typing bubbles appeared, disappeared, then appeared again. "Consulting his mistress, perhaps. Urgh"

She drained her glass, the bourbon doing nothing to warm the cold spreading through her chest. "Why is he taking such a long time to decide?"

Finally..

Wesley: Tell me where. If I'm free, I'll come.

Riana: Fine.

She didn't wait for any birthday wishes from him this time. She knew it would never come.

***

Dawn broke, pale and indifferent. Riana woke with a heaviness in her chest that had little to do with sleep. She thought it must have been those magic potions she drank and pills to calm her emotions.

This mansion-all cold marble and gilded emptiness-would never be home. Not like Mystic Town, where the air smelled of pine and possibility. But Wesley preferred the distance. From the Pack. From her.

She twisted her hair into a loose knot, determination settling like armor. She was going to make a perfect breakfast. Gift of Reconciliation. Last night had been a storm of hurt feelings-Willa didn't mean those words.

She couldn't mean that. Riana brushed off those negatives thought, not wanting to think negatively about her precious daughter.

But outside her daughter's door, she froze at the sound of voices within.

"Aren't you happy Luna Riana is back, little one?" Mrs. Leah's gentle tone was met with a sigh that pierced Riana's heart.

"I wish she hadn't come back." Guilt tinged Willa's voice-but not for her mother. "Daddy promised Aunt Delilah we'd go to the river this weekend. If Mommy comes, it'll be awkward. She ruins everything."

"Willa, she is your mother. She loves you."

"I know, but." A pause, then words that landed like shrapnel: "Daddy and I just like Aunt Delilah better. She's fun. She smells like coconuts. She could be my mom."

Willa's voice brightened. "Maybe even Daddy's Luna. Everyone says they were supposed to be mates. Why did he marry Mommy anyway?"

Mrs. Leah's gasp was sharp. "Willa! How can you say such things?"

"It's true! Aunt Delilah is pretty and kind-even to you!-and she has a real job. Mommy just stays home, nagging me or doing boring work at Daddy's company. No wonder the Pack doesn't respect her."

Riana stood frozen outside her daughter's door, the air squeezed from her lungs as if by an invisible fist. These were her daughter's true feelings?

Eight years.

Eight years of loving her from the moment she'd felt the first flutter in her womb.

Eight years of enduring cold stares and whispered slurs to give Willa the stability of life.

Every strict rule, every enforced curfew, every carefully monitored meal-born from desperate nights researching rare shifter allergies and genetic vulnerabilities.

She had built her entire world around this child.

And now her daughter stood on the other side of that door, wishing for another woman to be her mother.

For a heartbeat, rage and grief warred within her. She hadn't even faced Delilah yet, and already she'd lost. Just as Delilah's mother had shattered her own family, the witch now stole hers.

But she was not her mother.

She would not choose the silent, tragic exit.

She wiped the tears away with a sharp, angry gesture, her spine straightening into the regal posture of a Luna, a Regalia heir-not a scorned wife.

If they saw her as a chain, a glorified nanny, then she would break them free. And herself.

The engine of her Aston Martin roared to life, a satisfying snarl in the oppressive silence of the mansion. She dialed her assistant, her voice colder and clearer than glacial ice.

"Tilda. Inform the board I will be presiding over today's meeting."

Living a double life was a secret known to only a few of her trusted allies.

Wesley used to mock her for setting up a business that he deemed unworthy of profit. He once said her business was a total waste of money and could be better run by monkeys.

"Monkeys? Hah!" If ever she had kept monkeys, she was sure they would be smarter than Delilah.

His words had stung, but over the years, they had only fueled her resolve to prove him wrong.

In truth, without Wesley's knowledge, Riana had quietly transferred ownership of the struggling fashion house entirely to herself. She was determined to turn it into a success-just one of many ventures he knew nothing about.

Another company, secretly established and strategically positioned, now had the potential to challenge his pride itself. She longed to see the look on his face when he realized she was not the foolish, naive woman he had always believed her to be.

"The Europe launch is up 14%," Tilda chirped. "Also, the quantum-thread prototype pinged from the Berlin lab. They say it can now change color based on the wearer's emotional state."

Riana smiled faintly. "Good. Maybe I'll wear one, and finally, my husband will understand how I feel. Can it shoot fires too?"

Tilda raised an eyebrow. "Ma'am, are you.being serious?"

Riana was joking-but toying with Tilda's literal mind was its own small amusement. "I'm emotionally down, but my work ethic is intact," she replied and playfully winked at Tilda.

"Now book me a private room for three at Sebastian Café."

Two hours after her busy schedule, she was about to send a message to Wesley about the location of their lunch, but was met with another disappointment.

Wesley: Something came up. Urgent business. Lunch is off.

Riana: Sure. I understand.

She wanted to smash her phone against the wall, but too many eyes were watching in the boardroom. She forced a smile and calmly invited her closest friends, Sasha and Carlita, to join her instead.

They met at Sebastian Café, a posh rooftop restaurant where the enchanted slimming salads could cost more than small cars and the sparkling water judged you for not liking its exquisite taste.

Riana sipped her espresso and let the warmth flood her chest.

"I cried last night," she said, staring at her reflection in the spoon. Always gorgeous at every angle of the reflection.

"Oh, honey," Sasha said. "Your sadness should be illegal. Want me to drain someone dry?" A Vampire that could walk in daylight she was.

Carlita reached for her hand. "What happened? I know a new curse that could drive someone mad-completely undetectable."

Sasha nodded at Carlita. An unlikely alliance between a Vampire and a Witch was the talk in the town. Carlita was well-known, born with unlimited wealth coming from her Witch ancestors.

Riana opened her mouth to explain how her daughter now preferred Delilah-but a familiar laugh cut through the restaurant's murmur.

Sasha's eyes widened as she whispered behind her glass, "Don't look."

When someone says Don't look, you always look. Isn't that obvious?

There. Across the room. Across the patio, at a corner table, surrounded by orchids and good lighting...

Wesley. Willa. And Delilah.

Laughing. Happy.

Delilah's hand rested possessively on Wesley's arm, her smile radiant. Willa gazed up at her as if she'd hung the moon. And Wesley-her cold, ruthless husband-was looking at Delilah with a softness he had never shown Riana. Not once in eight years.

Sasha leaned in, her voice a low hiss, "So, he cancelled for that b*tch?"

"Seems so," Carlita added, twisting the knife. "He canceled lunch for that?"

Willa, wearing sunglasses too big for her face, sipped orange juice from a crystal flute. Delilah whispered something in Wesley's ear, and he smiled-a real, unguarded smile-as if they were living inside a romance novel.

And Riana?

She watched from the other side of the terrace like a fashion-forward ghost.

"Oh hell no," Carlita growled. "I will throw this nine-hundred-dollar salad. I swear."

But Riana only stared.

Then, softly, she laughed.

A single, cold sound that made both her friends turn in concern.

Because of course. Of course, her husband would forget her birthday, skip their lunch, and show up here-with their daughter and his mistress-at the very restaurant where she was licking her wounds.

"The Moon Goddess must truly despise me," Riana whispered her thoughts.

"Should I go over there?" Carlita asked, already reaching into her bag. "I brought my petty pouch. It has cursed glitter and a mirror that tells nothing but lies."

"No," Riana said, finishing her espresso in one bitter sip. "Let them have their little fantasy."

Sasha blinked. "Are you okay?"

"No," Riana said calmly. "But I will be."

She stood, brushed her coat off, and took one last look at the happy trio across the terrace. Once, she had foolishly dreamed of being part of such a scene with Wesley and Willa, but reality had proven it was nothing more than a delusion. Though it pained her, at least she had awakened before it was too late.

"Sasha, Carlita," she said, her voice flat.

"Yes, my queen?" Sasha replied cautiously, watching her friend like one might watch a beautiful chandelier about to fall.

"Let's go. I have more important decisions to share with you."

***

"Are you serious? You're really divorcing that scumbag?" Sasha shrieked excitedly. The girls had retreated to the privacy of Carlita's luxurious rooftop greenhouse-their safe haven.

"Keep your voice down, Sasha," Riana reminded, rubbing her ear. "I know you're thrilled, but yes. I'm divorcing Wesley."

"It's about time! He never deserved you! Certainly not after you turned down someone as perfect as Raph-"

"Don't mention that," Riana tightened her grip on her glass as those hurt eyes flashed in her mind. She thought she had moved on. "The past is the past. I've paid the price for my choices. I'm not doing this for anyone else-just myself."

"Sweetie, are you really okay?" Carlita asked gently. Unlike Sasha, who was buzzing with excitement at her friend's impending freedom, Carlita understood the depth of Riana's struggle.

Though Riana often called it a political marriage, Carlita knew she had stayed not only out of duty and love for her child-but because, for a time, she had truly loved Wesley.

Riana saw the concern in her eyes and forced a smile, though her own eyes glistened.

"Yes, I've made up my mind." She paused, lowering her head. "My only regret is that I don't yet have the means to take Willa with me."

"The Winters pack is too influential. Both families would fight me, and Willa." Her voice broke. "I'm not even sure she would choose to come with me."

"I'll hire the best lawyer in town for you, Riana."Carlita was already reaching for her phone, but Riana shook her head, not wanting her help. Not yet.

"She told me yesterday...she prefers Delilah as her mother." At this, the tears finally fell. Sasha and Carlita immediately embraced her.

"You should've told us sooner!" Sasha held her shoulders tightly. "I would've drained those two traitors dry!"

"Oh, darling," Carlita softly caressed her back. "Willa is too young to understand her true heritage-or the sacrifices you've made."

Riana wept freely in her friends' arms, releasing years of silent heartache.

That evening, Riana returned to the mansion. She had hoped to see her daughter, to talk properly, but it seemed they had enjoyed their day out without her-excluding her, ignoring her calls. The familiar sting of disappointment settled heavily in her chest.

She mechanically packed her things, ignoring the housekeeper's pitying gaze. Most of the luggage she'd brought yesterday remained unopened; more than half was gifts for Willa. It seemed her daughter wouldn't care for them now. After all, nothing could compare to what Delilah offered.

Then, weary but resolved, she entered Wesley's home office. She had always disliked this room.

Too rigid. Smelling of pine and Alpha male arrogance. The leather chair barely sat in, shelves lined with books she was sure he'd never read, and-the thing she hated most-a large oil painting of Wesley himself, dressed in a severe military-style jacket, looking every bit the conquering general. It made her want to gag.

She knew where he kept the documents. He was a creature of habit-predictable.

Top drawer. Left side. In an unlocked box.

"There you are," she whispered, pulling out the divorce papers. The document was pristine, folded neatly, waiting for her signature.

His signature was inked cleanly on the bottom right. Neat, and emotionless.

Hers? Still blank, awaiting to be signed in the last eight years.

"You thought I'd never sign," she murmured, pen hovering as she thought of Willa. The pain of leaving Willa behind was almost unbearable.

After a long moment, she sighed. "Maybe one day she'll return to me."

Her eyes moved back to the paper.

"Well, surprise a**hole," she muttered angrily, signing her name with a flourish. "Choke on it."

She slid the paper back into the envelope, smiling faintly at the thought of Wesley's shock when he discovered who she really was.

"Mrs. Leah, please give this to Wesley when he returns." If he ever returns. Yet it no longer mattered to Riana.

She paused at the doorway.

Looked back one last time.

For years, Wesley had only given her five seconds of his attention every time, leaving her feeling silent and alone. He cared about nothing but his own pride-and occasionally, Willa.

Cold. Heartless.

But she had bigger plans now.

Seeing her driver waiting, she offered a tired smile. "To Mystic Falls, Jerry. And you're fired-as Wesley's driver. You work for me now. I'll double your salary."

"Yes, Ms. Regalia. It would be an honor." He bowed slightly, taking her light luggage.

The car pulled away, and Riana didn't look back.

An hour later, Wesley's luxury sedan glided up the driveway. The night was deep, and he assumed his wife was still out carousing with those eccentric friends of hers-the reclusive vampire and that witch he'd never approved of.

'Out partying and maxing out the credit card,' he thought with a smirk, thinking about Riana for a split second.

What kind of Luna preferred the company of night-walkers and spell-weavers over her own Pack? He silently prayed Willa hadn't inherited her mother's questionable tastes.

Willa clung to his sleeve, dragging her feet as she hopped out of the car. "Do we really have to go home, Daddy?" she pouted. "I want to stay with Aunt Delilah longer."

Delilah emerged from the car and crouched, taking Willa's hands gently in her own.

"We'll see each other again soon, sweetheart. For now, your mother is waiting for you." Her voice was honey-smooth. "She just wants time with you and your father. She'd be heartbroken if you didn't come home."

Wesley watched, pleased. Delilah treated Willa as her own-something he doubted Riana would ever be generous enough to do if the roles were reversed. No, Riana was likely waiting inside, poised for a fight. The thought alone was enough to put him on edge.

Yet tonight, something felt off. A prickle of unease traced his spine.

After instructing his driver to take Delilah to the luxury hotel he owned a few blocks away, Wesley led his daughter inside.

"Your mother's probably not home yet," he remarked, glancing around the overly silent foyer.

"Nope," Willa skipped ahead. "I didn't see her car."

He frowned slightly. Not worried-just curious. It was late.

His obedient wife usually waited up for him when she knew he was back in town. She'd always be there-even with that perfect smile and dead eyes. She always came to the door, offered wine, and asked about his flight like a loyal spouse from some old-school etiquette manual.

But tonight? Nothing.

Silence.

"Daddy, do we have to be home tonight? Can't we just stay at the hotel with Aunt Delilah?"

"Darling, if we don't come home tonight, your mother will insist on joining us tomorrow."

Willa wrinkled her nose. "What if Mommy tries to come with us tomorrow?"

"She won't." His voice was steel.

In all their years of marriage, Riana had learned her place. Patience, beauty, quiet devotion-his word always brought her back in line. "Your mother won't challenge me. I'm her Alpha."

Reassured, Willa's mood brightened. She skipped farther inside, calling for the housekeeper.

As he turned back toward the hallway, Mrs. Leah appeared like a retired ghost, her silver-streaked hair pinned neatly back, her posture so precise she could almost be mistaken for an automaton.

"Good evening, Alpha, Miss Willa. Let's get you cleaned up for the night."

Willa was fond of Mrs. Leah, who had often filled the void of loneliness when both her parents were absent. Most of the time, Willa listened to her, treating her with the trust of family.

Pausing her steps, Mrs. Leah turned to face Wesley.

"Alpha. Luna Riana left this for you." She held out a plain ivory envelope.

Wesley took it without interest, his attention already captured by a message from Beta David.

David: Luna Riana has quietly bought out that failing fashion label. Completely.

'With whose money?' he wondered with a smirk. 'Likely mine.'

"Where is she?" he asked without looking up.

Mrs. Leah whispered for Willa to go upstairs, then turned back with unusual hesitation. "She packed her things and returned to Mystic Town. She. didn't inform you, Alpha?"

"She left?" It was unlike Riana to leave the city without notice.

"Yes, Alpha."

He smirked and continued toward his room.

'Perhaps, she finally knows her place and gave way for Delilah to move in.'

'Wes, I sense something unusual,' Vars, his spirit wolf, voiced its concerns, but was ignored by Wesley.

As he walked up the stairs, he caught sight of Willa lingering on the landing, eavesdropping. No doubt disappointed that Riana hadn't stayed to help finish whatever trinket she was crafting for Delilah.

"Alpha." Mrs. Leah followed, her voice softening uncharacteristically. "Luna Riana didn't look well. She seemed. upset."

"Upset?" A dry, mocking smile touched his lips. She'd never shed a tear in all their years of marriage-as if perfectly content with their arrangement.

He'd assumed as long as she had money to spend, this political marriage would hold. Until he consolidated power. Until Willa was old enough to understand.

If not for that damned night eight years ago, he wouldn't still be bound to her.

Delilah was his true mate. The woman who should have been his Luna.

He had no doubt Riana had orchestrated that "accident". Out of fear that her half-sister would surpass her.

A calculated, greedy move from a woman who'd always been threatened by Delilah's grace.

Dismissing Mrs. Leah with a wave, he continued his way, the envelope still clutched in his hand.

As he passed Riana's door, nothing seemed out of place. Shopping bags lay on the floor, and dresses were laid across the bed. She'll be back, he thought.

Then his phone rang. Delilah's name flashed across the screen.

"Miss me already?" he answered lightly.

But Delilah's voice trembled. "Wesley, can you come? I'm scared. I think someone's watching my suite. It could be one of your Pack enemies."

Without another thought for the envelope or Riana's departure, Wesley turned and strode back out of the mansion. Some things were more important than that.

A ten-minute drive later, Wesley strode through the opulent lobby of the Moonlight Grand Hotel, his tie loose, adrenaline sharp in his veins. The thought of an enemy threatening his mate clouded his judgment, overriding any lingering unease from home.

The suite door opened an inch before he could use his keycard, then swung wide.

Delilah stood there, bathed in the soft glow of candlelight, wearing nothing but a robe the color of sin.

Candlelight flickered behind her. The suite smelled of jasmine and warm skin. The city lights glittered beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows, a silent audience to the scene.

"I heard something," she whispered, her voice breathy. "I thought someone was outside."

One hand rested on her chest, the silk robe parting just enough to reveal a tempting glimpse of what lay beneath.

He scanned the room, instincts on high alert, his gaze sharp. "Did you call security?"

She shook her head, her eyes dark and pleading. "I only wanted you."

That gave him pause.

Wanted. Not needed. Wanted.

It was a word that had never found a place in his eight years with Riana. Perhaps this was the pull of a fated bond-raw, undeniable, and utterly selfish.

Delilah stepped closer, her fingers tracing the line of his chest. "I'm sorry. I know you were probably putting Willa to bed, but I couldn't sleep. I kept thinking about you." She licked her lips. ".especially after that shower."

In the haze of heat and arrogance, he knew-she had heard nothing. No one had followed her.

The last thread of his control was shaking. He was, after all, still technically a married man. If Riana ever discovered this, the scandal would ripple through Ambrose City like a tidal wave.

But Delilah had always been bold.

She untied her robe.

Let it fall.

The scent of her desire enveloped him, clouding his senses. Reason was a feeble thing in the face of want-a flame too easily snuffed.

A heartbeat later, he lifted her into his arms and carried her straight to the bedroom.

In that moment, Wesley did not foresee the cost of this reckless choice-or how dearly he would one day pay for it.