“Alpha’s Fake Heiress: The Luna He Rejected”

The rain fell like needles, sharp and cold, washing away what was left of my old life. But no storm could remove the truth I was never meant to be Aria DeLuca.

I looked out the window of the Rossi property in San Francisco, watching the rain blur the city lights. It had been three weeks since the crowning. Three weeks since Lorenzo’s words had cut through the air and destroyed my world.

“You were never meant to wear my mark.”

Those words still rang in my head like a curse I couldn’t escape.

I touched my wrist, the place where his mark should have been. My skin was bare, pale, shivering. Once, I had dreamed of that mark representing forever. Now it only reminded me of the moment I was called a fake before the entire pack.

Rossi, my so-called savior, sat across the room, smoking slowly, his dark eyes following my every move.

“If you keep staring out that window, someone might think you’re waiting for him,” he said in a low, joking tone.

I turned toward him, forcing my voice to stay steady. “I’m not.”

He smirked. “Liar.”

My jaw clenched. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, I do,” he said, standing up and walking closer. “You still love him, don’t you? The Alpha who tossed you away like ash after the fire.”

I didn’t answer. I didn’t have to. The quiet spoke louder than words ever could.

Rossi sighed and sat beside me, the faint smell of smoke and danger sticking to him. “Listen, Aria”

“I’m not Aria anymore,” I interrupted softly. “Aria DeLuca is dead.”

He tilted his head, studying me. “Then who are you now?”

I looked back at the rain-soaked window, the city lights shining like broken glass in my eyes. “Whoever I need to be to survive.”

That night, the memories came like knives.

The hospital room. The crying kids. My mother’s tired smile before everything turned to chaos.

I remembered some voices, one demanding. And then another, cold and forceful.

“She’s the real heiress,” a nurse whispered. “The other one is the midwife’s child”

“Not anymore,” said a man’s voice. “Make the switch. She’ll have everything.”

The memory jolted me awake, gasping. My hand pressed to my chest, heart beating wildly.

Was it a dream or the truth my mind had buried for years?

I stumbled from the bed, searching the drawers Rossi had given me. Birth papers, fake IDs, cash tools for the new life he was helping me build. But at the bottom of the pile was something else.

A blurred picture. Two babies. A hospital tag with my mother’s name and another with the name Aurora Rossi.

My stomach turned. Aurora Rossi. The woman who’d taken my place. The woman who now wore my crown.

I didn’t notice Rossi enter the room until his voice broke the silence.

“You found it.”

I froze. “You knew?”

He leaned against the doorframe, shadows cutting across his sharp features. “I didn’t know. I suspected.”

“Suspected?” I hissed. “You let me think I was going insane?”

“Calm down, sweetheart,” he said, his tone tightening. “You need to remember it yourself. If I told you, you wouldn’t have believed me.”

My throat got tight. “So it’s true. I was switched at birth.”

“Yes,” he said quietly. “Aurora’s father bribed the midwife. He wanted a Luna for his family. Your parents were weak. Poor. Easy to silence.”

The room spun. My pulse roared in my ears. “So… my whole life… every smile, every promise, every rejection was built on a lie?”

Rossi’s eyes softened, just for a moment. “If they took your name, Aria, then build another they can’t touch.”

I sank onto the bed, holding the picture so tightly it nearly tore. “You make it sound easy.”

“It’s not,” he said, walking closer. “But you’ve already survived worse.”

His hand brushed mine, and for a moment, I felt warmth against something dangerous and unsaid.

But the warmth turned cold when a sharp pain tore through my stomach.

I gasped, doubling over.

“Aria?” Rossi’s tone snapped into worry.

I clutched the side of the bed, breath coming fast. “It’s just fine”

Then I felt it again. The same twisted pain that had started days ago.

He caught me before I hit the floor. “You’re not fine,” he whispered, carrying me to the bed. “You’re burning up.”

“I just need a moment,” I said through gritted teeth.

He knelt in front of me, his hand sitting on my knee. “When was the last time you saw a doctor?”

“I haven’t,” I whispered. “I can’t risk being found.”

His jaw tightened. “You’re risking your life instead.”

“I’ll be fine.”

But I wasn’t. The next wave of pain came harder, and something inside me broke. Tears filled my eyes.

“Rossi,” I whispered. “Something’s wrong.”

He cursed under his breath and grabbed his phone. “We’re leaving. Now.”

The drive through the storm was a blur. My world tilted between pain and flashes of light. Rossi’s voice was the only thing keeping me linked.

“Stay with me, Aria.”

I blinked through tears. “You shouldn’t care. You barely know me.”

He glanced at me, his jaw set. “I don’t leave people bleeding on the floor. Not anymore.”

Not anymore. The words held weightguilt, maybe even pardon.

The car skidded to a stop outside an abandoned clinic. He carried me inside, breaking the lock with a sharp kick.

The air smelled of dust and rain. Old surgery lights flickered overhead.

“Sit,” he ordered.

I obeyed, trembling. My heart thundered in my ears as he rummaged through drawers, pulling out supplies.

“Why are you helping me?” I asked, voice weak.

He didn’t look up. “Because you remind me of someone.”

“Who?”

He finally met my eyes. “Someone I failed to protect.”

The quiet that followed was heavier than sound.

Then he froze, eyes flicking to the small ultrasound machine still hooked to the power. “Lie back,” he said gently.

I listened. The gel was cold against my skin. The moment the picture flickered onto the screen, everything stopped.