Luna Comeback

Chapter 4

Ana

Ema held my hands gently across the table. Her grip was firm and steady, but I could see the deep worry in her eyes. The restaurant lights reflected in her pupils, making her concern feel even more intense.

"Did Max hurt you?" she asked, her voice low. "Did he lay a hand on you or do anything to you?"

I looked back at her and shook my head slowly. The physical pain from the accident was still there, a dull ache in my side, but it was nothing compared to the weight on my soul.

"What could he possibly do that he hasn't done already?" I asked. My voice was flat. "He has decided to choose his path, so why can't I choose mine? He thinks I am just a quiet little girl who follows him. He is wrong."

She pulled me into a warm hug, her familiar scent of vanilla and spice surrounding me. For a brief moment, I felt safe in her arms, as if I were back in my father’s house. Then she pulled back and searched my face, her brow furrowed.

"Ana, listen to me," she said softly. "You just lost your daughter. It is a terrible, unthinkable thing. Do you really want to lose Max too? Are you sure you aren't just acting out of grief?"

I took a deep breath. It was time to tell her the full truth, even if the words tasted like ash.

"The lady he brought into our home... she has been his mistress all along, Ema. They have a daughter together. The same little girl he lied about and said he adopted. I saw the way they looked at each other. That child is seven years old. Do you understand? That means Max has been cheating on me for seven years. Nearly our entire marriage."

Ema’s eyes widened until they were completely round. She stared at me in absolute shock, her hands dropping from mine.

"Is it true? How can Max do this? He’s the Alpha. He’s supposed to be honorable." She paused, shaking her head. "Maybe there is a misunderstanding. A child could be from anything. Why don't you talk to him first? Give him a chance to explain."

I looked straight at her. My voice stayed firm even though my heart ached with every beat.

"What misunderstanding, Ema? I heard him with my own ears. He was in that room with her, talking about their future. He didn't even deny that he caused the accident. He killed his own daughter just to control me. How heartless can a person be?

He thinks because he is an Alpha he can do whatever he wants and I will just stay in my place. I swear, I will make him pay for Lily. I will make him pay bit by bit."

I slowly stood up from the chair. My legs felt heavy, and the bar felt too loud now. The music and the laughter of other people were making my head spin. I looked at Ema one more time.

"I'm going home," I said. "It's already late."

She stood up quickly, grabbing her bag. "I will help you get there safely. You shouldn't be alone right now."

We walked out of the restaurant section together. As we passed one of the private dining rooms, a sound stopped me in my tracks. I heard voices inside—voices I knew better than my own. I quickly turned and looked through the doorway, which was slightly open.

There he sat. Max was having a grand meal with Emily and the little girl, Mai.

They were laughing and talking easily, the table filled with expensive dishes. They looked happy. They looked like a big, complete, perfect family. There was no sign of the grieving father I had seen at the hospital.

"Is that Alpha Max?" Ema asked quietly from behind me.

I just laughed. It was a short, empty sound that had no joy in it. I did not say a word. I just watched him pour a drink for Emily, his eyes full of affection. Then I turned away, the image burned into my mind.

"Let's go," I whispered.

I walked out of the building and looked up at the dark sky. The stars were hidden by clouds. Max had never taken me out like that. Every time I asked for a date or a simple dinner, he always complained. He said he was too busy with pack business, too tired from meetings, or had no time for "human things."

But here he was, taking his mistress and their child out for a nice dinner night.

As I reached the parking lot, I stopped suddenly. A shiny, black Lamborghini sat parked nearby, reflecting the streetlights. My heart twisted.

It was the car he had bought for our third anniversary. He told me it was a gift for me, but he had never let me drive it. He promised he would take me out in it one day for a special occasion. Every time I asked, he gave excuses about the engine or the weather.

Now, he used it to take his mistress out instead.

I got into my own car, my hands gripping the steering wheel until they hurt. I looked at Ema through the window.

"Tomorrow I have made up my mind," I said, my voice cold and hard. "I'm severing my bond with that bastard. I’m done being his plaything."

I drove away before she could argue, leaving her standing there in the parking lot.

When I got back home, the whole house was dark and quiet. The silence felt like a heavy blanket. I sat down on the couch and stopped moving, staring into the darkness. Then, I saw them.

Lily’s pictures—the ones Max promised to "put away for my own good"—lay scattered on the floor near the trash bin. I leaned down and picked one up carefully. It showed her smiling face, her eyes bright and full of life. She was wearing her favorite yellow dress.

I looked at it for a long time, and then the tears finally came.

I had kept this one photo on the side table and told Max specifically not to take it away. I told him I needed it. But here it was, thrown on the floor like it was nothing but garbage.

I cried hard into the photo, holding the cold frame close to my chest. I sobbed until my throat was raw, blaming myself again and again. I was a bad mother. I should have seen the truth. I should have protected her from him.

The front door opened suddenly, letting in a gust of cold air. I looked up with tearful, blurry eyes. Max walked in, followed by Emily and the little girl. They were all laughing together, sharing some private joke.

The moment Max saw me sitting there on the couch in the dark, he looked shocked. The smile vanished from his face instantly.

He turned to them quickly. "Go on inside," he said, ushering them toward the stairs. "Go ahead."

I slowly stood up from the couch, wiping my face with the back of my hand. Emily dropped the shopping bags she was carrying and gave me a small, fake smile.

"I brought some food for you, Ana," hee said.

I laughed inside, a bitter, stinging feeling. If I had not seen them at the restaurant earlier, how could I have known? I knew exactly what was in those containers. It was their leftover food. They had eaten their fill and brought the scraps home for the "grieving wife."

I looked at Max, then at Emily. My voice was steady. "Where are you coming from?"

He stepped toward me, his expression smooth and calm again. He reached out as if to touch my shoulder, but I stepped back.

"I was busy with pack work, honey," he said easily. "I stopped to get you your favorite food on the way back. I saw Emily and the girl walking nearby and gave them a ride home. It’s a dangerous night."

I smiled back at him. It was a thin, sharp smile that did not reach my eyes. "In the Lamborghini, Max? You took them for a ride in that car?"

He looked at me and frowned a little, his eyes darkening. "You should not speak that way, Ana. I know you want to ride in it badly. I promised that next time I go out, I will take you. You're just stressed."

He ignored my look and took out the food containers, placing them on the dining table. He opened one up.

Sea crab and pizza.

I almost laughed out loud. He stood there, looking proud of himself. He said it was for me, his favorite wife, but I never ate this. I couldn't.

I was deathly allergic to seafood.

He had been my husband for eight years, and he didn't even remember the one thing that could kill me. Or maybe he did remember.

I looked at him, then at Emily, and said nothing. I didn't scream. I didn't throw the food. I simply turned around and walked upstairs, still holding my daughter’s picture tightly in my hands.

This was not the man I had married. It felt like a monster wearing his skin. This was someone else entirely.