The Alpha's Unwanted Substitute Luna

“Divorce?” my stepmother gasped on the other end of the line. Her voice couldn’t hide the shock after I dropped the news the morning after the party.

“Yes, Mom. I’m sorry. I think… I can’t take this anymore,” I said, voice trembling in shame.

She married my father, and just a year later, he died in an accident. We were poor. She was wealthy. But she loved him so much that she saw a part of him in me and couldn’t let me go. She gave me everything. Education. A home. A future. She raised me like I was her own, even when her real daughter, Reese, refused to accept me.

“You can try harder, hija. It’s been five years. I’m sure they’ll learn to love you. And Lorde… he needs a mother,” she told me gently.

A bitter smile formed on my lips as I touched the cut on my arm from last night. I saw how happy they were, how peaceful they looked in my absence. While I was soaked in frosting and blood, they laughed like nothing had happened.

Lorde. I raised him.

After the accident that took my sister’s life, I woke up in the hospital to find her son already a year old. Lucian didn’t know how to care for a child, and the maid they hired was careless, often cruel. I was the only one who could look after Lorde without hurting him.

The Supreme Council decided Lucian needed a Luna, and Lorde needed a mother. I was the one who had to step up. And I did. For them. For my stepmother’s sake.

“Are you still there?” she asked again, her voice softer now. “Lorde used to love you. You just need to be patient with a child like him, hmm?”

He did love me once. Completely.

“Mommy, I want to eat with you, sleep with you, stay with you until I’m strong like Dad. Until I’m old, hmm?” he used to say when he was four, crawling into my lap.

“But you’re the future Alpha. You’ll be busy just like him,” I would tease, kissing his tiny hand.

“But you can stay with me! Teacher said a mother cannot live without her child. And I’m your child. You’ll love me endlessly, remember? You promised!” he’d say, showering my cheeks with kisses. “I’d be your forever baby.”

I laughed through the pain the memory brought. That boy would’ve thrown a fit if he saw me like this. Hurt. Bleeding. Alone. He used to shield me from his father’s rage, standing in front of me like a tiny warrior.

But that version of Lorde is gone now.

Poisoned by whispers from those who hate me, my sister’s old friends, her father who never wanted me in the picture. Who wanted me gone.

I went to the kitchen to make breakfast, hoping a simple routine might ground us both. But the moment I stepped inside, a saucer flew past my face.

It nearly hit me. Then came a plate that shattered against the wall behind me, pieces cutting into the back of my foot.

“Lorde, enough, baby,” I begged.

His brows furrowed, his teeth clenched. “Where’s the food? That’s the only thing you’re good at. The only reason you’re not completely useless is because you cook for us! Now, where’s the food?!”

I shut my eyes to calm my nerves. I didn’t answer. I simply walked to the fridge to grab ingredients. I didn’t want to make things worse for either of us. But silence only irritated him more.

“So now you’re numb?” he asked, stepping beside me.

“No, baby. I’m sorry. Mommy just wants to—”

I couldn’t finish my sentence. What happened next stunned me.

“Trying to act numb, huh? Here you go.”

I watched, frozen, as he pressed the back of a heated pan onto my stomach.

The fabric of my shirt clung to my skin. When he pulled it away while laughing, we both glanced down at my stomach. His laughter faded gradually while looking at my scar. Old scar.

It was long and rough, like something had sliced through me and been stitched back together. My stepmother once said it came from the accident. A piece of wood had hit me during the crash. I was lucky it only pierced my stomach. My sister… she hit a tree head-on. She didn’t survive.

Lorde’s expression changed. He stared at the scar, trembling. His lips parted. He blinked like he couldn’t believe what he saw.

“It’s okay… Mommy’s fine,” I said, my voice shaking, trying to hide the pain.

He looked at me, horrified. “You…” he mumbled. “Did you have a baby… before?”

I frowned. “No, Lorde. Of course not. You said you didn’t want Mommy to have another baby—”

“But I love medicine! I read medical books, I’ve watched surgeries online. That…” He pointed at my stomach. “That’s a surgical wound from childbirth."