The Luna Replacement Agency

The first sign that my husband was about to ruin my life was the seating chart. The second was the eighteen-year-old sitting in my chair. Not just any chair. My chair. The one beside Alpha Hendrick Varela at the head of the banquet table, where I'd sat for nine years as his wife and the Luna of the Silvercrest Pack. The girl was wearing a pale pink dress that left very little to the imagination. Her long, dark hair fell in glossy waves down her back, and she was holding her phone above her head, apparently filming the chandelier. “Babe, the lighting in here is literally insane.” I stopped in the doorway. Babe? Hendrick looked up from his conversation with Beta Nathaniel and smiled. That smile. The one that made elderly pack members pinch his cheeks, young she-wolves giggle, and visiting Alphas immediately assume he was a wonderful man. “Alyssa. There you are.” I glanced at the girl again. She was now pouting at her phone. “Wait. My good side is on the other side.” I looked at Hendrick. “There appears to be a teenager in my chair.” The girl lowered her phone. “I'm eighteen.” “As I said. A teenager.” Nathaniel made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a cough. Hendrick's smile tightened. “Alyssa, don't start.” “Start what? I haven't even had a cocktail.” “You don't drink cocktails.” “Then I'm already behaving myself.” The girl rolled her eyes. At me. In my banquet hall. At the event I'd spent six weeks organizing. I looked at Hendrick. “Who is she?” His jaw shifted. A tiny movement. Almost imperceptible. But after eleven years together, I knew that expression. It was the one he wore when he was deciding whether to lie to me or make something my fault. Usually, he managed both. “This is Kinsley.” The girl gave a little wave. “Hi!” I waited. Hendrick said nothing else. “Kinsley,” I repeated. “Yep.” “Does Kinsley have a last name?” She giggled. “Obviously.” I stared at her. She stared back. Somewhere behind me, Nathaniel cleared his throat. I decided not to ask whether she knew what it was. “Hendrick, may I speak to you privately?” “Whatever you need to say, you can say here.” That was new. My husband preferred our disagreements behind closed doors. Preferably somewhere nobody could hear him reminding me that everything I had belonged to him. The house. The cars. The money. Occasionally, according to his mood, the oxygen. But tonight, apparently, we were embracing transparency. “Fine. Why is Kinsley sitting in my chair?” Hendrick stood. He was handsome. Infuriatingly handsome. Tall, broad-shouldered, with dark hair and the sort of jawline that made people forgive him for things they really shouldn't. We'd found each other as fated mates in high school. Eleven years together. Nine years of marriage. Three children. Catalina, nine. Elodie, six and a half. And Henry, my three-and-a-half-year-old wrecking ball with his father's stubbornness and, thank the Goddess, considerably better manners. I'd nearly died giving birth to Henry. Hendrick had cried beside my hospital bed, promising he'd never risk losing me again. He'd even had a vasectomy afterward. At the time, I'd thought it was the most loving thing a man could do. Funny how a memory could feel beautiful and painful at the same time. “Alyssa,” he said, taking my hand. His fingers tightened around mine. Not enough for anyone else to notice. Enough for me. “We need to talk.” I looked down at his hand. Then at the girl in my chair. Then at the banquet hall filling with approximately four hundred members of our pack. My stomach dropped. I'd known something was wrong for weeks. The late nights. The new passwords. The way Hendrick suddenly started taking calls outside. And the perfume. Goddess help me, the perfume. Something so sweet and vanilla-heavy that he smelled like he'd been rolling around in a bakery. I'd asked him about it. He'd accused me of being paranoid. Then he'd told me I was getting old. I was twenty-eight. Apparently, twenty-eight was the new ninety. “Not here,” I whispered. He released my hand. “Actually, here is exactly where we need to talk.” A cold sensation crawled down my spine. “Hendrick.” But he was already turning toward the stage. “Everyone! May I have your attention?” The room gradually quieted. I stood beside the head table, feeling four hundred pairs of eyes settle on us. Kinsley stood too. She smoothed her dress, checked her reflection in her phone, and hurried to Hendrick's side. Something inside me cracked. Not because I didn't suspect. I did. I'd suspected for weeks. But there was a difference between wondering whether your husband was cheating and watching him prepare to announce it to everyone you'd ever known. Hendrick took the microphone. “As many of you know, our pack has faced challenges recently.” I blinked. Challenges? The pack was thriving. Our finances were healthy. We'd negotiated three new trade agreements, renovated the school, expanded the medical wing, and secured a diplomatic partnership with the neighboring Ashbourne Pack. I'd personally handled nearly every detail. Including the seating arrangements for tonight. Which, clearly, somebody had altered. “Leadership requires sacrifice,” Hendrick continued. “And sometimes, it requires difficult decisions.” I stared at him. He looked solemn. Noble, even. The bastard deserved an acting award. “Over the past year, my marriage has become increasingly difficult.” A murmur passed through the room. My face went hot. Our marriage? He was doing this. He was actually doing this. “I've tried to protect Alyssa's privacy,” he continued, “but I can no longer ignore the reality that our relationship has deteriorated.” My mouth opened. Nothing came out. “Unfortunately, Alyssa has struggled with the responsibilities of being Luna.” I almost laughed. Not because it was funny. Because I'd spent that morning resolving a dispute between two neighboring packs while simultaneously arranging emergency coverage for three sick nurses and explaining to our kitchen manager why we couldn't serve shellfish to an Alpha with a documented allergy. Hendrick had spent the morning at the gym. “Kinsley has shown remarkable compassion and understanding during this difficult time.” Kinsley smiled. Actually smiled. At four hundred people. Like she'd just won a scholarship. “After much consideration,” Hendrick announced, “I've decided that Silvercrest deserves a fresh beginning.” I couldn't breathe. “Alyssa will be stepping down as Luna.” Silence. Absolute, suffocating silence. “And Kinsley will begin preparing to assume her responsibilities.” Kinsley waved. A little princess wave. I wanted to staple her hand to the table. Hendrick continued speaking, but the words blurred together. Something about healing. Something about moving forward. Something about doing what was best for the pack. Then he said, “I hope everyone will respect Alyssa's need for privacy during this difficult transition.” My need for privacy? He'd just publicly announced that he was replacing me with a girl who'd probably still had a hall pass in her purse six weeks ago. I looked around the room. People were staring. Some looked horrified. Others looked uncomfortable. A few were already whispering. And there, near the front, stood my mother-in-law. Her expression was thunderous. For a brief moment, I thought she was angry with me. Then I saw where she was looking. Kinsley. Hendrick's mother had never considered me quite good enough for her precious son. Apparently, being his fated mate hadn't compensated for my failure to fit the picture she'd had in her head. But whatever she'd imagined for Hendrick, I was reasonably certain it hadn't involved a teenager filming herself at a formal banquet. Hendrick stepped down from the stage and approached me. “Let's not make a scene,” he murmured. I looked at him. For one extraordinary moment, I couldn't think of a single thing to say. Then Kinsley appeared beside him. She tilted her head, studying me with the cheerful cruelty of someone who'd never experienced a consequence. “Don't feel bad,” she said brightly. “Twenty-eight isn't that old.” I stared at her. “Excuse me?” “I mean, you've had three kids and everything. It's normal for men to want someone younger.” Hendrick closed his eyes. Not because she'd insulted me. Because she'd said it where people could hear. I looked from Kinsley to my husband. And suddenly, something became very clear. He wasn't embarrassed about what he'd done. He was embarrassed that his little girlfriend didn't know when to shut up. I laughed. One sharp, startled laugh. Kinsley frowned. “What's funny?” I shook my head. “Nothing, sweetheart.” “Then why are you laughing?” “Because I'm trying to remember whether the pack education budget covers remedial mathematics.” Her mouth fell open. Hendrick grabbed my elbow. “Enough.” His voice was quiet. Dangerously quiet. I knew that voice. My laughter died. “Go home, Alyssa.” I stared at him. Home. The home I'd decorated. The home where our children were sleeping. The home where he'd once promised to love me until the Goddess herself called us back. “Where are you going?” I asked. He glanced toward Kinsley. And that was answer enough. I pulled my arm free. For once, he let me. I walked out of the banquet hall with my head held high. I didn't cry. Not when the doors closed behind me. Not when I passed the portraits of former Lunas lining the corridor. Not even when I reached the parking lot and realized my hands were shaking so badly I could barely unlock my car. I sat behind the wheel. Stared straight ahead. And tried to understand how a marriage could end in less time than it took to announce the evening's dessert. My phone buzzed. A message from Hendrick. Don't embarrass me any further tonight. We'll discuss your behavior tomorrow. I read it twice. Then I started laughing again. Because apparently, I was the embarrassing one. My husband had just replaced me with a barely legal influencer in front of four hundred people. And somehow, I'd behaved badly. I put the phone facedown. Then I looked at the illuminated windows of the banquet hall. Inside, my husband was probably accepting condolences. Poor Hendrick. Such a devoted Alpha. Such a difficult wife. I wondered how long it would take him to realize that the woman he'd just dismissed had the passwords to every financial account, the contact information for every allied pack, and the only complete copy of next quarter's operating budget. Then I remembered something else. Tomorrow morning, the Ashbourne delegation was arriving. Their Alpha spoke very little English. Hendrick spoke exactly one phrase in their language. Unfortunately, it translated to Where is the bathroom? I smiled. For the first time that evening, it was genuine. Good luck, sweetheart. You're going to need it.