The Luna Who Burned The Crown

Jessica's POV “I think Daddy forgot again,” Crystal mumbled as she traced a finger across the edge of her birthday cake. My heart twisted…. I crouched next to her, brushing a curl out of her eyes. “No, sweetheart, he’s just... busy today. You know how the pack keeps him running around.” Crystal gave me a small smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “He promised.” “I know.” I kissed her forehead. “He’ll be here soon, okay? And when he sees this cake, I bet he won’t stop talking about it for days.” It was a beautiful cake—layers of pink and white buttercream, sprinkled with little sugar roses. It was a lie. Asher wouldn't care about the cake. He wasn’t the same man anymore. He’d grown colder, distant. He barely looked at me when we spoke. The warmth that once lived in his eyes when he called me “Luna” had faded. But today wasn’t about my pain. Today was about our daughter. “Can I go see the puppies again before my friends get here?” Crystal asked, already perking up. “Only if you promise not to smuggle one into your room again,” I teased. “I won’t!” she giggled, running off with a bounce in her step. I watched her disappear toward the kernels where the dog pups were kept. Then I glanced down at my phone again. No messages. No calls. I had sent three texts and called twice. Where the hell are you, Asher? He promised he’d be back by ten. It was nearly one. No. Not today. I wouldn’t jump to conclusions. My fingers moved on their own, dialing his number again. Voicemail. I shoved the phone into my pocket and stood up, brushing invisible dust off my dress. “Screw this,” I muttered under my breath. “I’m going to find him.” Asher’s office sat in the eastern wing of the main pack house—secluded, quiet. A place only he and his PAs frequented. My heels clicked softly against the polished floors as I walked down the long corridor. It wasn't loud enough, so I heard the first sound. A low moan. Then, a gasp. I stopped in my tracks. The sound was muffled, but not enough to mistake it. I stood frozen, listening and it came again—soft, feminine laughter... followed by his voice. "Asher," the voice purred, "you're going to get us caught." And that voice—I knew that voice. Tiffany. My sister. No. I backed up a step, hand trembling as it hovered near the office door. My ears were ringing. How dare she? My sister. My own blood. I bit my lip hard, willing myself not to cry, not yet. Taking a deep breath, I reached for the handle and turned it slowly, silently, like I was the one doing something wrong. The door creaked open to reveal their images. Tiffany, half-dressed, sitting on Asher’s lap like she belonged there. His shirt undone, her lipstick smeared. Asher’s eyes met mine—and widened. Tiffany froze, her mouth parted, caught mid-laugh. And me? I didn’t scream. I didn’t cry. I just stood there, my voice trembling as I said, “You’re sleeping with my sister?” Tiffany, always the actress, scrambled to her feet and pulled her dress over her head. “Jess, it's nothing. I swear, I was going to tell you. We were just... caught up.” “Caught up?” I repeated, a bitter laugh escaping. “You were supposed to be her aunt. My daughter’s aunt. And you’re here, on her birthday, screwing her father in his office?” “Don’t twist this—” “Oh, please, Tiffany,” I snapped. Then my eyes darted to the jewelry piece adoring her neck. It didn't look like something she got herself. It was the kind of gift Asher would give. I picked up from where I stopped. “You’ve been taking what’s mine since we were kids. My toys, my clothes, mom and Dad's affection. And now? Now you’ve taken my husband too?” She flinched, but I wasn’t done. “You didn’t even want him back then. Remember? When our parents arranged the marriage, you said he wasn’t worthy of you. You told them to give him to me. Because you thought he’d never become Alpha.” Her eyes darkened, lips pursing. “Now, you just realized power looked better than you thought.” She stepped closer, reaching out a hand. “You don't have the right to say that to me,” I moved forward too, to close the space, but before I got to her, in a sudden motion, she gasped and stumbled backward, crashing into the corner of the desk. “Ah!” she cried. “You pushed me!” My jaw dropped. “What?” “Asher!” she sobbed, clutching her arm. “She pushed me!” “I didn’t touch her!” I shouted. “She’s lying!” Asher’s face twisted, and before I could say another word, he crossed the room and shoved me back. The force of it sent me stumbling into a chair, knocking it over. “Asher!” I gasped, looking up at him in disbelief. “You just hit me!” “You laid your hands on a pregnant woman, the mother of my unborn child,” he raised his voice, eyes glaring at me. Pregnant? My mind shattered. I stood there frozen, the words echoing in my skull like a sad song. “…the mother of my unborn child.” My knees trembled, but I didn’t let them give out. I couldn’t—not in front of him. Not in front of them. Suddenly, every late meeting, every night he came home smelling of someone else, every time he turned away when I reached for him—it all made sense. I clenched my jaw, my heart beat pounding louder than the sound of his voice. “I always wanted a son,” Asher muttered, stepping back toward Tiffany, who still clutched at her belly with one hand while smugness bled into her eyes. “A boy,” he continued, “to be my heir. Someone strong. Someone worthy.” I felt that blow like a blade to the chest. “And Crystal?” “She’s a child,” he said simply. “A girl. Not fit to lead.” I swallowed hard. “Then why didn’t you try again with me? Why didn’t you ever—” I stopped, catching the sneer curling on his lips. There it was. The truth didn’t need words. His eyes said it all. He hadn’t wanted more children with me... because he hadn’t wanted me. He had never really loved me to begin with. I was just... convenient and now that Tiffany was pregnant, now that she offered what I couldn’t, I was an obstacle in the way. I heard the faint pitter-patter of footsteps coming down the hall—and my blood ran cold. It had to be Crystal. She had traced me down here. Not now. Not like this. “I’m going to ask you one thing,” I said, keeping my tone low. “Come home. Just for today. Pretend, if you have to. Just for a few hours.” He said nothing. “Our daughter deserves at least that much, Asher. She deserves the respect and attention as the daughter of Luna.” For a moment, an emotion passed over his face. Regret? Guilt? I couldn’t tell. Then it was gone. And in its place was the cold, proud, cruel Asher again. “You’re no Luna,” he said. “You know what, making you Luna was the biggest mistake I ever made.”