Chapter 2 The Other Woman

"Willa... do you remember what today is?"

Riana's voice trembled, the words hanging in the air like shattered glass. She'd imagined this reunion for weeks-her daughter's warm embrace, shared laughter, perhaps even a clumsily wrapped gift.

Not this. Never this.

Willa didn't even look up from her beads. Her big little cute round eyes focused on them as she spoke her words, "Does it matter? I need to finish Aunt Delilah's present."

The dismissal in her tone cut deeper than any claw.

"She is not your aunt!" The words tore from Riana's throat.

Seven years of shielding her daughter from their twisted family history-seven years of swallowing bitterness to preserve Willa's innocence-and it had all been for nothing.

Willa's head snapped up, gray eyes flashing with complaint. "What's wrong with you? Aunt Delilah is nice! And she's your sister!"

"She is not!" Riana nearly screamed. She hated nothing more than being reminded she shared even a drop of blood with that woman.

Her sharp tone startled Willa. Tears welled in the little girl's eyes. "No wonder Daddy likes her better! You're always so... so angry!"

The words landed like a final, crushing blow. Something in Riana snapped.

She reached for her daughter's slender shoulders, a desperate urgency seizing her. "Willa, what did you just say?"

"Mom, you're hurting me!" Willa protested, but Riana needed to understand what had happened in her absence. "When did you see her? Who took you to see her?"

"What's wrong with Daddy taking me to dinner with Aunt Delilah when you were away? She's nice."

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?" Riana's voice was sharp.

"Because Daddy said you'd never allow it. That you were the one who sent Aunt Delilah away in the first place. How could you be so mean, Mom! Do you know how lonely she was all alone abroad?"

A torrent of rage, betrayal, and sheer panic rose within Riana. Her hands trembled, threatening to crush her daughter's fragile frame.

With a strength she didn't know she had, Willa wrenched herself free. "You're being scary! If you're not here to help, just go away!"

Riana stood frozen, staring. In this moment, she scarcely recognized her own daughter. She couldn't believe her child and her husband had formed this secret alliance with her enemy behind her back.

She wanted to shake her daughter, to dig out the reason. But Willa had already turned her back, a wall of resentment in a room dotted with fairy lights.

"I don't want to talk to you. Go away."

Riana's fingers curled into fists, then loosened in defeat. She rose slowly. "You're just tired, Willa. It's late. We should both sleep." She reached over and flicked off the fairy lights. This wasn't the time for a conversation, and she couldn't bear to watch her daughter labor over a gift for her nemesis on her own birthday for a moment longer.

A frustrated groan escaped Willa. "I hate you!"

The door slammed, sealing the words into Riana's heart like a curse.

She stood alone in the darkened hallway, the silence echoing louder than any scream.

Her nails dug into her palms. She'd spent years building walls against Wesley's indifference, Delilah's venom, the Pack's whispers-but her daughter's hatred? This shattered her completely.

It was unexpected to happen to her. For many years, Willa's love for her was the one that filled the emptiness in her heart.

Mrs. Leah materialised from the shadows, her wise old eyes reflecting centuries of pack drama. "Let me talk to her, Luna. "

Riana nodded numbly, navigating the darkened hallway like a ghost. It wasn't until the shower's steam enveloped her that she finally allowed the tears to fall, each one swallowed by the rushing water-a silent requiem for a mother's breaking heart.

Where had she gone wrong?

She had sacrificed everything:

Her independence, for the sake of family honor.

Her prestigious role as the pack's heiress, to become an assistant in his empire.

Her own identity, reshaping herself into the perfect mother, the flawless Luna.

She believed relentless effort could bridge the chasm between her and Wesley. That love, even one-sided, could build a home for Willa.

But one month apart had unraveled seven years of devotion. Wesley must have planned this. She never should have agreed to leave Willa with him for so long.

By the time she stepped out of the shower, Wesley still hadn't returned. Of course. He was playing the carefree bachelor, forgetting the wife and daughter waiting in the silence.

Her new phone felt heavy in her hand. She dialed. No answer.

"Still tangled up with his beloved mistress, no doubt," Riana said while getting dressed to sleep, and she sent him a text.

Riana: Call me back. Or face the consequences.

A moment later:

Wesley: What is it now?

Riana: Lunch tomorrow. You, me, and Willa. Just the three of us.

The typing bubbles appeared, disappeared, then appeared again. "Consulting his mistress, perhaps. Urgh"

She drained her glass, the bourbon doing nothing to warm the cold spreading through her chest. "Why is he taking such a long time to decide?"

Finally..

Wesley: Tell me where. If I'm free, I'll come.

Riana: Fine.

She didn't wait for any birthday wishes from him this time. She knew it would never come.

***

Dawn broke, pale and indifferent. Riana woke with a heaviness in her chest that had little to do with sleep. She thought it must have been those magic potions she drank and pills to calm her emotions.

This mansion-all cold marble and gilded emptiness-would never be home. Not like Mystic Town, where the air smelled of pine and possibility. But Wesley preferred the distance. From the Pack. From her.

She twisted her hair into a loose knot, determination settling like armor. She was going to make a perfect breakfast. Gift of Reconciliation. Last night had been a storm of hurt feelings-Willa didn't mean those words.

She couldn't mean that. Riana brushed off those negatives thought, not wanting to think negatively about her precious daughter.

But outside her daughter's door, she froze at the sound of voices within.

"Aren't you happy Luna Riana is back, little one?" Mrs. Leah's gentle tone was met with a sigh that pierced Riana's heart.

"I wish she hadn't come back." Guilt tinged Willa's voice-but not for her mother. "Daddy promised Aunt Delilah we'd go to the river this weekend. If Mommy comes, it'll be awkward. She ruins everything."

"Willa, she is your mother. She loves you."

"I know, but." A pause, then words that landed like shrapnel: "Daddy and I just like Aunt Delilah better. She's fun. She smells like coconuts. She could be my mom."

Willa's voice brightened. "Maybe even Daddy's Luna. Everyone says they were supposed to be mates. Why did he marry Mommy anyway?"

Mrs. Leah's gasp was sharp. "Willa! How can you say such things?"

"It's true! Aunt Delilah is pretty and kind-even to you!-and she has a real job. Mommy just stays home, nagging me or doing boring work at Daddy's company. No wonder the Pack doesn't respect her."

Riana stood frozen outside her daughter's door, the air squeezed from her lungs as if by an invisible fist. These were her daughter's true feelings?

Eight years.

Eight years of loving her from the moment she'd felt the first flutter in her womb.

Eight years of enduring cold stares and whispered slurs to give Willa the stability of life.

Every strict rule, every enforced curfew, every carefully monitored meal-born from desperate nights researching rare shifter allergies and genetic vulnerabilities.

She had built her entire world around this child.

And now her daughter stood on the other side of that door, wishing for another woman to be her mother.

For a heartbeat, rage and grief warred within her. She hadn't even faced Delilah yet, and already she'd lost. Just as Delilah's mother had shattered her own family, the witch now stole hers.

But she was not her mother.

She would not choose the silent, tragic exit.

She wiped the tears away with a sharp, angry gesture, her spine straightening into the regal posture of a Luna, a Regalia heir-not a scorned wife.

If they saw her as a chain, a glorified nanny, then she would break them free. And herself.

The engine of her Aston Martin roared to life, a satisfying snarl in the oppressive silence of the mansion. She dialed her assistant, her voice colder and clearer than glacial ice.

"Tilda. Inform the board I will be presiding over today's meeting."

Living a double life was a secret known to only a few of her trusted allies.