Chapter 2 The Necklace That Wasn't Mine

Elena's POV

He stood there in the doorway, tall and composed in his usual all-black attire, his presence swallowing the space the moment he entered.

Damien.

My husband.

Alpha of the Thorne Pack.

The man I'd been waiting to talk to about our baby. The man I'd hoped would look at me last night and see me. Instead, here he was-standing in my office, not as my husband, but as the "respected man" the rude pregnant woman had promised would confront me.

I opened my mouth, but no words came out.

He didn't say anything at first either. His jaw was tight, his eyes unreadable. Then he stepped aside... and she walked in behind him.

Her.

The woman from earlier-the blonde who had insulted my food, my kitchen, my work.

Vivian Monroe.

Except now, I wasn't seeing her as just an entitled customer. No. She walked in like she belonged, her silk dress flowing behind her, her heels clicking softly against the tile. Her hand gently rested on her rounded stomach, her expression carefully painted with innocent confusion.

"Elena," Damien began, "I didn't expect to find you like this."

Like what? At my job? At the restaurant I built from scratch? Pregnant with your child, but standing across from a woman who clearly knows you better than I do?

Vivian stepped forward, offering a weak smile. "I'm sorry about earlier. I didn't know this was your restaurant. I wasn't feeling well, and the food... well, pregnancy makes everything taste weird."

I said nothing.

Damien looked between us. "Vivian just returned from overseas. She's been through... a lot. Her family abandoned her. She's alone and expecting. I told her she could stay with us for a few days while she gets settled."

With us?

I stared at him, my throat suddenly dry.

"I didn't realize she was in town until last night," Damien continued. "She called me-panicking. No place to go, no one to call."

"I didn't even know who else to trust," Vivian added, voice trembling.

It was a performance. I knew it. I didn't even need proof. The way her eyes flicked over the office, the slight upturn at the corner of her mouth when Damien wasn't looking-it was all a show.

Still, I nodded. "Fine."

But then, as she shifted to sit, the light caught something around her neck-a glowing silver pendant nestled just above her chest.

The Moonstone.

My Moonstone.

The one Damien had promised to buy for me. The one he said he'd bring back as an apology. The one I'd waited five years to wear because it symbolized recognition-his acknowledgment that I was more than a placeholder Luna.

"You're wearing my necklace," I said before I could stop myself.

Vivian blinked, then looked down. "Oh? Damien gave it to me last night. I thought it was just something he'd bought ages ago."

I turned to Damien, heart pounding. "You told me you were going to get that for me. From Silvermist."

He looked at me, then at her. "I... I didn't think it mattered."

Didn't matter?

Five years of waiting. Five years of playing the perfect Luna. Five years of holding my tongue while his mother judged me and the pack whispered. That necklace had mattered more than he knew-and now it sat on another woman's throat like a trophy.

I felt something crack inside me.

"I have to get back to work," I said, brushing past them.

"Elena-" he tried.

But I was already gone.

I shut the door behind me and leaned against it, closing my eyes tightly as the tears burned behind them. I wouldn't cry here. Not in front of them. Not in front of my staff.

I walked back to the kitchen, tying my apron again with trembling fingers. The scent of searing garlic and fresh dough should've been comforting.

It wasn't.

Miriam was there, quietly watching me from across the room. "Everything alright?"

"No," I answered softly. "But I'll survive."

That night, after closing the restaurant, I drove home alone. Damien didn't call. Didn't text. I half-expected him to, but I also knew better.

I arrived at the estate just past midnight. The mansion was dimly lit, the silence echoing down the halls.

As I walked through the corridor toward our bedroom, I paused by the guest room. Light was still on inside. I heard faint murmurs, laughter even.

Vivian's laugh.

And Damien's voice-quiet, but there.

I stared at the door for a full minute before I turned away.

I didn't go to bed that night.

I stayed curled up on the balcony with a blanket over my shoulders and my hand resting lightly on my stomach.

They think I'm invisible.

But I see everything.