After My Husband Lied, My Luna Awakened

I hummed softly as I stirred the pasta sauce, adding a pinch of oregano the way Noah liked it. The small kitchen in his apartment filled with the rich aroma of tomatoes and herbs. Outside the window, the Colorado mountains were bathed in the golden light of sunset, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink. Three years in this small town, and I still hadn't tired of the view. "Almost ready," I called out, though I knew Noah was in his study, probably handling pack business. He'd been especially busy lately with his cousin Lily's treatments. Poor thing. The rare wolf disease affecting her was draining not only emotionally but financially. I'd given nearly all my teacher's salary to help with the medical bills, but it was worth it. Noah had been so grateful, so loving.

Chapters

Chapter 3

The restaurant lights dimmed without warning, plunging the elegant space into shadow. My heart hammered against my ribs as a single spotlight illuminated the raised platform where Victoria sat. She rose gracefully, her white gown catching the light like fresh snow—a traditional mate ceremony dress.

No. This couldn't be happening.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Noah's voice boomed through hidden speakers, smooth as aged whiskey. "Thank you all for joining us on this momentous occasion."

Victoria glided toward him, and my stomach twisted as he took her hand, bringing it to his lips. The gesture was intimate, practiced—how many times had they done this before? While I was teaching children their letters, while I was skipping meals to save money for Lily's treatments, they had been...

"As many of you know," Noah continued, his arm sliding around Victoria's waist, "my beautiful mate has finally returned from her extended stay in Europe."

Mate. The word hit me like a physical blow. Around me, pack members murmured their congratulations, raising glasses in toast. Someone's champagne flute clinked against another, the sound sharp as breaking bones.

"But before we begin the formal ceremony," Noah's eyes found mine across the room, pinning me in place, "we have a special entertainment planned. A little game, if you will."

The massive screen behind them flickered to life, and my blood turned to ice.

There I was, asleep in my bed, hair spread across the pillow. The image was intimate, vulnerable—taken from inside my bedroom. My hands shook as the photo dissolved into another: me changing clothes, captured through a gap in my curtains. Then another: me at school, bending to help a student, unaware of the camera's predatory gaze.

"What—" The word barely escaped my throat.

"Each photo has a starting bid," Noah announced cheerfully, as if auctioning off furniture instead of pieces of my privacy. "All proceeds will go to charity, of course. We know how much our dear Olivia loves helping those in need."

Numbers appeared beneath each image. $500. $1,000. $2,500 for one where I was fresh from the shower, a towel barely covering me.

Laughter rippled through the crowd—cruel, knowing laughter that made my skin crawl. These weren't just random pack members. These were Betas, Deltas, wolves with power and money who saw me as nothing more than entertainment.

"You see," Noah's voice carried over the noise, "for three years, I've been conducting a social experiment. How long could a wolfless charity case believe she was loved? How much would she sacrifice for a lie?"

My knees threatened to buckle. Wolfless. He'd known all along that my wolf was dormant, weak. Every sweet word, every gentle touch—all of it calculated.

"The answer?" He paused dramatically. "Everything. Her savings, her dignity, even that precious silver pendant she claimed meant so much." His smile was razor-sharp. "All for a sick child who never existed."

Victoria's laughter tinkled like broken glass. "Oh, Noah, you're being too harsh. Little Lily does exist—she's just not your cousin." She placed a manicured hand on her flat stomach. "She's our daughter. And thanks to Olivia's generous donations, she's attending the finest boarding school in Switzerland."

The room spun. I'd been paying for their child's education while barely affording groceries. The handkerchief in my hands—my pathetic peace offering—fell to the floor.

"Shall we start the bidding?" Noah asked, gesturing to the screen where my stolen moments hung like trophies. "Who wants to own a piece of the naive country teacher who thought she could play with wolves?"

A Beta in the corner raised his hand. "Five hundred for the bedroom shot!"

"Eight hundred!" called another.

Their voices blended into white noise as my world collapsed. Three years. Three years of lies, manipulation, and theft—not just of money, but of my trust, my love, my very soul.

My wolf stirred again, stronger this time, her rage mixing with mine. But what could we do? We were surrounded by stronger wolves, trapped in Noah's twisted game.

As bids flew and laughter grew louder, one thought crystallized in my mind: Ethan. The Alpha who had raised me, protected me, then pushed me away. I'd blocked our connection for three years, too proud and hurt to reach out.

But pride meant nothing now. Nothing mattered except escape.

Closing my eyes, I reached for that severed thread, that connection I'd buried deep. *Alpha Ethan,* I called into the void, not knowing if he'd even hear me after so long. *Help me. Please.*

The auction continued around me, but I barely heard it. Everything hung on a prayer to a man I'd run from—and the desperate hope that somewhere, he was listening.

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My daughter Jodie died in my arms. The doctor' s words were a death sentence: "Severe neglect. Malnutrition. Multiple internal injuries." But my husband, the famous life coach Julian Maynard, didn't mourn. He issued a public statement. He called Jodie a "challenging child" and twisted her death into a tragedy about mental health, all to enhance his compassionate image. He even publicly forgave the boy who had tormented her, the same boy he brought into our home to teach Jodie "resilience." My own life ended in a fire, a final, violent release from a world of his making. As the flames consumed me, I couldn't understand. How could the man I loved build his legacy on the grave of our daughter and the ruins of my life? Then, I opened my eyes. The divorce papers sat on the table, his signature a stark black stain. It was years earlier. Before the fire. Before Jodie died.

Modern Romance

9.5

Erase My Love, Forget His Face

9.5

The first clue my life was a lie was a moan from the guest room. My husband of seven years wasn't in our bed. He was with my intern. I discovered my husband, Brendan, was having a four-year affair with Kiya-the talented girl I was mentoring and personally paying tuition for. The next morning, she sat at our breakfast table in his shirt while he made us pancakes. He lied to my face, promising he'd never love another, just before I learned she was pregnant with his child-a child he'd always refused to have with me. The two people I trusted most in the world had conspired to destroy me. The pain wasn't something I could live with; it was an annihilation of my entire world. So I made a call to a neuroscientist about his experimental, irreversible procedure. I didn't want revenge. I wanted to erase every memory of my husband and become his first test subject.

Action Modern Romance

8.4

From Hostage to Heroine

8.4

The conference room felt suffocating despite its expansive glass walls overlooking the city. I sat rigid in my chair, trying to ignore the whispers rippling through the assembled colleagues as Logan stood at the head of the table, his expression carved from stone. "The situation is straightforward," he announced, his voice carrying that clinical detachment I'd learned to recognize over the past months. "The rival faction has Marie and Audrey. They've demanded an exchange—one of ours for both of them." My fingers traced invisible patterns on the polished mahogany, a nervous habit I couldn't shake. Around me, executives shifted uncomfortably. Someone coughed. The air conditioning hummed with mechanical indifference. "Whitney will go," Logan continued, and the room tilted. For a moment, I convinced myself I'd misheard.

Action Modern Romance

9.8

Released from prison: My billionaire ex begs me back

9.8

When the enigmatic Mrs. Blackwood finally emerged in River City, she set the whole town abuzz. Arrested and imprisoned for the attempted murder of Mr. Blackwood's once-cherished first love, she vanished behind bars. Outside the prison, Mr. Blackwood kept his daily vigil-waiting. What finally came out, though, was Mrs. Blackwood's lifeless form. and a baby boy. Six years later- Clara Walton returned, no longer bearing the name Blackwood. By her side stood a bright-eyed, handsome little boy. When she saw Mr. Blackwood again, she met him with a radiant smile. "Mr. Blackwood, I'm married now. I suggest you mind your manners." With a sly smirk, he replied, "It's true-you're married. But that doesn't mean I can't pursue you. After all, I'm still free-and single." Clara: ".."

Billionaire Modern Romance

9.1

Scarred by His Betrayal

9.1

I stared at the television screen, my fingers clutching the remote so tightly my knuckles turned white. The late-night entertainment show's host spoke with exaggerated excitement, but I barely registered her words. All I could see was my husband—my secret husband—kissing another woman with a passion he hadn't shown me in years. "The chemistry between Jackson Hayes and Isabella Romano is absolutely electric!" the host gushed. "Sources on set say these two can't keep their hands off each other even when the cameras stop rolling." The segment cut to behind-the-scenes footage: Jackson's hand resting on Isabella's lower back, her head thrown back in laughter at something he whispered in her ear. His smile—that devastating smile that once belonged only to me—lighting up his entire face. "Just friends?" the host winked at the camera. "We think not!" I clicked off the TV and let the remote drop onto the couch beside me. Our West Hollywood apartment fell into silence, the kind that rings in your ears and makes you feel the emptiness of the space around you. Four years of marriage, and this was what I had to show for it: a lonely apartment and entertainment shows speculating about my husband's love life while I sat in the shadows.

Billionaire Modern Romance

9.6

Sweet Revenge Of The Stolen Heiress

9.6

I was only three and a half years old, living in a damp basement and beaten daily by Enoch Pruitt with a heavy leather whip. "Get up, you useless waste of space!" He always told me I was a stray he had picked out of the garbage. But during one brutal beating that nearly stopped my heart, time froze, and a glowing figure called The Chronicler appeared. "You are not an abandoned orphan, Clare. You carry the blood of the highest gods." He revealed that I was the stolen daughter of the ultra-wealthy Barrett family. Then, he showed me the horrific ending of my previous life. I had died right here on this bloody dirt floor. My real parents and three brothers went completely insane with grief, turning into ruthless monsters who destroyed themselves and the entire world to avenge me. Meanwhile, the Pruitt family kept torturing me, locking me in a woodshed and feeding me moldy bread. The memory of my bones breaking and my real mother's agonizing screams crushed my chest. Why did I have to suffer like an animal while my true family tore the world apart looking for me? This time, I refused to die in the mud. I accepted my divine blood, my eyes glowing gold as I summoned a bolt of purple lightning to strike my abuser. I just needed to survive the night. Because my real father's heavily armed convoy was already tearing up the mountain, ready to burn this hell to the ground.

Action Billionaire Horror LitRPG Modern

After My Husband Lied, My Luna Awakened

Chapter 3

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