Rejected Luna, Love Me Again

Wesley used to mock her for setting up a business that he deemed unworthy of profit. He once said her business was a total waste of money and could be better run by monkeys. "Monkeys? Hah!" If ever she had kept monkeys, she was sure they would be smarter than Delilah. His words had stung, but over the years, they had only fueled her resolve to prove him wrong. In truth, without Wesley's knowledge, Riana had quietly transferred ownership of the struggling fashion house entirely to herself. She was determined to turn it into a success-just one of many ventures he knew nothing about. Another company, secretly established and strategically positioned, now had the potential to challenge his pride itself. She longed to see the look on his face when he realized she was not the foolish, naive woman he had always believed her to be. "The Europe launch is up 14%," Tilda chirped. "Also, the quantum-thread prototype pinged from the Berlin lab. They say it can now change color based on the wearer's emotional state." Riana smiled faintly. "Good. Maybe I'll wear one, and finally, my husband will understand how I feel. Can it shoot fires too?" Tilda raised an eyebrow. "Ma'am, are you.being serious?" Riana was joking-but toying with Tilda's literal mind was its own small amusement. "I'm emotionally down, but my work ethic is intact," she replied and playfully winked at Tilda. "Now book me a private room for three at Sebastian Café." Two hours after her busy schedule, she was about to send a message to Wesley about the location of their lunch, but was met with another disappointment. Wesley: Something came up. Urgent business. Lunch is off. Riana: Sure. I understand. She wanted to smash her phone against the wall, but too many eyes were watching in the boardroom. She forced a smile and calmly invited her closest friends, Sasha and Carlita, to join her instead. They met at Sebastian Café, a posh rooftop restaurant where the enchanted slimming salads could cost more than small cars and the sparkling water judged you for not liking its exquisite taste. Riana sipped her espresso and let the warmth flood her chest. "I cried last night," she said, staring at her reflection in the spoon. Always gorgeous at every angle of the reflection. "Oh, honey," Sasha said. "Your sadness should be illegal. Want me to drain someone dry?" A Vampire that could walk in daylight she was. Carlita reached for her hand. "What happened? I know a new curse that could drive someone mad-completely undetectable." Sasha nodded at Carlita. An unlikely alliance between a Vampire and a Witch was the talk in the town. Carlita was well-known, born with unlimited wealth coming from her Witch ancestors. Riana opened her mouth to explain how her daughter now preferred Delilah-but a familiar laugh cut through the restaurant's murmur. Sasha's eyes widened as she whispered behind her glass, "Don't look." When someone says Don't look, you always look. Isn't that obvious? There. Across the room. Across the patio, at a corner table, surrounded by orchids and good lighting... Wesley. Willa. And Delilah. Laughing. Happy. Delilah's hand rested possessively on Wesley's arm, her smile radiant. Willa gazed up at her as if she'd hung the moon. And Wesley-her cold, ruthless husband-was looking at Delilah with a softness he had never shown Riana. Not once in eight years. Sasha leaned in, her voice a low hiss, "So, he cancelled for that b*tch?" "Seems so," Carlita added, twisting the knife. "He canceled lunch for that?" Willa, wearing sunglasses too big for her face, sipped orange juice from a crystal flute. Delilah whispered something in Wesley's ear, and he smiled-a real, unguarded smile-as if they were living inside a romance novel. And Riana? She watched from the other side of the terrace like a fashion-forward ghost. "Oh hell no," Carlita growled. "I will throw this nine-hundred-dollar salad. I swear." But Riana only stared. Then, softly, she laughed. A single, cold sound that made both her friends turn in concern. Because of course. Of course, her husband would forget her birthday, skip their lunch, and show up here-with their daughter and his mistress-at the very restaurant where she was licking her wounds. "The Moon Goddess must truly despise me," Riana whispered her thoughts. "Should I go over there?" Carlita asked, already reaching into her bag. "I brought my petty pouch. It has cursed glitter and a mirror that tells nothing but lies." "No," Riana said, finishing her espresso in one bitter sip. "Let them have their little fantasy." Sasha blinked. "Are you okay?" "No," Riana said calmly. "But I will be." She stood, brushed her coat off, and took one last look at the happy trio across the terrace. Once, she had foolishly dreamed of being part of such a scene with Wesley and Willa, but reality had proven it was nothing more than a delusion. Though it pained her, at least she had awakened before it was too late. "Sasha, Carlita," she said, her voice flat. "Yes, my queen?" Sasha replied cautiously, watching her friend like one might watch a beautiful chandelier about to fall. "Let's go. I have more important decisions to share with you." *** "Are you serious? You're really divorcing that scumbag?" Sasha shrieked excitedly. The girls had retreated to the privacy of Carlita's luxurious rooftop greenhouse-their safe haven. "Keep your voice down, Sasha," Riana reminded, rubbing her ear. "I know you're thrilled, but yes. I'm divorcing Wesley." "It's about time! He never deserved you! Certainly not after you turned down someone as perfect as Raph-" "Don't mention that," Riana tightened her grip on her glass as those hurt eyes flashed in her mind. She thought she had moved on. "The past is the past. I've paid the price for my choices. I'm not doing this for anyone else-just myself." "Sweetie, are you really okay?" Carlita asked gently. Unlike Sasha, who was buzzing with excitement at her friend's impending freedom, Carlita understood the depth of Riana's struggle. Though Riana often called it a political marriage, Carlita knew she had stayed not only out of duty and love for her child-but because, for a time, she had truly loved Wesley. Riana saw the concern in her eyes and forced a smile, though her own eyes glistened. "Yes, I've made up my mind." She paused, lowering her head. "My only regret is that I don't yet have the means to take Willa with me." "The Winters pack is too influential. Both families would fight me, and Willa." Her voice broke. "I'm not even sure she would choose to come with me." "I'll hire the best lawyer in town for you, Riana."Carlita was already reaching for her phone, but Riana shook her head, not wanting her help. Not yet. "She told me yesterday...she prefers Delilah as her mother." At this, the tears finally fell. Sasha and Carlita immediately embraced her. "You should've told us sooner!" Sasha held her shoulders tightly. "I would've drained those two traitors dry!" "Oh, darling," Carlita softly caressed her back. "Willa is too young to understand her true heritage-or the sacrifices you've made." Riana wept freely in her friends' arms, releasing years of silent heartache. That evening, Riana returned to the mansion. She had hoped to see her daughter, to talk properly, but it seemed they had enjoyed their day out without her-excluding her, ignoring her calls. The familiar sting of disappointment settled heavily in her chest. She mechanically packed her things, ignoring the housekeeper's pitying gaze. Most of the luggage she'd brought yesterday remained unopened; more than half was gifts for Willa. It seemed her daughter wouldn't care for them now. After all, nothing could compare to what Delilah offered. Then, weary but resolved, she entered Wesley's home office. She had always disliked this room. Too rigid. Smelling of pine and Alpha male arrogance. The leather chair barely sat in, shelves lined with books she was sure he'd never read, and-the thing she hated most-a large oil painting of Wesley himself, dressed in a severe military-style jacket, looking every bit the conquering general. It made her want to gag. She knew where he kept the documents. He was a creature of habit-predictable. Top drawer. Left side. In an unlocked box. "There you are," she whispered, pulling out the divorce papers. The document was pristine, folded neatly, waiting for her signature. His signature was inked cleanly on the bottom right. Neat, and emotionless. Hers? Still blank, awaiting to be signed in the last eight years. "You thought I'd never sign," she murmured, pen hovering as she thought of Willa. The pain of leaving Willa behind was almost unbearable. After a long moment, she sighed. "Maybe one day she'll return to me." Her eyes moved back to the paper. "Well, surprise a**hole," she muttered angrily, signing her name with a flourish. "Choke on it." She slid the paper back into the envelope, smiling faintly at the thought of Wesley's shock when he discovered who she really was. "Mrs. Leah, please give this to Wesley when he returns." If he ever returns. Yet it no longer mattered to Riana. She paused at the doorway. Looked back one last time. For years, Wesley had only given her five seconds of his attention every time, leaving her feeling silent and alone. He cared about nothing but his own pride-and occasionally, Willa. Cold. Heartless. But she had bigger plans now. Seeing her driver waiting, she offered a tired smile. "To Mystic Falls, Jerry. And you're fired-as Wesley's driver. You work for me now. I'll double your salary." "Yes, Ms. Regalia. It would be an honor." He bowed slightly, taking her light luggage. The car pulled away, and Riana didn't look back.