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The Alpha's Lost Heir: A Rejected Luna's Revenge Novel Cover

The Alpha's Lost Heir: A Rejected Luna's Revenge

I took a poisoned dagger for my husband, Alpha Jackson, destroying my womb and my health to save his life. I thought my sacrifice made our bond unbreakable. But three years later, when I miraculously fell pregnant, he didn't celebrate. Instead, he brought me a box of "expensive supplements" to help my condition. I opened a vial and smelled the acrid, metallic scent of Wolfsbane. He wasn't trying to heal me; he was ensuring I—and the baby he didn't know about—would never wake up. At the pack ceremony, he publicly humiliated me, pinning the Luna's brooch on his pregnant mistress, Candida. When I protested, he slapped me across the face in front of the entire pack, calling me a useless, barren burden. He wanted me dead so he could replace me. So, I gave him exactly what he wanted. With the help of a trusted healer, I staged my own death and vanished into the night. Years later, when I returned as the powerful White Wolf and the cherished mate of the Lycan King, Jackson fell to his knees in front of the world, weeping and begging for me to come home. I looked down at the man who destroyed me and smiled cold. "Get up, Jackson. You're embarrassing yourself." "I'm not your wife anymore; I'm the woman who survived you."
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Chapter 4

Elena POV

The banquet hall was a blinding assault of gold lights and crystal glasses.

Officially, it was the "Welcome Party" for Candida-to welcome her as a guest. But the subtext hung heavy in the air, thicker than the scent of roasted meat. Everyone knew what this really was.

It was her coronation in everything but name.

I sat at the far end of the head table, drowning in the shadows. My plate was empty. No one had bothered to serve me.

Jackson sat in the center, with Candida on his right-the seat sacred to the Luna. He was holding her hand, his thumb stroking her knuckles in plain view of the entire Pack.

"Friends, family!" Jackson stood up, raising a glass of champagne. The room went silent. "Tonight, we celebrate new beginnings. Candida has brought a fresh energy to the Bloodmoon Pack. Her vitality is... inspiring."

Cheers erupted. Warriors banged their goblets on the tables, a rhythmic, tribal sound of approval.

"To Candida!" they roared.

I shrank into my chair, feeling the weight of three hundred pairs of eyes sliding over me. Some held pity; most held nothing but sharp, glinting mockery.

Jackson turned to Candida. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small velvet box.

My breath hitched, stuttering in my chest. I knew that box.

He opened it, revealing a brooch made of sapphires and diamonds. The Pack Crest.

"This belonged to my grandmother," Jackson said, his voice thick with fake emotion. "She wanted the woman who holds the heart of the Pack to wear it."

He pinned it onto Candida's red dress.

That brooch was mine. It was in my jewelry box this morning. He had stolen it.

I stood up. My legs were shaking, but rage surged through me, lending me a brittle kind of strength.

"That is not yours to give," I said. My voice was quiet, but in the sudden, suffocating silence of the hall, it carried like a gunshot.

Jackson froze. He looked at me slowly, his eyes filled with simmering annoyance. "Sit down, Elena. Don't make a scene."

"You stole that from me," I said, stepping forward. "Just like you're stealing my dignity."

"You have no dignity left!" Candida snapped, her mask slipping to reveal the predator beneath. "Look at you. You're a ghost."

Suddenly, a small figure darted through the crowd. It was Joey, Candida's five-year-old son. He ran up to the dais, laughing.

"Mommy! Mommy!" he squealed, tugging on Candida's dress.

"Not now, Joey," Candida hissed, trying to push him away.

"But Mommy, you promised!" Joey shouted, his voice innocent and piercingly loud. "You said... you said after the sick lady is gone... and you make the baby in your tummy go bye-bye... we can get a puppy!"

He jumped excitedly. "And then you and Uncle Jackson will make a real baby!"

The silence that fell over the hall was instant and absolute.

Every wolf froze.

Make the baby in your tummy go bye-bye?

Candida was pregnant? And she was planning to abort it to secure her position with Jackson?

And "get rid of the sick lady." A child doesn't invent details like that.

Jackson looked down at Joey, then at Candida. For a second, the Alpha mask cracked, revealing pure shock.

"Joey, hush!" Candida shrieked, her face turning pale.

"Is it true?" I asked, my voice trembling. "You're pregnant?"

Candida glared at me, her eyes venomous. "So what if I am? It's none of your business."

"It's Jackson's business," I said, looking at my husband. "Did you know?"

Jackson didn't look at me. He looked at the crowd. He saw the confusion, the judgment, the murmurs rippling through his warriors. He needed to regain control.

He made a choice.

He stepped in front of Candida, shielding her from the crowd's gaze. He looked at me with pure hatred, blaming me for the truth that had just been exposed.

"Enough!" Jackson roared, using his Alpha voice. The power of it vibrated in the floorboards. "Take the boy away. Elena, get to your room. You are confusing the child and ruining the night."

"I'm ruining it?" I laughed, a hysterical, broken sound that scraped my throat. "She just admitted to planning murder!"

"She is the future of this Pack!" Jackson shouted. "And you... you are the past."

He walked up to me. He loomed over me, his shadow swallowing me whole.

"Give me the Scepter," he demanded.

The Luna's Scepter was a small ceremonial wand I carried at formal events. It was the last symbol of my authority.

"No," I whispered.

"Give it to me!"

He grabbed my wrist. His grip was bruising. He wrenched the Scepter from my hand.

The pain was sharp, but the humiliation was worse. It was a public stripping of my rank.

I saw Candida smirking behind him. She had won.

Something inside me snapped. A tether, pulled too tight for too long, finally broke.

I grabbed a wine glass from the table. Red wine, dark as blood.

I didn't think. I just threw it.

The glass shattered against Candida's face. Wine splashed over her expensive dress, and a shard cut her cheek.

She screamed.

Jackson turned, saw the blood on his mistress, and roared.

He spun back to me. His hand raised.

Crack.

The sound of flesh hitting flesh echoed through the hall.

I hit the floor hard. My vision went white. I tasted copper in my mouth.

My husband, my Fated Mate, had struck me.

The bond between us screamed in agony. It felt like my soul was being torn in half, the mystic connection recoiling from the violence.

"Get her out of here," Jackson spat, looking down at me with disgust. "Throw her in the dungeon if you have to. I'm done with her."

He turned back to Candida, scooping her up in his arms, cooing softly to her.

I lay on the cold stone floor, watching them leave. The crowd parted for them. No one helped me. No one looked at me.

I closed my eyes.

The pain in my womb was sharp. My baby.

I have to die, I thought as the darkness took me.

But it wasn't a surrender. It was a strategy.

If Elena lives, the baby dies. So Elena must die.

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