The restaurant was more luxurious than I expected.

From the moment we walked in, I felt out of place. The scent of wine and roasted meat filled the air, but instead of stirring hunger, it knotted my stomach tighter.

“Miss Lyanna,” the hostess greeted with an eager smile, bowing slightly as though she had been expecting her. “What an honor. Your table is ready.”

“Thank you,” Lyanna replied, her voice lilting like music.

Marcus and Adrian both straightened at her side, their faces proud, as if they were the ones being honored. I walked behind them, nothing more than a shadow trailing after the people who should have been my family.

Jeremy clung to Lyanna’s hand, tugging her along with boyish excitement. His laughter rang out, drawing affectionate glances from strangers at nearby tables.

When we reached the table, the staff pulled out chairs with practiced grace. One for Marcus, one for Adrian, one for Lyanna. They seated her between the two of them, as though she were the centerpiece of our group. Jeremy scrambled into the chair beside her before I could even move closer.

That left me at the far end of the table, across from no one, half-hidden in the shadows of the candles. The chair scraped against the floor as I pulled it out myself, the sound sharp and lonely.

The waiter arrived, tall and professional, notepad in hand. His gaze settled immediately on Lyanna.

“Shall I bring the wine list?” he asked.

“Yes, please,” she said warmly. “Something smooth and rich, don’t you think, Adrian?”

Adrian chuckled, leaning closer to her. “I’ll trust your judgment, Lyanna. You’ve always had exquisite taste.”

Marcus nodded at once, as though Lyanna had spoken some profound wisdom. I stayed quiet, though a voice inside me longed to say something.

Maybe I wanted a lighter drink. But before I could speak, Adrian waved his hand dismissively.

“Lyanna will order for everyone. She knows what’s best.”

The words sank into me like a stone sinking into cold water.

When the waiter asked about food, I tried again. “Could we add a simple chicken dish—”

“That won’t suit the evening,” Marcus cut in sharply. “Don’t ruin the celebration with something so plain.”

Lyanna leaned forward with a soft laugh. “I was thinking of the lobster. It’s always been my favorite here.”

My chest tightened.

“I can’t eat shellfish,” I whispered, my voice barely audible. “It makes me sick.”

But Adrian gave me a hard look, his lips pressed thin. “Don’t start this again, Clara. Stop making everything about yourself.”

Marcus sighed, visibly annoyed. “You’ll be fine if you don’t overreact. You’ve always exaggerated these little things.”

Lyanna tilted her head, her expression the picture of innocence. “Oh dear, I didn’t realize. Are you sure it’s that serious?”

“Yes, it is—”

Adrian cut me off, sharp. “You’ll eat something else, then. The rest of us will have the lobster.”

The waiter glanced at me briefly, uncertainty flickering in his eyes, but when no one else spoke up for me, he nodded and wrote the order.

I sat back in my chair, my stomach twisting.

They had just ordered the very thing that could harm me, dismissing my words as if I were nothing more than a petty inconvenience. The humiliation burned deeper than hunger ever could.

When the first round of wine arrived, the table bloomed with conversation. Lyanna spoke about her promotion, about the responsibilities she had taken on with such grace and dedication.

“It wasn’t easy,” she admitted modestly, lowering her lashes. “But I tried my best, and it seems it has been rewarded.”

Marcus’s face softened into admiration. “You’re an inspiration, Lyanna. Truly. The pack is lucky to have you.”

Jeremy piped up eagerly. “Aunt Lyanna, you’re amazing!”

The three of them laughed, warmth glowing in their eyes, pride flowing freely. I sat in silence at the edge of the table, clutching my glass with both hands to hide the trembling in my fingers.

Every word of praise heaped on her carved another wound in me, another reminder of how little I mattered.

When the waiter returned with the main dishes, the scent of lobster filled the air, buttery and rich. Plates gleamed with shells and lemon wedges, steaming and perfect.

Only my dish was different.

It was a plain salad, hastily arranged, set in front of me like an afterthought. There was not even a hint of chicken on it.

Jeremy scrunched his nose. “Why aren’t you eating the same as us, Mama? Didn’t you want lobster?”

Before I could answer, Marcus scoffed. “She’s just being difficult again. Don’t pay it any mind.”

Lyanna reached over, placing a gentle hand on Jeremy’s. “Your mother just has different tastes, darling. Don’t worry.”

Her words weren’t kindness.

They were pity wrapped in sweetness, designed to make her shine brighter while highlighting my failures. My cheeks burned as Jeremy nodded, still clinging to her hand more than mine.

The laughter, the clinking of glasses, the endless praise for Lyanna filled the night.

When dessert arrived, it came with sparklers and clapping from the staff. A small cake, topped with cream, was placed proudly in front of Lyanna.

“Congratulations on your promotion!” the waiter announced cheerfully.

The table erupted again with joy. Lyanna leaned close to Jeremy, pulling him toward her with a radiant smile.

“Help me blow out the candle, Jeremy,” she whispered.

He did. His small breath joined hers, the flame snuffed out in perfect unison, a picture of mother and son.

I could not move.

My fork lay useless in my hand as I watched, my heart shattering with every cheer, every laugh, every congratulation that did not belong to me. No one remembered that tonight was supposed to be my mating anniversary.

The feast I had prepared sat at home, waiting for a family who never intended to come.

When the applause quieted, Adrian raised his glass toward Lyanna.

“Thank you,” he said, his voice carrying the weight of sincerity I hadn’t heard from him in years. “For bringing us all together tonight.”

The wine burned as I swallowed it down, bitter and sharp, but it was nothing compared to the bitterness lodged in my chest.

That’s when I felt a sudden fire in my throat as I started to choke.

I looked down at the dish in front of me.

There wasn’t any seafood that I could see, but I knew immediately that it was my allergy acting up. My throat tightened, constricting with every breath.

I coughed hard, over and over, my chest rattling with each desperate gasp.

At first, Adrian ignored me. But as my coughing grew louder, he turned his head, irritation flashing in his eyes.

“For the love of the Moon, Clara,” he snapped. “Can you not sit still for once? Drink some water. Why can’t you do that by yourself?”

I shook my head, unable to form words. I tried to say it was my allergy, that something was wrong, but my throat closed further. My voice simply wouldn’t come.

Adrian frowned, leaning back in his chair. “Unbelievable. Always something with you.”

Marcus leaned back with a scowl, his voice loud enough for nearby tables to hear.

“She’s doing it again. Always putting on a performance. Honestly, Clara, you’ll fake anything for attention.”

My chest heaved, the coughing tearing at my lungs.

Tears blurred my sight. I raised a trembling hand toward my throat, but Adrian rolled his eyes.

“Don’t start this again,” he hissed. “Every time it’s Lyanna’s moment, you find some way to ruin it.”

Lyanna gasped softly, her hand covering her mouth. Her eyes widened with practiced concern.

“Oh dear, she doesn’t look well. Adrian, maybe we should take her to the hospital. Just in case?”

Marcus let out a sharp laugh. “Hospital? Don’t be ridiculous. She’s been pulling stunts like this for years. It’s pathetic.”

Adrian shook his head, his lip curling with disgust.

“Exactly. She’s jealous. That’s all this is. You can’t even let us celebrate Lyanna’s success without making it about yourself, can you, Clara?”

My chest burned with each cough, but his words hurt even worse. I tried to protest, to tell them I wasn’t pretending, but nothing came out.

Only a rasp of air.

Lyanna leaned forward, her tone dripping with false sweetness. “What if she’s really sick, though? We wouldn’t want to regret not helping her.”

Marcus sneered. “If she’s really sick, then it’s her own fault. Stop babying her. She thrives on this kind of pity.”

Lyanna sighed delicately, lowering her lashes as though burdened by compassion. “I only suggested it out of concern.”

My coughing grew harsher, louder, and soon nearby guests began to glance over. Their murmurs carried embarrassment like a sting.

Marcus groaned, shaking his head.

“Listen to her, coughing like she’s about to die. Always so dramatic. Can’t you stop, Clara? You’re humiliating us.”

Stop? How could I stop when my throat was closing, when each breath felt like it was cutting me open from the inside?

Adrian’s voice snapped through my haze of panic.

“Enough! I won’t let you ruin this dinner. You’ve had your fun, Clara.” He raised his hand and gestured sharply to a waiter. “Take her outside. She’s disturbing everyone.”

I froze, disbelief gripping me tighter than my swollen throat.

Take me outside? Abandon me here when I could barely breathe?

My lips parted, but no sound came. I was helpless.

The waiter hurried over and tugged me to my feet.

“This way, ma’am,” he muttered, irritation in his tone. As he dragged me toward the door, I heard Adrian’s voice one last time.

“She always pulls these stunts,” he said coldly. “Don’t waste your sympathy on her.”

The waiter pushed me out into the night air and let go of me like I was filth. His voice was low, but the disdain was clear. “What an actress. Trying to ruin a family dinner… pathetic.”

He left me there, discarded like trash.

I collapsed by the side of the building, my back pressed against the cold wall, coughing and crying at once. My chest burned, my breaths shallow and desperate.

Helplessness wrapped around me tighter than the pain.

I could still hear their laughter faintly through the restaurant’s walls. The clinking of glasses, the cheerful voices, the celebration that went on as if nothing had happened.

They looked more like a family with her than they ever did with me, even though I was the real family.

A bitter, broken laugh slipped out between coughs. My tears blurred the glow of the streetlights above me. As my lungs screamed for air, I could only feel regret.

Regret that I wasn’t enough. Regret that I tried so hard, only to be cast aside like nothing.

Perhaps this was the break I had been waiting for. The end to the suffering, the silence to all the noise. If death was what awaited me in this dark corner, then maybe…

At last, I could rest.

I woke up in a hospital, the white ceiling above me unfamiliar and glaring under the fluorescent lights.

My body felt heavy, my throat raw, as though I had been clawing for air for hours. A doctor stood beside me, checking my vitals with calm precision.

When he noticed my eyes flutter open, relief softened his expression.

“You’re awake,” he said gently. “You had a severe allergic reaction. You nearly died from respiratory failure. Fortunately, someone brought you here in time. Any later, and it would have been too late.”

The words sank into me like stones dropped into deep water. I swallowed, the ache in my throat sharp, and whispered hoarsely, “Who… who brought me here?”

He glanced at his notes before answering.

“They didn’t leave a name. They just said they saw you collapse outside and rushed you here. A passerby, it seems. A stranger.”

A stranger.

I forced a small smile and whispered my thanks, but inside, something broke.

Why had I expected it to be my family? Why had I hoped it was Adrian, rushing through the night to save me?

I should have known better.

My chest tightened as memories surfaced unbidden of the early days when Adrian courted me, when his voice was soft and filled with promises.

He had sung songs of love to me, painted visions of a future where we would build a family, raise children, and grow old in happiness. I thought we were meant for forever.

But now, looking back, it all felt like pretense.

Perhaps he had never really seen me at all. Maybe Lyanna had always been the shadow in his heart. After all, we shared similarities with some features a resemblance in our younger years.

Maybe every smile at the table, every night we shared the same bed, every dream I thought was ours had been borrowed from his longing for her.

And I, foolish enough, had assumed I was the one he loved.

The door creaked open, pulling me from my thoughts.

A man stepped into the room. His presence filled the space immediately. His smile was charming, his aura calm yet commanding.

There was something in the way he carried himself, something formidable, that reminded me of the Alphas I had lived beside.

He approached the bed slowly, his gaze steady. “You’re awake,” he said.

“You are…” A thought suddenly came to me. I tried to sit up, but my body protested. “You… were the one who helped me?”

He nodded once, casually, as if it had been nothing.

“Why did you help me?” I asked.

He looked at me, and his gaze seemed to hold something peculiar.

“I only did it because I pitied you. I was dining at the restaurant. I saw what happened.”

Shame burned my skin. I gave a self-deprecating smile, trying to hide how hollow I felt.

“It must have been disgraceful to see me like that… coughing, crying, being dragged out like a nuisance.”

He didn’t answer right away. His eyes studied me, quiet and calculating. Then his voice lowered, steady but piercing. “Do you want revenge?”

The question stunned me. I blinked, trying to make sense of it. “Revenge? What are you talking about?”

He leaned closer, his expression unwavering. “I took a fancy to you.”

My heart stumbled. I shook my head quickly. “No, you don’t understand. I’m married. I have a child.”

His lips curved faintly, though his eyes remained sharp.

“Married?” He gave a short laugh, quiet and dismissive. “Is that what you call it? Because what I saw wasn’t a wife. You looked more like a servant than anything else.”

The truth of his words cut deep. I wanted to deny it, but I couldn’t.

He was right.

That was exactly what I had become, an outsider in my own home, a shadow in my own family.

He straightened, his voice turning deliberate.

“I am looking for a Luna. Not in the traditional sense, but as a substitute. Someone to stand beside me, to pretend as my wife. In exchange, I will give you wealth, security, and most importantly, your worth back. No one will treat you like a shadow under my side.”

I stared at him, breath caught in my chest. His offer dangled in front of me like a poisoned fruit. It was dangerous, tempting, impossible to ignore.

“But,” he continued firmly, “you will have to leave your family behind. Your Alpha. Your child. Everything. So I ask you… are you willing?”