The Real Heir, The False Luna

Alina

The steering wheel felt oddly chilled under my palms despite the harsh afternoon sun pouring through the windshield.

I had just returned from the market at the edge of Nightfall territory, my bags filled with carefully chosen ingredients—rosemary, thick cuts of beef, cream for his mushroom sauce, and the red wine he once said reminded him of “better days.” I always picked everything myself, even with servants available.

Because he liked my cooking.

Because whenever Alpha Soren ate what I made, the sharpness in his gray eyes softened, and for a moment, it felt like I mattered.

I placed the last bag on the passenger seat and leaned back, exhaling slowly. Five years. Three as his lover, two as his fiancée, still waiting for a wedding that never came.

He had proposed under the silver oak tree behind the packhouse, holding my hands like I was fragile and irreplaceable, saying, “You’re the only one who stayed.” I believed him.

I always did.

On my way back to the packhouse, I passed Mooncrest Bistro, his favorite restaurant just outside the pack borders—a neutral place where alphas often held business dinners. He liked it for its human-style dishes in wolf-sized portions, once calling it the “best of both worlds.”

A thought lingered. He had been distant lately—always “busy” with meetings, patrols, and alliances. Last night, he barely touched my food.

Maybe he was just overwhelmed. Maybe takeout from Mooncrest would make him smile again.

Without overthinking, I parked.

The bell chimed softly as I entered, warm air greeting me, scented with roasted garlic and grilled meat. My wolf stirred faintly at the familiar comfort.

My eyes moved through the room.

And then I saw him.

Alpha Soren.

He sat by a corner window seat, sunlight spilling over him, softening the sharp lines of his face. He looked… at ease. More at ease than he had been around me in a long time.

A smile formed on my lips before I could stop it. So he really was here.

I straightened my cardigan, a strange nervousness I hadn’t felt in years suddenly settling in, and started walking toward him. In my mind, I imagined slipping into the seat beside him, teasing him for not telling me he was here, maybe even stealing food from his plate just to annoy him.

But I slowed.

He wasn’t alone.

Across from him sat a woman. At first, it was only her hair—long, dark, falling in soft waves almost identical to mine. Then she shifted, and my breath caught.

Her face. The shape of her nose, her lips, even the faint curve of her smile.

It was like looking at a reflection—only softer, more refined, almost unreal.

I stopped completely.

No. That’s impossible. There are plenty of women with dark hair.

But then she laughed.

And Alpha Soren smiled.

Not just any smile—but one I had not seen directed at me in years.

I moved without realizing it, slipping closer and stopping behind a decorative pillar near their table. Close enough to hear. Close enough to confirm what I was seeing.

He leaned forward, elbows resting on the table, his gaze warm.

“I know how much you loved this place when we were children,” he said in a low, familiar tone. “You used to beg your father just to bring us here every full moon.”

The woman’s eyes lit up. “You really remembered everything about me, Alpha.” She reached out, brushing his hand lightly. “I can’t wait to marry you and become your Luna.”

Marry. Luna.

The words struck me like a violent blow to the chest.

My heart skipped before pounding painfully against my ribs.

Marry? But I’m his fiancée.

My hands trembled as I pulled out my phone, dialing his number without thinking. My vision blurred slightly.

Across the room, his phone lit up on the table.

He glanced at it.

For a brief second, I thought I saw surprise flash in his eyes. Then it vanished, replaced by something cold and controlled.

He turned the phone over and ended the call.

Just like that.

No hesitation.

The woman tilted her head slightly. “Who was that?”

“No one important,” he answered smoothly, not even glancing in my direction. “Just someone from the pack.”

No one important.

Five years.

Five years of standing beside him through his nightmares. Five years of enduring whispers that I was nothing more than “the maid who seduced the Alpha.” Five years of believing I mattered.

No one important.

I quickly typed a message instead. Are you busy? I’m near Mooncrest.

His phone vibrated again. This time, he didn’t even look. He continued speaking to her as if nothing had interrupted him at all.

“I’ll handle everything,” he said gently. “Just a few loose matters to settle.”

She hesitated. “What about… her?”

Her.

My stomach dropped.

He sighed faintly, as though the question itself was tiring. “I’ll get rid of that maid first. Then I’ll formally introduce you to the pack.”

That maid.

The world around me tilted.

So that was all I was. Not his fiancée. Not his future Luna. Just… that maid.

My breath caught, refusing to come properly.

Inside me, my wolf whined softly, confused and wounded. For wolves, betrayal cut deeper than anything else. Even chosen bonds carried sacred weight.

I stepped back unsteadily, nearly bumping into a passing waiter. I muttered an apology I barely heard myself say before turning and rushing out.

The moment the door closed behind me, I ran.

I didn’t know where I was going. I just ran.

Past parked vehicles. Past market stalls. Past the forest line marking pack territory.

My lungs burned, but I didn’t stop.

Was I only ever a reflection of her? Was that the reason he chose me that night?

The memory returned without warning.

Five years ago.

I had been kneeling on the cold floor of the packhouse hall, cleaning spilled liquor after one of his drunken breakdowns. I was just a maid in the Nightfall Pack then.

Alpha Soren, once powerful and feared, had been broken. The pack was unstable, and he drank himself unconscious almost every night.

I was new. Invisible. Until he suddenly grabbed my face.

His grip was rough, yet trembling. He tilted my chin upward and stared at me as though he were seeing a ghost.

“You’re back… you’re back for me, Evelina,” he whispered hoarsely.

Then he collapsed.

I wasn’t Evelina. I was Alina.

But the next day, he came looking for me. He apologized, spoke to me, and little by little, his drinking lessened while the emptiness in his eyes softened. Eventually, he began to smile again.

He told me I had saved him.

I once believed it was fate. Now I wondered if I had only been convenient.

I don’t even remember how I got back to the packhouse. By nightfall, I was already lying alone in our bed, staring at the ceiling.

He never came home—or maybe he did, I couldn’t tell. I didn’t move when the door creaked open; I only pretended to be asleep.

But sleep never came.

Every time I closed my eyes, I saw her face.

My face. No—her face.

Morning arrived too quickly.

The packhouse was unusually lively. Laughter echoed from below, mixed with hurried footsteps and excited whispers. My head throbbed heavily from the sleepless night.

A young omega maid knocked softly at my door.

“Miss Alina? There are visitors downstairs. The Alpha said you should cook… he said he missed your food.”

Missed.

The word tasted bitter.

I forced myself upright, washing my face with cold water until my skin stung. I dressed simply and tied my hair the way he liked.

Because I needed to see it through.

As I went down the grand staircase, the voices grew clearer.

Then I saw them.

Two strangers sat in the main hall—a man and a woman.

The woman from the restaurant looked even more striking in daylight, wearing a cream dress with a graceful posture and a soft, composed smile.

She looked like me.

Or maybe I looked like her.

Alpha Soren stood beside them. When his eyes met mine, something flickered across his face before he quickly masked it.

“Alina,” he said. “Come here.”

I walked forward slowly, each step heavier than the last.

“These are my childhood friends,” he continued. “They just returned from abroad.”

The man stood and offered his hand. “Gideon. Pleasure to meet you.”

I shook it automatically.

Then Soren turned to the woman, his voice softening in a way I knew too well.

“And this,” he said, “is Evelina.”

The name echoed violently inside my mind.

Evelina.

Five years ago, he had whispered it against my skin, holding my face like I was something sacred.

You’re back… you’re back for me, Evelina.

Everything suddenly made sense—the way he had looked at me like I was a miracle, the delays, the fading affection over time.

Because she had not been here yet.

And now she was.

So all this time… I was never the one he chose.

I was only what remained in her absence.

A replacement.