Novels by LUNA

CHAPTER 5The top floor of Titan Group headquarters was dead quiet. The only illumination came from the eerie, pulsing blue light emitted by the silver key sitting on my desk and the gray morning daylight filtering through the window blinds. Theodore grabbed my arm, his grip firm and reassuring. "Leave everything except the key, Evelyn! Move right now!"I snatched the glowing silver key from the velvet box. The moment my bare skin touched the cool metal, a strange, warm sensation rushed up my arm, making my heart race. The blue light pulsed brighter, projecting a series of tiny, floating geometric coordinates onto the palm of my hand like golden dust."It's reacting to your bloodline," Theodore muttered, pulling me swiftly toward the concealed private elevator hidden behind my main bookshelf. "Your biological father built that cryptographic lock to respond strictly to direct genetic contact. Nobody else on earth can activate that key.""Who is coming for us, Theodore?" I demanded as

CHAPTER FOURBy nine o'clock the following morning, the financial world was in absolute pandemonium. Every major newspaper, corporate blog, and television channel carried the exact same front-page image: Mark Vance bowing in shame at the Grand Annual Gala beneath the bold headline: *THE GHOST QUEEN RETURNS: SECRET CEO OF TITAN GROUP MARRIES THEODORE VANCE.*I sat behind the expansive black mahogany desk on the top floor of Titan Group's corporate headquarters, watching the morning sun stream through the floor-to-ceiling glass windows. The room was cold, clean, and quiet. I was finally sitting in the seat I had earned through eight years of silent, tireless labor.The double doors of my executive suite were suddenly thrown open with a violent bang.Mark burst into the room. He looked unrecognizable. His hair was messy, his expensive suit was rumpled and unbuttoned, and heavy dark circles hung beneath his bloodshot eyes. He looked like a man who hadn't slept a single minute in thirty-si

CHAPTER THREEThe two weeks I spent recovering inside Theodore’s secluded private estate passed in a blur of focused preparation. Theodore did not merely offer me a place to heal; he turned his estate into a command center. Top medical specialists checked my ribs daily, while my personal legal team from Titan Group worked around the clock in the library downstairs.From the screen of my laptop, I watched Vance Enterprises begin its slow, internal bleed. Without my daily oversight, Mark’s upper management was falling into complete chaos. Supply lines were running behind schedule, key clients were complaining about missed deadlines, and Mark was spending most of his time buying expensive jewelry for Sarah and hosting lavish press conferences. He was living on borrowed time, completely unaware that his foundation was crumbling beneath his feet."It is time to leave, Evelyn," Theodore said, entering the study on the evening of the Grand Annual Gala.He brought with him a team of high-end

CHAPTER TWOThe harsh, sterile smell of bleach and antiseptic was the first thing that hit my senses when I woke up. My eyelids felt heavy, like they were made of lead, and every breath I took brought a sharp, burning ache to my right ribs.I blinked slowly, adjusting to the dim light of a private hospital room. The walls were painted a quiet cream, and long linen curtains covered the high windows. A clean IV drip was connected to the back of my left hand, ticking steadily."Do not try to sit up too quickly," a calm, deep voice ordered from the corner of the room.I turned my head carefully. Theodore Vance was sitting in a high-backed leather chair beside the window. He was dressed in a crisp white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms, reading through a stack of thick legal files. He didn't look tired, nor did he look hurried. He possessed an aura of total, quiet control."Where... where is Mark?" I asked. My voice sounded raspy and thin, like dry leaves scraping across pa

CHAPTER ONEI stood at the back of the crowded banquet hall, holding a glass of cheap champagne that had gone warm in my hand. Around me, bright crystal chandeliers lit up the room, throwing sharp white light over women in silk gowns and men in tailored dark suits. Everyone was laughing, exchanging business cards, and clinking glasses to celebrate the seventh anniversary of Vance Enterprises.In the center of it all stood Mark Vance, my husband. He was twenty-nine, tall, dark-haired, and possessed the kind of sharp jawline that made investors trust him instantly. He looked every bit the powerful CEO the city believed him to be. He was talking to a cluster of bankers, smiling that charismatic smile that had once made my heart race. He didn't look back at me. Not once. For seven years, I had been the silent ghost in Mark’s machine. When he started Vance Enterprises in a cramped, drafty garage with barely enough money for coffee, I was the one who sat beside him until four in the morni