Luna's suggestion

(Vivian's POV)

Morning light filtered through the curtains, warming my face and pulling me from sleep. I reached across the large bed instinctively, my hand finding nothing but cold sheets where Sylvan should have been.

Sighing, I slid out of bed. 7:30 a.m --earlier than I usually get up for my shift at the medical center. I threw on my robe, then walked to the living room.

There he was.

Sylvan sat on our leather couch, already dressed in a perfectly tailored charcoal suit. His dark hair was neatly combed back, emphasizing the sharp angles of his face. His fingers moved rapidly across his laptop keyboard, his focus complete until I stepped into the room.

Those ice-blue eyes flickered toward me briefly, taking in my disheveled appearance before returning to his screen.

"Where's Martha?" he asked without preamble, his deep voice filling the quiet morning air.

I crossed my arms over my chest. "I gave her a vacation."

"A vacation?" Now he looked up properly, his expression questioning. "Since when do you make decisions about the household staff?"

"Since I've been living alone in this house for three years," I replied, trying to keep my voice neutral. "Martha needed time off, so I gave it to her."

Sylvan's jaw tightened slightly. "And who's handling the cooking and cleaning in her absence?"

"I am."

He looked genuinely surprised for a moment before his face settled back into its usual mask of indifference. "I see."

I turned toward the kitchen. "I'll make breakfast."

"Don't bother," he said, turning back to his laptop.

Ignoring him, I proceeded to the kitchen anyway. If he didn't want to eat, fine, but I was hungry. I quickly gathered ingredients for a simple meal – eggs and bacon.

As I was plating the food, I felt Sylvan's presence behind me. He leaned against the doorframe, watching me with an unreadable expression.

"Is that what you normally eat?" he asked, eyeing the plates I'd prepared for both of us.

"Yes," I replied, placing the plates on our small breakfast table. "It's quick and simple."

His lips quirked into something resembling a smirk. "Is that what you've been feeding yourself all this time? No wonder you've lost weight."

The comment stung more than it should have. I set my jaw and met his gaze directly.

"This is enough for me in the morning," I said evenly. "You can eat what you like."

He was about to respond when a small movement caught his attention. From beneath the kitchen island hopped a small brown rabbit, its left hind leg wrapped in a tiny bandage.

Sylvan's eyebrows shot up. "What the hell is that?"

"A rabbit," I answered flatly, bending down to gently scoop up the little creature.

"I can see it's a rabbit," he growled. "What is it doing in our house?"

I stroked the animal's soft fur, feeling it tremble slightly in my hands. "I found him injured by the edge of our territory. He'd been attacked by something—probably a fox—but managed to escape."

"So you brought it into our home?" Disbelief colored his voice. "Where did you get it from?"

I couldn't help but roll my eyes. "I gave birth to it, Sylvan. What do you think?"

His expression darkened. "Don't be ridiculous. What wolf could give birth to a rabbit?"

"It was sarcasm," I muttered, placing the rabbit back on the floor. "I told you, I found him injured and brought him here to heal. That's what healers do."

"Get rid of it," he ordered. "Release it back into the forest before I return tonight."

Phoebe growled inwardly at his callousness. I felt my own temper rising but fought to keep my expression calm. Making a scene wouldn't help the situation.

"Fine," I replied coldly. "I'll release him once his leg is fully healed."

I glanced at the clock and realized I needed to leave for work soon. Quickly eating a few bites of my breakfast, I hurried back to our bedroom to change into my work clothes—simple dark slacks and a powder blue blouse appropriate for the medical center.

When I emerged, ready to leave, Sylvan was still at his laptop. I grabbed my keys from the counter and headed for the door.

"Vivian," he called, stopping me in my tracks. "Last night, when you called my name... what were you trying to say?"

I froze, my hand on the doorknob. Last night, in that moment of vulnerability, I'd wanted to ask if there was any chance for us to start over. If there was any hope for our fractured bond. But in the harsh light of day, with his cold demeanor firmly back in place, that moment of weakness seemed foolish.

"Nothing important," I replied. "I'm running late. I need to go."

Without waiting for his response, I slipped out the door and into the crisp morning air, taking a deep breath to steady myself for the day ahead.

The pack medical center was already bustling when I arrived. Three young wolves had gotten into a scuffle during early morning training, resulting in various cuts and bruises that needed attention.

"Dr. Bennett, thank goodness you're here," Sarah Parker, my assistant, greeted me with obvious relief. "We've got a full morning scheduled, and Dr. Thompson called in sick."

I hung up my coat and immediately washed my hands. "Prep Room 2 for the injuries, Sarah. I'll see them right away."

The morning flew by in a blur of patients. A sprained ankle from a young wolf who'd fallen during climbing practice. An elder with chronic joint pain seeking relief. A pregnant she-wolf coming in for her monthly check-up. By the time I glanced at the clock, it was nearly two in the afternoon.

My stomach growled, reminding me that I'd barely eaten lunch. I was considering a quick break when my phone rang. The name on the screen made my heart sink: Elizabeth Thorne.

Taking a deep breath, I answered. "Hello, Mrs. Thorne."

"Vivian." Her voice was crisp and formal as always. "I need you to come to the pack house immediately."

My grip tightened on the phone. "I'm in the middle of my shift at the medical center."

"This isn't a request," she replied. "As Luna of this pack, I expect you here within the half-hour."

The line went dead before I could respond. A familiar dread settled in my stomach as I gathered my things and informed Sarah I'd be out for the rest of the afternoon.

During the drive to the pack house, I couldn't help but think about the incident that had led to Martha's dismissal. Just last week, I'd attended the obligatory tea gathering for high-ranking females in the pack. I'd excused myself to use the restroom and overheard Martha gossiping with a group of omega females in an adjacent room.

"The poor boy was forced into it by Elder Margaret," Martha had said, her voice carrying clearly to my sensitive ears. "Sylvan never wanted to mate with Vivian. That's why he left for human territory—to find his true love."

The words had cut deep, especially because they echoed my own insecurities about our relationship. When I confronted Martha later, she'd apologized profusely, claiming she was just repeating pack rumors. But the damage was done. My already fragile position in the pack had been compromised further.

I'd dismissed her the next day, giving her a generous severance package and suggesting she take a long vacation. I couldn't bear to have someone in my home who spoke about me with such disrespect behind my back.

The pack house loomed ahead, an imposing structure that reflected the Thorne family's status as rulers of our territory. I parked my car and steeled myself for the encounter to come.

Elizabeth Thorne awaited me in the formal sitting room, her posture perfect as she sat at the edge of an antique chair. Her silver-streaked dark hair was pulled into an elegant twist, and her eyes—the same ice blue as Sylvan's—regarded me with thinly veiled disapproval.

"Sit," she commanded, gesturing to the chair across from her.

I obeyed, maintaining the respectful demeanor expected when addressing the Luna. "You wanted to see me, Mrs. Thorne?"

"I understand you've dismissed Martha Collins from your household," she began, her tone suggesting I'd committed a grave offense. "Without consulting anyone."

I kept my expression neutral. "Yes. I felt it was necessary."

"Necessary?" She raised an eyebrow. "Martha has served our family loyally for twenty years. She was assigned to your household as a courtesy, to help you maintain a home worthy of my son."

Her emphasis on "my son" wasn't lost on me. In Elizabeth's eyes, I would never be good enough for Sylvan—despite the fact that she herself had never shown him much affection or approval.

"Martha was spreading rumors about my relationship with Sylvan," I explained calmly. "I felt it undermined my position."

Elizabeth waved a dismissive hand. "Servants gossip, Vivian. It's what they do. A true Luna would know how to manage household staff without creating drama."

The criticism stung, but I was used to Elizabeth's objections by now. I remained silent, knowing from experience that defending myself would only prolong this unpleasant conversation.

"This reflects poorly on our family," she continued. "You can't even manage a single servant in your villa. How do you expect to eventually take on Luna responsibilities if you can't maintain a household?"

I bit back the retort that I had no desire to be Luna. That role would go to William's future mate, not me. I was the second son's wife—a position that carried far less prestige in Elizabeth's eyes.

"Perhaps if you focused more on serving my son properly instead of busying yourself with your...healing job," she continued, the slight pause making it clear what she thought of my profession, "these issues wouldn't arise."

I clenched my jaw, feeling Phoebe bristling at the insult to our work. Healing wasn't just a job to me—it was my calling, my purpose.

"Do you expect Sylvan to help you with cooking and housework?" Elizabeth asked, her tone making it clear how absurd she found the notion. "He's a Blood Moon leader, for goddess's sake. He has more important matters to attend to."

I thought painfully of the early days, when Sylvan and I were first tagging. Before our relationship soured, he had indeed helped with cooking and household chores. Those brief, sweet moments when we'd worked side by side in the kitchen were among my most treasured memories.

But I knew better than to voice that thought in front of the Luna who was also his mother.

So I sat there silently, enduring her criticism, as I had done so many times before.