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Nimue POV

It was funny how quickly time could rewrite a person's life.

I say this so much has changed in my life over the past couple of years, six years to be precise. I do not know if what I feel is gratitude bubbling inside me or perhaps I was nervous. I managed to hide my emotions perfectly as I sat before the vanity mirror in the master bedroom, watching the omega maid put the finishing touches on my hair. My dark curls spilled elegantly over one shoulder, styled to absolute perfection. I simply leaned back, we had been doing my make up for over three hours, allowing her to do her work, admiring how the stunning black dress I wore hugged my curves. It made me look completely feminine, yet radiating an undeniable she-power.

"You look absolutely breathtaking, Luna Nimue," the maid murmured, adjusting the silver diamonds resting on my neck.

"Thank you, Mara," I replied, offering her a soft smile, “I guess this will be all for now, or there’s more?”

“No…not at all Luna” she replied with her head bowed.

Before I could rise, the doors to the bedroom opened. My son, Reggie, trotted inside, holding a tiny toy wolf tightly in his small hands. He looked up at me with wide, dreamy eyes, his dark curly hair perfectly framing his little jaw. My chest instantly filled with warmth. There was something about the way he stared at me that had me thanking the moon goddess for making me his mom.

"Mommy?" he called out, a hesitant tug on my dress drawing my attention.

"Yes, my love?" I murmured, leaning down to smooth his collar.

"Is the guest here yet? Dad said we cant eat until the guest arrives. I am hungry"

Before I could answer, a deep, authoritative voice spoke from the doorway. "Our guest should be arriving any moment now, my boy. Why are you so hyped up?"

My husband stepped into the room. He looked commanding as always in his tailored suit, but his expression softened beautifully the moment his gaze fell upon Reggie and me. Over the past few years, my loving husband had and still has been my anchor. From the moment we married, he had been an unwavering pillar of support.

He walked over, pressing a gentle kiss to my forehead. "I will go down to greet him first. Wait for my call, Nimue."

"Of course," I replied calmly.

After he left, a solemn silence settled over the room. Mara began organizing the cosmetics on the vanity, but my heart rate gave an uncharacteristic spike.

I tried not to give off the impression that I was nervous or anticipatory of our guest, but I was. Six years was enough to be a good liar.

Nearly about an hour later, for the seventh time today, another knock rattled the door. An omega maid stepped inside, bowing her head. "Luna, the young Alpha from overseas has just arrived. Your husband requests your presence when you are ready."

"Thank you. Tell him I will be down shortly," I said.

But as the door clicked shut, a strange paralysis gripped me. I stared at my reflection. The young Alpha. My stepson.

I took a deep, shaky breath, suddenly unsure if I was ready to face the ghosts of my past. I delayed, picking up a lipstick I didn't need, smoothing my already immaculate dress. Minutes bled into one another.

And I remained painfully unsure.

The door opened again, and Mara stepped back in, looking anxious. "Luna? Your husband sent me to check on you. Is everything alright?"

"Yes," I lied, my voice tight. "I’m coming."

Holding Reggie’s small, warm hand, I finally stepped out of the bedroom and into the long corridor. The mansion felt unusually quiet, until I approached the top of the staircase. Keeping myself hidden in the deep shadows of the railing, I looked down toward the foyer.

"Dad. It’s good to be back." I heard a rich masculine voice say.

My breath caught in my throat. The world around me seemed to tilt.

It was him. It was undeniably him.

Just hearing the smooth, deep cadence of his tone sent a sudden, agonizing ache straight through my chest—a gust of pain I thought I had buried years ago resurfaced instantly. Flashbacks hit me like a physical blow.

I remembered the night he had made love to me—the desperate, breathless promises whispered as he claimed me, leaving me equally breathless, sweet pain blooming inside me. And then, the excruciating agony of the morning after. The morning I woke up to a cold, empty bed, realizing he had vanished without a single goodbye. I remembered waiting for days by the window, staring out at nothing in particular, praying for a letter, a text, any sign that he hadn't truly abandoned me. I had been so terrified that something terrible had happened to him—only to find out weeks later that he had simply departed. He had left me behind without a second thought.

In that quiet moment down the memory lane, loneliness engulfed me, it was a kind of benign loneliness I was familiar with back then, tearing my heart into so many pieces that the pain became too much to bear.

So, piece by piece, I had let it freeze. The weak, fragile girl who cried herself to sleep was dead. In her place stood the Luna of the Hathaway pack. And I swear by the moon goddess, I would make Reginald pay for betraying me like this.

From where I hid myself, I could see Reginald the center of the entrance hall, tossing his jacket onto a nearby chair. America had changed him. He looked broader, older, his suit fitting his muscular frame perfectly.

"The flight was brutal," Reginald said, looking around with a proprietary air. "But the house looks exactly the same."

"A lot has changed, actually," Gerald replied, a sharp edge to his tone. "While you were away, the dynamics of this household shifted. You are no longer the only heir residing here, Reginald. I have taken a wife."

Reginald froze, his hand pausing on his collar. He blinked, staring at his father in sheer disbelief. "A wife? You remarried? Who on earth did you marry?."

The curiosity in Reginald's voice was palpable, I wondered what his response would be if he saw me. I hope he maintains the same energy for those years.

I squeezed Reggie's hand. "Are you ready, my love?"

"Yes, Mommy."

I stepped out of the shadows. My heels make soft clicks as I took a gentle stride down.

At the sound, Reginald’s eyes instantly drifted upward.

Our gazes locked across the vast expanse of the hall. I watched his expression melt from smug curiosity into absolute, blinding shock. The color completely drained from his face.

He was completely, utterly unraveled.

“Nimue…” The name left his mouth like a dying gasp, as if he were looking at a ghost.