DIVORCE

MAYA

The house is cool. A calm, quiet peace has settled over the grand halls for the first time in months, mostly because I stopped reading the mysterious book.

Without the ancestral magic vibrating through the stone walls every night, the ghost visions in Maria’s room have faded away. Maria is almost getting better physically, her bleeding slowing down to a faint trickle, but mentally, she is a hollow shell of the woman she used to be. And Edward is now fully in charge of the house and pack. He sits at the head of the long dining table every morning, signing pack decrees, managing the warrior patrols, and commanding respect with a sharp, clear mind that no longer bends to Maria's manipulation.

Me, I am getting better too.

Every morning when I look into the small copper mirror hanging near my washbasin, I can see the rough, dark lines on my face fading away. My skin is turning smooth, soft, and radiant once again, taking on a healthy golden glow. The 36 days healing will be over in the next two days, and I can't wait to have sex with my Edward again. My heart flutters like a young girl's whenever he walks past me in the hallway, his natural male scent of cedarwood and rain pulling at my soul. I miss his touch, his warmth, and the feeling of his strong arms wrapped tightly around my waist without any spiritual wall keeping us apart.

Then something came up tonight. Well, not tonight, it actually started early this morning during breakfast.

The morning sun was pouring through the grand stained-glass windows of the dining hall, lighting up the massive mahogany table. Edward was sitting at the head, dressed in his dark warrior tunic, calmly spreading butter over a warm slice of bread. I was sitting two chairs away, quietly eating my porridge and minding my own business as a dutiful maid and second wife.

Suddenly, the heavy oak doors banged open.

Maria marched into the dining room, her silk robe dragging along the marble floor. Her face was pale, her dark eyes hollow, but her mouth was set in a tight, desperate line. She looked like a woman who knew she was losing her grip on everything she had stolen, making one last frantic attempt to assert her power.

She slammed her hands onto the table, making the silver spoons clatter loudly against the porcelain plates.

"I cannot live like this anymore!" Maria shouted, her voice echoing off the high ceilings. "I want those cursed paintings down! Every single one of them!"

Edward didn't even look up from his plate. He calmly took a bite of his bread, chewed slowly, and dabbed his lips with a linen napkin. "Which paintings, Maria?"

"You know which paintings!" she shrieked, pointing a trembling finger toward the grand hallway where the golden-framed portraits of the royal bloodline hung. "Philomena! Her face is everywhere! In the main foyer, in the library, in the upstairs gallery! Her ghost is haunting me because her pictures are still hanging in this house! I want them burned today!"

Edward slowly set his napkin down on the table. He turned his deep amber eyes toward her, his expression completely unbothered, as cool and still as a winter lake. "And if I say no?"

Maria puffed out her chest, trying to summon the terrifying authority she used to hold over him years ago. She glared at him, her eyes flashing with a threat she thought would bring him to his knees.

"If you do not remove Philomena's pictures from this house," Maria announced loudly, her voice trembling with fake confidence, "then I will leave this marriage! I will pack my bags, strip my Luna title, and walk out of your life forever!"

She stood there, breathing heavily, waiting for Edward to panic. She waited for him to beg her to stay, to order the guards to pull down the portraits, or to apologize for hurting her feelings.

Instead, I watched Edward smile.

It wasn't a bitter smile, nor was it an angry one. It was a genuine, relaxed, amused smile that reached all the way to his sharp eyes. He leaned back in his tall leather chair, rested his hands over his stomach, and looked directly into her shocked face.

"Oh, that is even better," Edward said smoothly.

His voice was so calm, so light, and so completely devoid of care that the entire room seemed to freeze. He was straight and real about it with no pretense. He didn't even try to hide his relief. It was as if she had just offered him the greatest gift he had ever received in his entire life.

Maria’s jaw dropped open. The color drained completely from her face, leaving her looking more like a ghost than the spirits she claimed to see in the dark.

"What..." Maria stuttered, her voice cracking as her confidence shattered into a thousand sharp pieces. "What did you just say?"

"I said that is even better," Edward repeated softly, tilting his head with a slight shrug. "If my dead wife's memory offends you so much that you want to dissolve our union, I will not stand in your way, Maria. You are free to pack your bags whenever you wish."

Maria stood paralyzed beside the table, her hands shaking so violently she had to hold onto the back of a chair to keep from falling over. She looked at Edward, then her eyes darted toward me, sitting quietly with my spoon suspended in mid-air. She saw the quiet, triumphant light gleaming in my eyes, and a wave of pure, ugly rage washed over her features.

"You want me gone?!" she screamed, her voice turning shrill and hysterical as tears of humiliation spilled over her cheeks. "After everything I did for this pack?! After everything I sacrificed to stand beside you?!"

"You sacrificed nothing," Edward replied coldly, his smile vanishing, replaced by an icy glare that made her flinch. "Philomena was the true Luna of this house. Her blood built these walls. Her memory stays. If you cannot handle looking at the face of the woman whose place you tried to take, the gates are open."

"Edward divorcing me means I take back my throne and this house?!" Maria spat out in a frenzy, her voice choking on her own pride as she backed away from the table. "You think you can just throw me out like trash?! You think I will just walk away and let you give everything to this low-lifed maid?!"

She pointed a furious, blood-red fingernail at my face, her chest heaving with bitter hatred. "I built this empire! I am the Luna! You will regret this, Edward! You will rue the day you chose a dead woman over me!"

She spun on her heel, her silk robe billowingly behind her as she stormed out of the dining table, her heavy footsteps echoing down the corridor until her bedroom door slammed shut so hard the chandelier above us rattled.

Silence descended over the dining room once again.

My heart was hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird. My mind was spinning with a million thoughts. Was it really happening? Was the woman who had stolen my life, murdered my body, and bound my soul finally being cast out of my home by the very man she had tried to control?

I looked down at my plate, my breath catching in my throat as I tried to process the sheer joy and disbelief swelling inside my chest.

Edward let out a soft, heavy sigh. He reached across the white tablecloth, his large, warm hand gently covering mine. His touch was firm and reassuring, sending a soothing wave of heat straight through my skin.

"Eat your food, Maya," Edward said gently, his voice soft and tender as he looked into my eyes. "And do not worry about her. She is yet to explain why she has a problem with a lady that died many years ago."

I looked up into his deep amber eyes, seeing the genuine sincerity and protection lingering in his gaze. He didn't know that the lady in the pictures was sitting right in front of him, eating porridge in a servant's dress. He didn't know that the memory he was defending so fiercely was the very soul holding his hand across the table.

"Yes, My Lord," I whispered softly, letting a sweet, genuine smile curve my lips as I squeezed his fingers back.

"Good girl," he murmured, giving my hand a gentle squeeze before letting go to finish his breakfast.

I picked up my silver spoon and took a bite of my warm porridge, the sweet taste of cinnamon bursting on my tongue.

Only two more days. Two more days until my 36-day spiritual healing was complete, two more days until my skin was fully restored to its royal beauty, and two more days until Maria packed her bags and left my palace forever. The Goddess of the Moon had taken a long, painful path to bring me back, but as I sat beside my mate in the quiet, sunlit room, I knew my throne was finally coming back home to me.