Chapter 6: The Moon’s Seal

Lola Pov

"Who is this?" I tightened my grip on the steering wheel, my knuckles turning white.

"I just told you." Williams sounded like he was sitting in a quiet office, his voice steady and calm.

My heart hammered against my ribs. "How did you get this number? This is a private line."

"Listen to me, Lola. You are in a house full of enemies. The woman……."

"I have to go."

"Don't hang up. If you stay there without a plan, you won't make it to next month."

"Goodbye, Mr Schofield." I pressed the end call button and threw the phone onto the passenger seat.

I sat in the silence of the car for a long time, watching a bird hop across the pavement. My breathing was shallow. Slowly, I reached down and hiked up the side of my skirt. I traced the small, pale crescent shape on my skin. I had always thought it was just a quirk of my biology. A mark of being a nobody from the orphanage.

Memories hit me like a physical weight. The cold floor of the orphanage dorm, the headmistress telling me to keep my shirt down because freaks don't get adopted.

I picked up my phone and dialed a number I had memorized years ago but never used.

"Milton and Associates," a woman answered.

"I need to speak to Arthur Milton. Tell him it’s regarding the Nightwood Estate."

There was a long pause. "One moment, please."

A minute later, a gravelly voice came on the line. "Is this really you?"

"It’s Lola. I’m ready to talk about the seat, Arthur. And the trust."

"Your father said you would call when the time was right. He left everything in a blind trust to protect you from the Council. If you want to claim the Nightwood name, you have to do it in person, at the central district office. You'll need the seal."

"I have the seal," I whispered. "What about the company?"

"Tristan has no legal claim to it, Lola. You built it with your own capital. But if you die without a will, it reverts to your spouse. Is everything okay? You sound... different."

"I'm fine. I'll be in your office in forty-eight hours. Have the papers ready. I’m taking everything back."

I hung up and took a deep breath. The air felt sharper, clearer. My wolf wasn't pacing anymore. She was sitting still, waiting.

I drove home.

The house was quiet when I walked in, but the smell of roasting meat hit me immediately. It was a domestic scent, something that used to make me feel safe. Now, it just smelled like a trap.

"Lola? Is that you?" Tristan called out from the dining room.

I walked in. The table was set for three. Sofia was already sitting there, a glass of red wine in her hand. She looked comfortable. Too comfortable. She was wearing one of my old silk robes, the one Tristan bought me for our third anniversary.

"You're late," Tristan said, pulling out a chair for me. He didn't look angry. He looked pitying. "I was worried you’d had another episode."

"I'm fine. Just a long day at the office." I sat down.

Sofia smiled at me, but her eyes stayed on Tristan. "I hope you don't mind. I was feeling a bit chilled, and Tristan said I could borrow this."

"It suits you," I said. My voice was flat. "It always was a bit tight on me."

Tristan sat at the head of the table and began carving the roast. "The nanny said the baby finally went down for a nap. Sofia has a magic touch with her. It’s incredible."

"Is it?" I looked at Sofia. "Where did you learn to handle newborns so well? I don't remember you ever mentioning working with kids in Europe."

Sofia took a slow sip of her wine. "You pick things up. I spent some time volunteering at a clinic in France. You know how it is. You see a baby crying, and you just want to help."

"She’s a natural," Tristan added, placing a slice of meat on my plate. "Better than the professionals we hired."

I picked up my fork and moved the food around. I felt their eyes on me. They were watching for a cough. They were watching for a stumble.

"You haven't touched your water," Tristan noted, pointing to the glass where he usually dropped my pill. It was already dissolved, the liquid slightly cloudy.

"I'm not thirsty yet."

"You need to stay hydrated, love. The doctor was very specific about the medication's side effects."

He watched me. I knew I couldn't refuse it outright without starting a fight I wasn't ready for. I picked up the glass and brought it to my lips.

I tilted it back, letting the water fill my mouth, but I didn't swallow. I reached for my napkin, pretended to cough, and spat the liquid into the thick fabric.

"There," I said, setting the empty glass down. "Better?"

Tristan’s shoulders relaxed. "Much. We just want you to be comfortable, Lola. Especially now that Sofia is here to help with the transition."

"What transition?"

Sofia leaned forward. "With the baby, and... everything else. You’re sick, Lola. You shouldn't be worrying about board meetings or diaper changes. I can take the load off. We’re sisters, remember?"

"I remember everything, Sofia." I stood up suddenly. "I need to rest.”

I turned and went to my bedroom. I locked the door softly.

I pulled a small duffel bag from the back of the closet. I didn't take clothes. I took the files I had hidden under the floorboards months ago, the original deeds to my company, my birth certificate from the orphanage, and the bank records I had secretly printed.

I grabbed my passport and the burner phone Williams had mentioned in his text.

I was zipping the bag when the floorboard in the hallway creaked.

I froze.

A shadow passed under the door. Then, a heavy thud.

The door handle turned, rattling violently against the lock.

"Lola?" Tristan’s voice was no longer easy or kind. It was deep, vibrating with Alpha authority. "Lola, open the door."

I didn't answer. I shoved the bag under the bed and stood in the middle of the room, my heart racing.

"I saw you spit out the water, Lola," he shouted. His fist hit the wood, making the frame groan. "I know exactly what you’re doing.”

"I'm tired, Tristan! Go away!"

"Open this door right now!" He roared, the sound echoing through the house. "Open it or I will break it down and make sure you never walk out of this room again!"