Chapter Two

Selina's POV

“No.”

The single word, sharp and final, cracked through the stillness like a thunderclap. The crowd gasped, and in a matter of seconds, the whispers began to spread like wildfire.

Speculations filled the air. Why would the Alpha reject his Luna? What went wrong? I stood frozen, unfamiliar and naive on how to even react. But I could feel it—their stares piercing me like daggers, blaming me for something I didn’t even do. To them, I must have looked ridiculous, unwanted… humiliated.

“No. I don’t want to continue pursuing this union,” Matteo spoke again, his voice void of emotion, like I was nothing more than a mistake he wanted to erase. My heart clenched. Papa’s face turned red with fury, and before I knew it, he stepped forward, approaching the Alpha with heavy steps. Tension wrapped around the garden like a storm ready to break.The elders immediately rose from their seats, their voices colliding with fury as they began to argue, their authority trembling with outrage.

The garden, once filled with beauty and celebration, was now drowning in nauseating gossip. Every word, every look, felt like poison directed at me.And standing there, with my world collapsing, I realized one thing, this wasn’t just Matteo rejecting me. This was an embarrassment that would forever stain my family’s name.

Contrary to what everyone expected, I didn’t flinch. I took one last look at Matteo—his face cold, unreadable—and then I stepped down from the aisle. Gasps rippled through the crowd as the hem of my dress brushed against the floor, each step echoing louder than the elder’s shouts.

Whispers turned into murmurs, murmurs into sharp-edged gossip. Still, I kept my chin high. If Matteo had humiliated me in front of our entire world, then I would not give him the satisfaction of watching me crumble. I walked with the grace of a Luna, even if he refused to call me his.

From the corner of my eye, I saw Mama rushing toward me, her face tight with panic. I already knew—the blame would be mine. The shame, mine. The scar of this rejection, mine but for the first time, I did not care.

Behind me, Papa’s furious voice clashed with the elders, my brothers’ rage breaking through the air like lightning. Somewhere within that storm was Matteo, the Alpha who had chosen to reject me.And in that moment, I made my choice too.If he would not claim me, then I would claim myself.

With every step I took away from that altar, I was no longer the obedient daughter, nor the silent bride-to-be. I was Selina—the woman who would walk out of their world and carve her own.Tonight, the Alpha rejected his Luna.But tomorrow, the Luna would rise without her Alpha.Contrary to what everyone expected, I didn’t flinch.

I took one last look at Matteo—his face cold, unreadable—and then I stepped down from the aisle. Gasps rippled through the crowd as the hem of my dress brushed against the floor, each step echoing louder than the elder’s shouts.

I walked with the grace of a Luna, even if he refused to call me his. From the corner of my eye, I saw Mama rushing toward me, her face tight with panic. I already knew—the blame would be mine. The shame, mine. The scar of this rejection, mine.

Finally, for the first time, I did not care. As soon as I reached home, I changed into my simple clothes. My hands shook as I wiped the layers of makeup off my face—war paint that had failed to protect me from the battlefield of humiliation.

The mirror did not lie. My reflection stared back at me, red-eyed, raw, and wounded. Behind it, the voices from earlier kept replaying, sharp as blades slicing into my pride.

"I told you, Lady Beatrice is the one the Alpha truly wants. She is more pleasing than this Vanderbilt girl."

"The young master didn’t find her appealing enough to be Luna."

"Her family’s image is already tainted.

"Maybe she was never taught how to serve as a Luna—that’s why the Alpha rejected her."

Each whisper lodged itself inside me like poison, and yet, instead of breaking me, it only made me laugh—a bitter, hollow laugh that tasted of salt and ash.

How convenient, isn’t it? That in this world ruled by men and power, the blame always finds its way to the woman. He rejected me, and yet I am the failure. He humiliated me, but my family carries the stain. It is not the Alpha who is questioned, but the bride he abandoned. The hypocrisy burned hotter than my tears.

For the first time, I saw it clearly: this wasn’t just Matteo’s rejection. This was a reflection of a society that would always cage women into obedience, silence, and blame. And if I stayed, I would drown in their judgment until there was nothing left of Selina Vanderbilt.

I pressed my palms against the table, grounding myself, my voice trembling but certain as I whispered to my reflection: "If he thinks I am not enough for him… then perhaps I am too much for all of them."

After a while, a sharp, relentless banging rattled my door. I didn’t need to ask who it was—I knew that rhythm of fury. Mama. “Selina!” her voice rang out, laced with venom and disappointment. “Open this door!” I hesitated for a moment, bracing myself, then unlocked it. She stormed in without a pause, her presence filling the room like a storm ready to break.

“What did you do, Selina?” she demanded, her eyes blazing. “I never failed to teach you etiquette, never failed to remind you of the duties you must uphold as a Luna! And yet, how could you make such a spectacle of yourself? How could you displease the Alpha like that?”

Her words were not questions—they were bullets, each one striking me deeper than the last. I had expected this confrontation, prepared myself for it even, but hearing my own mother condemn me still felt like betrayal. The sharpest wound wasn’t Matteo’s rejection...it was hers.

I lowered my gaze, forcing my hands to move steadily as I folded the wedding dress back into its box, careful, and precise as if the act itself could keep me from falling apart. My voice trembled, but I made it soft, controlled, even as my chest ached under the weight of everything.

“Ma,” I whispered, my throat tightening, “I didn’t do anything.” And that was the cruelest truth of it all. I hadn’t done a single thing.

“You failed the Vanderbilt clan.” Mama’s words cut sharper than any blade. Her voice trembled with rage, but her eyes—those cold, unrelenting eyes—were steady on me. “Your father and brothers are at this very moment bowing their heads to the Alpha and the elders, negotiating, begging, just so we can crawl out of this humiliation. Do you realize what you’ve done?” She took a step closer, her presence towering, suffocating. “You failed me, Selina. And worst of all, you failed your Papa.”

That broke me. The one accusation I couldn’t bear. I wasn’t the one to blame—Matteo was—but in this world, my voice weighed nothing. Tears blurred my vision as Mama strode past me, her hands seizing the box of my discarded wedding gown as if it carried the stench of disgrace itself.

“Estrella!” she barked, her tone laced with venom that made even the walls tremble. Her most trusted maid appeared at once, lowering her head.

“Get this cursed gown out of my sight. Set it on fire.”

The box was wrenched away, and in that moment, Mama turned back to me. Her stare pinned me to the floor, colder than death, her lips curling in contempt. I froze when her eyes shifted—dark gray bleeding into a pitch black, the unmistakable mark of our Bloodshed Pack’s fury.

I wasn’t just rejected by an Alpha today. I was condemned by my own mother. For the first time, I felt like a complete failure.

Third Person POV:

At Matteo’s manor, the council chamber crackled with unrest. The elders’ voices clashed, sharp and accusing, as they scrambled to mend the shambles of the failed union. Some argued for patience, others for punishment—but Arthur Vanderbilt’s voice thundered above them all.

“My daughter’s honor has been dragged into the dirt before the entire pack!” Arthur roared, his fists slamming against the table. “Do you think I will stand by while her name is spat on like refuse? No, I demand justice! I demand that her dignity be restored!”

But Matteo did not flinch. From his seat at the head of the chamber, he leaned forward, his words calm but edged with steel.

“As I said, I will not continue this union.” His voice silenced the room, its authority brooking no challenge. The air itself seemed to bow beneath his command.

He turned to Arthur, his dark gaze unyielding. “And for your daughter, Lord Vanderbilt… I hope in time she will forgive me. I hope she realizes she too will benefit from my decision.”

Arthur’s jaw clenched, his knuckles white against the wood. “Benefit?” he spat. “With all due respect, young master, the only thing my daughter gains from this is humiliation. Her dignity is now tainted because of your choice. If you refuse to honor this union, then know this—I will not lend my support to any of your future plans.”

A hush fell over the chamber. The statement rang like a battle cry.

The elders shifted uneasily, exchanging wary glances. Within seconds, murmurs rose—suspicion, judgment, and condemnation all at once.

“Defiance…” one elder whispered.

“Rebellion,” another hissed.

The council’s focus swiveled from Matteo to Arthur, their eyes sharp and condemning. What had begun as a plea for his daughter’s honor now twisted into something far more dangerous: an accusation of treachery against the Vanderbilt clan. The air grew heavier with every passing breath, the fragile balance of power teetering on the edge of collapse.

Arthur’s chest heaved, but his voice remained steady as he looked Matteo straight in the eye. “If this council dares to call my defense of my daughter rebellion, then so be it. But remember this—” his gaze swept over every elder in the chamber, “—the Vanderbilt name will not be trampled upon without consequence.”

The elders erupted into furious whispers, some calling for Arthur’s punishment, others silenced by his audacity. Matteo rose slowly from his chair, towering over them all. His shadow fell long across the chamber, and when he spoke, the words struck like a blade.

“Then let it be known,” Matteo declared, his voice carrying the weight of judgment, “from this day forward, the Vanderbilt clan stands on trial for loyalty.”

A stunned silence devoured the room. Arthur’s face blanched, but before he could speak, the great doors of the manor burst open.

A guard stumbled inside, blood dripping from his temple. He dropped to one knee, his voice ragged and broken.

“My Lord… the North Riverbed pack… they’ve made their move.”

The chamber froze. Elders turned pale, and Arthur’s eyes widened in horror.

Matteo’s hand clenched against the armrest of his throne, his jaw tightening as if he had already foreseen this moment.

“War,” the guard gasped, before collapsing lifeless at their feet.