Semua Bab The Alpha's Unloved Luna: Bab 111 - Bab 120

Jessica’s POVI showered again after he left.He’d fucked me a second time, like an addict chasing the first high—his hands rougher, mouth filthier, grip punishing as if he thought he could erase the guilt by marking me with it. And I let him. I fucking let him.I leaned against the tiled wall under the hot spray until the steam blurred everything, including my shame.After scrubbing every inch of him off me—and failing, because his touch lingered under my skin like a tattoo—I wrapped myself in a robe and padded out to the suite.Time to play dress up.I went to the armchair where he’d dropped the garment bag earlier. The one with the dress—the sleek black number I’d tried on just days ago, the one that made me look like money and menace wrapped in silk. It was supposed to be perfect. A calculated little bomb to drop at this stupid event tonight.I unzipped the bag.Paused.Blinking.It wasn’t the dress.This wasn’t black. This wasn’t mine.This was… navy blue?A rich midnight blue wi

Jessica was burning up again.I sat beside the bed, a cold cloth in my hand, and dabbed it gently against her forehead. Her skin was clammy, flushed with that sickly heat that never went away. The doctor had said it was stress-induced, worsened by shock. No shit.After what happened at the banquet… after that girl stumbled back in, clothes torn, face peeling from acid, Jessica completely broke down. The sickness came fast. Her body just couldn’t keep up with her mind anymore. She didn’t speak for hours the first night, just stared blankly, her lips cracked and dry. She cried only when she thought I wasn’t watching.I moved her into my mansion. There was no fucking way I’d leave her alone at a time like this. Not when her voice trembled every time she breathed. Not when she winced at the sound of heels clicking down the hallway. She was terrified. Broken in a way I’d never seen before.And when she finally talked—when she told me what she thought happened—it all started making sense.“

Jessica – First PersonIt had been nearly a month since everything came crumbling down around Elsa Palmer.Or Josephine Ryder—whatever name that demon had been wearing like a mask.Sometimes, I’d be doing something as simple as brushing my teeth or folding the kids’ clothes, and suddenly I’d freeze, stomach dropping like I'd swallowed stones, because I’d remember: my agent wasn’t just some narcissist with a vendetta. She’d been a walking nightmare from my past. A girl I’d once called a friend.A girl who watched someone bleed to death just to take her identity and stand in my shadow.After the media leaked the incident report, I had gone straight to Keagan, demanded to know the truth. Not the polished version the public got. The real one.He sat across from me with that unshakable calm he always wore like armor, and told me everything.Josephine had been Sylvia’s best friend back in high school. Back when Sylvia Reynolds wasn’t a global icon or a Halls Enterprise brand face—just a gir

Jessica's POVThe lights backstage were warm but not too hot, the kind designed to flatter, to smooth and blur edges. I glanced at myself in the mirror as a final brush dabbed translucent powder across my jawline. My smile came easily now—practiced, camera-ready, lethal.“We’re live in thirty seconds,” someone called.I smoothed the folds of the silk off-shoulder gown hugging my body and exhaled. Renee's final piece from their unreleased line. The irony wasn't lost on me—I'd be their face soon enough.The host smiled wide, introducing me to thunderous applause, and I stepped into the glow of the studio lights, all calm, elegance, and immaculate grace. The audience clapped harder when I sat down."Jessica Hart," the host beamed, "nominated for Model of the Year at the Cannes Fashion Festival, a name everyone's lips can't stop saying...""That's a mouthful," I teased, grinning. "But thank you. It means a lot.""You're also set to become the new face of Renee Fashion House, yes? That ann

Keagan – First Person POVI was slicing through quarterly reports when my phone rang.The room went still.Twelve people around the table—all seasoned, all terrified of making eye contact—froze as that familiar ringtone sliced through the glass and leather silence of the boardroom. Phones weren’t allowed during my meetings. Everyone knew that. I’d fired a man last year for checking a message mid-pitch.But I wasn’t everyone.Without a word, I reached for the phone, ignoring the way Joseph, my CFO, visibly swallowed air when he saw the caller ID flashing. Jessica.I didn’t need to ask why she was calling. She never called. Not once since she came back. It sparked something low and smug in my chest—an ache I didn’t want to name.“I’ll be back.” My voice was cold, final.Nobody dared say a word as I stepped out.I answered on the second ring, already wearing a crooked smirk. “Jess—”What came through wasn’t a voice.It was terror.“My baby!” she sobbed, words shredding out of her like to