All Chapters of Rise of the rejected Luna : Chapter 171 - Chapter 180

Flashback The photo was the only thing that still felt like hers. It was the only thing that reminded her of her background and how much of a happy child she used to be. Usually, it sat quietly on Kiara’s nightstand. A small, silver-framed picture of her mother smiling in the sunlight with wind tugging at her hair. Every morning, Kiara would glance at it before leaving her room, and every night, she would whisper a small “goodnight,” the way she used to when her mother was still alive. It was remembrance. It was the form of love held in the only form she had left.But in a house ruled by silent power and a curated epitome of order, even love could become a weapon.Two and a half years had passed since Kiara’s father married Lucinda, and the estate had been remade in her image. Every surface glowed, every room smelled faintly of lavender and discipline. Her father seemed calmer, more organized, perhaps even happier. But for Kiara, there were days she felt like a misplaced object

Flashback By the fourth year of her father’s marriage, the house had new rhythms, new silences, and new rules. Rules that no one ever wrote down, but everyone followed.Lucinda ran the household now. Every decision, every purchase, every nod of approval passed through her. Bills, salaries, grocery lists, everything filtered through her graceful hands. Even the bank statements began arriving with her name printed beside her husband’s, as if she had always been there.To anyone looking in, it appeared efficient, admirable like a well-run home guided by a capable woman. But inside the walls of that estate, something colder, had taken root. Embedded deeply. Control had changed hands.And Kiara, barely sixteen, was learning that money, like affection could be a weapon dressed as love and care. The first time she noticed it was over a pair of shoes.Kiara’s old ones had worn thin at the soles, the edges scuffed from months of use. She needed new ones for school and nothing fancy.

FlashbackThe house no longer felt like home. It felt like a memory, something that used to belong to Kiara but had been carefully repainted, rearranged, and rewritten until nothing of her mother’s love and her laughter seemed to live there anymore. Every wall echoed with a version of her she did not recognize. She had bent into Lucinda’s narrative as the cold, distant, and silent daughter. And now, her father believed it completely.It was a Saturday evening when it finally happened. The night the last connection between them snapped.Dinner was set as always; polished cutlery, crystal glasses that caught the chandelier’s light, and the faint scent of roasted herbs filling the air. Erina sat across from Kiara, her face bright and gentle, her hair in soft curls that Lucinda had styled herself.Lucinda sat at the head of the table, poised as ever, serene, composed, the perfect picture of grace. Her husband sat beside her, eyes tired but full of something far more dangerous than

FlashbackLord Marcus, Erina’s stepfather, stood at the center, his jaw tight, his shoulders rigid. The weight of what he had just heard, what his own daughter had confessed hung heavy in his chest.Erina faced him, her chin lifted in defiance, but there was a tinge of uncertainty in her eyes. Power still glowed faintly around her fingers, like the last traces of lightning after a storm.Jason stayed in the background. He was pale and restless. His eyes glanced between the two like a man caught between loyalty and terror.The silence broke when Marcus spoke, his voice low, rough, and trembling with a kind of restrained fury that made the air vibrate.“Do you even hear yourself?” he asked, each word deliberate. “Plotting to take your sister’s powers… aligning with him”… he gestured sharply toward Jason…” like some common traitor. Is this what you have become, Erina?”Her lips tightened. “I became what you made me.”He stared at her, disbelief crossing his face. “What I m

FlashbackThe house was silent. Too silent.The chandelier above the grand hall still swayed faintly from the commotion. A faint copper zest hung in the air. The marble floor was smeared with something dark, something Jason could not stop staring at. His hands shook, his breath was shallow as he backed away from the crushed form at the base of the staircase.Lord Marcus, Erina’s stepfather. Kiara’s father. The man who had once laughed by the fire with them, who had built this house as a commemoration to peace after the wars. Now lifeless. His breath paused. His eyes open but are empty.Jason’s throat closed. “Erina… what did you do?”Erina stood a few feet away, her chest rising and falling like she had run miles. Her fingers twitched, faint stripes of red light still pulsing through her veins from the wave of power that had just erupted from her. Her face was pale, but eerily composed; her eyes were hollow, and her lips were pressed tight, as if holding back something. Fear,