All Chapters of Reborn as Betrayed Luna : Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

Livia’s POV The candle flame flickered against the drafty glass, dying down to a sputtering ember that cast long, dancing shadows across my writing desk.I sat unmoving before the dawn, my fingers trembling as my thumb traced the faded brown letters that had blossomed under the heat. The invisible ink was dry now, set permanently into the yellowed parchment of my childhood diary:The Night of the Blood Moon.The Moon Temple.If Asher remembers before then... we're already too late.My lips parted slightly, my breath hitching in my dry throat. Over and over, I reread the single sentence until the words blurred before my eyes. My pulse hammered an uneven rhythm against my chest.“Who was I warning?” I whispered into the silent, dark room, my voice barely audible. “My future self... or my past self?”A cold dread settled deep in my bones. For the first time, an unsettling thought took root; this diary hadn't simply been a record of my childhood daydreams. It felt as though it had been w

Livia’s POV For a long, agonizing moment, neither of us spoke. I stood frozen in the doorway, my hand instinctively reaching behind my back, fingers brushing against the worn leather of the diary tucked beneath my tunic. My pulse slammed against my chest like a trapped bird.Asher stood tall in the dim corridor, his broad frame blocking out the cold torchlight behind him. In his right hand, was the missing page from the ancient priest ledger, held delicately between his gloved fingers.He didn't wave it in accusation. He didn't raise his voice to call the guards. He simply kept his hand lowered, his golden eyes searching my face with a calm, unreadable intensity."You dropped this," he said quietly.I stared at the faded parchment, my heart pounding so loudly I was certain he could hear it. I had expected harsh demands. I had expected him to drag me before my father or lock me in the dungeon for dabbling in forgotten moon magic.Instead, he took a step forward and offered the paper to

Livia’s POV The parchment scrap burned cold against my fingertips as I reread the single line of script under the dying candlelight:"The traitor wears kindness better than cruelty."I closed my eyes, running through a mental list of everyone who had shown me genuine warmth since my rebirth.My Father. He had held my hand while I wept from nightmares, his eyes filled with worried devotion.Mira. She had raised me like her own daughter, wrapping warm blankets over my shoulders when the winter cold bit into my bones.I immediately struck both of their names from my mind. In a world falling apart, their love was the only foundation that felt real.That left only two names.Alpha Asher. The man who had sentenced me to death in a past life, yet returned to me now with grief in his eyes and apologies on his lips.Serena. The sweet, gentle healer who cared for the sick, brought warm herbal tea, and brightened every room she entered.My stomach knotted into a tight, agonizing ball. For the f

Livia’s POV My fingers shook so violently that the old parchment nearly tore down the middle. I pressed my back hard against the cold stone wall, my breathing shallow, as if the air in my bedroom had suddenly turned to glass.I stared at the faded portrait under the faint morning light.The little girl depicted in the drawing wore a silver velvet tunic embroidered with the Hartwell family crest. Beside her stood a broad-shouldered boy, his chin lifted with quiet determination, his eyes painted in striking, unmistakable gold.There was no mistake. It was me and it was Asher."We knew each other..." I whispered into the empty room, my throat tight with a painful, unsettling ache. "...before the Moon Goddess ever made us mates."Everything I had believed about our history crumbled into dust. My entire past—my execution, my hatred, my belief that Asher Blackwood was merely a ruthless Alpha who had crossed my path in adulthood had been built on a foundation of lies. Someone had carefully

#Livia’s POV I blew out the candle, plunging my bedroom into pitch darkness. The scent of hot tallow drifted through the air as my eyes desperately adjusted to the gloom. I pressed one hand over my mouth to silent the ragged sound of my breathing, my other arm clutching the parchment tightly against my chest. Sweat trickled down the back of my neck.Outside my door, heavy boots scraped against the cold floorboards. Three distinct sets of footsteps. Metal armor brushed against stone. A buckle clinked."Search carefully," a harsh, raspy voice whispered."The portrait must be here," another voice hissed back. "He said she’s been keeping it hidden."Inside my chest, my wolf growled low.My fingers trembled violently around the paper. They know. They’ve been watching me.The heavy door latch clicked, beginning to yield.Move,my instincts screamed.Panic surged, but through the haze of fear, a memory flashed in my mind - clear and sudden. The bookshelf.When I was seven years old, my father