I Raised His Heir, But I Was Never His Luna
During the eight years I spent by Alpha David’s side,
I also raised the pup he had with my late sister.
At his birthday banquet, I accidentally wore one of her old dresses.
Eight-year-old Dorian grabbed a pot of freshly brewed coffee and poured it over me—
right in front of the maids.
The scalding liquid burned my skin, and when I looked up,
I saw the same cold disgust in his eyes that I’d seen so many times in his father’s.
“How dare you wear my mother’s dress?” he sneered.
“You’ll never replace her. You killed her with that wicked heart of yours!”
The coffee seared more than my flesh.
It burned straight through my heart.
I looked at the child I’d raised for eight long years.
I didn’t feel angry.
I didn’t even feel sad.
Only a quiet kind of exhaustion.
“Don’t worry,” I whispered. “I’ll leave tomorrow.”