The only Luna
Stella
I stood in front of the grand mirror in our lavish bedroom, the soft glow of the vanity lights casting a flattering aura around me. The opulent surroundings were a stark contrast to the turmoil within my heart. I clutched the hairbrush in my hand, my reflection revealing a facade of beauty concealing a simmering frustration.
I sighed deeply, my gaze fixated on the woman staring back at me. "I thought I'd have it all," I murmured to myself, my voice laced with bitterness. "A position of power, the adoration of the pack, and a son destined to inherit the throne."
As I began brushing my long, dark locks, memories flooded my mind — memories of the day I chose Franco as my mate. Back then, I believed he was the key to unlocking the privileges I craved, the status of Luna within the Crescent Moon pack. Little did I know that the title was reserved for the bloodline of the alphas, and my dreams were built on a foundation of deception.
"He promised me the moon and the stars," I muttered, frustration etched across my features. "But instead, I'm left with a hollow title of 'wife' while others bask in the glory of being Luna."
I traced the delicate silver chain around my neck, a gift from Franco during our courtship. The pendant dangled, a constant reminder of the illusions I once clung to. The air in the room seemed to thicken with my disappointment, each breath laden with unfulfilled desires.
I recalled the day I discovered Franco's true lineage, his status as an adopted son rather than a rightful heir. A pang of envy gripped my heart as I thought about my sisters, each of them proudly serving as Luna in their respective packs, their mates ascending to the coveted role of alpha.
"Why should I settle for less?" I questioned the reflection, my eyes narrowing with determination. "I deserve more than this mere facade of a life. I deserve to be the Luna, and Marco deserves to be the heir."
As the brush moved through my hair, I contemplated the steps necessary to alter my fate. My gaze grew intense, a fire kindling within me. "If Franco won't secure the throne for us, then I'll do it myself. I'll ensure Marco inherits the leadership he deserves."
With each stroke of the brush, I wove my plans, plotting a course to manipulate the pack dynamics. "I won't let the Lewis name slip through my fingers," I declared to my reflection, my eyes ablaze with determination. "I'll carve a path to power, and no one will stand in my way."
Franco, my husband, watched me with a mix of concern and curiosity. The air was thick with tension as he cautiously approached, his footsteps barely audible on the luxurious carpet.
Franco settled beside me, his eyes searching mine for answers. "Stella, what's bothering you? You've been distant lately. Is there something you're not telling me?"
I sighed, the weight of unspoken desires pressing down on me. "Franco, do you ever feel like we're trapped in a life that was never meant for us?"
He furrowed his brow, clearly puzzled by my question. "What do you mean, Stella? We have each other, and we've built a life together. What more could we ask for?"
I met his gaze, determination burning in my eyes. "More, Franco. We could have had more. I could have been the Luna, and Marco could have been the heir. But instead, we're stuck in a role that offers nothing but mediocrity."
Franco's expression shifted from confusion to realization. He understood the yearning that clawed at my insides. "Stella, you knew about my status from the beginning. I never claimed to be the rightful heir."
I turned to face him, my frustration bubbling to the surface. "I chose you because I believed we could change our fate. I thought love could conquer all, but all we have is a life of unfulfilled promises."
He reached for my hand, his touch a feeble attempt to comfort me. "Stella, we can still have a good life together. We can find happiness in what we have."
I withdrew my hand, a bitter smile playing on my lips. "Good is not enough, Franco. I want greatness. I want to be the Luna, and I want our son to be the heir. It's time we take matters into our own hands."
His eyes widened in realization, sensing the storm brewing within me. "What are you suggesting, Stella?"
"We need a plan," I declared, the fire in my eyes matching the intensity of my words. "A plan to ensure that our family takes the rightful place in the pack hierarchy. I won't settle for less, Franco."
He leaned back on the couch, contemplating my words. "Stella, tampering with the pack dynamics could have serious consequences. We need to tread carefully."
I scoffed at his caution, frustration boiling over. "Careful gets us nowhere. We need to be strategic, cunning. I won't let this life pass us by while others revel in the glory we deserve."
Franco sighed, a mixture of resignation and reluctant agreement in his eyes. "Okay, Stella. Let's make a plan. But promise me it won't put our family in danger."
A sly smile crept onto my face as the gears of a devious plot began turning in my mind. "Franco, darling, we're going to make sure our family ascends to the top, and nothing and no one will stand in our way."
I reclined on the lavish sofa in our living room, the dim light casting shadows across the room. Franco was immersed in a book nearby, and a faint smile lingered on his face as he absorbed the words. The tranquility was abruptly shattered by a soft, hesitant knock on the door.
"Mommy? Daddy?" The voice belonged to Marco, our five-year-old son, and it held a tremor of fear.
I sighed, the peace disrupted by the intrusion. "What is it, Marco?" I called, annoyance lacing my tone.
The door creaked open, revealing Marco's tear-streaked face. His wide, innocent eyes glistened with unshed tears. He clutched a stuffed animal to his chest, seeking solace in its furry embrace.
"I-I'm scared, Mommy. Can I sleep with you and Daddy?" Marco's voice quivered, the vulnerability of childhood evident in his plea.
Franco looked up from his book, concern etching his features. "Stella, let him in. He's just a child, and it's normal for him to be scared."
I shot him an exasperated look. "Normal? Franco, we're raising the future Alpha. He can't afford to be scared of the dark."
Franco closed his book, a frown creasing his forehead. "Stella, he's just a child. Being tough can come later. Right now, he needs comfort."
I shook my head in disapproval, my frustration mounting. "Comfort breeds weakness, Franco. We can't afford to raise a weak Alpha."
Marco sniffled, his lower lip trembling as he fought back tears. "Mommy, please..."
I motioned for him to enter, my irritation simmering beneath the surface. "Fine, Marco, but only for tonight. Tomorrow, you sleep in your room like a big boy."
He rushed into the room, seeking refuge between us on the couch. I sighed, wondering if my husband understood the importance of instilling strength in our son.
As the night wore on, Marco's presence lingered between us, his small frame huddled against mine. I could feel his tiny heartbeat, a stark reminder of the vulnerability that nestled within our family. Franco shot me a concerned glance, sensing the internal struggle waging within me.
The following morning, as sunlight streamed through the curtains, Marco's eyes fluttered open. He yawned, rubbing his eyes with tiny fists, then looked up at me with a mixture of confusion and innocence.
"Mommy, why can't I sleep with you every night?"
I took a deep breath, preparing to impart a lesson I believed essential for his future. "Marco, you're destined for greatness. You'll be the Alpha, and Alphas don't rely on others for comfort. They stand tall and face their fears."
His eyes widened, trying to grasp the weight of my words. "But Mommy, I'm still little."
I ruffled his hair affectionately. "That's why we start now, my love. It's never too early to become strong. Alphas lead by example, and you'll lead our pack one day."
Franco observed the exchange, a mixture of admiration and concern flickering in his eyes. "Stella, he's just a child. Can't we let him be a child a little longer?"
I met Franco's gaze, determination gleaming in my eyes. "We're shaping the future, Franco. We can't afford to coddle him. He needs to learn resilience from a young age."