Author’s pov
The darkness of night settled over the luxurious study.
Only a desk lamp cast a soft glow, throwing long shadows across the hardwood floor.
Zane sat at his desk, staring at the glowing computer screen. He clicked through the photos the private investigator had sent him.
First, Cecilia with the Black family.
Then Maggie, mid-argument with Luna Regina.
And finally, Helena getting off a plane in Denver.
Ever since his visit to Cecilia’s home, her image had refused to leave his mind. He’d even tried asking his mother, carefully, if there was any chance Helena had taken his daughter.
Back then, he hadn’t thought twice when Helena disappeared after Rebecca’s accident. He’d been too deep in grief to notice much of anything.
His mother had shut him down with a single cold line:
"Why are you asking me? Didn’t you see the body with your own eyes?"
Her words had hit hard. The truth? He hadn’t. He hadn’t had the strength to look. All he remembered was the hospital room, the blood, the screaming, and the feeling that the world had caved in.
After that, he told himself it was just the grief messing with him.
But deep down, something kept nagging at him. He couldn’t let it go.
That’s why he hired a private investigator.
He told himself it was just to "see her." Just a few pictures. Nothing more.
But then he’d asked for more. A used toothbrush. A strand of hair.
He picked up his phone and called the investigator.
"Did you get it?"
"Not yet," the man replied.
Zane’s voice hardened. "Make it happen. Quickly."
A pause. Then:
"Of course, Mr. Locke... but there’s something else you should know."
"Go ahead."
"I think someone else is following Cecilia . I’ve seen them around more than once. They’ve probably seen me too."
Zane sat up straighter, heartbeat kicking up a notch.
"Someone else? Are you sure?"
His mind jumped to what Sebastian had said before. A cold trickle of sweat traced a path down his neck. Could it be Maggie? That didn’t make sense. She didn’t even know he’d visited the Moore house.
Before he could think any further, a knock came at the door.
"Zane? Are you in there?" came a familiar voice.
He ended the call, shut the laptop, and grabbed a random file to make himself look busy.
"Yeah, I’m here," he said, keeping his tone casual. "What’s up?"
The door opened. Maggie Locke stepped inside, barefoot, wearing a silk robe.
She was carrying a small tray with a mug of hot chocolate and two shortbread cookies.
She moved slowly, every step deliberate.
She placed the tray on his desk, the mug steaming faintly in the dim light.
"Midnight snacks for my overworked husband," she said sweetly. "Now, come to bed."
Zane gave her a tired smile. "Cassian’s in Australia. I’m handling things while he’s gone. You go ahead."
"No," she said firmly, then slipped onto his lap like it was the most natural thing in the world.
"Am I getting old?" she whispered, her fingers brushing against his collar. "Do you not love me anymore?"
Zane sighed and gently moved her hand aside. "Don’t be ridiculous."
She looked up at him, eyes filled with tears.
"I don’t care what people say about me. I don’t care that your mom can’t stand me. I’ve dealt with it all. The stares, the whispers, the judgment. I took it because I love you. But if you start seeing me that way too... I don’t think I can bear it."
Her voice cracked. "Then I don’t want to live anymore."
She buried her face in his chest, shoulders shaking.
That was our cue to disperse.
By the time we left for the office, Cassian still hadn’t appeared.
Later that day, around noon, I picked up some lunch and brought it to grandma .
Once we sat down, I casually brought up Cassian’s current situation.
The details were... disturbing.
By the time I finished, grandma looked stunned. She didn’t say a word for several seconds.
I gave a weak smile.
"I’ve only got a short break, so I need to run."
What I really wanted to say was: if this bloodline crap keeps going downhill, we might not live long enough to argue over Christmas dinner.
--
On my way back to the office, my phone buzzed. An unknown Denver number.
I didn’t answer. Hung up immediately.
Then it rang again. Twice.
I still didn’t pick up.
A moment later, a text came through:
"This is Zaria. My mother asked me to invite you to dinner at our home tonight."
I froze.
Was this legit?
If it was real, this invitation meant one of two things. Either they wanted to talk, or they were ready to accept what was going on.
Luna Regina’s vibe yesterday had been hard to read. Not exactly warm. Not exactly hostile either. Just... calculated.
I didn’t reply.
Back at the office, I showed the message to Sebastian.
"Is this really Zaria’s number?" I asked.

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The readers' comments on the novel: Abandoned Luna Now Untouchable (Cecilia)
Loving the story. But only 2 pages a day. 😢...