Alpha's Discarded Luna (Talia) novel Chapter 35

Chapter 34

Aires‘ POV

I frown, gently extracting myself from Imema’s embrace. “Imema—‘

But my attention snags on the retreating figures. Thorne has his arm around her. Around my wife. Talia leans into him like he’s the only thing keeping her upright.

I take a step forward.

Imema’s hand closes around my arm. “Aires, wait. I have news–several more witnesses contacted me this morning. They’re willing to testify.”

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I stop. “Witnesses?”

“Yes.” Her eyes are bright, earnest. “Since Ms. Perseus keeps denying she hit me, this should resolve everything. With multiple witnesses, she can’t keep lying.”

I study her face. She looks genuinely hopeful, genuinely concerned.

She continues, her voice soft as cashmere. “Aires, I don’t want to make this difficult. I wasn’t seriously hurt. I don’t need to press charges. I just need her to acknowledge what happened. A simple apology.”

She squeezes my arm gently. “The online situation is spiraling. If she apologizes, we

Chapter 34

can release a joint statement. I’ll say it was an accident, that I don’t believe she meant any harm. Her reputation can recover. Everyone wins.”

Her words are reasonable. Generous, even. She’s the injured party, yet she’s offering solutions, compromises, a path

forward.

I exhale slowly. “If only Talia had half

your sense.”

Imema smiles, tolerant and forgiving. “She’s hurting, Aires. She’ll come around.”

That night, the witnesses appear.

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Three of them. Separate videos, separate accounts, identical stories.

A middle–aged man squints at the camera. “I was walking home from my shift. Saw the whole thing. Ms. Perseus’s car came flying out of nowhere. Never slowed down. At first I thought she’d hit the gas by mistake, but she didn’t even try to swerve. Just… aimed right for her.”

A woman nods vigorously in her clip. “Several of us saw it. All said the same

thing. It wasn’t an accident. It was

deliberate.”

Another witness, younger, more dramatic. “Someone needs to hold her accountable.

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You can’t just try to kill someone and hide behind excuses. Ms. Volkov has been nothing but gracious, and this is how

she’s treated?”

The comments explode anew.

[Three witnesses now. Three. What more proof do you need?]

[Talia Perseus belongs in prison. Full stop.]

[Imema is a saint for not pressing charges. I’d want that woman’s head.]

I watch the videos twice. Three times.

Their words are consistent, their certainty absolute.

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I think of Talia on the ground today. Bleeding. Broken. Staring at me with eyes that held nothing but dead, quiet resignation.

Then I think of the witnesses. The

evidence. The mounting, undeniable weight of proof.

My phone sits heavy in my hand. I could call her. Demand answers. Demand she

stop this futile resistance and simply apologize so we can end this.

I don’t call.

I watch the videos again instead. And somewhere in the cold space where my

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I

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feelings for her used to live, I make my

decision.

Talia’s POV

The news cycle was finally dying. My silence had starved the beast, and the mob was growing bored. Then I posted a single sentence: Press conference. Tomorrow. 10 AM. All welcome.

The internet erupted like it was Christmas

morning.

г

[SHE’S CRACKING! FINALLY!]

[Get your popcorn ready–the apology of the century is coming.]

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[We did it, everyone. Justice for Imema!]

The comments are a victory lap. They think I’m surrendering. They think their harassment, their death threats, their coordinated destruction of my reputation has finally broken me.

Let them think that.

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The venue is packed. Standing room only. I didn’t invite specific media–I invited everyone. Reporters from every outlet, bloggers with phones, curious bystanders. The crowd spills into the streets, feeds streaming live to millions.

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Raymond stands beside me behind the curtain, watching the chaos through the gap. “Talia.” His voice is low, meant only for me. “If you do this, there’s no going back. With him. With his family.”

I know. I’ve known for days.

Raymond and I have grown closer through this nightmare. Strange how crisis forges connections faster than peace. We discovered accidental overlaps -he minored in piano before inheriting his empire, still carries opinions on chord progressions that actually make me think. He started calling me ‘Talia‘ to provoke Aires. Now it just sounds like friendship.

“It’s full of holes,” I say, checking the 16:10

Chapter 34

folder in my hands. “Her perfect plan. Today, the world sees what she really is.”

He raises an eyebrow. “The Perseus family won’t forgive this. Diana. Athena. The whole pack structure you’ve existed

within.”

“They never defended me.” My voice is flat, factual. “Weeks of online lynching, and not one Perseus spoke my name. Why should I protect their precious image?”

I used to believe cheating was a man’s fault. That blaming the other woman was misdirected anger. And that’s still true- Aires made his choices long before Imema

returned.

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But this? The staged car accident. The planted witnesses. The calculated destruction of my life while she plays saint?

Some things go beyond being the other woman. Some things are pure, calculated

evil.

A scumbag and his bitch can rot together.

Raymond smiles, something approving in his eyes. “Then go. Show them.”

I step onto the stage.

r

The roar of the crowd is deafening. Flashlights blind me from every angle. They’re already celebrating, already

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tasting my surrender.

I approach the podium. Adjust the microphone. Wait for the noise to settle.

It takes a long time.

“Thank you all for coming,” I begin. My voice carries, steady and clear. “I know what you’re expecting. An apology. A confession. A broken woman admitting defeat.”

Confused murmurs ripple through the

crowd.

“I’m not here to give you any of that.”

I hold up a small device. A remote. I

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“Instead, I’m here to show you something Ms. Volkov hoped you’d never see.”

I press the button.

The massive screen behind me flickers to