Alpha's Discarded Luna (Talia) novel Chapter 91

Imema’s POV

We reach Aires’s car in the parking lot. My face throbs where

Eleanor struck me… I’ll have bruises tomorrow, maybe longer. The physical pain is nothing compared to the humiliation.

Aires looks at me, his expression unreadable. “I’ll take you back. Home or hospital?”

I force sweetness into my voice, playing the role. “Aires, you

and Ms. Perseus have things to discuss. Don’t worry about

me, I can find my own way.”

His voice is firm, brooking no argument. “Get in the car.”

I want to push back, to make him choose, to see if he’ll insist. But something in his cold demeanor stops me. This isn’t the time. I’ll regroup, find an angle, make this right.

I reach for the passenger door.

“Sit in the back.”

hfreeze, hand hovering. A flicker of something ugly crosse$:42

< Chapter 89

my face before I master it, softening into acceptance. “Of

course.”

I open the back door, smiling at Aeson. “Get in, sweetheart.”

“Thank you, Ms. Volkov.” His voice is polite. Distant.

Ms. Volkov! Not Imema, not anymore.

My fingers tighten imperceptibly.

If not for Eleanor, Aeson would be mine by now. All mine.

Aires would trust me completely, Aeson would love me

unconditionally, and that woman would be nothing but a bad

memory.

Instead, Aires questions me, Aeson keeps his distance. And I’m sitting in the back seat like a child.

Eleanor did this.

The hatred burns fresh and hot.

I’ll make her pay. If not today, then some day for sure. I’ll make him pay, somehow. Someway…

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< Chapter 89

Talia’s POV

I slide into the passenger seat and reach for the seatbelt. My

hand freezes.

A small sticker marks this spot as exclusive, someone’s

territory, claimed and labeled.

The realization hits like ice water: this is Imema’s seat.

Before she returned, I rarely rode in Aires’s car. When I did,

I sat in the back with Aeson. I never thought about it, never

questioned it.

Now I look around. A pendant dangles from the rearview mirror: delicate, feminine, utterly out of place in Aires’s sleek

interior. I have to say, it catches the light prettily, burning my

eyes.

A cute foot mat beneath my feet, clearly chosen by someone

else. And the scent, that familiar perfume I’ve smelled on Imema countless times, lingers everywhere, clinging to the

leather, the fabric, the air itself.

A small cosmetics compact peeks from the door pocket, and

embroidered tissue covers adorn the back of the seats. Every 3/6

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< Chapter 89

detail, every accessory, every carefully chosen touch screams

her name. This isn’t Aires’s car anymore, it’s hers.

A shrine to his mistress, and I’m just sitting in it. I feel a rising

wave of nausea.

Aires notices me frozen. “What’s wrong?”

I don’t answer. I’m staring at the sticker, at the claim it

represents.

His gaze follows mine, and his expression darkens.

He leans across me, blocking my view. I instinctively lean

away, but his arm reaches past, pulling the seatbelt across my chest. He fastens it with a quiet click.

I’m stunned into silence.

“Fasten your seatbelt,” he murmurs.

In the back seat, Imema’s face twists, just for a second,

before smoothing into a smile. “Ms. Perseus, even in the passenger seat, you still need to buckle up. See how

considerate Aires is?”

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I almost laugh. Considerate. He’s so considerate that his car

is filled with another woman’s possessions, another woman’s

scent, another woman’s claim.

“Is buckling a seatbelt considerate?” My voice is calm,

pleasant. “You have very low standards, Ms. Volkov.”

She maintains the friendly tone, ever the peacemaker. “What

would you consider considerate, then?”

I meet her eyes in the rearview mirror. “If I call, he comes

immediately–no matter what he’s doing. If I make mistakes,

he makes excuses for me. If someone won’t forgive me, he

makes them feel guilty for being so unreasonable.”

Imema’s smile tightens.

“What I want, I get–even if it belongs to someone else. If I

cry, he loses all reason and takes my side.” I pause, letting

the words land. “And if I’m sick, he makes sure someone else

is there to bring me soup. Otherwise, how would it look like

he truly values me?”

Her expression freezes, cracks forming beneath the surface.

Aeson’s voice pipes up from the back, curious. “Mom, why do 5/6

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< Chapter 89

people take the crying person’s side? Even if they did

something wrong?”

I glance at my son–this child who’s been so carefully

turned against me. “Because some people are very good at pretending. And because hearts are biased. People believe what they want to believe, especially when it’s someone they

love.”

Aeson falls silent, processing.

Imema says nothing. For once, she has no words.

The car pulls away from the kindergarten, carrying us all

toward whatever comes next.

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< Alpha’s Discarded Luna

Chapter 90