Alpha's Discarded Luna (Talia) novel Chapter 94

Chapter 92

Talia’s POV

Leave with nothing. No assets, no property, no compensation

for five years of labor.

I show no surprise, no sadness. Aires has always been generous with Imema–villas, clothes, jewelry, everything she desires handed over without question. For me, every penny is

a battle.

Before I can respond, he holds up a hand. “Think carefully before deciding. Even if you agree now, I’m not available today. The agreement needs revisions anyway.”

“I understand.” My voice is calm, empty. “If there’s nothing

else, I’ll go.”

He says nothing.

I walk past him, heading for the door. Then I stop, as if remembering something.

His eyes follow me. “What now?”

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I pick up a glass of water from the side table. “There’s

something I almost forgot.”

He watches, confused, probably thinking I’m thirsty after our lengthy argument.

I throw the water in his face.

It cascades down his perfect features, soaking his suit, dripping from his jaw. He stares at me, stunned.

“That’s for pulling me back earlier. For making me take

Imema’s slap.” I set the glass down. “Consider us even.”

I walk out without looking back.

***

The weekend arrives. The kindergarten talent show.

I carry my piano case, arriving early with Robin. He’s dressed smartly, small hands fidgeting with his collar.

“Ms. Perseus, I’m so nervous.” He takes deep breaths, trying

to calm himself.

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I kneel beside him, adjusting his bow tie. “Just follow my lead. Don’t rush, don’t worry about mistakes. We’re here to have

fun, remember?”

He nods, but his eyes still hold that performance–day anxiety.

“Ms. Perseus?” A soft voice behind us. “Are you playing piano

too?”

I turn.

Aeson stands a few feet away, flanked by Aires, Imema, and

Nick.

Imema tilts her head with practiced surprise. “Aires, I didn’t

know Ms. Perseus played piano. You and Aeson never

mentioned it.”

Nick snorts. “She’s obviously copying Imema. Probably saw

how beautiful Imema looks when she performs and decided

to imitate her.” He smirks. “Imema was a prodigy at Altheria

Conservatory. No amount of practice will get Talia anywhere

near her level. And if she hadn’t dressed like Imema back

then, Aires never would have mistaken her for-”

“That’s enough, Nick.” Imema cuts him off, all wounded 3/7

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grace. “Aeson is here. Don’t speak nonsense.”

Nick shrugs, but his meaning is clear.

Aeson’s face twists with jealousy as he takes in my appearance–the elegant dress, the styled hair, the poised confidence. He’s never seen me like this. Never bothered to

look.

“Even if you copy Ms. Volkov, you’ll never be as good as her!”

he shouts.

A low, amused voice drifts from behind the crowd. “Kid, you’re just like your father. Your eyesight is terrible.”

Raymond approaches, immaculate as always, that lazy smile playing on his lips.

Robin’s face lights up. “Dad! Where did you go?”

“Ran into an old acquaintance. Had to say hello.” Raymond

looks at Aeson, still smiling. “Don’t you think your mother is

much more beautiful than Ms. Volkov?”

The question hangs in the air.

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I rarely dressed up when I cared for Aeson. Since giving

birth, I’ve barely worn a dress or touched makeup. There was

never time–drop–offs, pickups, meals, soup deliveries, Jack’s

clinic, Diana’s medicine. My days were scheduled to the

minute, my appearance the last priority.

Today is different. Today, I’m performing.

My white dress fits perfectly, outlining curves I’d forgotten

I had. My hair is elegantly styled, my makeup subtle but

enhancing. Delicate eyebrows, bright eyes—I look like

someone I used to know.

Coincidentally, Imema also wears white. Her dress was custom–made by Aires for this performance, designed to highlight her fragile beauty. She’s pretty, no doubt, with that

delicate charm that makes men want to protect her.

But standing here, both of us in white, theft is undeniable.

Raymond’s comment makes Imema’s face flush with embarrassment. Tears glisten in her eyes–on cue, always on

cue.

Nick’s fury ignites instantly. “Talia, you shameless copycat!

Imema plays piano, so you play piano. Imema wears white, 5/7

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so you wear white. Don’t embarrass yourself here. No matter how hard you try, you’ll always be a fraud!”

I raise an eyebrow, utterly unruffled. “Are pianos and white

dresses exclusive to Ms. Volkov? Did she patent them?”

Nick sneers. “Showing up on this occasion dressed like her? Your intentions are obvious. A fake is always a fake.”

Raymond chuckles. “If your eyesight is failing, perhaps invest in glasses. Looking at Ms. Perseus and Ms. Volkov together, it’s painfully clear who’s imitating whom.”

Nick sputters. “Beauty means nothing when your heart is

ugly!”

Raymond’s smile widens. “I couldn’t speak to her heart. But she’s prettier than Ms. Volkov. That’s enough for today.”

Nick’s face purples. “You-”

“Talia! Robin!” A cheerful voice cuts through. Electra

hurries toward us, slightly breathless. “This kindergarten is

enormous. Took me forever to find you.”

Robin bounces with excitement. “Ms. Parker, you came!”

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She waves her camera. “I’m documenting your victory. Front

row seat to history.”

Robin claps. “Make sure you get lots of pictures of Ms.

Perseus! She’s going to be amazing!”

Electra winks at me. “I have no doubt.”

Imema watches this exchange, her expression carefully

neutral. But I see the tension in her shoulders, the tightness

around her eyes.

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