I Left Before He Learned My Worth novel Chapter 122

**TITLE: I Left Before He Learned My Worth**
**Chapter 122**

**ARIA**

“How do you figure?” Ivory inquired, her tone laced with genuine curiosity that caught my attention.

“For me, it got me out of a posting I hated and into work I actually find fulfilling,” Margo articulated, her voice brimming with enthusiasm. “Working alongside you, diving into the research, and contributing to something that truly matters—this is what I wanted. Here, my skills are finally put to good use.”

“And what about Luna Aria?” Ivory pressed, her interest piqued.

“For her, it was a valuable lesson in how not to lead,” Margo replied, a hint of disdain creeping into her voice. “Or at least, it should have been. Firing me out of spite, abusing her position as Luna to punish someone who dared to offend her—that only confirmed what everyone already suspected. She’s not ready for this role. She doesn’t grasp how to wield authority appropriately.”

“She was hurt,” Ivory interjected softly, her voice barely above a whisper. “Listening to you speculate about her relationship with Alpha Kael, hearing you essentially wish for her downfall—that had to be painful.”

“Maybe,” Margo conceded, her tone thoughtful. “But a true leader would handle that pain differently. They would confront the issue professionally rather than lash out in anger. They would recognize that my gossip was merely a symptom of larger issues—her failure to integrate, her inability to earn respect—and work to rectify those problems instead of punishing the messenger.”

A silence enveloped the room, punctuated only by the sounds of diligent work continuing around us.

“I’m glad you’re happy here,” Ivory finally stated, breaking the stillness. “And I genuinely appreciate your help. Both with the research and in exposing the spy yesterday. You played your role perfectly.”

“Thank you,” Margo replied, her voice bright with satisfaction. “It felt wonderful to be useful. To contribute something significant. To be part of something meaningful instead of merely… serving someone who didn’t belong here.”

Their conversation shifted seamlessly to technical discussions about plant growth rates and compound adjustments, but I had heard more than enough. More than I ever wanted to.

I retreated from the laboratory door, my heart heavy with a tumult of emotions I struggled to identify. Hurt was certainly there, mingling with a simmering anger at Margo’s casual dismissal of me. Shame gnawed at my insides, as everything she had said rang alarmingly true. And frustration bubbled beneath the surface, knowing that even my vindication had done nothing to alter how the pack perceived me.

Yet, beneath all that turmoil, a deeper understanding began to take root. Margo had been utterly miserable working under me. She had fought tooth and nail for a different assignment because serving me felt like punishment to her. And when I had fired her, wielding my authority as Luna to remove her from my service, everyone had witnessed it as a petty abuse of power rather than a justified reaction to inappropriate behavior.

The truth was stark: I hadn’t earned the authority to make such decisions. I hadn’t built enough credibility for my actions to be viewed as leadership rather than mere pettiness.

Everything circled back to that same fundamental issue: I hadn’t earned their trust. I hadn’t proven myself worthy. I hadn’t done the necessary work to legitimize my position, to transform it from a politically convenient title into something substantial.

And until I did that work—until I laid the foundation that would inspire belief in me, respect for my decisions, and the benefit of the doubt during crises—nothing would ever change. I would remain the Luna who didn’t belong, the placeholder everyone wished would simply vanish so someone more deserving could take my place.

“They’re bringing me gifts,” I interrupted, gesturing to the pile of offerings that Celine had meticulously arranged around the room. “Apologies. As if flowers and honey cakes somehow make up for being condemned without a trial. As if I’m just supposed to forgive and forget that my own mate approved my execution.”

“It was a trap,” Kael insisted, his voice strained with frustration. “Ivory needed it to be real. She needed everyone—including you—to believe it was actually happening. If I’d hesitated, if I’d demanded to see evidence first, the spy wouldn’t have revealed himself. You’d still be under suspicion.”

“I understand the logic,” I replied, fatigue weighing heavily on my words. “I understand why Ivory did what she did. Why you approved it. Why everyone thinks it was brilliant and necessary. But Kael, understanding doesn’t diminish the pain. It doesn’t lessen the sense of betrayal I feel over how quickly you were willing to trust her word over mine.”

“I trust you—” he began, but I cut him off.

“No, you don’t,” I interjected firmly. “Not in the way you trust her. Not with that unwavering certainty that doesn’t require evidence or proof or even basic logic. And that’s fine, I suppose. I haven’t earned that level of trust. I haven’t spent fifteen years proving my integrity. I haven’t saved lives or developed revolutionary compounds or done anything particularly remarkable.”

I stood abruptly, needing distance from him, from this conversation, from everything.

“I heard them talking,” I continued, pacing the room like a caged animal. “Multiple groups of pack members, all saying essentially the same thing. That I need to stop holding grudges over what happened. That I need to focus on actually earning trust instead of expecting it to be handed to me. That I need to prove I’m worthy of the position I hold instead of merely occupying it.”

“You are worthy—” Kael attempted to argue, but I was already lost in my thoughts, drowning in the harsh reality of my situation.