Pursuing My Rejected Luna by Cara Anderson novel Chapter 113

Chapter 113

Jaxon

I’m reviewing boring border reports, trying not to think about Skye, our baby, or basically anything else about my messed up life, when my Beta knocks on the open office door.

“You have a visitor,” Noah says. His expression tells me everything before the words do. Whoever it is, I don’t want to see them. And there’s only one person I can think of I don’t want to see.

“No.” I immediately refuse.

“She’s already inside. The guard let her through before I could intercept.” He slumps like he;s admitting a personal failure.

I reluctantly set down the reports, resigned to the fact my day is about to get even shittier. If that’s possible/

Cassandra stands in my office doorway looking nothing like the last time I saw her-desperate, caught, stripped of every advantage I’d given her. She’s composed now. Polished. The version of herself she presents to the world when she needs something.

She always needs something.

“You have thirty seconds,” I say, “before I have you escorted off pack territory.”

“Liam has been asking for you.” Her first words are a blow to the gut, but she’s the one who’s refused to let me see him without her present.

I don’t say anything, determined not to let her get to me. She just takes the silence as permission to continue.

“I know what the previous test said. But I have documentation-genetic markers from his medical records, reviewed by a specialist in genetics not affiliated with any one pack.” She places a folder on my desk. Doesn’t push it toward me. Just sets it there, letting me decide whether to reach for it.

I look at the folder. Don’t touch it. Just stare while I contemplate my response.

“Cassandra-” She doesn’t let me finish. She’s not done stating her case.

“He’s four years old and he thinks you don’t want him.” Her voice is controlled but something underneath it sounds like urgency. “Whatever is between us, whatever happened-he’s a child. And he’s been asking why his father doesn’t come anymore.”

I think about Liam. So small. The way he’d reached for me without hesitation that first time, trusting in the uncomplicated way of young children. He deserves two parents who love him, even if they can’t stand each other.

I reach for the folder. The documentation looks legitimate. I’ll give her that. The letterhead. The specialist’s credentials. The language of the report, technical enough to require interpretation.

She’s had time to prepare this. Has invested money and planning. Which should tell me something. I’m just not sure what yet.

Noah is in the doorway, and I recognize his expression-the particular stillness that means he’s decided something and is waiting to see if I’ll reach the same conclusion on my own.

“If she has evidence,” Noah says, too impatient to wait for ine to catch up. “submit it to the council and do a supervised test. No exceptions. No private arrangements.”

Translation: no room for her to manipulate the outcome.

Elder Patricia opens the envelope. She reads it then hands it to me without expression. I take it with a shaking hand I can’t quite seem to steady.

All the air wooshes out of me as I read the results for myself. Liam is not my son. The numbers are unambiguous. No contamination. No errors. The kind of clarity that doesn’t leave room for alternative interpretations.

I shouldn’t be surprised, I think some part of me already knew. But I read it again, letting the truth sink in. Then I put it down and look at Cassandra with all the loathing and resentment I feel. How could she do this? Not just to me, but to Liam?

Her composure fractures. Not all at once-it’s a slow dissolution. The careful control slipping from her features the way ice loses its shape in warming water.

“Cassandra.” My voice is very quiet, deadly quiet. “Tell me the truth. All of it.”

She looks at the table. Then pours out her sob story like poison oozing from a wound.

All I can do is sit there, trying not to let her contaminate me.

Cara Anderson Author

Thank you for reading!

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