Pursuing My Rejected Luna by Cara Anderson novel Chapter 114

Chapter 114

Jaxon

Cassandra admits the original test was faked. She’d bribed the lab technician. Not a complex bribe-just money, and enough of it. The technician has since moved abroad, which was part of their deal.

She always knew Liam wasn’t mine. Knew since before he was born. Knew when she came back to Ironwood Pack and presented the original results with tear-streaked certainty. Knew through every conversation about his health, his development, his future as my heir.

And I fell for it so easily. Took her into our home, played family with her while Skye watched and suffered. For what? The thought makes me nauseated.

“Who is his father?” I ask, not sure why I care.

She’s quiet long enough that Elder Graham clears his throat.

“Jarrett Mays,” she says finally. “From the eastern territories.”

I don’t know the name. But Noah’s expression suggests he does.

“He’s been trying to be involved,” Noah says, his voice flat. “Hasn’t he?”

Cassandra’s jaw tightens. “He’s nobody. He’s-”

“He’s Liam’s father,” I say. “And you’ve been keeping him from his son.”

“I was protecting Liam’s future. Jarrett couldn’t give him what you could. What your name could. The pack, the position, the ”

“You used your son as a tool.” Elder Patricia’s voice cuts through the room like something cold. “You denied a child his father and claimed him for a man you knew wasn’t his. You understand what that means under pack law.”

Cassandra understands. I can see it in the way she goes still. The horror of what she’s done is somewhere in her face, but it’s secondary. Even now, it’s secondary to the calculation of what comes next. Which is when I know she has something else.

A contingency. A weapon she’s been holding in reserve.

“You want to talk about lies?” Her voice changes. Loses the contrition entirely. “Let’s talk about Skye.”

I clench my fists, holding a tight leash on the roar that wants to escape at her audacity.

“She didn’t exactly grieve your marriage, did she? She was with Woolf before the divorce was finalized.” She reaches into the folder she brought-I should have looked more carefully-and produces photographs. Sets them on the table. “They were having an affair. Before she ever left Ironwood. That baby?” She meets my eyes. “Could be his.”

I look at the photographs. They’re blurry. Poorly staged. Skye and Nicolai stand at some distance from the lens, but their proximity could be misread as intimacy. They mean nothing.

I look at Cassandra. “Get out of my office.”

“Jaxon-” She protests, because of course she does.

“The inquiry regarding Liam is concluded. You’ll be notified of legal consequences through proper channels.” I stand. “Get. Out.”

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The elders stand behind me and Cassandra has no choice but to leave. Noah waits while the elders file out too, all wearing sympathetic expressions I hate, then closes the office door.

I’m still standing. Looking at the photographs on my desk. I know they’re contrived. I can see it in the framing, the ambiguity, the complete absence of anything that actually demonstrates what she’s claiming.

And I know Cassandra, the real Cassandra, now. I know what she does when she’s cornered. And this is exactly something she’d pull.

My rational mind assembles the facts clearly: she lied about Liam’s paternity for four years. She manufactured documentation. She engineered this entire return to plant this accusation. The photographs are nothing. I know

this.

But the question hooks somewhere deep and ugly anyway. What if?

I shouldn’t call the council. Shouldn’t bring this to Skye-who is seven months pregnant, who is healing, who is building something that doesn’t include me, who looked at me the last time I saw her with an expression of profound exhaustion. I shouldn’t do it.

I do it anyway.

Noah nods once. Turns to leave.

“Noah.”

He stops.

“I know what I’m doing. I know it’s wrong.” I set the photographs down. “I’m going anyway.”

“Well it’s been nice knowing you. Woolf will end you for this, for upsetting her.” He leaves without another word.

And I spend the night not sleeping, knowing exactly what Cassandra has made me into.

And going anyway.

Cara Anderson Author

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