The Rejected Luna (Avery and Kaden) novel Chapter 132

Chapter 4

I suddenly found it all ridiculous. I pointed at Isabelle, who had remained silent the entire time, and

laughed at Alpha Julian.

“How about her! she’s beautiful, well-educated. She’d be perfect for you.”

Slap!

My mother struck me hard across the face. Her long fingernails scratched my cheek, and blood

slowly oozed out.

“How could you say that, you ungrateful brat!”

Her voice was hoarse from shouting, as if I were the one selling off a daughter.

So they did know this marriage was a pit of fire.

I staggered out of the house, sobbing uncontrollably.

From that moment on, I knew I would never feel even a shred of attachment to that home again.

Soon after, I was bombarded with calls and messages from Alpha Julian. He demanded I return the $200,000 deposit, or he would kill my entire family.

I responded coldly, “Go ahead, then.”

Later, things took a dark turn when the debt chase turned into straight-up harassment. I couldn’t take it anymore, so I changed jobs, moved, got a new number, anything to shake off Alpha Julian and my own family.

Just when I thought a new life was about to begin, something else happened.

“Ugh, disgusting! Parents who sell their own daughter deserve to die.”

“Right? If she’s so great, why don’t you marry him yourself?”

Voices from the audience hurled angry accusations at my father and mother.

My father tried to defend himself. “Marriage is a serious matter-of course parents have the right

to decide for her…”

“Bullshit. You did it for the money.”

“You don’t deserve to be her father!”

Someone on the jury shouted furiously.

Chapter 4

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My father fell silent, fidgeting nervously, and turned to look at my mother.

“Second round of voting,” the judge announced.

Seventy-eight votes. Voted innocent.

But that wasn’t enough. I needed more than ninety-five votes to be acquitted.

My father was clearly growing anxious. He leaned close to my mother and whispered something. Isabelle pushed her sunglasses up and leaned over to say something in a low voice. Only then did the tension in my father’s brows relax, and my mother broke into a confident smile, looking at me as though victory was in their grasp.

“The third charge: the defendant, Camilla, is accused of deliberately injuring the daughter of her benefactor, causing her permanent disfigurement, blindness, and severe physical and mental

trauma.”

At those words, the previously buzzing courtroom fell silent.

“She was pitiful, but she can’t repay kindness with cruelty.”

“Wait, no way… this can’t be another twist, right?”

Comments began to flood the screen.

Once again, that metallic buzzing rang in my mind. A searing pain, like a steel needle, stabbed deep into my brain.

My wolf whimpered from the pain and the invasive force.

This time, the memory being extracted was from long, long ago.

The first time I met Isabelle, she was four, and I was three.

She stood there in grubby clothes, her hair greasy from a week without washing, eyes darting nervously at everyone around her.

Meanwhile, I twirled in my frilly pink princess dress, spotless and crisp, my braids tied up with

little red ribbons.

Back then, I was still Daddy’s little princess and Mom’s golden girl.

Isabelle’s parents were arguing.

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