The Rejected Luna (Avery and Kaden) novel Chapter 198

**Between the Wings of Twilight Lies the Memory of You**
by Liren Ava Roen

“He’s a busy man,” I replied, my voice steady yet tinged with a hint of resignation. “How could he possibly make it to a party? He’s off on a business trip today.”

My father erupted like a volcano, his frustration palpable. “You didn’t tell him it was my birthday? I ask you to do one simple thing, and you can’t even manage that! What are you good for?” His words were sharp, cutting through the air like a knife.

In moments like these, I would usually feel the sting of his insults deep within my heart, each word a reminder of my perceived inadequacies. Yet, today, I merely offered a faint smile, a mask of indifference.

“I did tell him,” I insisted, trying to keep my tone light. “He said he was too busy. Would you like me to call him again and ask?”

With that, I reached into my purse and pulled out a large butcher knife, its blade gleaming ominously under the dim lights of the room. Janice gasped, her eyes widening as she stumbled back, clearly startled. I shot her a knowing glance, one that conveyed more than words could.

“It’s just a phone case,” I reassured her, my voice playful. “You know, to scare off the bad guys.”

Janice’s complexion paled further, her fear evident. I felt a sense of satisfaction wash over me; she understood the hint. I dialed the number with my butcher knife phone—not to Steven, of course, but to Rachel.

“Steven,” I cooed into the receiver, my tone sweet and persuasive, “it’s Dad’s birthday today. If you don’t come, he’ll yell at me in front of everyone. Can you imagine how embarrassed I’ll be?”

“Mhmm, okay. You tell him,” came Steven’s indifferent reply.

I handed the phone over to my father, who took it with a nervous energy, the facade of authority slipping away as he adopted a sycophantic tone.

“Mr. Lancaster, uh, it’s my birthday today. We have quite a gathering here. If Mr. Lancaster could just…”

But my father’s hopeful expression quickly crumbled. He returned the phone to me, disappointment etched across his features. “He hung up.”

I took the phone back, my face a carefully crafted mask of pitiful disappointment.

“See, Dad? It’s not that I didn’t try. He just doesn’t want to come. Do you understand now?”

I was acutely aware of the effort my father and Janice had poured into this celebration. The guest list alone was a testament to their hard work. With both Mary and Steven absent, he was left to face the ridicule of others.

My father’s brow furrowed deeper, anxiety evident in his posture. “But the investment for that project I mentioned… we can’t afford any delays. We need to finalize it.”

I had intended to search for my mother’s last heirloom, a relic of our shared past. But halfway up the staircase, I spotted Antonia descending. She was adorned with a decorative headband and a veil, perfectly concealing the bruises that marred her skin. Her dress was scandalously revealing, making her look more like a dancer than a guest at a respectable party.

She shot me a triumphant smirk, her confidence radiating. “See, Zephyra? Every eye in the room is on me. This is the power of beauty. I told you I would outshine you, and here I am.”

I glanced down, and it was undeniable; nearly every man in the room was captivated by her. Looking back at Antonia, I took in her exposed shoulders, collarbones, and thighs, clicking my tongue in disapproval.

“It’s almost winter. Aren’t you cold?” I remarked, my tone laced with feigned concern.

The indoor temperature barely hovered above the low forties. Dressed like that, she was practically inviting illness.

Antonia’s expression froze, the reality of my words sinking in as goosebumps prickled her skin.

She rubbed her arms, about to respond, when her gaze suddenly brightened. Spotting someone at the door, she quickly gathered her skirt and hurried down the stairs, her voice dripping with honeyed sweetness.

“Steven, you’re here!”