The Sickened Luna's Last Chance novel Chapter 452

**The Perfect 452**

**Chapter 452**

**Ella’s POV**

As dawn broke the next day, the fallout from my appearance at the medical conference had erupted across every news outlet imaginable.

I became aware of it the moment I descended the stairs, still wrapped in the fog of sleep, my mind sluggishly trying to catch up with reality. Anya, my ever-enthusiastic friend, was practically vibrating with excitement as she thrust her phone into my face, her eyes wide with urgency. “Look!” she exclaimed, her voice a mix of disbelief and thrill.

With a frown etched on my features, I reluctantly took her phone, squinting at the screen. There it was—a snapshot of Alexander and me, side by side at the conference, his hand resting possessively on the small of my back as we conversed with the Anthonies and Dr. Evelyn.

The headline blared, “Stella Night and Alpha King Back At It? What Ever Happened to Anya?”

A heavy sigh escaped my lips as I shut the page and returned her phone. I met Anya’s gaze, a wave of sympathy washing over me. “I’m really sorry. We haven’t exactly figured out how to… clarify things for everyone yet.”

Anya tucked her phone back into her pocket, her expression a mix of frustration and resignation. “It’s not your fault. Even if you tried to explain, how many would actually believe you?”

I took a sip of my coffee, the warmth spreading through me as I pondered her words. Honestly, I doubted very few would accept our truth—if anyone at all. If I were a bystander, witnessing this chaos unfold, I would have thought it was nothing short of madness.

For the longest time, I had felt that way too. It took the farmer’s sudden illness and subsequent death, along with Liam’s bizarre magical tumor, to shift my perspective. Only then did I begin to grasp the reality of our situation.

Now that the storm had settled, proving our story seemed impossible. The public would have to take our word for it, and I knew all too well how much they despised being asked to do that.

Just as I was lost in thought, Alexander entered the room, his expression tight and pinched, revealing that he too had seen the headlines.

“What are we going to do?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper, the weight of uncertainty pressing down on me.

Before he could respond, the doorbell rang, slicing through the tension like a knife. It was still early, just past seven, and we both instinctively understood that this visit was likely a direct reaction to the news.

When we opened the door, Alexander’s Alpha King advisors stood there, their hands wringing nervously, faces taut with concern. The moment they spotted me behind Alexander, their expressions hardened further, as if my presence was an unwelcome shadow.

“Good. You’re both here,” one of them, an elder wolf with wiry gray hairs sprouting from his ears, stated abruptly. “We need to talk.”

There was no time to waste. A few minutes later, we found ourselves in Alexander’s study, a room that usually radiated warmth and comfort but now felt charged with tension. I lingered by the window, watching as Alexander and his advisors claimed various places around the room, their body language revealing their unease.

“Well. I assume you all saw the headlines,” Alexander began, his voice steady but laced with an undercurrent of frustration.

The three advisors nodded in unison, their expressions grim. The elder wolf, his eyes still averted from me, spoke curtly. “Your wedding to Miss Anya was anticipated, Alpha. The public was eager for it after that debacle of a Luna Trial.”

“Things have changed,” Alexander responded, his tone firm. “Besides, half of the public wanted Ella to win, anyway.”

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