The Alpha's Unwanted Substitute Luna

"Shut up, you wicked woman!" Lorde snapped, his voice slicing through the room like a blade.

He was furious. Again. Wrecking everything I had worked so hard to prepare. It was his birthday. No event planner agreed to take us in. They’re too busy, they claimed. I didn’t argue. I found a way. I pulled together a small, meaningful celebration just for him. I baked cakes and cupcakes, cook food until my hand felt numb. For his classmates. For his trainers. I thought it would be enough.

But it never is.

“Lorde!” I shouted, panic rising as he grabbed the tray of cupcakes I had made from scratch and hurled one straight at my chest.

He grinned. That smile didn’t belong on a child. It was twisted, cruel.

“That’s what you deserve!” he yelled.

I shielded myself, arms raised as the frosting splattered across my blouse. My lips trembled, but I swallowed hard, refusing to let the tears fall. I didn’t know where the pain was coming from anymore. Was it the humiliation in front of his guests, the wasted effort, or the truth I’d buried for too long, that no matter what I did, I would never be enough for him?

“This woman is a lying bitch!” he spat, pointing at me. “She’s the reason I never had a real mom. She ruined my birthday just by being here.”

He turned to his friends. “Isn’t she a nuisance?”

They nodded, wide-eyed and quiet. Of course they did. Lorde was the future alpha of this town. No one would dare oppose him. Not even now he's six.

“What the hell is going on here?”

Lucian’s voice rang out, loud and sharp, shaking the air.

Everyone froze. My husband stepped into the room, eyes scanning the mess, the frosting, the shattered glasses, the half-eaten food, the stunned council members in their clean suits.

Then he looked at me.

Lorde’s smile stretched wider as he turned to face his father, then flicked his eyes back toward me with a tilt of his head, almost daring him to see it.

“She ruined it,” Lorde said quietly. “Just like she ruined everything. She’s the one who killed my mother.”

The silence that followed swallowed everything. Even the music stopped.

Lucian’s jaw clenched. His gaze burned with rage.

“Hestia,” he said my name like it was poison.

I dropped to the floor and began picking up the fallen cupcakes with shaking hands. Maids rushed over to help, but no one looked me in the eyes. No one said a word.

I tried to fix the buffet. I wiped away the frosting, tried to align the trays, but my vision blurred. My fingers slipped.

“Sing for me,” Lorde said suddenly. “I want to blow the candles now.”

Lucian grabbed my arm. His grip was firm, his voice like ice. “Go.”

He dragged me closer. My steps felt heavy. My feet numb.

“Happy birthday to you…” the children began to sing, voices small and unsure.

I forced my lips to move. My voice cracked.

“Happy birthday, Lorde…”

Tears welled in my eyes. I wiped them away and smiled, hoping no one would notice the way my hands were trembling.

“I’ll make a wish now,” Lorde announced.

He didn’t move. Didn’t blow the candles. Just stared at me.

Lucian leaned close and whispered, “He’s waiting. Don’t make him wait.”

I hesitated.

Lucian shoved me forward. “Move.”

My knees buckled as I stepped closer. Lorde climbed onto a chair, eye level with me now. His eyes gleamed.

“I have a wish,” he declared. “On my seventh birthday, I wish…” He paused. The silence stretched too long. Then he pointed at me. “…for this woman to die. Just like she killed my mother. Her death would be the best gift I could ever receive.”

I gasped. My mouth opened, but no sound came out. Before I could react, he reached behind my head and shoved my face into the cake.

Pain burst through my temple. A wooden topper dug the skin near my eye. A caked seared into my cheek. I heard gasps. A few stifled laughs.

Frosting filled my nose, my lips, and even my ears.

I pulled away, choking, my face drenched in cake and blood.

“Happy birthday to me,” Lorde yelled behind me, laughing as he ran to his friends, “and happy death to my mother’s murderer!”

I staggered back, wiping the blood and cream from my face. My left eye stung. My vision blurred. The burning sensation didn’t stop.

I looked for him. For the boy I had raised. For the child I had tried to love. But all I see is how dark the truth is I can never make him love me.

I turned to Lucian. He didn’t blink, didn’t move. He and his son didn’t care whether they trampled me to the point I can’t think of anything but divorce.