His Discarded Luna, the Rival's Obsession

"No wolf. No family. Harmless. Useful. The second I am done with her, the Luna title is yours." Eira Crawford heard those words through her husband's office door. For four years, she had been Sebastian Vale's hidden mate. She managed his household, entertained his relatives, cleaned up his messes, and lived on the three thousand dollars he gave her each month like charity. Even buying a new coat required an explanation. But for his first love, he casually prepared three hundred thousand dollars in research funding. To Sebastian, Eira was nothing more than a wolfless Omega from an orphanage. A quiet, obedient wife with no pack, no power, and no value beyond being useful. He had never introduced her publicly as his Luna. His family treated her like a servant. His sweetheart mocked her as a woman who could only survive by clinging to an Alpha. So Eira stopped crying. She recorded the affair, filed for mate dissolution, and placed the divorce papers in front of Sebastian. Even then, he thought she was throwing a tantrum. He signed without hesitation, certain she would come crawling back once she realized no one else would want a discarded, wolfless Omega. He was wrong. The woman he left at home washing dishes was a Stanford-trained electrical engineer. The "useless" wife he ignored was the hidden chief engineer behind a national self-developed chip project. Her movements were classified. Her disappearance could alert the federal authorities. Her name, once revealed, was enough to shake the entire scientific community. And Sebastian knew nothing. After walking out of his house with nothing but her freedom, Eira crossed paths with Killian Sterling, the coldest and most powerful Alpha in the north. He did not know her name yet, but his wolf recognized something in her that everyone else had missed. Meanwhile, Sebastian finally realized that Eira was not bluffing. He searched the entire city like a madman. For the first time in four years, he publicly called her his wife. He demanded she return. He begged for another chance. But by then, Eira was no longer waiting in his house. She was seated at the Sterling Pack's dinner table, dressed with quiet confidence, while the most feared Alpha in North America stood beside her. In front of everyone, Killian Sterling placed his hand at her back and said coldly, "Eira is not anyone's discarded Omega." "She is my Luna."

Werewolf Love triangle Alpha Billionaires Hidden Identities Billionaire Ex-wife Kickass Heroine

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I was reviewing the laundering accounts when my husband asked for a hundred thousand dollars for the nanny.

It took three seconds for me to realize the woman he was trying to pay off was wearing my missing vintage Chanel earrings.

Damian looked me in the eye, using his best doctor's voice.

"She is struggling, Ainsley. She has five boys to feed."

When Casey walked in, she wasn't wearing a uniform. She was wearing my jewelry and looking at my husband with intimate familiarity.

Instead of apologizing when I confronted them, Damian protected her. He looked at me with a mixture of pity and disgust.

"She is a good mother," he sneered. "Something you wouldn't understand."

He used the infertility I had spent millions trying to cure as a weapon against me.

He didn't know that I had just received the investigator's file.

The file that proved those five boys were his.

The file that proved he had gotten a secret vasectomy six months before we started trying for a baby.

He had let me endure years of painful procedures, hormones, and shame, all while funding his secret family with my father's money.

I looked at the man I had shielded from the violence of my world so he could play god in a white coat.

I didn't scream. I am a Pierce. We execute.

I picked up my phone and dialed my enforcer.

"I want him ruined. I want him to have nothing. I want him to wish he was dead."

Chapter 1

Ainsley POV

I was reviewing the laundering accounts for the West Coast operations when my husband asked for a hundred thousand dollars to secure the loyalty of a woman who was already wearing my missing Chanel earrings.

It took three seconds for the request to register in my brain.

Three seconds where the only sound in the dining room was the aggressive scratching of my pen against the heavy bond paper of a ledger that didn't technically exist.

I looked up.

Damian stood at the head of the table.

He looked every inch the Chief of Surgery I had paid millions to create. His suit was tailored Italian wool; his hands were scrubbed clean-the hands of a healer.

But his eyes were shifting, darting nervously toward the kitchen door where Casey was undoubtedly listening.

I set my pen down. It made a sharp click against the mahogany.

"You want to double the nanny's salary," I said.

My voice was flat. It was the precise tone my father used moments before he ordered a hit.

Damian adjusted his tie, a nervous tic he developed whenever he had to ask me for money from the Family accounts.

"She is struggling, Ainsley," he said.

He put on his best bedside manner voice-the solemn, practiced tone he used to tell families their loved ones wouldn't make it through the night. "She has five boys to feed."

I leaned back in my chair. The leather creaked beneath me.

I looked at him. I really studied him.

I saw the man I had defied the Capos for. The man I had shielded from the blood and the violence of my world so he could play god in a sterile white coat.

And then I looked at the kitchen door.

Casey pushed it open with her hip.

She was carrying a tray of coffee. She wasn't wearing a uniform. Instead, she wore a tight cashmere sweater that strained against her chest and jeans that looked painted on.

And there, dangling from her ears, were the vintage Chanel drops my father had given me for my twenty-first birthday.

I didn't blink.

I didn't scream.

I am a Pierce. We don't scream. We execute.

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