Chapter 9 Welcome Home, Luna
Author’s POV
The Emperor Hotel was even grander than Linda had imagined.
White roses and orchids spilled over every surface, crystal chandeliers blazed overhead, and the guests murmured behind their glasses, their voices wrapped in silk and envy.
"I heard the flowers were flown in from Ecuador this morning. Three Michelin-star chefs are in the kitchen."
"The orchestra is from Vienna. Flown in just for this."
"Well, it’s not as if Alpha Sebastian hasn’t done this before," a third voice cut in, dripping with cruel amusement. "What is this, his seventh wedding? Eighth? I’ve lost count."
Then the orchestra swelled, and he appeared.
Sebastian Simons walked down the aisle like a man who owned everything his eyes touched. His black suit was cut perfectly to his broad shoulders, his dark hair styled just enough to look effortless, and his striking green eyes swept over the crowd with cold indifference. He was, objectively, devastatingly handsome.
Linda gasped out loud.
She had convinced herself that a cursed man who had buried six wives had to be hideous. Twisted, perhaps. Scarred. Something monstrous enough to match the rumors.
She was wrong.
Completely wrong.
Sebastian reached the altar and turned, his face carved from ice.
Then Emilia appeared at the end of the aisle.
The Celeste dress looked as if it had been made only for her, the diamonds at her throat catching the chandelier light with every step. Alpha Henry stood beside her, puffed up with self-importance as he prepared to walk his daughter down the aisle, as if he had not sold her off only days ago.
They looked like the perfect couple.
Under the witness of the Moon Goddess, they exchanged vows. They were joined as husband and wife. Then Sebastian lowered his head and kissed Emilia in front of everyone.
And when it was over, Alpha Sebastian even helped Emilia down the steps.
A powerful, handsome, gentlemanly Alpha. A man with an outrageous fortune, an ancient name, and the entire room holding its breath for him.
It should have been her.
Linda’s fingers tightened around her champagne glass.
She was the legitimate daughter. She was the one with a wolf. She was the one who should have worn that dress, those jewels, that name. And yet Emilia—wolfless Emilia—had gotten everything. The Celeste gown. The diamonds. The Simons name. The richest Alpha in North America.
It wasn’t fair.
Linda leaned close to Luna Dorothy, her voice low and venomous. "You said Emilia was being sent to some cursed Alpha, not the richest man in North America. I could have been the one marrying him."
"You made your choice with Brandon," Luna Dorothy snapped, her smile stiff as she glanced around to make sure no one had heard them. "And the rumors aren’t fake. Would you have dared to gamble your entire future on him?"
Linda said nothing.
She watched Emilia laugh with a guest. Watched Sebastian’s parents welcome her warmly. Watched the way people looked at Emilia now—not as a disgrace, not as the unwanted daughter of the Taylor family, but as Luna Simons.
The resentment in Linda’s chest curdled into something colder.
Let her enjoy it while she could, Linda thought.
The curse would take her soon enough.
And when Emilia was dead and gone, Sebastian would need another wife.
Her fingers tightened around the glass until the stem nearly cracked.
This time, Linda would make sure it was her.
Emilia’s POV
The bonding ceremony was over fast. Sebastian and I went through the motions like a pair of robots, but I had to admit, the look on Linda’s face made every second of it worth it.
Once the guests had gone, Sebastian dropped my hand fast, still sore, it seemed, that Mila had forced this ceremony on him. Tonight we’d be sharing a room, and that still left me a little uneasy.
"Hello!"
I looked up to find a teenage girl beaming at me—fair-skinned, with big bright eyes and an infectious smile that seemed completely genuine.
"You must be my new sister-in-law!" She extended her hand eagerly. "I’m Tiffany Simons. Sebastian’s sister. I’m so sorry I was late—I rushed back as soon as I heard, but I still missed the ceremony."
I shook her hand, surprised by the warmth radiating from her. "Emilia. And please, don’t apologize. Everything happened very quickly."
Tiffany plopped down beside me without invitation, studying me with unabashed curiosity. Her thoughts filtered through—bright, genuine.
[She’s so pretty. And she seems nice. God, I hope she survives longer than the others. I’m so tired of going to funerals.]
My chest tightened at that last thought.
"Can I ask you something?" I leaned closer, lowering my voice conspiratorially. "How long did your brother’s longest marriage last?"
Tiffany tilted her head, considering. "Hmm... two months? Maybe three?"
"You should ask the person involved."
We both jumped. Sebastian materialized behind us like a dark specter, his expression thunderous.
"Alpha Sebastian—" I started.
"Seb!" Tiffany pressed a hand to her chest dramatically. "Are you trying to give me a heart attack?"
"It’s not polite to gossip," Sebastian said coldly, pulling Tiffany to her feet and away from me. His green eyes fixed on me with an intensity that made my pulse skip. "The longest lasted three months. So cherish your time playing Luna while it lasts. It’ll be brief."
I met his gaze steadily. "I told you before. I’ll be your last wife."
His lips curved into something too sharp to be called a smile.
"Arrogant."
"Confident," I corrected.
Tiffany clapped her hands together. "Oh, I like her! Emilia, you’re amazing! Don’t let him bully you!"
Sebastian shot his sister an exasperated look. "Leave. Now."
She stuck her tongue out at him but obeyed, throwing me an encouraging wink as she went.
Then Sebastian’s hand closed around my wrist.
"What are you doing?" I demanded as he pulled me to my feet.
"We’re leaving."
"The reception isn’t over! The guests—"
"I don’t give a damn about the guests." He started walking, forcing me to follow or be dragged. "And if you want to stay here being pitied and whispered about, be my guest. But I’m done with this circus."
I opened my mouth to argue, then closed it.
Because he was right. Every person in that ballroom was thinking terrible things—about me, about Sebastian, about how quickly I’d meet my inevitable tragic end.
And more than that... his presence was still somehow keeping the worst of the mental noise at bay. The moment he released my wrist, the crushing weight of hundreds of thoughts would come crashing back.
"Fine," I said. "Let’s go."
We rode back to the Simons mansion in complete silence. Sebastian stared out the window, his jaw locked tight. I studied the passing scenery and tried not to think about what came next.
The wedding night.
When we finally arrived and Sebastian led me to his, now our room, I braced myself for rose petals and soft lighting and all the romantic trappings expected of newlyweds.
I should have known better.
The room was an exercise in stark minimalism. Black furniture. White walls. Grey bedding. Not a single warm color or soft texture in sight.
"Welcome home, Luna," Sebastian said flatly, already shrugging off his jacket. "Try not to get too comfortable. You won’t be here long."
I turned to face him, chin lifted, refusing to be intimidated.
"We’ll see about that, Alpha."
I took another look at the bedroom.
This wasn’t a bridal suite. This was a mausoleum.
This Alpha probably grew up in a cemetery. Or maybe he’s just trying to prepare me for mine.
"Get into your room."
I turned to find Sebastian pointing at the landscape painting, his expression unreadable.
I blinked. "I’m sorry, what?"
"The painting." He loosened his tie with casual indifference, like he hadn’t just said something completely insane. "Flip it."
For a moment, I just stared at him. Then I approached the painting cautiously, half-expecting this to be some kind of elaborate prank.
But when I reached out and touched the frame, I realized it wasn’t secured to the wall. It swung outward on hidden hinges, revealing—
My stomach dropped.
Behind the beautiful landscape was a door. A small door. Leading to what looked like a closet that someone had optimistically called a bedroom.
I pushed it open fully and peered inside. The "room" was barely eight feet square, with a narrow single bed, a rickety nightstand, and one tiny window set high in the wall that looked like it hadn’t been opened since the house was built. The whole space reeked of neglect and isolation.
It looked like a servant’s quarters. Slightly better than Harry Potter’s cupboard under the stairs, but not by much.
"You want me to sleep in here?" I said with forced nonchalance, even as my mind raced.