The Fake Luna: Marked By The Alpha King

Aria’s POV

Meanwhile, across town, I was attending the business dinner for the Riverside Pack project.

I’d brought Jennifer along, planning to make a brief appearance, shake a few hands, and leave as soon as it was polite to do so.

The restaurant was upscale—white tablecloths, crystal chandeliers, the kind of place where deals were sealed over wine that cost more than most people’s monthly rent.

But the dinner had barely started when Jennifer’s phone buzzed. She glanced at the screen, her face going pale.

"I need to take this," she murmured, already pushing back her chair.

I watched her hurry toward the exit, her shoulders tense. Something was wrong. She’d been off all day—distracted, jumpy, like she was carrying a secret that was eating her alive.

When she returned ten minutes later, she looked even worse.

"Are you okay?" I asked quietly, leaning closer so the others at the table wouldn’t hear. "If you’re not feeling well, you can head home. I can handle this."

"I’m fine." Her voice was tight. She pressed her palms flat against her thighs, like she was trying to anchor herself. "But I need to talk to you later. About something important."

My stomach twisted. "Okay."

I’d expected trouble at this dinner. Expected Vanessa Crane to pull something—another scene, another confrontation. I’d kept my guard up from the moment we walked in.

But to my surprise, everything went smoothly. The Riverside Pack representatives were professional, even warm.

They were gracious, thanking me for the partnership, discussing logistics without a hint of hostility.

The wine flowed, but no one pressured me to drink more than I wanted.

And Vanessa? She was the picture of decorum.

She’d approached me early in the evening with a glass of champagne, her smile polite, her tone measured.

"Luna Queen," she’d said, her eyes downcast. "I wanted to thank you for giving us this opportunity. I know things between us got off to a... rocky start."

I’d accepted the glass, studying her carefully. "Business is business, Miss Crane. Let’s keep it that way."

She’d nodded, seemingly satisfied, and moved on to mingle with the other guests.

I’d watched her all night, waiting for the other shoe to drop. But it never did.

*Maybe I was wrong about her,* I thought as the dinner wound down. *Maybe she’s actually trying to move on.*

Vanessa was an Alpha’s daughter — spoiled, notoriously so, used to getting her way. But she was still pack royalty,and she’d been raised with manners, taught how to navigate high society.

And Damian was married now. To me. Maybe she’d finally accepted it.

*Or maybe you’re being naive.*

The dinner ended just after ten. I signaled Jennifer, who was already pulling out her phone to call our driver.

We were halfway to the door when Vanessa’s voice stopped me.

"Luna Queen?"

I turned. She was standing by the coat check, her purse clutched in both hands. She looked... uncertain. Vulnerable, even.

"Could I speak with you for a moment? Alone?"

I hesitated, glancing at Jennifer. She was watching Vanessa with narrowed eyes, clearly suspicious.

"I’ll wait outside for the car," Jennifer said after a pause. She squeezed my arm gently—a silent warning—and walked out.

I crossed my arms, keeping a comfortable distance between us. "What is it, Miss Crane?"

Vanessa took a breath, her gaze dropping to the floor.

"I know I owe you an apology. For the way I acted when we first met. For the things I said. I was... I was hurt. And angry. And I took it out on you, which wasn’t fair."

She looked up, her amber eyes shining with what looked like genuine regret.

"I just want you to know that I’m done fighting. I’m done causing problems. I hope we can move forward—professionally, at least. Maybe even as... friends."

She extended her hand.

I stared at it for a long moment.

*This could be a trap. This could be exactly what she wants.*

But there was something in her expression—something raw and broken—that made me pause.

*Maybe she really does mean it.*

I reached out and shook her hand briefly. Not cold, not warm. Neutral.

"I appreciate the apology," I said evenly. "And I agree—let’s keep things professional. That’s all either of us can ask for."

Vanessa nodded, a faint smile crossing her lips. "Thank you."

I turned to leave.

I’d made it maybe ten steps when I heard the scream.

"LOOK OUT!"

Vanessa’s voice, sharp and terrified.