Aria Graves was the perfect Luna.
After seven years of a marriage built on lies, She didn’t break when the truth surfaced-she burned. Her revenge was clean and her rejection final.
But fate wasn’t done with her.
To protect his own secrets, her father used her mother’s life as leverage and forced Aria to take her sister’s place, sending her to the Silverfang Pack as a living offering to their ruthless Alpha King, Damien Rothwell.
Cold, commanding, and scarred by war, Damien should have killed her. Instead, he claimed her.
Yet the King is not the only one who wants her.
His half-brother, Ethan Rothwell, once the blind boy Aria taught to read, now returns a man who sees her more clearly than anyone else.
Now Aria stands between two brothers-one bound by duty, the other by love.
In a world where loyalty bleeds and desire burns, she must choose: the Alpha King who could ruin her, or the brother who would burn the world to save her.
Abandoned Luna: Claimed by Two Chapter 1 How Long Can You Stay Hidden
Aria’s POV
The jewelry store smelled of money and power.
Gold and glass glittered under the lights, showing quiet luxury. It was a place where people traded secrets as easily as they used their credit cards.
I’d been coming here for three months now, stopping by the same counter every day. Of course, my purpose wasn’t just shopping.
I was looking for someone.
“Miss Graves, you’ve looked at so many pieces already. Haven’t you found anything to your liking?”
“Miss Graves?”
My wolf, Lily, nudged me back to reality. Most pack members knew me as Luna Green, but for the sake of this little act, I had registered in the VIP directory under my former last name.
I blinked, pointing at a simple diamond necklace on display.
“I’ll take this one. Please wrap it up.”
The saleswoman released a subtle sigh of relief. “Of course. It would be my honor.”
She still called me MISS, even though she knew I was married. My name on their records had never changed, and I didn’t bother to correct her.
“Your husband must really adore you,” another customer whispered with envy. “Buying jewelry like it’s candy.”
“He must think you’re his whole world!” her friend added.
I smiled the way women smiled when they no longer had the energy to explain the ruins under the silk.
Then I looked at the young clerk behind the counter.
Belinda White.
She moved carefully, almost delicately, her slim fingers wrapping the necklace with a neatness that might have looked charming if I had not spent the last three months teaching myself to hate the sight of her. At first glance, there was nothing extraordinary about her. She was not dazzling. She was not intimidating. She was the sort of girl a room forgot the moment she left it-until, somehow, she became the one thing a man could not forget.
And her hands.
That was what I noticed every single time.
Soft, pale, unmarked hands, the kind that had never scrubbed blood from stone floors after pack training, never kneaded dough for fifty guests because a Luna’s table had to be perfect, never cracked from cold or split from labor. Hands that had not earned anything, and yet had still managed to curl around what was mine.
I glanced down at my own fingers, at the faint roughness still there beneath careful grooming, at the hands that had worked, bled, carried, steadied, served. I had not been born Stephen’s Luna. I had fought my way into that role, and then I had fought even harder to remain worthy of it.
Belinda was human. She knew nothing of wolves, of mate bonds, of the Moon Goddess, of the quiet weight that came with standing beside an Alpha and pretending strength even when your bones ached from holding up his world. Stephen had hidden everything from her-his wolf, his rank, his responsibilities, the truth of who he really was.
And yet she had still taken from me.
That was what lodged deepest under my skin-not her youth, not even her prettiness, but the ease of her existence. I had poured seven years of blood, patience, pride, and obedience into becoming the perfect Luna, while she had done absolutely nothing except exist beautifully in the right place at the right time, and somehow that had been enough to make my mate forget his vows.
“Miss Graves?” Belinda’s voice pulled me back. Her brow furrowed. “Is there something else I can help you with?”
I slipped the ring from my finger and placed it on the counter. “Melt this down.”
The clerk froze. “But this is your wedding ring. It even has an inscription…”
“A & S.”
Stephen had carved those letters himself. I remembered the warmth of his hands that day, the trembling sincerity in his voice, the way he had kissed my knuckles as though he were sealing a sacred promise rather than engraving a lie into gold.
Belinda swallowed. “Are you sure you want to destroy it?”
I stared at the two letters as if they were an expired contract.
“Melt it.” My voice stayed steady. “Absolutely.”
By the time I reached home, the sun had already dipped behind the mountain ridge.
I had just stepped inside when Stephen rushed to me. We bumped into each other, and I almost fell, but his familiar hand caught my waist.
That same hand once made me feel safe, but now it made my skin crawl.
“Where have you been? Why did you take so long?” His voice sounded worried, but there was a trace of blame in it.
Sweat shone on his forehead under the warm light of the hallway.
That voice used to calm me, but now it only made me tense.
He was still acting like the perfect mate, pretending nothing had changed.
“Luna Aria, we were worried sick,” Emma, the housekeeper, hurried to explain. “We almost called the police.”
Stephen’s Beta, Enzo, exhaled in relief, murmuring into his phone.
“Officer Walter? Mrs. Green just got home. Thanks for checking in.”
So they had actually called.
I did laugh then, though only inside my head, because by now I knew my husband too well to mistake panic for devotion. He was not afraid that I had been hurt. He was afraid that I had gone missing long enough for people to ask questions, and if people asked questions, then gossip would start, and if gossip started, the perfect image he wore like ceremonial armor might begin to crack.
Stephen brushed his fingers over my cheek, his palm warm and smelling faintly of sandalwood, a scent I had once associated with safety and sleep.
Now it felt like smoke in my lungs.
“Why didn’t you answer your phone?” he murmured. “I thought something happened.”
I could almost see that same hand around another woman’s wrist. Tangled in another woman’s hair. Resting, possessive and intimate, against the soft human skin he thought I would never discover.
Bile rose in my throat.
I stepped back. “I needed air. My phone died.”
He frowned at once, took off his jacket, and draped it around my shoulders before I could refuse. “Don’t catch a chill.”
His voice was gentle. His movements were careful. His concern was impeccably timed.
That was what made it revolting.
He still remembered I hated the cold, even while being the reason I had begun to feel frozen from the inside out.
I walked farther into the house without thanking him. He followed immediately.
“Emma,” he said over his shoulder, “bring hot apple cider. And Aria’s favorites.”
Once we were alone in the living room, he lowered his voice, as though we were about to share something intimate.
“I’m sorry for how I sounded earlier. I was worried about you.”
“I’m fine.”
His eyes stayed on me, too perceptive, too calm. “You haven’t seemed happy lately. Did I do something wrong?”
“No.”
He moved closer, the distance closing with the confidence of a man who had never imagined being denied. “Aria, we’ve been together for seven years. I know you. I can read you. Whatever it is, tell me, and I’ll fix it.”
Fix it.
As though betrayal were a scheduling conflict. As though marriage could be patched with the same smooth hands that had torn it open.
I looked at him. Stephen had always known how to sound sincere. It was one of his most dangerous gifts. He could make devotion sound like authority, make promises feel like protection, make a cage seem so soft and beautiful that by the time you realized you were trapped, you had already begun to thank him for the walls.
“It’s nothing,” I said dismissively.
Still concerned, he made a call. “Cancel my meetings. I’m taking the week off. My Luna needs me.”
I laughed softly, a short, cutting sound that hung in the air like broken glass.
“I should be smiling, having such an attentive mate.”
He looked relieved, thinking I was thankful.
He didn’t notice my fingers shaking, not from emotion but from anger I was trying to hide.
“What about you?” I asked. “Anything you want to tell me?”
He leaned down to kiss me. “Seven years together. It’s time we…”
His phone buzzed before he could finish. The light from the screen cut through the room.
For a second, I saw a soft look in his eyes, but it wasn’t for me.
“I need to take this call, Aria,” he said with a smile as he walked away.
A few minutes later, I went to the garage and started the car.
The dashboard screen lit up, and I saw that his WhatsApp account was still logged in.
A name appeared on the screen. It was Belinda White.
“That rich lady came in again today! I love her!” the message read.
Stephen: You sound excited.
Belinda: Of course! I wish that wealthy woman would visit our store every day! She’s my favorite customer!
Stephen: I used to stop by your store every day too. Didn’t I earn the same treatment?
Belinda: You’re different. She’s my VIP client!
Stephen: And what am I then?
Belinda: Hmm… remind me of your name again? Anyway, no one’s stopping me from becoming a successful career woman!
Stephen: So I’m disposable?
Belinda: Haha! You know what? Let’s talk on the phone. That rich lady tried on ten necklaces today, and my hands are so tired.
Stephen: Alright.
My grip tightened slowly around the steering wheel.
The garage was silent except for the low hum of the engine.
I opened my contacts and called a number I had saved precisely for this moment.
The line connected almost at once.
“K Investigations.”
My voice, when it came, was colder than I had expected, colder even than the part of me that had stood in the jewelry store and watched my wedding ring become scrap metal.
“I want everything on Belinda White by tonight-family, history, debts, habits, relationships. And keep watching Stephen Green. I want every movement recorded. Every meeting. Every lie.”
A brief pause.
Then: “Understood.”
I ended the call and leaned back against the seat, closing my eyes for just a moment. Lily was silent inside me, not soothed, not healed, but waiting. So was I.
When I opened my eyes again, I was smiling.
Not because I was no longer hurt.
Because now I knew exactly where to begin.
“Hide all you want, Stephen,” I whispered into the dark. “Let’s see how long you can stay hidden.”
Abandoned Luna: Claimed by Two Chapter 2 The Scent of Betrayal
Aria’s POV
When I returned from the garage to our bedroom, Stephen still hadn’t come back.
I remained on the sofa, motionless and composed, pretending I had not moved all evening, as though I had done nothing except sit there quietly and wait for my husband to return to the life he had already begun betraying.
Ten minutes later, my phone buzzed.
The detective had sent over a file titled Belinda White.
I opened it at once.
Belinda White was exactly what she appeared to be on the surface-a girl from nowhere special, with no pedigree, no power, no real protection. She had studied nursing at a community college, but dropped out before finishing, choosing instead to work as a jewelry sales assistant in order to escape a household built on ruin: two addict parents and an unemployed older brother who spent whatever little money came into the house on gambling.
It should have made me feel something close to pity.
It did not.
I kept reading.
She had met Stephen at a jewelry exhibition. According to the report, his pursuit had been swift, attentive, and impossible for a girl like her to resist. The gifts had come first, then the flowers, then the carefully timed concern, the kind of tenderness Stephen knew how to perform so well that women mistook it for devotion. Belinda had agreed to date him almost immediately.
There was a note beneath that section.
She may have noticed the pale indentation on his ring finger, the faint mark left by a wedding band recently removed. If she did, she chose not to ask. Instead, the report suggested, she had searched his name online, along with information about his wife.
So she knew.
Maybe not everything. Maybe not the whole truth. But enough.
I was still scrolling when I heard footsteps outside the room, light but familiar, and I shut my phone at once.
Emma entered a second later, carrying a mug with both hands.
“Luna Aria,” she said gently, “please drink this while it’s warm. Alpha said it was made especially for you.”
I took the mug without hesitation, my fingers steady around the porcelain.
“It’s still too hot,” I said. “I’ll drink it later.”
Her expression tightened almost imperceptibly. “But you should drink it.”
“I will,” I promised.
Emma lingered for half a second longer, then nodded and left.
The moment the door closed behind her, I rose, carried the mug into the bathroom, and poured every drop into the toilet. The amber liquid disappeared in a slow swirl before I pressed the handle and watched it vanish.
Anything prepared by Stephen now made my stomach turn.
But tomorrow, I told myself, tomorrow I would be gone.
That thought was warm enough to carry me into sleep.
I woke sometime before dawn to the weight of an arm draped over my waist.
For one disoriented second, I did not move.
Then the scent reached me.
I knew it instantly. Belinda White wore it every time I saw her in the store, the perfume lingering in the air long after she stepped away from the counter, as if she needed even her absence to ask for attention.
My body went cold.
Stephen was lying beside me, his chest pressed to my back, his arm wrapped around me with the easy possession of a man who thought he still had every right to touch me, claim me, and sleep in my bed after carrying another woman’s scent home on his skin.
When he felt me stir, he tightened his hold instead of releasing me.
“You’re awake,” he murmured, his voice still rough with sleep.
I turned sharply, ready to face him, the words already gathering on my tongue.
“You shouldn’t-“
Before I could finish, he shifted over me, one hand braced beside my head as he pinned me into the mattress with a smile that was too lazy, too intimate, too sure of itself.
“Shouldn’t what?” he asked softly. “Or were you awake all this time because you wanted me to come to bed?”
His mouth crashed down on mine before I could answer.
I shoved against his chest. “Let go of me.”
He lifted his head just enough to look down at me, desire still clouding his eyes. “What’s wrong?”
I opened my mouth, but before I could speak, my phone began to ring.
I grabbed it at once. “It’s me. Are you here already? Good. I’m coming down.”
Then I pushed past Stephen and got out of bed.
His expression darkened immediately. There was no warmth in it now, only irritation, suspicion, and the first hint of something uglier.
“Who’s calling you this early?” he asked. “That sounded like a man.”
I pulled on my jacket without looking at him. “It’s late enough for you to be getting ready for work, isn’t it?”
“Don’t you remember?” He stood and moved toward me again. “I told Enzo to clear my schedule for a few days. I’m staying home with you.”
“I don’t need you here.”
The coldness in my voice should have been enough. It wasn’t.
Stephen closed the distance between us and slid his arms around my waist from behind, pressing a trail of soft kisses along my neck as if tenderness could erase disgust, as if persistence could rewrite the truth.
“How are we supposed to have a puppy,” he murmured against my skin, “if you keep pushing me away?”
For one terrible second, I could not breathe.
I tore his hands off me and shoved him away. “Let go of me!”
He laughed, low and careless, mistaking fury for flirtation, resistance for another form of surrender.
Then he caught my chin and kissed me again.
“I’m not letting you go.”
“Stop.” My voice came out sharper this time, stripped of everything except command. “I said stop.”
Something in my expression must finally have reached him, because Stephen paused.
His arms loosened. His brows drew together. For the first time that morning, confusion flickered across his face.
“Aria,” he said slowly, “what’s wrong with you?”
I turned away before he could study me any longer and straightened my clothes with hands that I refused to let shake.
“Nothing,” I said. “The delivery driver I called is downstairs. I don’t want to keep him waiting.”
When I went down, Emma had already invited the man into the living room.
He stood the moment he saw me, holding a clipboard awkwardly against his chest. “Are you Aria Graves? The one who booked the pickup?”
“Yes.” I nodded toward the staircase. “Come upstairs with me.”
I led him to the bedroom.
Stephen was standing in the doorway by then, arms folded across his chest, every trace of sleep gone from his face. His gaze landed on the delivery driver first, then shifted to me, sharp and unreadable.
“Who let you in?” he said coldly. “Get out.”
The delivery driver faltered at once and looked at me. “Mrs. Graves…”
“I brought him in,” I said before Stephen could speak again.
Then I walked to the closet, opened the doors wide, and pointed at the stacked boxes inside.
“Those,” I said. “Can you weigh them for me?”
For a moment, the room went completely still.
Stephen’s eyes moved from the nearly emptied closet to the sealed boxes on the floor, and something in his face changed so abruptly that even the air seemed to tighten around us.
“Aria,” he said, his voice lower now, more dangerous for how controlled it was, “where are your clothes?”
I pointed to the boxes without answering.
His stare sharpened. “Why are you packing?”
Still I said nothing.
That was when he crossed the room in two steps, caught my shoulders in both hands, and forced me to face him.
“Are you leaving?” he demanded, all the smoothness gone now, replaced by something rawer, harsher. “Where are you going, Aria?”
Abandoned Luna: Claimed by Two Chapter 3 The Alpha’s Deception
Aria’s POV
I lifted my eyes to the man I had loved for seven years.
My smile looked calm, but it never reached my eyes.
I had already decided to leave. I just needed the right moment.
By now, I could read Stephen easily.
His goal was clear.
He wanted everything, a perfect Luna beside him for status and power, and a younger woman to satisfy his excitement.
He really thought he could live this double life as long as no one found out.
But he underestimated a woman’s intuition.
He had been careful, maybe too careful, but after seven years together, there were signs he could not hide.
A look or a small change in his voice was enough. Those clues led me straight to her, to Belinda.
Since Stephen had the nerve to fall for someone else and still expected me to protect his pride,
I would make sure he saw exactly what that mistake would cost him.
“Answer me! Why are you packing all your clothes into these boxes?” Stephen’s voice rose, his hands gripping my shoulders hard enough to hurt.
I gasped, and he quickly loosened his hold.
His eyes locked on mine, demanding an answer.
I gave a small laugh. “These clothes are out of season, and I don’t like them anymore. I’m donating them and buying new ones. What’s wrong? Having second thoughts? Yesterday you said I could buy whatever I wanted.”
Stephen blinked, caught off guard. “So… these are just for donation?”
I nodded. “Throwing them away would be wasteful. Donating gives them a second life.”
He exhaled in relief. “You scared me. I thought you were leaving me.”
I smiled faintly. “You haven’t done anything that would make me leave. Have you?”
“Of course not. We’re too good together for you to leave me.”
The delivery driver standing nearby tried not to laugh. His mood brightened. “If you ask me, Mrs. Graves, your husband really loves you. You’re a lucky woman. Loyal men like him are rare these days.”
Stephen pulled me close again, his arm tight around my waist. “Hear that? Men like me are rare. You should treasure me.”
I stepped out of his hold.
“Where’s my phone? I need to pay him,” I said, my tone cold.
After breakfast, Stephen went to his study for a video meeting.
I put on my jacket and walked out.
At a private gym, I ran until sweat drenched my tank top and my heartbeat echoed like a drum in my ears.
Each step felt like a release, a way for my wolf to burn off the anger clawing inside me. The air smelled faintly of metal and salt, and for a moment, the world narrowed to the rhythm of my breath and the pounding of my feet.
By noon, I finally slowed down, muscles trembling but my mind a little clearer.
I grabbed a taxi outside, planning to get lunch and maybe a few minutes of peace.
The peace didn’t last.
The car jolted to a violent stop.
I was thrown forward, hitting the seat in front of me hard enough to knock the breath out of my chest.
The driver cursed under his breath.
“What the hell? Why are they hugging in the middle of the road?” he snapped, slamming his hand against the steering wheel.
I looked up and saw a couple standing not far ahead.
The man bent down to pick something up and handed it to the woman. She covered her face, emotional, then threw her arms around him right there in traffic.
Behind them, several cars screeched to a stop.
A man stepped out of a black sedan, shouting, “Hey! Take your love story somewhere else! You’re blocking the road and could get someone killed!”
The man with one arm around the woman raised his free hand in apology. “Sorry! My girlfriend dropped her bracelet. I was just helping her pick it up.”
That man was Stephen.
“Even so, you can’t just walk into traffic!” another driver snapped. “If you got hit, who would take the blame? And what about everyone you’re holding up?”
Stephen stayed calm, his voice steady. “I’m sorry, everyone. If anyone’s car was damaged, I’ll pay for it. Send your details to my assistant, and I’ll give you triple the amount.”
Money still worked miracles.
As soon as he said triple, most of the angry drivers backed off, muttering but no longer shouting.
Beta Enzo hurried around collecting names and numbers, and within minutes, traffic started moving again.
The taxi driver looked at me in the mirror, hesitant. “Ma’am, mind if I wait a second? I’ll just leave my number and be right back. Won’t take long.”
He was clearly tempted by the promise of extra cash.
I said calmly, “This ride costs about thirty dollars. Triple that’s a hundred. I’ll give you a thousand if you just keep driving.”
His eyes widened.
“Deal!” He hit the gas immediately, grinning.
Money talks, after all.
I rubbed my temples as a dull ache formed behind my eyes.
“That woman’s lucky,” the driver said. “She’s got a boyfriend who’d risk his life just to grab her bracelet. Unreal.”
I didn’t reply.
He went on, shaking his head. “But if he’s that rich, why not just buy her a new one? Running into traffic like that? Crazy.”
I pulled out my phone and dialed. The call connected almost instantly.
“Aria?”
“Stephen, where are you?”
“At the office. Why?”
Through the rearview mirror, I saw him clearly.
Stephen was only a few cars away, holding Belinda’s hand while talking to me on the phone.
The irony was almost painful.
Belinda looked like she wanted to speak, but Stephen lifted a hand to silence her. Then he pressed a finger to his lips.
“Aria, do you want me to bring you some pastries from Sugar Nest?” he asked smoothly. “You used to love their tiramisu.”
“I’m fine,” I said.
“You sure? I thought you still liked it.”
“People change,” I replied. “Maybe I liked it before, but not anymore.”
Stephen’s voice softened. “Aria, is something wrong? You sound off.”
Lily growled inside me, begging me to confront him, to tear through his lies right now. But I stayed silent. This wasn’t the right moment.
“I’m fine,” I said quietly. “Go back to work. Goodbye.”