Alpha King Chases Abandoned Luna

The Alpha King is unavailable 140

of control.

"You can look now," | said when I finished.

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Ethan turned, something clutched carefully in his hands. My breath caught when | recognized

Lily's mug, painstakingly pieced back together.

"| spent the night repairing it," he said, his voice uncharacteristically hesitant. "I know it doesn't

make up for what I did, but | wanted to try."

He held it out to me, the cracks visible but the mug whole again. The childish drawing of our

family-a family that never truly existed-made my heart ache.

"Olivia, about Lily's birthday..." Ethan began, his amber eyes earnest. “I didn't intentionally miss it. There was an

emergency with Emma at the Silvercrest Pack Medical Den. Dr. Rivers diagnosed a spleen injury requiring

immediate blood transfusion."

My hands trembled as | took the mug from him.

"I should have been there for Lily," he continued. "I know that now. It won't happen again."

His words, meant to appease, only deepened my pain. The authority in his voice- an Alpha

making a solemn vow-meant nothing. It was too late for promises.

"Won't happen again?" | repeated, my voice dangerously quiet. "She's dead, Ethan. Our daughter is dead."

Something snapped inside me. With a sudden movement, | hurled the mug against the wall.

The sound of breaking ceramic echoed my broken heart as it shattered once

more.

"Ethan Stone, you're not worthy!" | declared, my voice steady despite the tears threatening to

fall.

| walked out, leaving him stunned amidst the shards of Lily's final gift.

(Matriarch Evelyn's POV)

The morning air carried the scent of moonflowers as my car approached the Sacred

Moonlight Cemetery. After three months at the ancient temple retreat, | felt refreshed, my

spirit renewed by the sacred rituals and meditation.

"We've arrived, Matriarch," Bernard Sheppard announced, opening my door with the dignified

efficiency that had characterized his decades of service to our family.

"Thank you, Bernard," | replied, accepting his arm as | stepped from the vehicle. "I won't be

long. Just a brief visit to pay my respects to old friend Matilda."

The cemetery was peaceful, bathed in soft morning light. | made my way to Matilda's grave, my old bones

protesting slightly at the exertion. After placing fresh moonflowers on her

resting place and saying a brief prayer, | turned to leave.

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That's when | saw it-a new tombstone gleaming in the soft light. Something about it drew me

closer.

Lily's Moonstone Tombstone was beautifully crafted, the polished granite embedded with small moonstone

crystals that seemed to absorb and reflect the light. But it was the photograph that captured my attention-a

young girl, perhaps four or five years old, with emerald green eyes so familiar they made my heart ache.

"Lily Winters," | read aloud, my fingers tracing the engraved name. "Beloved daughter. Forever

in our hearts."

The dates indicated she had lived just five short years. Such a tragedy for one so young.

| said a brief prayer for the child's spirit before continuing toward the cemetery exit. But the nechoed in my

mind, stirring something deep within my memory.

Lily Winters. Why did it sound so familiar?

A fragmented recollection surfaced-a video call with Olivia, my grandson's mate. She was holding a newborn

baby, her face radiant with new motherhood.

"We've named her Lily," Olivia had said, her voice filled with pride. "Lily Winters Stone."

Another memory flashed-a family gathering at the Stone Estate. A little girl with emerald eyes, perhaps two or

three years old, running towith arms outstretched.

"Great-Grandmother!" she had called, her laughter like silver bells.

| stopped walking, my heart pounding painfully in my chest. The face in my memory matched

the one on the tombstone.

“Bernard,” | called, my voice shaking. “Bernard, cquickly!"

My faithful butler was at my side in an instant. "What is it, Matriarch? Are you unwell?"

"That child," | said, pointing to the tombstone we had just passed. "That's Lily. Ethan and

Olivia's daughter."

Bernard's face paled. "Matriarch, perhaps we should return to the car. You seem distressed."

But | was already turning back, drawn by a terrible certainty. | stumbled toward the grave, my eyes fixed on the

innocent face in the photograph.

The missing pieces of my memory clicked into place with devastating clarity. My great-granddaughter, Ethan and

Olivia's child. Dead.

"How?" | whispered, sinking to my knees before the tombstone. "How did this happen? And

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why wasn't | told?"

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Bernard knelt beside me, his weathered face grave. "Matriarch, your condition... The doctors advised against

upsetting news."

My condition. The memory lapses that had plaguedthese past five years. The way my family carefully

controlled what | was told, what | remembered.

"How long?" | demanded. "How long has she been gone?"

Bernard hesitated before answering. "Six months, Matriarch."

Six months. My great-granddaughter had been dead for six months, and | hadn't known. Hadn't

been allowed to mourn her.

"Taketo Ethan," | commanded, my voice regaining its authority. "Now."

As Bernard helpedto my feet, | took one last look at Lily's innocent face. My

great-granddaughter. Olivia and Ethan's daughter. Dead.