Chapter 3

I rented a dilapidated apartment.

The landlord tossed the keys onto a wooden table.

"Rent is paid every three months. Utilities are on you. The corner gets damp when it rains."

I nodded and paid him.

The place was tiny, the wallpaper was moldy, and the windows didn't close properly.

But at least I didn't need a Moonstone Pack keycard to enter.

And no one would keep a record of what time I slept, what time I woke up, who I saw, or how many times I cried.

That night, I opened the suitcase my mother had left me.

At the very bottom, beneath everything else, lay two torn pieces of paper.

Next to them was a small note in my mother's handwriting:

"Emily, do not read this until you have completely left Moonstone. Never beg for love with the truth."

The other piece of paper was completely blank. But the moment I smelled it, I knew what it was. It was the concealment method my mother and I used most often.

Only my mother and I knew the formula for the revealing solution.

I put on gloves, mixed the chemical solution, and gently brushed it over the edges of the paper.

The slightly sour scent of the solution drifted into the air.

I was painfully familiar with this smell.

After we got married, I used to spend hours in the herbal medicine room researching formulas.

Sometimes, Jack would walk in and adjust the harsh white light above my head to a warm, gentle glow.

I was terrified of thunder.

On stormy nights, he would change his meetings to Snapchat voice calls, sitting in the living room to work.

Whenever thunder rumbled, I would look up and see his broad back.

That silhouette had given me so many illusions.

I actually thought that was companionship.

Until the day I asked him:

"Jack, can we have dinner together this weekend? Just the two of us, not for some business event."

He had looked at my reflection in the mirror, adjusting his tie, and said indifferently:

"Emily, don't mistake cohabitation courtesy for intimacy."

Then, I got pregnant.

I foolishly thought this child would make things different between us.

But Olivia's messages only flooded in faster, day after day on Snapchat.

*Pregnancy Emotional Independence Recommendation.*

*Risk Warning: Unnecessary Companionship.*

*Protocol Relationship Boundary Reminder.*

Every single word felt like a slap in the face, telling me I was crossing the line.

The day of my miscarriage, it was pouring rain.

I was shivering in agonizing pain. I called Jack seventeen times.

On the eighteenth try, the call finally went through.

But it was Olivia's voice on the other end of the FaceTime.

She was perfectly calm.

"Alpha Jack is busy dealing with an emergency."

"Luna Emily, please contact the medical team and follow the protocol. Do not waste the Alpha's time."

I wanted to tell her I was bleeding.

I wanted to tell her how much it hurt.

But the line went dead.

When Jack finally rushed back, standing by my hospital bed, his face was terrifyingly pale.

But his very first words were:

"Why didn't you follow the safety protocols? Why did you go out alone without guards?"

By then, the baby was already gone.

My body was completely drained of strength; I was barely holding onto life.

I stared at the ceiling and asked him, "Jack, will I always be secondary to your protocols?"

He fell silent for a long time.

Finally, he reached out and tucked the blanket around me.

"At least the protocols won't hurt you."

My hands froze.

I snapped back from my memories.

As the solution peeled back the hidden layer of the paper, a sharp, familiar signature was revealed at the bottom.

*Jack.*

My hand shook, and the blade cut into my fingertip.

Ignoring the sting of the pain, I stared blankly at his name.

How could it be him?

[Paid Node]