Luna Everleigh's POV
My heart pounded as I walked down the long corridor, my dress whispering against the polished floors. The hushed voices, the stolen glances, the barely-contained murmurs from the guests had left me raw with unease. I needed to see Damian. He would explain. He had to.
The door to his private chamber stood slightly ajar, candlelight flickering through the crack. I hesitated for a moment, gathering my breath, before pushing it open.
And then my world shattered.
Damian was not alone.
Emilia was with him, her hands tangled in his dark hair, her lips pressed against his. His arms were around her, fingers digging into the soft fabric of her dress. The same hands that were meant to hold me.
The breath in my lungs turned to ice.
I couldn't move. I couldn't think.
For a moment, I thought I was imagining it. That this was some cruel hallucination brought on by the weight of my anxieties. But then Emilia pulled back, breathless, her fingers tracing Damian's jaw with the kind of familiarity that made my stomach churn.
A sharp gasp escaped me.
Their heads snapped toward the doorway, toward me.
"Luna—" Damian stepped forward, but I flinched, taking a step back. The movement sent a painful shudder through my body, like a glass cracking under too much pressure.
Emilia—Emmy—my best friend—didn't even look ashamed.
"You don't understand," Damian said quickly. "This isn't—"
"Isn't what?" My voice was barely above a whisper, but it felt like a scream in my own head.
Emilia exhaled, almost bored, and turned to me with a look that made something inside me snap. "It's exactly what it looks like, Luna."
Silence stretched between us.
Then rage took over.
Before I could stop myself, my hand flew through the air, striking her across the face. The sharp crack of the slap echoed in the room. Emilia stumbled slightly, her hand flying to her cheek.
She didn't look surprised.
But Damian—he did.
His fingers closed around my wrist, yanking me back before I could do anything else. "Enough!" he snapped.
I stared at him, breathless. The man I had been prepared to marry, the man I thought loved me, was standing between me and the person who had betrayed me.
Protecting her.
Defending her.
My stomach twisted painfully.
"You're siding with her?" My voice cracked, thick with disbelief.
"Luna, you're making a scene," Damian hissed. "This isn't—"
"Don't." I yanked my wrist from his grip, disgust curling in my throat. "Don't lie to me."
Emilia straightened, her lips curling into something that wasn't quite a smirk—but close enough. "You were never meant for him, Luna."
Something inside me fractured.
I had spent years believing that if I was perfect enough—if I was quiet, obedient, good enough—people would stay. That love meant something.
But this—this was my reality.
And I hated it.