Emma’s POV
The money hit my account at exactly 9:47 AM.
Two million dollars. Just like that. A number so large it didn’t feel real.
I stared at my phone screen. At those zeros lined up in a neat row. Proof of Damien’s desperation. Proof of how badly he wanted this "problem" to disappear.
Too bad for him, I had other plans.
All that work. All that careful positioning. And he’d thrown it back in my face with a threat and a bank transfer.
*If you tell Sera about this, I will kill you.*
I touched my neck now. The skin was unmarked. He hadn’t actually hurt . But the mory made my pulse race.
Not with fear though. With excitent.
My phone buzzed. Gabriel.
**Gabriel: Did you get it?**
**: Every penny.**
**Gabriel: Good. Now get out of there. Today. Don’t wait.**
I smiled. Gabriel was always so impatient. So eager. Like a child who couldn’t wait for Christmas.
But I understood the urgency. Damien was unstable right now. Unpredictable. If I stayed too close, he might do sothing stupid.
And I needed to protect this baby. This precious, perfect baby that would change everything.
**: Already packing. Where should I go?**
**Gabriel: Sowhere remote. Where nobody from the pack goes. I’ll send you so options.**
**: How long?**
**Gabriel: Until you’re showing. Really showing. So obvious nobody can miss it.**
My hand moved to my stomach automatically. Still flat. Still normal. But underneath...
Underneath was the future. Mine and Gabriel’s.
The child that would make untouchable. That would prove Damien’s betrayal. That would destroy his marriage completely.
And after the dust settled? After Sera left for good and Damien was broken beyond repair?
I’d step in. The only woman who understood him. The only one willing to help him through this ss.
And slowly—so slowly he wouldn’t even notice—I’d beco essential. Irreplaceable.
The mother of his child. His closest confidante. His partner.
His Luna.
I started packing thodically. Clothes first. Enough for several months. Nothing too fancy. I needed to look like soone hiding. Soone desperate.
My phone buzzed again. A list from Gabriel. Three locations. All small towns. Remote. Places where pack mbers never went because there was nothing there worth visiting.
I scanned the options. One caught my eye imdiately.
Millbrook. Population 3,000. Two hours north. A farming community with one grocery store and a tiny dical clinic.
Perfect.
**: Millbrook. I’ll leave today.**
**Gabriel: Good choice. I’ll set up a rental for you. Cash only. No paper trail.**
**: You think he’ll try to find ?**
**Gabriel: Maybe. If he panics enough. But by the ti he does, you’ll be safely hidden.**
I continued packing. Toiletries. Laptop. The burner phone Gabriel had given months ago for our secret communications.
Everything I needed to disappear.
My regular phone buzzed. Work email.
I opened it. Skimd the automatic confirmation. My leave request had been processed. Two months minimum. Possibly extending to six months depending on "dical needs."
I almost laughed. dical needs. If they only knew.
I typed out a response to HR. Professional. Apologetic. Thanking them for their understanding during this "difficult ti."
Then I opened my contacts. Found Damien’s na. Stared at it for a long mont.
Part of wanted to call him. To hear his voice. To imagine what we could have had if Sera had never co back.
But that was weakness talking. Sentintality. The part of that had genuinely loved him before Gabriel showed the truth.
Damien would never love . Not really. Not the way I needed.
He was too obsessed with Sera. Too devoted to the ghost of what they’d been.
Even now—even after everything—he was still trying to save that dood marriage.
Pathetic.
I deleted his number. Blocked it. Erased every trace of our professional relationship from my phone.
Emma the assistant was dead. Emma the scheming Luna-in-waiting was just getting started.
By noon, I’d finished packing. Three suitcases. One carry-on. Everything I owned that mattered fit in my small sedan.
I did one final sweep of the apartnt. Made sure I hadn’t forgotten anything important. Any evidence that might be traced back to .
I’d cried when I first saw them. Happy tears. Excited tears. This was it. This was my chance.
Gabriel had been less enthusiastic. "Are you sure it’s mine?" he’d asked.
"Of course it’s yours." I’d been insulted. "You’re the only one I’ve been with."
"Good." He’d relaxed then. Smiled that wicked smile. "Then we’ve got him. This changes everything."
And it had. This baby made untouchable. Made essential to the plan.
I threw the test in the trash. Tied up the bag. Took it out to the dumpster personally.
No evidence. No traces. Nothing that could connect to anything suspicious.
The drive to Millbrook took exactly two hours and seventeen minutes.
I watched the city fade in my rearview mirror. The tall buildings giving way to suburbs. The suburbs giving way to farmland.
The further I drove, the lighter I felt. Like I was shedding so heavy weight. The burden of pretending. Of playing nice. Of being patient.
No more.
Gabriel had texted the address. A small house on the edge of town. Furnished. Paid for six months in advance.
I pulled into the driveway. Killed the engine. Sat there for a mont just breathing.
This was it. My hideout. My sanctuary. The place where I’d nurture this baby until it was ti to strike.
The house was exactly what I expected. Small. Plain. Unremarkable. The kind of place nobody looked at twice.
Inside was basic but clean. One bedroom. Tiny kitchen. Living room with a sagging couch and an old TV.
Perfect.
I unpacked slowly. Put my clothes in the closet. Set up my laptop on the kitchen table. Arranged my toiletries in the bathroom.
Making this place mine.
By evening, I was settled. The sun was setting. Casting long shadows across the empty fields outside my window.
I made tea. Sat on the couch. Pulled out my burner phone.
**: I’m here. Everything’s set up.**
Gabriel responded imdiately.
**Gabriel: Good. How do you feel?**
**: Tired. But good. Ready.**
**Gabriel: Any morning sickness yet?**
**: A little. Mostly just nausea. Nothing I can’t handle.**
**Gabriel: Take care of yourself. That baby is everything.**
I set down the phone. Placed both hands on my stomach.
"You hear that?" I whispered. "You’re everything. You’re going to change the world."
I pressed my hand to my stomach. Felt the slight curve that wasn’t quite visible yet. The promise of everything to co.
"I’m going to be Luna," I whispered. "I’m going to take everything she has. And she’ll never see it coming."
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