Chapter 7: Falling Stars
Luna Harper stood in Ethan Caldwell's Santa Monica penthouse, the city's lights sprawling below like a shattered constellation. The air was thick with tension, the kind that made her skin prickle and her moonstone pendant hum against her chest. Noah's laptop sat open on the sleek dining table, its screen glowing with the damning evidence: server logs tying Samantha Caldwell's account to the leak of Project Orion's specs. Ethan's face was a storm cloud, his blue eyes fixed on the screen, his jaw so tight Luna thought it might crack. She'd seen betrayal in the cards—The Ten of Swords, a knife in the back—but seeing it play out in Ethan's expression was something else entirely.
"Sam," Ethan said, his voice low, almost a growl. "This can't be right." He shoved a hand through his dark hair, pacing the length of the glass-walled room. The ocean churned beyond the windows, a restless mirror of his mood. "She's family. She's been with me since the start. Why would she do this?"
Luna stayed quiet, letting him process. Her tarot deck was tucked in her pocket, but she didn't need cards to read the room. Ethan was a Leo—fierce, loyal, and blindsided when that loyalty wasn't returned. She stepped closer, her voice soft but steady. "The cards warned of someone close, someone with power. Samantha's got access, motive, and a grudge. Those Twitter bots, the Instagram shade—it wasn't just personal. She's been playing you, Ethan."
He stopped pacing, his eyes locking on hers. "You're saying my cousin's trying to tank my company? For what? Jealousy?" His tone was sharp, but there was a crack in it, a vulnerability Luna hadn't seen before. It made her want to reach out, to bridge the gap between them, but she held back. Trust was a fragile thing, and they were standing on its edge.
Noah cleared his throat, his usual grin replaced by an awkward grimace. "Uh, boss, the logs don't lie. Sam's account accessed the Orion files three times last week, all after hours. The VPN trace matches the TechTrend leaks. It's… pretty airtight." He glanced at Luna, his eyes saying what his mouth didn't: You called it.
Luna pulled the TechTrend log from her bag, sliding it across the table. "This backs it up. Your cousin's been working with someone—'T,' according to my source. They're framing me to cover their tracks. But the stars don't lie, Ethan. Samantha's not just a bystander. She's the architect."
Ethan's gaze flicked to the log, then back to Luna. For a moment, neither spoke, the silence heavy with unspoken questions. The air between them crackled, that cosmic spark Luna had felt since their first meeting flaring brighter. She held his gaze, her hazel eyes steady, daring him to believe her. Finally, he exhaled, his shoulders slumping just enough to betray his exhaustion. "Alright," he said. "Let's say you're right. What now?"
Luna's lips curved into a small smile. "Now we confront her. But not without a plan. She's smart, and she's desperate. We need proof she can't spin, and we need it fast—before TechTrend drops those specs." She paused, then added, "And we need to talk about the pact. It's not just about the leak. There's more at stake than your company."
Ethan's brow arched, but he didn't interrupt. Luna pulled her ancestor's journal from her bag, its leather cover worn but warm in her hands. She opened it to a page she'd read a hundred times, the ink faded but legible. "This pact," she said, her voice low, "wasn't just a whim. In 1890, my great-great-whatever, Celeste Harper, and your ancestor, William Caldwell, made a deal. They were partners—business, maybe more. Celeste was a seer, like me. William was a tycoon, like you. They bound their legacies with a ritual, tying their families' fates to keep the balance. If we don't honor it—marriage, union, whatever you want to call it—my gift fades, and your empire falls. It's not just a story, Ethan. It's why I'm here."
He stared at the journal, his expression unreadable. "You're saying our ancestors made a magical contract, and we're stuck with the bill? That's a lot to swallow."
Luna's laugh was soft, but her eyes were serious. "I know. But you felt it, didn't you? At The Observatory, at your office. That spark. It's not just chemistry. It's the pact, pulling us together. And if we don't act, the fallout's going to be bigger than a few leaked files."
Ethan's gaze softened, just for a moment, before his walls went back up. "I don't do fate," he said, but his voice lacked its usual edge. "But I do strategy. If Sam's the leak, we need hard evidence—something she can't dodge. And if you're right about this pact… we'll deal with it later."
Luna nodded, her heart racing. Later was better than never. "Deal. Let's focus on Samantha. I've got an idea, but it's risky. You in?"
Ethan's lips twitched, the closest he'd come to a smile. "You're trouble, Luna Harper. But yeah, I'm in."
Samantha Caldwell stood in her Venice Beach condo, the ocean waves crashing outside as she stared at her phone. The #PsychicScam hashtag was still trending, but Luna's tweet had shifted the narrative, drawing a swarm of supporters calling her a "cosmic queen." Samantha's jaw clenched, her manicured nails tapping the counter. She'd underestimated Luna, and now Ethan was meeting with her, digging into the server logs. Her contact, "T," had assured her the frame job was solid, but doubts were creeping in. If Ethan found the truth, her carefully curated life—her influence, her place in the family—would crumble.
She opened her laptop, pulling up a private chat. The logs are clean, right? she typed. T's reply was instant: Clean as far as they'll see. But Harper's digging. You sure about this? Samantha's fingers hovered, then typed: Push the drop. Tonight. Make it look like her. She closed the laptop, her heart pounding. Luna Harper was a problem, but problems could be buried. She just needed to stay one step ahead.
Luna and Ethan sat in a dimly lit coffee shop in Echo Park, the kind of place with mismatched chairs and overpriced oat milk lattes. Noah had stayed behind to comb through the server logs, promising to text if he found anything new. The shop was quiet, the afternoon crowd thinned out, leaving them in a corner booth with a clear view of the door. Luna had insisted on neutral ground—somewhere Samantha's bots couldn't track them. Her plan was simple but bold: bait Samantha into exposing herself by leaking a fake document, one that would trace back to her account.
"We plant a decoy," Luna explained, her voice low as she sipped her coffee. "A fake Orion file, something juicy enough to tempt her. If she takes it to TechTrend, we'll have her IP, her login, everything. Noah can set it up, right?"
Ethan nodded, his eyes scanning the room out of habit. "He can. But it's a long shot. Sam's careful—she's been dodging audits for weeks. And if this backfires, it could tip her off."
Luna's smile was sharp. "That's where I come in. The stars are on our side." She pulled her tarot deck from her bag, shuffling with a flourish. "One card, for luck." She drew The Chariot—drive, determination, victory. "See? We've got this."
Ethan's laugh was low, reluctant. "You're relentless," he said, but his gaze lingered on her, warm and unguarded for the first time. "Why are you doing this, Luna? You could walk away, let me deal with Sam. Why risk it?"
Luna paused, her fingers stilling on the card. The question caught her off guard, peeling back layers she wasn't ready to show. "Because it's not just about you," she said finally. "It's about me, too. My gift, my purpose. The pact ties us together, but it's more than that. I've spent my life reading the stars, helping people find their way. If I can't help you, what's it all for?"
For a moment, Ethan didn't speak, his eyes searching hers. The air between them hummed, that cosmic spark flaring brighter. "You're not what I expected," he said softly. "I don't know if I believe in your stars, but I'm starting to believe in you."
Luna's heart skipped, but she kept her smile playful. "Careful, Caldwell. That sounds dangerously close to faith." She stood, brushing past him as she headed for the door. "Let's go catch a traitor."
That evening, Luna stood in the server room at Caldwell Innovations, the hum of machines filling the air like a mechanical heartbeat. Noah had set up the decoy file—a fake Orion blueprint laced with a digital tracker—and Luna was there to add her own touch: a subtle energy shift, a whisper to the stars to guide the trap. She wasn't sure Ethan would buy it, but she'd lit a sage bundle anyway, letting the smoke curl around the servers as she murmured an intention for clarity and truth.
Ethan watched from the doorway, his arms crossed, his expression a mix of amusement and exasperation. "You're smudging my servers," he said, his voice dry. "If they crash, you're paying for it."
Luna grinned, waving the sage. "Relax. The stars love a good server. Besides, this is just backup. Your tech, my magic—perfect combo." She caught his eye, and for a moment, the room felt smaller, the hum of the servers fading into the spark between them.
Noah burst in, his tablet glowing. "It's live," he said, his voice urgent. "Someone just accessed the decoy. IP's masked, but it's routing through the same VPN as the leaks. And… it's coming from Sam's office."
Ethan's face hardened, the betrayal sinking in. "Get security," he said. "Now."
Samantha sat at her desk, her laptop open to the decoy file. She hadn't meant to move so fast, but Luna's tweet had spooked her, and T's insistence that the frame was airtight had pushed her over the edge. She downloaded the file, her fingers trembling as she sent it to T. This is it, she typed. Drop it now. The reply was instant: Done. Harper's toast.
But as she closed her laptop, the door to her office swung open. Ethan stood there, his eyes cold as steel, Luna and Noah behind him. Security guards flanked the doorway, their radios crackling. Samantha's heart sank, but she forced a smile. "Ethan," she said, her voice smooth. "What's this about?"
"The decoy," Ethan said, his voice cutting. "You took it. We traced it to your account. You've been leaking Orion to TechTrend."
Samantha's laugh was brittle. "That's absurd. You're trusting her?" She gestured to Luna, her eyes flashing. "She's the one framing me. She's been playing you from the start."
Luna stepped forward, her voice calm but sharp. "The stars don't lie, Samantha. And neither do server logs. You're done."
Samantha's smile faltered, but she didn't back down. "You'll regret this," she said, her voice low. "Both of you." She grabbed her bag and stormed out, the guards trailing her.
Later, Luna and Ethan stood on his penthouse balcony, the city glittering below. The air was cool now, the stars bright above the smog. Samantha was gone—for now—but the leak was contained, and TechTrend's pitch was dead in the water. Luna held her ancestor's journal, its weight grounding her. "There's more to the pact," she said, her voice soft. "Celeste's journal mentions a ritual—a binding to seal it. If we don't do it, the fallout could be worse than we thought."
Ethan turned to her, his eyes searching. "What kind of ritual?"
Luna's smile was hesitant, hopeful. "A vow. Not just marriage—something deeper. A promise to balance our worlds." She paused, her heart racing. "You don't have to decide now. But the stars are watching."
Ethan stepped closer, his hand brushing hers. "I'm not saying yes," he said, his voice low. "But I'm not saying no." The spark between them flared, and for the first time, Luna felt it wasn't just the pact pulling them together. It was something real.