Luna had always known the world would punish her for becoming human.
When she was still active, they loved calling her an ice queen. Untouchable. Perfect. Too clean for scandal. It built her brand, built her distance, built the silence people worshiped. Then she got pregnant and everything that once made her powerful became the first reason they felt entitled to her.
They did not ask if she was safe.
They did not ask if she was healthy.
They asked who the father was. They asked why she refused to speak. They asked why she would dare to keep anything private in an industry that had been feeding on her face for years.
At first, the label tried to manage it. Meetings. Scripts. Damage control. Fake smiles. They kept telling her the same thing.
"Give them something."
"Give them a name."
"Give them a story."
Luna refused.
"If you push me," she told them calmly, "I will walk away."
They thought she was bluffing, until she actually did it.
She left.
