I picked up my broken body from the living room floor, stepping carefully around the battlefield of melted ice cream. My pride was already in pieces; the least I could do was avoid slipping on dairy tragedy.
"Forget it," I muttered, glaring at the sticky mess. "This floor is worth more than my soul anyway."
Did I clean it? Absolutely not. I did what any self-respecting Luna with a crisis would do—I called the maids. Let them earn their keep while I ran upstairs like the house was on fire.
The shower was my sanctuary. I turned the water so hot it felt like it was burning away my sins, my bad decisions, and my poverty-ridden childhood. For twenty glorious minutes, I scrubbed myself raw, pretending I was washing away Ophelia's shadow before it could haunt me.
But when I stepped out and caught sight of myself in the mirror, I froze.
"Oh my goddess," I whispered.
I looked like a vampire that had gone through a messy divorce. Pale skin, sunken eyes, lips pressed thin as if even they had given up on me. One hour. That's all it took. Just one hour of hearing she's back and I'd aged ten years and lost all hope in humanity.
I wrapped a towel around myself, pointed a finger at the ceiling, and prayed.
"Goddess, listen to me," I said with all the solemnity of a priest at confession. "If you just—just—help me keep this wealth, I swear I will even kill my walking ATM for you and keep all his money. Yes, I said it. Strike me down, but let me keep the mansion, the jewels, and the servants. Amen."
The Goddess, of course, said nothing. Probably rolling her divine eyes at me.
I sat down on the edge of my bed, biting my nails. Tomorrow. Tomorrow Benjamin would see her. The legendary Ophelia Evans. His perfect first love, his once-upon-a-time fairytale ending. And what would happen if they looked at each other and sparks flew all over again?
What would be my fate then?
Homelessness? Poverty? Returning to the orphanage with my tail between my legs—even though I didn't even have a tail because the Moon Goddess never blessed me with a wolf?
No. Never again.
I leapt up and grabbed my phone from the nightstand. Only one person could be blamed for this catastrophe, and only one person could fix it: Ciara Calvins.
Yes, calling a Lycan princess at 9 p.m. was equivalent to signing your death warrant, but did I look like a woman with options? I pressed call, pacing back and forth like a lunatic.
The line rang. And rang. And rang.
"Pick up, you witch," I hissed under my breath.
Voicemail.
I hung up and called again.
Voicemail.
Third time, and I was about ready to scream bloody murder when finally—finally—she picked up.
"What?" Her voice was sleepy, groggy, and annoyed. "Do you know what time it is, Myra?"
I bit back the fifty curses I wanted to hurl and forced my voice into sugar-coated politeness. "Oh, Princess Ciara, my dearest sister-in-law, my savior, my matchmaker, my personal doom-bringer, I wouldn't dare disturb your beauty sleep if it weren't urgent."
There was a pause. Then, sharper: "What happened?"
I collapsed back onto my bed, phone pressed to my ear like it was my lifeline. "Benjamin. He came home. He dropped his suit, threw his alpha aura around like confetti, and then—" I swallowed hard, my voice cracking. "He said she's back."
I didn't even need to say her name.
The sleep flew right out of Ciara's voice. "Ophelia?"
"Do you know any other she-devil who could send me into cardiac arrest in two words? Yes, Ophelia!"
There was silence on the line, thick and heavy. I could almost hear Ciara sit up in bed, her Lycan brain whirring.
"What are you going to do?" she asked finally.
I barked a laugh so hollow it could have echoed through the halls of the underworld. "Do? What am I going to do? Ciara, I can't even decide what ice cream flavor to eat without a crisis! My brain is blank. Absolutely blank! Tomorrow, he's going to see her, and then what? He'll divorce me? Throw me back to the wolves—oh wait, I don't even have a wolf!"
I was pacing again, one hand tangled in my wet hair. "I've spent three years in this palace, Ciara. Three years of wealth, luxury, and a husband who's a handsome but cold bastard. Do you think I'm about to give that up? No! I can't go back to being bullied Myra the Orphan. I can't return to that lonely, wolfless loser who once argued with a dog for two hours just because it barked at me. Do you know what humiliation feels like, Ciara?"
"Calm down," Ciara said sharply, but I could hear the tension in her own voice. "Listen, Ophelia leaving was the only reason you even had a chance. I thought she was gone for good."
"Well guess what, she's back with a vengeance!" I snapped. "And Benjamin—Benjamin looked at me with those stormy eyes like he was already halfway out the door. You don't understand, Ciara. This isn't just about love. It's about survival."
I flopped back onto the bed dramatically, staring at the ceiling like it held the answers to my tragic existence. "Without Benjamin, I lose everything. The house. The money. The title. The maids who clean up my ice cream disasters. I'll be nothing again. Nothing."
Ciara sighed heavily. "So what do you want me to do? I can't control Benjamin's heart."
"Oh, don't give me that, Ciara. You controlled his finals, didn't you?" I snapped. "Do you remember Diamond University? He was failing everything, depressed, broken, because Ophelia dumped him. And you—you—needed him to graduate, to pass, to stay on track as the future Lycan King. But no one wanted to deal with him. No one wanted to touch the wounded beast. Except me."
My voice shook, but I pressed on. "I was the orphan who had nowhere else to go. I took your deal. I stood in as his fake Luna until he healed. And guess what? He healed. We graduated. We got married. It's been three years. Three sweet, beautiful, wealthy years, Ciara. And now you're telling me I should just—what?—step aside? Let the ghost of first love waltz back in like she owns the place?"
I was breathing hard, clutching the phone like it was my only friend. My throat burned, but I wouldn't let tears fall. Not now. Not for her.
On the other end, Ciara was quiet for a long moment. Finally, she said, "We'll figure something out. Don't panic yet."
"Don't panic?" I repeated, incredulous. "Ciara, panic is literally my only skill! I've been panicking since the moment I was abandoned at that orphanage. It's my survival mechanism!"
"Myra," Ciara's voice dropped, steel replacing her earlier softness. "Listen to me. You've been Benjamin's Luna for three years. Ophelia can't just erase that overnight. If you want to keep your place, you need to fight for it."
Her words sank into me like fire. Fight.
Me. Fight.
I let out a bitter laugh. "Fight? With what, Ciara? I don't have a wolf. I don't have power. All I have is this sharp tongue that could curse someone's 60th generation. Do you think that'll be enough against Ophelia Evans, the epitome of perfection?"
There was no answer.
And in that silence, the weight of tomorrow crushed me all over again.
I hung up eventually, throwing the phone onto the bed. My chest ached, my thoughts spiraled, and I knew sleep wouldn't come easy tonight.
Tomorrow, the battle would begin.
And the battlefield was Benjamin's heart.