Switched Bride, True Luna - Chapter 46: Chapter 46

Emily
I didn’t even realize I’d been holding my breath until the message from my lawyer came through: MOTION GRANTED. Access to property archives approved.
Just like that, years of being ignored, dismissed, and strategically delayed began to crack open.
I stared at the text for a long moment, not sure whether I was relieved or just stunned. The victory wasn’t big enough to win anything on its own—but it was real. Tangible.
For the first time, the law had acknowledged that I might have a case worth hearing. That my mother’s estate was worth uncovering.
The office was quiet this time of day. Most of the staff had filtered out for the evening or early dinners. I’d stayed late on purpose, mostly to avoid crossing paths with Logan again after what happened yesterday.
Or what didn’t happen, depending how one measured silence.
I leaned back in my chair, letting my eyes close for a second, just one, long enough to let it sink in. I haven’t won yet. But I’d pushed the door open.
And I wondered if sharing this news with Logan would boost or drop my mood.
A knock tapped twice on the doorframe.
The male in question stood there with a file in hand, the faintest shadow of tiredness under his eyes. He looked like someone who’d had a long day and wasn’t done yet. There was still a pen tucked behind his ear.
Logan paused when he saw me still at my desk. “Didn’t expect you to be here this late.”
I shrugged. “Didn’t feel like going home yet.”
He nodded once, stepping inside. “Just dropping this off. Forecast numbers from the southern supply chain.” He set the file gently at the edge of my desk, like he didn’t want to crowd me.
I didn’t know why I said it. Maybe because I was still too raw to keep it to myself. Maybe because a part of me wanted to share with him.
“I got an update from my legal team,” I said, keeping my tone even. “We won the motion for access. My mother’s records—land, titles, everything tied to her name—they’ll be released.”
He looked up. Just a flicker of something in his eyes, like a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding for me.
“That’s good news,” he said, slowly. “Really good.”
I nodded, more cautious than proud. “It’s a start.”
“You earned it.”
His words settled into my chest, warming it. It wasn’t what he said, but how he said it—genuine, pleased, maybe even a little proud.
I forced myself to smile, just a little. “I wasn’t sure you’d think so.”
His brow furrowed slightly. “Why not?”
I gave a noncommittal shrug. “Because it’s messy. Because it makes things public. Because I’m not exactly... easy to stand beside right now.”
“You’ve never been easy,” he said, and for a second I thought he was teasing. Then his voice softened. “But that doesn’t mean I’m not standing there anyway.”
The air between us tightened.
He reached for the file on the edge of the desk, his fingers brushing mine as he did. The contact was brief, almost accidental.
I didn’t move. Neither did he.
I looked up at him then, really looked. The faint crease between his brows. The subtle tension in his jaw. The way his gaze dropped to my mouth for just a fraction of a second before returning to my eyes.
I felt my breath hitch.
He stepped back first. “I’ll leave you to it,” he said, voice quieter now. I watched him go, my heart thudding a little too hard in my chest.
I’d gotten what I wanted today. A step forward. A small win.
And still, I couldn’t tell if the ache inside me was hope…or the echo of another almost between us.
That night, I allowed myself to sleep with the smallest hint of hope tucked under my ribs. One court motion. One step closer.
I didn’t celebrate—I wasn’t foolish enough for that—but I let the moment exist. I let myself imagine what it might feel like to win.
By morning, the fantasy had already begun to rot. The good news didn’t last twenty-four hours.
The packs buzzed with a new kind of tension. I felt it the moment I stepped into the central corridor of the office building.
Two members broke off conversation the instant they saw me, and a junior advisor from one of the trade branches offered a tight-lipped nod before turning a sharp corner like he suddenly had urgent business elsewhere.
No one said anything outright. But I had a feeling I wasn’t going to like whatever it was.
I pulled up the headlines on my tablet before I even reached my desk.
“Blackwood Heiress or Bitter Daughter? Emily’s Lawsuit Reignites Rift”
“Sources Question Motivation Behind Inheritance Grab”
“Titanfang’s Future Luna Facing Loyalty Concerns Amid Legal Drama”
Each one stung in its own way. My fingers hovered above the screen as I scrolled.
The articles didn’t call me a villain. That would have been easier to fight. Instead, they cast me as a complication—emotional, unstable, a divisive figure dredging up past grievances to sabotage her own family.
A distraction. A risk. Just like Logan’s father had warned.
I was still staring at the last headline when Logan appeared in my doorway. His tie was slightly askew, like he’d been tugging at it, and he didn’t bother with a knock.
“Have you seen it?” he asked.
“Yeah, it’s… something.” I set the tablet aside.
He stepped inside but didn’t come close. “The media’s not just speculating. They’re quoting unnamed sources from within your Pack.”
My jaw clenched. “That doesn’t surprise me.”
“It’s getting traction,” he said. “And its sticking.”
I folded my arms. “Are you here to ask me to stop?”
He hesitated. “No. But I need to know if you’ve thought about the cost.”
The words landed like a slap out of nowhere.
“I’ve been thinking about the cost every day since my mother died,” I said, keeping my voice even. “This isn’t a game for me. I’m not playing politics.”
“I know,” he said, too quickly. “But you’re not the only one who’s going to take the hit. The campaign—my Pack—there are alliances that don’t care about justice. They care about perception.”
I stood slowly. “And what do you care about, Logan?”
Logan didn’t answer right away. His eyes searched mine like he didn’t know how honest he should be.
“I care about you,” he said at last. “But I also have to think about the kingdom I’m trying to lead.”
The silence that followed was full of all the things I wasn’t supposed to feel. Disappointment. Anger. A flicker of something too close to heartbreak.
“Then maybe we’re not fighting for the same thing,” I said.
His expression didn’t change. But his posture did—just slightly, like I’d hit a nerve.
“I didn’t mean that the way it sounded,” he said.
“Didn’t you?” I moved past him and grabbed the file I’d been working on. I could feel his gaze on my back.
“I’m not going to stop,” I said. “This is my mother’s name. When you’ve gotten what you want and the contract is fulfilled, this is my future. I’m not asking you to carry it for me. But don’t ask me to drop it either.”
He didn’t follow as I left the room.