Switched Bride, True Luna - Chapter 58: Chapter 58

Emily
The tabloid was waiting for me when I walked into my office. It was perfectly folded, strategically placed so I couldn’t miss it. Carla wasn’t even trying to be subtle anymore.
The “accidental” delivery had arrived in the form of a courier envelope marked urgent, as if our trade negotiations could wait for glossy celebrity gossip.
The front page stared up at me, bold headline in gilded lettering: MOONLIGHT MATCH: Titanfang Alpha’s Perfect Pairing?
Beneath it was a photograph.
Me and Logan. Sitting close together among the runed stones at Silverroot, the pale sunrise glowing behind us. He was looking at me, not at the beautiful scenery, but fully focused on me.
It looked like I was the only person that mattered to him in that moment.
I sat down slowly, brushing my fingers on the edge of the page and let my eyes scan the rest of the article.
A surprising show of affection from Titanfang’s notoriously stoic Alpha suggests things may be heating up between Logan and his once-controversial bride.
Sources say the pair staged a romantic moment at a recent event at Silverroot Sanctuary, one so convincing, it had even close insiders whispering: Could this contract have turned to love?
Staged. They thought it was staged.
The writer even praised the ‘clever rebranding’ of my image: from dormant daughter to philanthropic Luna-in-waiting. A ‘relatable match” for Titanfang’s future.
I let out a soft, humorless laugh. Not because it was funny, but I didn’t know what else to do.
That moment hadn’t been staged. It was before any press were supposed to be there. That had been a genuine moment of connection between us. Honesty and openness.
And the way Logan had looked at me… that hadn’t been a performance. I was sure.
I pushed the tabloid away like it might bite me. No. I wasn’t doing this.
We had a contract. A clean, unromantic arrangement with purpose and practical boundaries. Even if the press wanted to flip between believing we were either faking the whole thing or were some fairy-tale couple.
I knew better. And yet…
I remembered the press of his palm against my lower back as we walked the paths. The way he’d let me speak, lead, be the face of something that had always been so personal to me.
I remembered the warmth in his voice when he told me he sees me even when everyone one else doesn’t.
None of that had been for show.
And that made it worse. I wasn’t supposed to care. I wasn’t supposed to want any of it.
The sharp knock at the door startled me. I jumped, quickly flipping the magazine shut and stuffing it beneath a stack of trade reports. Carla poked her head in, all too innocent.
“Everything alright, Miss Blackwood? Courier said it was important.”
I gave her a tight smile. “Nothing time-sensitive. Just gossip.”
Her eyes flicked to the table, and she lingered too long before withdrawing. I waited until I was alone again before pulling the tabloid back out.
This time I didn’t read the article. I just stared at the photo.
Logan’s intense gaze. My half-smile. Our bodies turned toward each other like magnets.
I could almost feel it again—the way his hand had hovered near mine like he didn’t want to let go.
My thoughts drifted to later and the way he had kissed me so sweetly.
I didn’t realize I was touching my lips until my fingers brushed across them.
It was just a kiss. Just one kiss. But it had broken something open. And now the whole damn world wanted to believe in the fantasy I’d tried so hard not to imagine.
Worse than that… a part of me wanted to believe it too. He said he wasn’t afraid of wanting me. I wasn’t sure I could say the same.
I folded the tabloid in half and slid it into the bottom drawer of my desk.
Out of sight. But not out of mind. The image followed me anyway.
But that was the problem, wasn’t it? The ease. The way it made me forget the boundaries that were supposed to keep my heart safe.
I shut the drawer with more force than necessary and forced myself back into motion.
There was a supply report to review, a proposal to revise, an office that wouldn’t manage itself. I threw myself into it like drowning in work might delay having to deal with my feelings.
But later that night, the stillness returned.
I sat at the edge of the sofa, bare feet resting against the cold floor. The lamps were dimmed. My tablet was open beside me, but I wasn’t reading. I was watching him.
Logan sat on the far end of the sitting room, hunched over his own tablet, the glow from the lamp tracing the edge of his profile. His shirt sleeves were rolled up. His brow furrowed.
And every so often, he’d glance toward the empty hallway, like he was checking to see if I’d disappeared again.
He didn’t know I was watching.
And that made it feel more intimate than the kiss, more raw than any argument we’d ever had.
I used to think Logan was the just harsh Alpha keen on getting revenge. But lately, I saw something else too. Catalogued his small habits.
It was the way he always poured his coffee second, even when he reached the pot first. How he waited at the end of the hall every time we arrived at an event, letting me step into the room ahead of him.
None of that was in the contract.
But the contract still existed. The boundaries hadn’t vanished just because our lips had met a couple of times.
No children.
That clause seemed like mercy when we signed. A shield. Neither of us wanted to be trapped, bound by obligation or biology.
I’d agreed without hesitation. Why would I want to bring a child into a life built on politics and lies? And why would be want an heir born from a dormant wolf?
But something shifted between us.
Watching him now, this man who knew how to hold still and let me lead, who had kissed me like that…I felt that childless clause settle like lead in my belly.
It wasn’t that I wanted children. Not exactly. I just hated knowing the choice had been made already.
That even if something changed between us, even if something real took root, I would never be allowed to want more.
And Logan hadn’t just said he didn’t want kids. He’d said “We won’t be having them.” Like it was already decided. Like it wasn’t something I might feel differently about, one day.
But I suppose the contract had and expiration date and we’d be free to conceive with whoever we each truly mated after that.
I ran a hand through my hair, unsettled by the ache creeping in. It was soft, but it was there, a kind of longing that starts small and grows slowly.
Logan shifted in the chair, sensing something. His eyes met mine across the room, but I didn’t look away fast enough.
He rose, crossing the space between us, and sat beside me on the couch.
I thought he would say something, but he just waited, like he was giving me the chance to lie or tell the truth. The intensity of his gaze made me a little nervous.
I turned toward him, choosing something in between.
“That kiss,” I said softly. “Do you regret it?”
His expression didn’t change, but his body went still.
“No,” he said. “Do you?”
I didn’t answer. Oh, I knew the answer, but I wasn’t sure I could survive the truth out loud. Because goddess help me, I didn’t regret it one bit.
And I knew that I should.
I settled slightly, letting our shoulders touch. And he didn’t move away. We sat like that, side by side, letting my silence fill the space.
And all I could think was what happens if this becomes more than we planned? And what would it cost, if it already had?