Switched Bride, True Luna - Chapter 64: Chapter 64

Emily
I was really getting tired of finding unexpected mail waiting for me in the morning.
The envelope didn’t belong there. It was too plain: cream-colored, thick like parchment, with no name on the front. Just a single seal pressed into the back flap: the Blackwood Pack crest.
My birth Pack.
I stared at it on the floor just inside my office door, where it must have been slipped under sometime before I’d arrived. The was no sign of who left it.
A familiar chill crept up my spine. I closed the door behind me before crouching low to pick it up.
The moment I turned it over in my hands, I knew.
This wasn’t from a stranger. This was from someone who knew exactly what they were doing, and who knew how easily this could fall into the wrong hands.
I sat at my desk, fingers trembling as I broke the seal.
Inside was a bundle of documents. A set of aging land transfer records, old Pack meeting minutes annotated in a hand I recognized: my mother’s.
And tucked behind them all, a folded slip of paper scrawled in rushed, narrow handwriting:
I always said she kept too much to herself. But she was protecting you, Emily. And your future.
The land wasn’t meant to disappear…it was taken. Don’t trust anyone until you’ve read it all.
—L.F.
L.F. My mind searched the initials. Liam Farraday. The Pack historian. He was a distant cousin, once close to my mother. I hadn’t seen him since I was a teenager.
I spread the papers across my desk, heart pounding as the weight of it all sank in.
Deeds with my mother’s signature, transfers of land that shouldn’t have been approved without notarization. Minutes missing pages.
And then: a hidden note, handwritten and nearly illegible, folded into the back of a folder. The words were few, but they made my heart race:
He pushed the vote. Records doctored. Your mother objected. She knew it wasn’t legal. Said she’d challenge it.
My hands clenched around the edge of the desk. That land had been hers. Sacred territory. She’d refused to let them develop it, and for that, they’d called her irrational. Disrespectful. Weak.
But she’d been right.
The truth had been there, hidden in forged documents and missing minutes. And someone—Liam?—had kept copies, waiting for the right time to pass them on.
I sat there for a long moment, the implications pressing around me. My throat ached.
My mother had fought harder than I’d ever known. And they’d buried it. Just like they buried her. And were trying to bury me.
I moved automatically, organizing the documents into a discreet file, tucking the original note and the worst of the damning evidence between two trade memos.
I opened the bottom drawer of my desk and unlocked the small, steel-lined box I kept inside.
It was supposed to hold nothing but titles and administrative nonsense. Now it held the last scrap of my mother’s voice.
Something about it felt too personal to share, especially now. Especially when I wasn’t sure who might be watching, even from within these walls.
Trust wasn’t something I could afford to offer blindly, not when it had been so consistently weaponized against me.
And yet… a flicker of guilt stirred. Logan stood beside me at the Sanctuary. He’d kissed me like I meant something more.
I closed my eyes. I’m not ready share this with him. Not yet.
This was the beginning of something. A crack in the foundation my father built on lies and intimidation. If I played this right, if my legal team played this right, it could be everything.
But only if I kept it safe.
I hesitated, fingers grazing the paper before I shut the box and turned the key.
I’d just finished locking the drawer when the subtle rhythm of Logan’s footsteps reached my ears. They were steady, grounded, unhurried in a way that made my stomach clench.
I grabbed the topmost folder on my desk, something about Pack resource allocations, and held it open, pretending to read as the knock came.
Two sharp taps. Then the door eased open without waiting for a response.
“Just checking in,” Logan said, pausing in the doorway. “Didn’t mean to interrupt.”
He didn’t move further into the room. Just stood there, broad shoulders filling the frame, one hand braced lightly against the door.
“I’m fine,” I replied too quickly.
His eyes flicked to the desk, then to the file in my hands. A beat passed, then he clenched his jaw. The shift in posture was subtle but alert.
“You’re still working,” he said mildly. “Long day?”
“They’re all long.” I smiled thinly and forced my voice light. “But I’m almost done.”
I could feel his gaze on me and I didn’t know what he was trying to read: my face? My tone? The invisible weight of guilt threading between my ribs for not sharing what was in my locked drawer?
“Need help?” he asked.
“With spreadsheets?” I raised an eyebrow. “You offering to do admin work now?”
To my surprise, he smiled. Just slightly. “No. But I thought you might want a break.”
He crossed the threshold now, but slowly. Cautious. I didn’t think I’d moved that far away, but something in his eyes told me he could feel the distance growing between us again.
“I’m all right,” I said again, softer this time.
“Are you?” he asked, and the question took my by surprise.
I looked up. His eyes were sharp but not kind. There was no accusation in them, just concern buried under layers of restraint.
“I’ve just been…thinking,” I admitted. “A lot on my mind.”
He nodded, thoughtful. “About the press or the case?”
I hesitated. “Yes. Among other things.”
Logan waited, like he was hoping I’d offer something more. I didn’t.
Instead, I closed the file, walked around the desk, and leaned against the edge, trying to seem casual.
“You seem tense,” I said, trying to redirect.
“You’ve been spending a lot of time with Julian,” he said, without missing a beat.
I stiffened.
“It’s not a problem,” he added quickly. “I just… noticed.”
“Because he’s an assistant,” I said carefully. “And because I’ve been trying to re-establish trust after the incident with Carla. It helps to double-check things.”
“I wasn’t accusing you,” he said, and his voice was almost too calm. “I’m just saying—I’ve noticed.”
The silence between us deepened. I could hear the faint hum of the hall lights, the distant scrape of chairs in the conference room. Too much unsaid hung in the air.
“You don’t have to keep watching for signs I’m cracking or stealing,” I said quietly.
He stepped a little closer. “I’m not watching for that.”
“Then what are you watching for?”
Logan’s eyes traced the shape of my face and when he answered, his voice was low. “Signs that you’re shutting me out again.”
I exhaled, slow and steady. “Maybe I am.”
“Why?”
Because I’m holding evidence that could tear the Blackwood Pack apart. Because I don’t know if you’ll believe me when the time comes. Because I think I want more with you.
But I didn’t say any of that.
“I guess I’m still figuring out where I stand,” I said instead. “With the Pack. With the public. With you.”
He stepped close enough that I could feel the warmth of him, but not close enough to touch.
“For what it’s worth,” he murmured, “I’m still trying to figure it out too.”
I nodded, eyes on the floor. After a moment, Logan turned and headed for the door. But just before he stepped out, he paused, glancing back over his shoulder.
“If you ever need to tell me something… you can.”
Then he was gone.
And I was left with a locked drawer, a war brewing in my chest, and no idea what came next.