The True Luna's Forbidden Temptation - Chapter 18: Chapter 18

SEBASTIAN.
I watch her from across the street, keeping a safe distance. Close enough to follow, far enough not to be noticed.
Analise moves slowly, like someone walking without a destination. At first, I think she’s just window shopping, letting the city distract her. But it doesn’t take long to realize she’s following a deliberate path. Every few blocks, she stops at a TL Glam boutique—enters, stays briefly, and exits without buying anything.
I remain a shadow, always just a little behind. And each time she steps out, there’s something in her eyes I can’t decipher. Longing? Pride? Pain?
But when I spot her pausing to look at the “Top Sellers” display, something inside me tugs.
Her designs.
Front and center. Revered. Coveted.
And yet, no name. No credit.
Just the sleek, polished TL Glam logo plastered over work that I know—without a shred of doubt—came from her hands.
A bitter smile touches my lips.
She’s finally made it. Her designs are changing the industry, just like I always knew they would. But the world has no idea that behind the brand’s rise is the woman now standing quietly on the sidewalk. She remains anonymous, when she should have been as famous as the names behind luxury designer brands like Dior or Chanel.
That’s how Tyler Lewis works. Always has. He hoards spotlight like oxygen and leaves nothing for the ones holding him up.
‘My Analise deserves a lot more.’
I trail her for another few blocks before she stops in front of a Luxe Emerald store. Her eyes are fixed on the massive LED screen that loops corporate news on a sleek, silent reel.
And then I see it.
‘Breaking News: Lorraine McGregor Named CEO of Luxe Emerald.’
I stop dead in my tracks.
My fists clench.
Lorraine? My half-sister who made Analise’s life miserable any chance she got.
‘What the hell is Father thinking?’
Luxe Emerald isn’t even his to give. That company—its legacy, its roots—belong to Analise. Every design, every campaign, every ounce of elegance it stood for was because of her mother’s vision brilliance, a talent that Analise inherited.
Lorraine had nothing to do with any of it. She cannot even draw a straight line to save her life. She’s just another parasite in a silk dress.
My blood boils as I watch Analise stare up at the screen. Her body doesn’t move, but her hand slowly lifts to pull out her phone. She dials. I can guess who it is.
Peter.
The call is short. Her face hardens for a second. Then the line ends, and she just… stands there.
Motionless.
Not crying. Not shouting.
And that’s what worries me most.
The stillness. The lack of display of emotions.
My feet begin to move before I can stop them, instinct overriding reason. I close the distance between us slowly, careful not to alert her.
But then—
She sways.
Her phone slips from her hand, clattering to the ground.
And she collapses.
I move on instinct, catching her before she hits the pavement. She’s unconscious, her head limp against my chest.
And that’s when I see it.
Blood.
A thin trail, staining her jeans.
“Shit,” I whisper, lifting her into my arms.
She’s far too light.
Too pale.
“Open the door!” I bark as I approach the Bentley.
The driver scrambles out and swings the rear door open. I slide in with her in my arms and slam the door behind us.
“To the nearest hospital. Now,” I command.
The tires screech as we pull away from the curb. Analise remains still, her breathing shallow. I glance down at her face, at the way her lashes rest against her cheeks. Despite everything, touching her feels the same. Like she sets every nerve in my body alight.
But this isn’t about me.
It never was.
By the time we reach the emergency entrance, I’ve already messaged Julian to inform the hospital of our arrival.
“Help! She’s bleeding,” I shout as I carry her through the ER doors.
Nurses rush forward, surrounding us. One of them gestures to a stretcher. I gently lay her down.
“Are you the husband?” a nurse asks.
“No,” I say tightly. “I’m her… stepbrother.”
‘Just her stepbrother.’
She nods, jotting down the information.
Analise is wheeled away, disappearing behind the double doors. I stay rooted in my place, my hands still faintly trembling from the adrenaline. I should’ve stepped in sooner. I should have done something so she didn’t have to marry that scumbag!
“Mr. Blackwood?”
A young nurse approaches. “Would you like to wait in the private family lounge?”
“Yes,” I mutter, following her down a hallway.
The room is too quiet. I pace, unable to sit. The faint antiseptic scent stings my nose. I check my phone. No messages. I want to call someone, anyone—but there’s only one person I trust.
Julian.
“What happened to her?” he asks as soon as he picks up.
“She fainted. There was blood,” I answer, my voice hoarse. “She’s in the ER now.”
A beat of silence. “Shit. Do they know what’s wrong?”
“Not yet. I’m waiting on the doctor.”
Julian exhales. “Sebastian... I know you’re worried. But you need to leave. You have a dinner in—” a pause, “—twenty minutes.”
My jaw tightens. “I’m not leaving.”
“It’s with your grandparents and some members of the council,” he stresses. “They won’t reschedule again. And if you don’t show up, they’ll interpret it as a direct insult to the Raven pack.”
“They can interpret whatever the hell they want,” I snap. “Analise is more important.”
“She’s not just anyone, I get it,” Julian says, lowering his voice. “But tonight’s dinner isn’t just small talk and wine pairings. Raven Pack’s daughter is flying in. This is diplomacy. It’s about the pack’s and our business group’s stability. It’s about your position.”
“I never agreed to this blind date crap,” I mutter.
“You didn’t need to. The council did. And they expect you to honor it.”
I rub a hand down my face. “I won’t leave until I know she’s okay. End of discussion.”
“You’re risking more than just council favor by skipping. The pack needs a Luna. And the Elders are growing impatient. If you keep refusing every candidate—”
“Then they can replace me,” I growl. “If that’s what it takes.”
Silence. Then a soft sigh.
“Call me when you know more,” Julian finally says.
“Yeah.”
The line goes dead just as the door opens and a doctor walks in. Mid-40s, graying temples, professional but tired eyes.
“Mr. Blackwood?”
I straighten. “Yes.”
He checks his clipboard. “She’s stable now. She fainted due to a combination of low blood pressure and emotional stress. However—”
I freeze. “However?”
“She’s pregnant,” he says gently. “Approximately eight to nine weeks along.”
The words hit me like a freight train.
Pregnant?
“Is the baby…?”
“Still viable. But it’s a high-risk pregnancy,” the doctor continues. “She’s anemic, and from what we can tell, under a significant amount of stress—physical and psychological. If she continues at this pace, she could lose the baby.”
My hands curl into fists.
“She needs to be on bed rest for at least the next several weeks. Limited movement. No emotional triggers. No exertion. I’ve already arranged for her to be transferred to our VIP suite.”
“Good,” I say. “I’ll cover all expenses. Ensure she has round-the-clock care. Nutritionist, psychologist, everything.”
The doctor raises a brow. “And you are…?”
I hesitate. The words don’t come easily. The truth is too complicated.
“I’m her stepbrother,” I say finally.
There’s a flicker of something in the doctor’s expression—curiosity, maybe suspicion—but he doesn’t press.
“She’ll be moved shortly. You can see her once she’s settled.”
He turns to leave but stops at the door.
“She’s lucky you were nearby. Had she fainted alone, the outcome might’ve been different.”
Lucky.
No, I think grimly. She’s been anything but.
The door shuts behind him. I sink into the nearest chair, the weight of everything pressing down on me—rage at my stepfather, hatred for Tyler, fury toward every person who’s taken credit for her brilliance while breaking down piece by piece.
And yet, the only emotion stronger than all of it is guilt.
Because once… I know I broke her, too.
I don’t know how long I sit there, ignoring Julian’s constant phone calls and messages. Finally, I relent.
“Julian,” I say as I finally answered her 100th call.
“I’ve made too many excuses for your tardiness. I don’t think I can make any more,” he says, almost growling. “Now, get your ass out there and go to dinner if you don’t want your grandfather to come and haul you out of there himself.”
“Well, I…”
“Mr. Blackwood?” I am interrupted by a nurse. I raise a brow at her, urging her to continue. “She’s awake now. Would you like to see her?”
I immediately stand up in attention.
“Sebastian!” Julian growls on the other end of the line.
‘Fuck! What am I going to do?’