The True Luna's Forbidden Temptation - Chapter 25: Chapter 25

I wake up alone in the bedroom. Tyler's side already cold telling me that he's been gone a long time—if he ever slept beside me at all. The light comes through the curtains, a sign that the sun is already up. I grab my phone from the nightstand to check if I have any messages or missed calls—but nothing! I have no clue where my husband went.
Last night, I fell asleep alone, the sound of Tyler's keyboard clicking in his study the last thing I heard before exhaustion pulled me under. After the shock I got with Lorraine’s appearance in my dining room, I couldn't bear to sit downstairs with my stepsister playing the role of damsel in distress while Tyler fawned over her. I remember lying in bed, waiting for him to join me, wondering if he would want to talk about the arrangement, about Lorraine moving in. But he never came.
My hand drifts to my stomach, still flat beneath my nightgown. The secret growing inside me feels like both shield and weapon. Keeping my pregnancy from Tyler was never my plan, but somehow, I just couldn’t get the timing right. He is either coming home late, usually after I had gone to sleep, or he’s drunk and mentioning names that don’t make sense, or he’s scolding me about work, or he’s introducing a long-lost cousin and dropping the bomb that she’s staying with us indefinitely. I just can’t catch a break.
I get out of bed, stretching as my feet hit the carpet floor. I sigh heavily. I don’t feel thrilled about living under the same roof as Lorraine again. My previous experience hadn’t been that great. And now, on top of it all, I had to pretend that I have never met her at all in my life. Unless I want my husband to know that I had been lying about my identity all these years.
When we first started dating, I did plan to eventually tell Tyler about my real identity. But when my father disowned and effectively removed me from the family tree, and the government records, I thought it was pointless to tell Tyler. Because it has become true. Peter McGregor is no longer my father. And I have nothing to my name.
I changed my clothes, put on a robe and head downstairs.
I smell coffee coming from the kitchen. The brew smells familiar. It immediately tells me who is in the kitchen making it.
‘Vivian.’
Sure enough, Vivian stands at the counter, hair styled to perfection, and dressed like she’s going to be interviewed in the morning talk show.
She looks up as I enter, and immediately, her face turns into a practiced disdain of someone seeing damaged goods.
"Good morning," I say, forcing a smile on my face.
“Is it still morning? I thought it’s already noon,” she replies. Translation: It’s a grave sin for me to sleep past dawn.
I move to the coffee pot, ignoring the jab. "Is Tyler still in his study?"
"Tyler?" Vivian's perfectly penciled eyebrows rise. "He left hours ago. Took Lorraine to that meeting with the investors." She says this with pride, as if her son escorting my stepsister to a business meeting is something worthy of celebration.
My hand freezes on the coffee pot. "What meeting with investors?"
"He’s meeting with SB Capitals top management," she says, stirring her coffee with deliberate precision. "They moved up the timeline, apparently. Very important meeting. Tyler said future funding by SB Capitals depend on it."
SB Capitals demanded to finalize my Symphony collection earlier than planned. And now Tyler’s meeting with them—with Lorraine?
"Why would he take Lorraine?" I ask, unable to keep the edge from my voice.
Vivian takes a slow sip of her coffee, savoring both the flavor and my discomfort. "Well, why not? She's the CEO of a major luxury brand. Her presence lends credibility."
"Her presence lends competition," I counter. "Luxe Emerald is our biggest competitor. Why would Tyler bring the CEO of our competition to meet with our investors?"
Vivian sets down her cup with a sharp click against the saucer. "Perhaps because she knows how to handle herself in these situations. She has experience with high-level executives. She understands what's at stake."
Translation: unlike me!
"I'm the Head Designer at TL Glam," I say, raising my chin slightly. "Those are my designs that SB Capitals is impressed with. It was my Moonstruck collection that they bought as a condition for funding us in the first place."
"Designs that belong to the company," Vivian reminds me with a tight smile. "Tyler's company. You’re merely a designer."
"It’s our company," I correct her. "I'm not just an employee. I'm his wife. His partner."
Vivian laughs, the sound brittle and cold in the morning quiet. "Oh, Analise. Is that what you think? That your little sketches make you an equal partner?" She shakes her head as if I'm a child who's said something amusingly naive. "TL Glam is Tyler's vision. His creation. You're just one of many designers who work there."
"One of many?" I echo, disbelief making my voice rise. "I've created every successful line we've ever launched! The Moonstruck collection that first made SB Capitals take a chance on us? Mine. The Mystique line that doubled our revenue last quarter? Mine. The Symphony collection that SB Capitals is so excited about? Also mine."
"And yet," Vivian says, her voice dangerously soft, "when Tyler needed someone to take to this crucial meeting, he chose Lorraine. You can be the brain behind the designs. But Lorraine provides better optics. It will show SB Capitals that if they walk out on Tyler, Luxe Emerald is ready to swoop in. Don’t you think that makes Lorraine a better option?”
The words land like a slap. I want to fire back, to defend myself, but doubt creeps in, colder than the morning air. Why would Tyler take Lorraine instead of me? What could she possibly contribute to a meeting about my designs?
"Or maybe it's because her pregnancy is so delicate," Vivian continues, as if reading my thoughts. "She needs constant monitoring. Tyler wouldn't want to leave her alone."
I force myself to take a breath. "She wouldn't be alone. You're here."
"Oh well," Vivian says, ignoring my comment, "he doesn't trust leaving her with you." Her eyes narrow. "I saw how you looked at her last night. The hostility practically radiated off you."
"Me? Hostile?" I grab a mug from the cabinet with more force than necessary. "I wasn't the one springing surprise living arrangements on anyone."
"This is Tyler's house," Vivian says, her voice hardening. "He has every right to invite whoever he wants to stay here. You have no right to act like a queen, antagonizing guests. Especially not Lorraine."
I pour coffee into my mug. "What's so special about Lorraine, anyway? Besides being Tyler's newfound cousin?"
"She's Peter McGregor's daughter," Vivian states, as if this explains everything. "She comes from one of the most influential families in the business world. She's refined, educated, accustomed to the best of everything."
"And that earns her special treatment?" I ask, taking a sip of the too-strong coffee.
"It earns her respect," Vivian counters. "Something you seem incapable of showing. My son’s home may not be as luxurious as what she's used to, but with warmth and proper hospitality, we can make her feel welcome."
"Our home," I repeat quietly. "It’s my house, too.”
Vivian's eyes flash. "My son purchased this house. My son built the company that pays for your comfortable lifestyle. And right now, my son is trying to secure the future of that company while you stand here complaining about a pregnant woman needing help."
I set my mug down with deliberate care, afraid I might throw it if I hold it any longer. "I'm not complaining about her needing help. I'm questioning why my husband took my competitor to a meeting about my designs instead of me."
"Would you rather he left her here with you?" Vivian asks, her voice dripping with insinuation. "After the way you behaved last night? Her pregnancy is sensitve, Analise. Stress could be dangerous for her and the baby."
"I didn't cause her any stress," I argue. "We had a perfectly civil conversation."
"That's not what Lorraine said," Vivian replies smoothly. "She told us how uncomfortable you made her feel. How unwelcome."
My blood runs cold. "What exactly did she say?"
"Enough to concern Tyler," Vivian says. "Enough that he worried what might happen if he left you two alone for too long."
The manipulation is so obvious it would be laughable if it weren't working so effectively. "She's… she’s lying," I say. "We spoke briefly in the hallway. I was nothing but civil."
Lorraine promised me that she has changed. But then again, Vivian constantly lies to me, too. So, who’s telling the truth?
"Why would she lie?" Vivian asks, spreading her hands in a gesture of false innocence. "What possible reason would Lorraine have to make up stories about you? She hasn’t even met you until last night.”
I want to laugh. I want to fling it on Vivian’s face just exactly who Lorraine is to me, what history we share. But I can't—not without revealing my own past, my own secrets.
"Don’t be a bitch, Analise," Vivian warns, her voice dropping to something almost threatening. "Lorraine's condition is delicate. If anything happens to her or that baby while she's under this roof, Tyler would never forgive you."
"Why would that be?" I ask, my own voice growing quieter, more dangerous. "Why would Tyler care so deeply about Lorraine’s pregnancy? They’re just cousins.”
Vivian's smile is sharp as a blade. "Perhaps because unlike his barren wife, Lorraine is actually capable of bringing new life into this world."
‘Barren.’
The word hits me harder than an actual physical blow. For two years, we've been trying. Two years of disappointment, of Tyler's growing distance, of Vivian's thinly veiled suggestions that perhaps I'm not woman enough to give her son children.
"Is that why Tyler has been distant?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper. "Because I couldn’t get pregnant?”
"It’s been two years too long, isn’t it?" Vivian says, her voice softening into something that mimics sympathy but doesn't quite reach it. "My son wants a family. Now that he’s become a millionaire, he deserves to have an heir to his growing empire.”
Something shifts inside me—rage, yes, but also a strange sort of clarity. I look at this woman who has never respected me, never welcomed me, and I see her for what she is: a bitter, controlling figure desperate to maintain her influence over her son.
"Well, if that’s the problem, I think Tyler will change his perspective soon," I say, a new confidence strengthening my voice. "Once I give him the good news."
Vivian's brow furrows. "What good news?"
I straighten my spine, lifting my chin as I face her fully. My hand moves to rest on my stomach in a gesture that can't be misinterpreted. "I'm pregnant. Inside me is the fruit of our love.”
The color drains from her face, her mouth opening and closing without sound. When she finally speaks, her voice is thin with disbelief. "You're lying!"
I don’t answer. Instead, I stare back at her with a smirk on my face.