The True Luna's Forbidden Temptation - Chapter 36: Chapter 36

I am stunned at the realization. Lorraine’s words are harder to swallow than a bitter pill. I watch her face—that perfectly composed mask she's worn since childhood—and something clicks into place with devastating clarity.
There’s no grief in her green eyes. No fear that her father’s life is hanging in the balance. Just cold calculation, like she’s reviewing quarterly projections.
“You don’t even care if he dies, do you?” The words tear out, raw and accusing. “This isn’t about protecting his legacy or the companies. You’re relieved. You’re actually relieved he might never wake up, you ungrateful bitch!”
Her smile doesn’t flicker, but her eyes betray a flicker of truth. “I care about what matters. It would be a shame to have this company fall into the hands of someone who doesn’t know what she’s doing.”
“You mean me?” I mutter. “So, you’re going to sell his company. You mean erasing everything he and my mother created so you and your mother can cash out and disappear.”
Her jaw tightens. It seems I’ve hit bull’s eye. My father’s company is worth billions—multi-billions. Once they cash in, they can just disappear. They will leave my father alone here!
Around us, the hospital corridor continues its quiet rhythm—nurses in soft shoes, distant elevator chimes, the background hum of machines. But between Lorraine and me, the air turns heavy—hard to breathe.
“You never cared about him,” I push on, my voice rising. “All those years playing the dutiful adopted daughter. But it was all a performance, wasn’t it? The grateful orphan act. You were always calculating, always waiting for this moment to take everything.”
“I earned everything I have,” she snaps, composure cracking at the edges. “While you were playing house with your bartender, I was there on father’s side. He was training me to be his successor.”
“I bet he lost his patience with you plenty of times. My father has poor tolerance for the dim-witted.”
It is true. Lorraine is not the sharpest pencil in the box. My father indicated so during our phone conversation.
Lorraine glares at me, but doesn’t answer back. It seems I’ve struck a nerve.
“You think Luxe Emerald is just another asset,” I press. “But it was my mother’s vision. Her legacy. And you’re going to dismantle it for what? A quick payout? A chance to sit in her chair?”
“She’s been dead over twenty years,” Lorraine snaps, her mask finally slipping. “Whatever attachment you have to her memory doesn’t matter anymore.”
The words land like blows, but instead of breaking me, they harden something inside.
“Luxe Emerald isn’t even my father’s. He had no right to make you in-charge of it. I swear, you won’t get away with this.”
Lorraine straightens her jacket with surgical precision. “And what exactly are you going to do? Sue me? On what grounds? You’ve been disowned. You don’t even have access to the building.”
“I’ll find a way. You have no right to tear my parents’ companies apart. You are not their blood! And I’m still alive. Father was going to give everything back to me. When the board finds out you are a fraud—”
“Who do you think they will believe? Me or you?” she cuts in coldly. “I’m Peter McGregor’s legal daughter. Even if you get a positive DNA test result now, it wouldn’t matter. Because as far as the world knows, he didn’t even recognize you.”
This isn’t just about power—it’s about control. About shaping the narrative of who I am, and who she is. Lorraine is already making sure I won’t be able to come back to my family.
“I’m calling an emergency board meeting,” she says, her voice calm again, almost serene. “With my father incapacitated, someone has to lead during this… difficult time.”
“You can’t appoint yourself Chairman. There are rules—”
“There are emergency provisions,” she interrupts. “And as acting CEO and legal heir, I have influence over how those rules are interpreted. By next Friday, I’ll be both CEO of Luxe Emerald and Chairman of McGregor Group. My first order of business? Strategic partnerships. Acquisitions. Maybe even a full buyout.”
‘Fuck! This is no longer theft!’
It’s annihilation. She’s planning to gut the company while I watch from the sidelines. She will cash in on the billions, and leave my father in the hospital. When he wakes, everything will be gone.
“You don’t deserve his name,” I whisper. “You’re not a McGregor. You’re a fucking parasite.”
Lorraine lets out a low, humorless laugh that echoes off the sterile walls. “Look around, Analise. Do you see anyone here standing with you? Any family at your side? You’re alone.”
The truth stings. But I won’t give her the satisfaction of seeing me flinch.
“This isn’t over,” I grit out. “I’ll take back everything you’ve stolen from my family!”
“No,” she says softly. “You won’t.”
Then she raises her voice, just enough to carry. “Excuse me—security! This woman is becoming increasingly agitated. I’m concerned for patient and staff safety.”
The nurse at the station picks up her phone with practiced urgency. Minutes later, two security guards arrive—calm, efficient, detached.
“Ma’am, we’re going to need you to come with us,” says the taller one. His hand rests on his radio.
“She’s lying,” I say. “I wasn’t threatening anyone. I just wanted to see my father.”
“This woman has been harassing my family,” Lorraine says, her voice full of manufactured concern. “I tried to reason with her, but she kept stalking me. I’m afraid for my safety.”
The guards exchange glances. They don’t see me. They see what they expect—an emotional woman, flushed and teary-eyed. A threat.
“Please don’t make this harder,” the second guard says, stepping in. “Let’s walk out together.”
I look at Lorraine one last time. Memorize the curve of her lips, the triumphant gleam in her eyes.
She’s won this round. But the war isn’t over.
“Don’t be too comfortable, Lorraine,” I tell her. “You can’t erase what I know. And you certainly cannot stop me from what I’m about to do.”
Instead of answering back, she just pulls out her phone from her pocket. “Yes, this is Lorraine McGregor,” she says to the person on the other end. “I need to ensure that Analise Lewis is permanently banned from visiting patients here. She’s made threats and appears mentally unstable… Yes, I’ll file a formal complaint.”
The guards usher me away. The elevator doors close, severing my line of sight—but not the sound of her voice.
“Goodbye, Analise. I’d say it’s been a pleasure, but we both know that would be a lie.”
Her words follow me down seven floors and into a future I can no longer ascertain.
The guards loosen their grip once we reach the lobby. One of them softens his tone. “Look, ma’am… I don’t know what’s going on between you and that lady upstairs, but—” He hesitates, then lowers his voice. “You might want to get yourself a lawyer. Someone who can help you get visitation rights to your father.”
His partner nods. “We’ve seen this kind of thing before. Family gets messy. Sometimes, court’s the only way.”
There’s sympathy in their faces.
“Thank you,” I say, surprised by how steady I sound. “I know you were just doing your job.”
The head of security approaches, older and measured, with the calm of someone who’s spent years managing chaos.
“Mrs. Lewis,” he says, voice even. “We have to take Ms. McGregor’s concerns seriously. But if you can provide documentation confirming your relationship to the patient, we’ll review the restriction.”
Documentation. Nowadays, blood is not all that important. Legal papers are.
“I understand,” I murmur. “And I appreciate your time.”
He nods once, solemn. “Good luck to you, ma’am.”
I nod at them and then I turn to leave. There’s no point lashing out at them. I know it’s beyond their power, and they’re just doing their jobs.
My phone buzzes as I head to the front entrance.
Catherine: Congratulations! You’re officially free. Call me when you’re ready to discuss next steps.
Free.
The word should feel like a key in a lock. Instead, it tastes like ash. Free from Tyler. Free from the man I thought would love and protect me.
I push through the glass doors, desperate for air. But suddenly, I collide hard with someone coming in.
“Whoa there!”
The man stumbles backward, catching himself just in time. He’s in a bright blue delivery uniform, juggling a gift box that goes flying across the marble floor.
“I’m so sorry!” I drop to my knees, hands scrambling to collect the mess. “Let me help.”
“No worries,” he says, kneeling beside me with an easy grin. “Hospitals do that to people. Lot on the mind, you know?”
We gather the roses together. The chocolates mostly survived, though a few rolled under chairs.
As I reach for one near the base of a bench, my hand closes on a small cream-colored card. Elegant script in familiar handwriting.
To My Dearest Rainnie. I’ll be with you if I could. I’ll pick you up tonight. Love, Tyler.
Suddenly, the world seems to stop spinning. My fingers tighten on the card, unwilling to let go.
Rainnie.
That name certainly rings a bell. That name slipped from his lips when we were about to make passionate love during our anniversary. A name I thought I only imagined.
“Excuse me,” I can barely hear myself. “This delivery… is it for Lorraine McGregor?” I ask.
The delivery guy nods.
“And it’s from Tyler Lewis, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, that's right. Nice guy—called it in special delivery. Said it was important it got here today." He pauses, studying my face with growing concern. "You okay, miss? You look kind of pale."
With wobbly legs, I turn away and walk towards the exit, ignoring him as he calls out to me.