The True Luna's Forbidden Temptation - Chapter 38: Chapter 38

There’s a moment when violence ripples out and silences a room, like a slammed door ending a shouting match. Or a fist connecting to the bridge of the nose.
The broken nose—Tyler’s, not mine, thank God—snaps his face sideways, and blood paints a glossy stripe across his cheek and the white silk of his shirt. His eyes widen, pupils dilating in disbelief, mouth half-open like a puppet with its strings cut. A curse starts to form—“You fuc—”—but the next gout of blood chokes it off. He stares at me as if I’ve morphed into someone else.
Maybe I have.
For a moment, I also do not recognize myself. How did I manage to flip the piano? How did I break Tyler’s nose without first shattering the bones on my finger? I have always thought I was fragile.
Maybe this is the pivot—maybe now he’ll finally see that there’s more to me. Understand what I’ve become. What he made me. But the only recognition in his eyes is pain and something worse: fear.
‘Is he afraid of me?’
I never figured Tyler to be such a wimp. Of course! It could be the adrenaline rush. What else could it be? Yet somehow, he looks as if I have transformed into some sort of monster right before his eyes.
Then Vivian screams.
"You animal!" she shrieks, voice pitched high enough to shatter crystal. She launches herself across the living room in a whirlwind of white knuckles, perfume, and righteousness. Her hands hover over Tyler—hover, never touch—like my rage might leave a residue. "You psychotic, violent little bitch! Get out of my house. Now!"
Her house? Not our house?
I guess this house was never mine. Even the air here feels rented, scrubbed clean of anything real. I can taste the bitterness of that ownership in every syllable she hurls at me.
Tyler groans, staggering to the couch. One hand cups his ruined nose while the other fumbles blindly for balance. Vivian shoves a linen napkin into his face like, and I thought I’m going to hear Tyler cry out, “Mommy!” anytime soon.
He doesn’t even look at me. Not a glance. Instead, he looks at the marble floor, like he wants to bore a hole in it.
My fists are still clenched. I slowly flex them open, then close again. The adrenaline sings in my blood like a war drum. I should feel guilty, maybe. And ashamed. But all I feel is alive. Electric. For the first time in years, I’m the strongest thing in this room.
The piano behind Tyler is a wreck, its lid half-detached like a broken jaw. The cracked ivory keys are scattered across the marble floor like bones. And standing amid the debris, I smile. Not sweetly. Not politely. But I smile in triumph. Like suddenly, the real me has been unleashed.
That’s when Tanya appears at the top of the stairs, drawn by the sound of chaos.
Her hair is twisted into a glossy knot, not a strand out of place. Her pajamas are silk, pale lilac, barely creased—she must have been close. Listening. Lurking. Waiting for her turn to have a go at me. But guess what? If Tyler and Vivian have nothing on me, Tanya has nothing on me. They all can rot in hell for all I care! I have put up with this family far too long.
She stares at the mess and run down the stairs in panic.
"What the hell happened here?" she asks in a shaky voice. She turns to her mother and brother and then to me. "Did you do this?”
I merely shrug.
“How did you—why would you—”
I raise my chin at her. “Why?” I ask. “Because your filthy ass of a brother cannot keep his dick in this pants!”
Vivian rounds on me, spitting fury like acid. "You are finished here, Analise. Do you hear me? No more pity. No more charity. You are out of this family. Out of this house. Out of our lives!"
I almost laugh. This is the line they draw? Vivian talks as if I hit the jackpot when I married Tyler. Is that why they went along with Tyler’s and Lorraine’s play? Because they thought they would be part of the McGregor family now?
‘How would they feel if they realize that the true McGregor heiress has been in front of them for years? And they treated her like shit!’
“You do not have to kick me out, Vivian,” I tell her in a calm tone. “Remember? I was supposed to own half of this house, but it was my choice to waive my rights and give it to your son? I worry about you and Tanya. I thought, if we sold the house and split it in half, where will you guys leave after I leave?”
"You should’ve left already," Tanya says, stepping around the destroyed piano like it might infect her shoes. "But no, you held on for as long as you could! You wanted so much drama. Even if it was so obvious that my brother no longer has feelings for you.”
"You want dramatic?" My voice drops, sharp and cold. I fix my eyes on Tyler—his blood-streaked face, his trembling hand. "Ask your brother how many times he’s lied to you. Ask how many times he’s fucked his own cousin in this house. In your bed. In that precious glass guest room you remodeled like it was Versailles."
Tanya’s smirk vanishes.
Vivian freezes.
Tyler lurches upright, as if propelled by guilt or rage or both—but sinks back down with a wince. The pain pins him in place.