The True Luna's Forbidden Temptation - Chapter 55: Chapter 55

I feel the weight of countless eyes watching us as Tyler extends his hand to mine. He’s actually put me in an awkward position. I am not sure if he did it on purpose or not. But knowing Tyler, it’s most probably deliberate.
Time stretches between us. Even the band seems to have stopped playing. I feel like the whole world is waiting for my next move.
But what I’m about to do is not going to be a form of reconciliation. Instead, it’s a ‘performance’. A masquerade where masks are finally off, and the power as shifted—like a ball from Tyler’s court to mine.
Julian stiffens beside me, a silent question etched into the angle of his shoulders. I give him the barest shake of my head.
‘No. This is my war to win. My scene to own. My final act.’
"One dance," I say coolly, appearing as cool as possible, like none of these, not even the spotlight, affects me at all. “We’re all civil here, of course. No need to be hostile, right, Tyler?”
I see relief crossing Tyler’s face. I realize at that moment that he was worried I would reject him. I don’t know what he’s up to. But I’m no longer the naïve woman who gave up her birthright just to be with him. And if he thinks he can still fool me with his words, well, he’s got another think coming.
Because he has no idea what I’m about to do next.
I place my fingers in his outstretched hand. The moment our skin touches, an old revulsion unfurls inside me like smoke—slow and bitter. Strange how these hands once felt like home. Now, they feel foreign. Actually, that’s wrong. It feels like shaking the hand of the man who robbed you blind and smiled while doing it.
"Shall we?" I ask, already moving toward the dance floor. I don’t wait for his answer. I don’t acknowledge Vivian’s pinched smile or Tanya’s narrowed glare. Let them stew in it.
The crowd parts before us, curious, wary—like spectators unsure whether they’re witnessing a royal procession or a public execution.
The quartet shifts seamlessly into a waltz, smooth and ceremonial. Strings shimmer in the air like spun sugar. Elegant. Fragile. Just like Tyler’s crumbling ego.
As we reach the center, I catch a flicker of movement above. My eyes lift. There—on the mezzanine—I see him. Sebastian. He stands at the railing, knuckles white against polished wood, his gaze burning through the crowd like a laser.
His eyes lock with mine. Just for a second. But it’s enough. Enough to feel the unspoken storm brewing in his silence. Possessive. Unapologetic. Dangerous.
‘Why does it look like he doesn’t approve of me dancing with Tyler?’
Actually, if I didn’t know any better, I can even say that he’s… jealous? But… why?
Tyler follows my gaze and spots him.
"That’s Sebastian Blackwood. Do you know him?" he asks as his hand finds my waist. A respectable distance between us—how ironic. When I thought we were happily married, we couldn’t be separated from each other at all.
"Youngest billionaire in the country. One of the most eligible bachelors in the world. Who wouldn’t know him?” I make it appear as though I’m actually interested in Sebastian.
I feel Tyler stiffen as he frowns. “Some men feel they can have everything they want.” Then he pulls me closer to him. If it’s a ploy to show Sebastian that he can’t have me, I am not sure.
Tyler’s fingers twitch slightly at my back as we begin to glide across the floor. He leads with practiced grace—his mother saw to that—but tonight, there’s a stiffness in his posture. Each step is less about elegance and more about control. Desperation wrapped in rhythm.
"It seems you’ve been busy building your network while I wasn’t around," he murmurs. "CEO of SB Capitals. Quite a leap from sketching jewelry and… kneading dough."
‘Ah. There it is. The subtle dig.’ The ‘you're-just-a-cake-baking-nobody’ insult.
I smile. "Not really a leap. More of a homecoming. I was born for boardrooms. I just took a scenic route through bakeries and… betrayal."
His jaw clenches, but he forces a laugh. "You always did have flair for theatrics."
"And you always had a knack for underestimating people with talent and ovaries." I roll my eyes.
We turn in a fluid arc, and I catch the faces in the crowd—industry titans, socialites, investors—watching with barely contained fascination. The same people who once dismissed me as Tyler’s little hobby, his decorative afterthought. Their eyes are different now.
Calculating. Respectful. Anxious.
"You know what puzzles me most?" Tyler’s voice dips. He leans slightly in, eyes dropping—not to my face, not to my dress—but to the pendant resting above my collarbone.
Ah. There it is.
"I imagine there’s a long list of things puzzling you tonight," I reply, sweet as spun honey.
His eyes narrow, focused on the pendant. The Moonstruck design. My masterpiece. The one he sold to SB Capitals without my consent.
"Is that..." His words falter. Then sharpen. "That’s Moonstruck. That’s TL Glam’s first—”
"Correction," I interrupt, lifting the pendant slightly so it catches the light, dazzling the onlookers like a blade unsheathed in sunlight. "This is my design. Conceived in my sketchbook. Refined in my apartment. Sold by you without my permission. And now—owned by SB Capitals."
"You’re lying. " he breathes. "The patent of Moonstruck is exclusively owned by the owner of SB Capitals. It’s not even the company that owns it.”
"Yes. Another thing you failed to tell me when you struck a deal with them." I tell him. "It’s a good thing, the owner thought it wasn’t fair what you did to me. So, he returned Moonstruck to me. And it’s part of my package when I accepted the position of CEO.”
His rhythm falters. We nearly stumble. The stumble of a man who just realized he’s been dancing in a noose.
"How do you even know about that contract?" he whispers.
I tilt my head. "Because, darling, I no longer live in the shadow of your lies. I know everything now. Every deal. Every backroom agreement. Every NDA you signed and didn’t tell me when you exploited my talents.”
"I didn’t exploit you. I gave you a good life!”
I laugh. “I already had a good life before I got foolish enough to fall for you.”
“You’re insane!”
"Possibly," I reply with a shrug. "Or possibly just... free."
He stares at me, struggling to form his next move. We make another slow circle, our bodies locked in rhythm, our war disguised as waltz.
"You only agreed to dance with me so you could humiliate me further, didn’t you?" he mutters.
"No. You invited me to dance, Tyler. I simply accepted your offer." I lean in slightly, smile sharp. "And I assumed you had questions. I gave you an opportunity to ask all of them. This is our last dance—you might as well get answers."
He inhales through his nose, chest rising.
"Fine. How long have you been lying to me?"
"About what? My name? My heritage? My IQ?"
"About SB Capitals!" His grip tightens, subtle but possessive. "Were you working with them all along? When did you plan to sabotage me?”
I laugh again. It’s genuine and deliciously cruel. "Please. Don’t flatter yourself. I met SB Capitals after I walked away from your house with nothing to my name. By then, you’ve already been sabotaging yourself. What were you thinking sleeping with someone from Luxe Emerald? It was supposed to be your biggest competitor. If you were stupid enough, Luxe Emerald could buy you out. And where would that leave SB Capitals?”
He recoils slightly, shame flickering across his face.
“Oh. Was that your plan all along? Sleep with Lorraine so you get to move up the ladder? To have TL Glam merge with Luxe Emerald and kick SB Capitals out?”
“Couldn’t you see? TL Glam is SB Capitals’s cash cow. And yet, they all treat me as if I’m beneath them!” He hisses. “Like they own TL Glam!”
Now, I finally get his plan.
“And you slept with Lorraine because you loved her? Or because you think it will help you get to Luxe Emerald faster?”
He is silent for a whole minute. "What about you? Who did you sleep with, Analise?"
Ah. And now the last refuge of weak men—misogyny.
I halt our steps for a beat. Just a beat. Long enough for heads to turn, breaths to pause.
"Careful," I say, voice low and cutting. "We’re still in public. And you’ve embarrassed yourself quite enough tonight."
I lean in, words for his ears only.
"And if you ever suggest again that I slept my way into anything, I’ll make sure every investor TL Glam ever had knows that you were nothing more than a figurehead coasting on my genius. I will gut your reputation so surgically, you won’t even feel the bleeding until it’s too late."
His face blanches. "You wouldn’t."
"Tyler," I whisper, sweet and venomous, "you taught me exactly how to do it."
We resume the dance.
"Why did you change your name to McGregor?" he asks suddenly, tone different now. Confused. Like he’s just genuinely trying to make sense of things. "I thought your last name was Lander."
"That was my mother’s name," I reply calmly. "Before I became someone else's wife. Before I let your name define me."
He swallows. "So what—this McGregor thing is what? A stage name?”
"No," I say. "Of course not. It’s the surname I have carried before I married you. I just didn’t use it.”
His chuckles humorlessly. “Oh, I get it. Next thing you’re going to say is that you’re related to Peter McGregor, right?”
I don’t answer immediately. I watch him laugh at his own joke.
Finally, he stops laughing and stares back at me, raising a curious brow. “What?”
I sigh. "Peter McGregor is my father. Lorraine is actually my stepsister. You know the difference between the two of us?”
No answer. He stares back at me blankly. “Lorraine is adopted. While I? I’m actually the biological daughter of Peter McGregor. And my mother is Margaret Lander. You should know her. She actually founded Luxe Emerald.”
His expression crumples like paper. "You're lying. That’s a lot of crap!”
“It’s really funny,” I tell him. “I didn’t know you were a social climber. And you were trying to impress Lorraine so you could get close to Peter McGregor and Luxe Emerald. You were trying to win over the adopted daughter’s favor. While you were treating the biological daughter, the real heiress, like shit!”
He furrows his brows in confusion. “Why did you hide this from me?”
“You never asked. You never were interested with my family background. Even when we got married, you never asked why my parents or any member of my family were not there on our wedding.”
“Fuck!” he curses under his breath.
“My father was right about you,” I say. “He disinherited me because of you. He said that as long as I was married to you, he will never allow you to gain access to my inheritance.”
Tyler is tongue-tied. I can tell that he was seriously shocked.
Above us, Sebastian hasn’t moved at all. He’s been watching us like a hawk. Watching. Waiting.
One wrong move, and I know that Tyler will get seriously hurt. He won’t care if everyone is watching.
The music swells one last time.
Our dance nears its end.
I smile at Tyler. The kind of smile you wear at funerals. "Thank you for the dance."
And I release his hand.