Chapter 5
Chapter Five
Elena
The bridal suite was huge.
A king-size bed draped in dark red satin. Two silver candlesticks on the nightstands. An oil painting on the wall—a wolf on a moonlit cliff, staring into the distance. Heavy velvet curtains shut tight, blocking out the moon. One wall sconce threw off weak yellow light.
I sat on the edge of the bed in my mud-stained wedding dress. A maid offered to help me change. I waved her off. The room fell silent except for my breathing.
I removed my makeup, showered, changed into clothes from the wardrobe, and sat back down on the bed.
Time crawled.
He's not coming, my wolf said, almost crying. I know, I said. The whole ceremony he looked at me like I was furniture.
My wolf whimpered. My heart sank with it. Lucifer. My mate. He didn't recognize me. And my son didn't know I was his mother. But at least now I knew his name—Liam. I'd heard his father call him that at the wedding.
My child.
The thought made my chest ache. Liam. He'd grown so much.
Thick light brown curls stuck to his forehead.
Deep gray eyes, just like his father's. When he ran onstage and grabbed Lucifer's leg, shouting "Daddy," my vision blurred.
Thank God for waterproof mascara, or my tears would've run black.
That was my child. The one I'd left at the guard station five years ago.
The one whose tiny fist I'd had to pry open, finger by finger, from my own. The child I'd been searching for.
And he stood before me, threw mud at me, told me to go away, and called me the bad guy.
And I couldn't even explain. I was "the Gray daughter" now.
A sudden marriage arrangement. A stranger invading his home.
If I said "I'm your mother," would he believe me?
Even if he did, then what? What about Lucifer?
The Elder Council? A half-blood as Reserpine's Luna, with a half-blood bastard—if that got out, what would they do to Liam? I didn't want to think about it.
But at least I'd seen him. He was right there, alive and jumping and calling for daddy—and throwing mud, my wolf added bitterly, curling into a ball. But he's being taken care of, I thought. Dressed neatly. Round cheeks. Not hungry, not cold.
That loosened the cord I'd been wound around for five years. Just a little.
My child was alive. Healthy. Growing.
Even if he didn't know me. Even if he hated me. Even if I'd missed so much.
But he was alive. I still had a chance. Maybe one day I could make Lucifer believe I was his mate, Liam's mother. Even if we couldn't tell anyone, maybe the three of us could be together.
"I believe we can reach him," I said after a pause. "And Lucifer."
Yeah, my wolf mumbled, not enthusiastic but not quite defeated either.
I lay down and closed my eyes.
The next morning, I woke early. Changed into a clean dress—pale green, modest neckline, not too tight.
Dignified. Quiet. Luna of Silver pine material.
I pinned up my hair. The hallway light made me squint as I stepped out.
I walked through the corridors and asked a maid where the kitchen was.
She curtsied and led me through a maze of hallways to a door.
"What do you need, ma'am?" she asked, curious.
"I want to see the menu. Especially Liam's."
I needed to know what he liked, what he didn't. Did he pick at his food? That wouldn't do.
The maid brought over a menu. I studied it carefully. Every day was different. "His Majesty hired a nutrition team," the maid explained. "Every meal is carefully planned."
She wasn't kidding. Every meal varied, balancing protein, vitamins, and fats. Notes in the margins—make the food look like things Liam liked, like dinosaurs or airplanes. Don't overcook certain foods or they'd hurt his chewing development.
My heart warmed. My mate cared about our child.
Liam wasn't a picky eater either. Almost every dish had five stars next to it, wobbly and crooked—clearly Liam's handiwork.
I couldn't help but smile. Closed the menu and handed it back.
"And where's His Majesty?" I asked, throat dry.
The maid gestured for me to follow. She led me forward and pushed open the dining room door. My heart pounded.
Lucifer was there. Sitting at the head of the long table with black coffee and a stack of papers.
Silverware lined up precisely on either side of an untouched plate.
He wore a black casual jacket, hair not slicked back like at the wedding—a few strands fell across his forehead.
He looked slightly... less like a statue than yesterday.
Even a little lazily sexy.
My heart raced faster.
Mate. My wolf inhaled his scent, almost greedily.
"Your Majesty." The maid announced me quietly, then retreated. He glanced up. Barely a glance—his eyes touched my face for a split second, then dropped back to his papers. I stood in the doorway, gripped my skirt, then walked in and sat to his right.
"Morning," I said, curtsying the way I'd learned at the Gray house.
"Morning."
He didn't look up. I stared at his profile.
Time had smoothed some of the youthful edges and added mature depth.
Sunlight streamed through the windows, catching his fingers as they held the pen.
I remembered those hands gripping my waist, pressing me into the couch.
The heat of his fingers. His voice in my ear—"Remember who makes you this wet.
" My heart skipped. I dropped my gaze, picked up my teacup, and scalded my tongue.
"Do you always... eat this early?" I tried.
He turned a page. "Not always."
He'd answered. Not warmly, but it was a start.
"Then—"
"You don't need to worry about my schedule." He cut me off, voice flat, emotionless. "Eat. Don't wait for me."
My fingers tightened around the cup. "Okay."
He kept reading. I sat beside him, quietly eating.
The chef had made eggs, bacon, toast, and a small bowl of fruit.
It tasted fine, but I couldn't really taste it.
Occasionally, I glanced at him. He never looked up.
Like I wasn't there. Until a maid came in and whispered something in his ear.
He set down his papers and looked at me.
"Liam's coming," Lucifer said. "He eats breakfast here every day around this time."
My heart pounded harder. "Okay."
He didn't say more. I gripped my fork, then released it.
The door opened. A maid led in a small boy.
Liam wore a blue shirt and shorts, hair still sticking up like he'd just woken up.
He looked sleepy, but when he saw Lucifer, his eyes lit up.
He called out "Daddy," then saw me—the light died instantly, replaced by wariness.
"What are you doing here?" He stopped in the doorway, little face tense.
"Liam." Lucifer set down his papers. "Come eat."
He didn't move. The maid knelt and coaxed him gently. He turned his head away, gripping the door frame. I took a breath, stood, and walked over. Crouched in front of him. He stared at me, lips pressed into a line.
"Good morning, Liam," I said softly. "I helped with your breakfast. There are things you like—"
"I don't want you to!" He cut me off and shoved me hard. I lost my balance, stumbled back, and caught myself with my hands. He didn't even look, just ran past and climbed into the chair next to Lucifer, and turned his face to the window.
"Liam—" Lucifer's voice stretched out, clearly displeased. "Apologize."
Liam said nothing. He climbed up without letting the maid help. A kid's way of showing he was upset.
I stood, brushed off my palms, and returned to my seat. The maid set breakfast in front of Liam—a bowl of oatmeal with honey and fruit on the side, soft toast, golden and fragrant, and milk in a dinosaur cup.
Food any kid would love at first sight.
But Liam glanced at it and pushed away his spoon. Lucifer looked down at him. "What's wrong?"
"Don't wanna eat."
"You barely ate yesterday, either."
"Just don't wanna," Liam mumbled. "Daddy, feed me."
Lucifer sighed, exasperated but firm. "Liam, what did I say? You eat by yourself now. And boys don't act spoiled."
Liam ignored him, squirming in his seat. "I want you to feed me."
His tone turned stubborn. Lucifer frowned. "No. Either eat or don't."
Lucifer stood firm. Liam got angry too. Father and son locked in a standoff.
I watched them. Liam sat less than two steps away, poking his oatmeal with the spoon, refusing to eat.
The way he tilted his head, sulking, melted something in me.
I set down my cup and said quietly to the maid, "Give me the bowl. "
The maid glanced at Lucifer. He said nothing but didn't object. She picked up the bowl and handed it to me. I took it, walked over, and crouched beside Liam at eye level.
"Liam," I said gently, "if you don't eat, you'll get hungry. Just try one bite, okay? The oatmeal's sweet. I can smell the honey."
He stared at me, guarded, impatient. "I don't—"
"Just one bite." I held the spoon to his lips. "Then I won't push. Your dad's watching."
He glanced at Lucifer, then at the spoon, hesitated, and took a tiny bite. He chewed twice. His expression softened slightly. I saw that shift and felt something tug inside me. Then suddenly, he shoved my hand away hard. "Get away from me!"
The bowl flew from my hands and crashed to the floor.
Oatmeal splattered across my dress, from hem to sleeve, dripping down in sticky globs.
Porcelain shards scattered. The maid gasped and crouched to pick them up.
I froze, half my dress soaked, warm oatmeal running down my fingers and onto the floor.
"I don't want you to feed me!" Liam shouted, voice breaking into a cry. "You're bad! I don't want you as my mom!"
"Liam!" Lucifer was truly angry now. "Where are your manners?"
At his father's scolding, Liam's eyes reddened. Fists clenched tight, his whole body trembled. I looked at him, still kneeling, oatmeal dripping, clinging wet to my skin. I took the towel from the maid and tried to soothe him. "Liam—"
"Liam!"
The door burst open. A woman rushed in, cutting me off. She wore a light-colored dress, hair loosely pinned back, face full of worry and apology. She saw the broken bowl and spilled oatmeal, froze for a second, then crouched down and pulled Liam into her arms.
"Liam, what happened? Tell me—"
"She tried to make me eat!" Liam buried his face in her shoulder, voice muffled. "I don't want her to; she's bad..."
The woman patted his back gently, voice soft as if soothing a frightened animal.
"It's okay, it's okay, Lina's here..." She stood, holding Liam, and seemed to notice me for the first time.
An apologetic smile. "I'm sorry, Luna. He's shy around strangers.
He'll warm up. You should go change—the oatmeal got all over you.
" She paused and met my eyes. "I'm Lina. "
When she said "Luna," there was no emphasis, but I heard it—that thin, uncomfortable layer underneath. And when she introduced herself, that subtle way of claiming territory.
She held my child and patted his back. He clung to her neck, face buried in her shoulder. She told me to "go change," gentle and considerate, beyond reproach—but my child was calling her "Lina."
I stood. "I'll go change," I said evenly.
Lina smiled. "I'll have someone send fresh clothes to your room."
As I left the dining room, Lucifer didn't look at me.
He was looking down at Liam in Lina's arms. Lina coaxed Liam while glancing up at Lucifer with a smile, saying, "He's fine, just being fussy.
" He nodded, gaze moving between Lina and Liam, then reached out and gently ruffled Liam's hair.
The gesture was light, natural—like he'd done it a thousand times.
I walked down the hallway, oatmeal still clinging to my skirt, sticky against my legs, cold with every step. I passed a mirror and glanced sideways. Hair messy, dress stained. As disheveled as yesterday when the mud hit me at the wedding.
I quickened my pace back to my room, changed into clean clothes—a light blue dress—and washed my face again. The person in the mirror looked clean, but her eyes were still red.
Lucifer hadn't said a word of concern.
But he'd smiled at Lina so warmly. Had he been with her all these years? If he already had someone he cared about, what was I supposed to do? Be a Luna in name only?
I walked back toward the dining room. When I pushed open the door, I saw Lucifer in his seat.
Lina sat beside him. Liam lay across her lap while she wiped jam from the corner of his mouth with a napkin.
Lucifer watched her, head tilted slightly, the faintest curve at his lips—relaxed, at ease, the kind of expression you only had at home.
I stood in the doorway, gripping the handle. Didn't go in.
They looked like a family. Lucifer, Lina, Liam. I was a shadow that didn't belong. Liam laughed, holding up a piece of fruit Lina had peeled for him. He held it to her lips. "Lina, you eat too." Lina smiled and took a small bite. Liam giggled.
I felt something block my chest. Tight and sour.
I stepped back into the hallway. A maid passed, carrying a fresh breakfast tray. She saw me and bowed quickly. "Luna? Aren't you going to—"
"No need," I said, voice calmer than I expected. "I'm not hungry."
The maid hesitated, holding the tray at the door. But finally, she curtsied and entered the dining room.
The door closed completely, shutting me out from that painfully warm, jealousy-inducing scene.
I stood there, fingertips white. Then I turned and walked. Out of the study, down the steps, through corridors. I didn't know where I was going. I wandered aimlessly through Reserpine's palace. Sunlight warmed my face, but my chest stayed cold.
Elena. My wolf said gently, trying to comfort me.
I forced a smile. It fell immediately. A crushing sense of helplessness flooded me. Liam, how could I get close to him? And Lucifer.
Lina. Gentle Lina, occupying the place that should have been mine.
My husband. My child. Both circling around her.
I clenched my fists, then released them.
"I won't give up," I whispered.