Chapter 1 Glory And A Birthday You Forgot

• The night was thick, heavy–like the world itself was holding its breath.
• It wasn’t cold—but it was colder than early autumn in Geneva should have been.
• I had walked away from one of the most prestigious award galas in the world, still dressed in my navy silk gown. The Silver Claw Medal rested against my chest, its weight both literal and symbolic.
• They call me the youngest doctoral researcher in werewolf medical science.
• Lead developer of the Lunar Phase Suppressant—a breakthrough serum that prevents Alpha and Omega adolescents from descending into violent rampages during their first transformation.
• Especially those with unstable bloodlines.
• Like my son, Luca.
• I had just returned from the International Medical Headquarters.
• During the thirteen-hour flight home, I hadn’t slept once. All I could think about were their faces—Darius’s quiet pride, Lyra’s bright smile, Luca’s small hand clinging tightly to mine.
• I wanted them to see this medal.
• I wanted them to share this victory.
• Because today wasn’t just a professional milestone.
• It was my birthday.
• ——
• By the time I reached the front steps of our estate, dry leaves skittered across the porch, crunching beneath my heels as if announcing my return.
• The door opened before I knocked.
• Linda, our longtime housekeeper, blinked in surprise.
• “Luna? We didn’t know you were coming home tonight.”
• “Do I need to announce my return to my own house?” I asked quietly. Not cold. Just tired.
• She lowered her eyes. “Alpha Darius is at the Council headquarters. There was an urgent case. Lyra’s in the music room. Luca went toward the north woods earlier.”
• Of course he did.
• I nodded, slipped the velvet medal case into my coat pocket, and carried my suitcase upstairs.
• The music room door was slightly ajar.
• Lyra sat at the grand piano, her fingers gliding across the keys. She hummed softly—“Ode to the Moon’s Breath.”
• Her favorite.
• My chest tightened. My little moonbeam.
• “Lyra,” I whispered gently.
• She turned, eyes lighting up for a brief second. “Mommy!”
• I opened my arms—
• But just as quickly, her gaze dropped back to the keys.
• “I’m practicing,” she muttered. “Daddy said I have to be perfect for the Meteor Festival. I’m opening the ceremony.”
• “That’s wonderful,” I said softly. “Is this the piece you’re performing?”
• “Mhm. And another surprise one. Aunt Emma helped me pick it.”
• Aunt Emma.
• “She says this one suits my temperament better than the one you chose last year.”
• “Oh,” I said softly.
• Lyra brightened slightly.
• “Aunt Emma says a Luna shouldn’t be so…intense. She says music should feel warm.”
• She said it so casually, so effortlessly–like the name belonged there, like the woman belonged here.
• The medal in my coat pocket suddenly felt heavier.
• “I rushed back to surprise you,” I started. “I thought maybe we could–”
• “I’m busy, Mommy,” Lyra said, eyes not leaving the piano. “Please don’t talk. You’ll mess up my rhythm.”
• I stood there for several long seconds.
• When had I become a visitor in my own child’s life?
• For a fleeting moment, I thought of my own mother—the only warmth I had ever truly known. If she were still alive, maybe I wouldn’t feel so utterly alone in this house.
• “Lyra,” I asked softly, “do you know what day it is?”
• She scrunched her face. “Isn’t it the rehearsal before the ritual?”
• “…Yes,” I replied after a pause. “I suppose it is.”
• She didn’t look up again.
• I left without another word.
• No one remembered.
• Downstairs, Linda approached cautiously.
• “Luna… I reached Alpha Darius. The Council meeting will last all night. He suggests you rest.”
• Of course he does.
• I stepped into the dim hallway and dialed his number.
• One ring. Two. Four.
• He answered.
• “I’m in the middle of something. Can we talk tomorrow?”
• Then, in the background, a soft honeyed voice drifted through the speaker.
• “Darius,” Emma’s voice flowed like honey through the speaker, “you promised you’d finish the wine with me tonight.”
• A pause.
• “And you said no interruptions.”
• The implication wasn’t loud.
• It didn’t need to be.
• I ended the call.
• I sat on the staircase for a long time, gripping my phone until my knuckles whitened. I had always suspected it.
• I just hadn’t expected confirmation to feel this hollow.
• After a while, I sent him a message.
• —The meteor shower is tonight. I thought we could take the kids to the hill.
• Twenty minutes later:
• —Can’t. Tonight’s agenda is full. Cancel it.
• No apology.
• No explanation.
• Just an order.
• I forced myself to focus on something else. The front lines had shifted again; reports had been waiting for my review. I opened the tactical updates on my tablet and sent congratulations to the frontline medics who had already heard about the award.
• They celebrated me more warmly than my own family ever had.
• For years, I had bled for this pack. Fought for it. Healed its warriors. Sat on the Tactical Council as one of its rare frontline healers.
• Yet inside my own home, I was invisible.
• I was about to go upstairs when I heard Lyra’s voice drifting from the hallway.
• “Aunt Linda… if Mommy’s back, does that mean we can’t watch the meteors with Aunt Emma?”
• Linda’s reply was careful. “Miss Lyra… Luna is your mother.”
• What came next felt like a blade sliding between my ribs.
• “But I want Aunt Emma to be my mom. She’s pretty and kind. She doesn’t always look angry and scary like Mommy.”
• My knees weakened.
• Inside, my wolf—Lucy—let out a wounded howl.
• “We’re not her mother anymore,” she whispered. “We’ve already been replaced.”
• The front door burst open.
• “Take that back!”
• Luca stormed in, breathless, curls damp with sweat.
• “She is our mother!” he shouted, fists clenched. “She tested medicine on herself to protect us! She stayed awake for three nights when we couldn’t control our shifts!”
• His voice cracked.
• “What has Emma ever done? She broke this family apart! She doesn’t love us—she just loves him!”
• Silence filled the hall.
• “You didn’t even say happy birthday,” Luca said hoarsely. “She received the Silver Claw Medal tonight. Every Alpha in every Pack is celebrating her. And you forgot.”
• My heart fractured—
• But it didn’t shatter.
• Because at least one of them remembered.
• At least one still loved me.
• Under Luca’s urging, Lyra slowly stepped away from the piano and walked toward me.
• My two children stood before me and murmured their birthday wishes.
• They kept a careful distance.
• The formality in my own children’s eyes was what finally made my decision clear.
• Back in my room, I opened the bottom drawer of my desk.
• The envelope was still there.
• My resignation letter from the Pack.
• And the divorce papers I had never signed.
• Until now.
• I placed the Silver Claw Medal inside the envelope.
• Then I signed both documents.
• This time, my hands did not tremble.
• Linda was already awake when I handed it to her.
• “Please give this to Alpha Darius,” I said quietly.
• She looked at me–really looked at me. Her hands trembled slightly as she took it.
• But she nodded.