Switched Bride True Luna novel Chapter 76

Emily

I sat on the edge of my bed, one hand clenched around my phone, he other frozen halfway to brushing my hair.

The headline didn’t say my name, but it didn’t have to. Trouble in itanfang? Rumors of Replacement Amid Document Scandal. The photo they used wasn’t new, just a new gossip angle; it was the moment at the gala when Chloe’s hand brushed Logan’s

arm.

His body language was already stepping away, but the camera caught the stillness before the motion. A second of silence. A frame that screamed betrayal.

In the background, I was out of focus, blurred into the lights. Easily ignored. Easily replaced.

There was no mention of Carla or the report or the way the system had been rigged to make me look incompetent.

But there was a lot of speculation, sharp angles of my face pulled from older public appearances, the carefully edited implication that Titanfang’s Alpha might be rethinking his choice of Luna.

And Logan? Silent. No public statement. No denial. Not even a lukewarm press correction.

I threw my phone and hairbrush on the bed and stood slowly, walked to my closet, and pulled out my weekend bag.

My fingers moved without needing my full attention–clean shirt, second pair of shoes, travel–sized toiletries. The kind of practiced packing that came with years of learning how to disappear without looking like I was running.

I left a note on the kitchen counter, addressed simply to “Alpha Logan.” Formal. Distant. The kind of cold that was appropriate for a contractual relationship.

I didn’t slam doors on my way out. I didn’t call him. I didn’t demand to be seen or heard or reassured. Because what would I even ask?

Why didn’t you tell them the truth?

Why didn’t you push her hand away faster?

Why didn’t you follow me when I left the gala?

No question I could come up with had a safe answer. So, I said nothing.

The car arrived a half hour later, and I slipped into the backseat without fanfare. The driver didn’t ask where we were going. I’d already arranged it.

Maris, the kind Luna with the dormant wolf I had met weeks ago, greeted me at the door with a hug that didn’t ask what was wrong. She just held me for a second longer than politeness required, and then led me inside.

Her estate was nothing like Logan’s. Not some bachelor pad in desperate need of a female’s touch, hers was full of warmth. Heavy drapes, sun–dappled rooms, a garden that grew wild around the edges.

She poured tea into mismatched cups and asked about everything except the one thing I was still too sore to speak aloud.

I stayed in the guest room overlooking the woods. At night, I lay in the unfamiliar bed and listened to the wind move through

the trees.

I thought about all the ways my life had changed since that first night in Logan’s hotel room. How quickly proximity had become tension, and tension had become… this.

Logan had been careful with me, at first. Distant. Professional. And then less so. There had been moments–small, private ones

-when I thought maybe I wasn’t just a strategy.

But now? Now I was a headline.

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+25 BONUS

I didn’t know what hurt more: that the world believed I wasn’t enough, or that Logan hadn’t said otherwise.

The next morning, I woke early and stood at the window. Eventually, I picked up my bag and Maris walked me to the car, shawl tugged tight against the morning breeze.

“You’ll be fine, you know,” she said, her voice calm but sure.

I gave her a look that didn’t try to hide my skepticism.

her

She smiled faintly. “Maybe not today. Or tomorrow. But you’re made of stronger things than they expect. And you’re not alone.”

I swallowed, throat tight. “Thank you.“.

Maris touched my arm, gentle but grounding. “Don’t let them convince you that being compassionate or dormant means being breakable.”

Then she stepped back as the driver opened my door, her silhouette framed by the rising sun. I didn’t look back after I got in- but I felt her watching until the car disappeared around the bend.

Her words stayed with me through every winding turn of the road Home.

By the time we reached the house, the clouds had rolled in, casting long gray shadows over the familiar gates.

I stared at them like they were the threshold to a different version of my life. One I’d stepped into without knowing the rules.

Inside, the place was quiet. I moved through the hall slowly, my footsteps nearly silent on the carpet.

I wasn’t sure what I was hoping for. A sign that something had changed? An apology waiting at the door?

The odds of either weren’t in my favor.

When I turned the corner past the study, I saw Logan standing half–shadowed in the corridor, reading something on his tablet.

I knew the second he sensed me–his shoulders stiffened, his head lifting before his eyes met mine. We both stopped.

The hallway stretched between us, suddenly too narrow and too wide all at once.

He looked tired. Not disheveled, just… off–center. Like something in him had gone quiet, too.

For one long second, we didn’t speak. I wasn’t even sure either of us breathed. And then, with practiced grace, Logan stepped to the side, clearing a path.

I walked toward him, forcing my feet to move, even as my chest tightened. When I reached him, I kept my gaze forward, the weight of everything over the past few days pressing heavy against my tongue.

But something in me wanted to pause. To ask. To demand.

Why didn’t you reach out? Why did you let me leave without a word?

I didn’t say any of it. Because what would be the point. My feelings were clearly one–sided here.

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