The Luna Who Forgot Her Pack Chapter 09

The Luna Who Forgot Her Pack Chapter 09

After I left the mansion, Ethan started acting like a man drowning in late regret.

Meanwhile, after countless meetings with my parents‘ old business partner, I finally landed a job at the company they’d

founded.

On my first day, ninety–nine long–stemmed red roses arrived at the reception desk. The card read, I’m sorry.

I didn’t even look. Throw them away.”

The next day, white roses arrived. The card read, Give me a chance. They were thrown away too.

On the tenth day, Ethan himself showed up outside my office building. He wore a sharp gray suit, his hair immaculate.

If not for his bloodshot eyes and gaunt cheeks, he might have looked like the confident man he used to be.

He walked up to me as I stepped outside. “Elara, we need to talk.”

I walked around him.

He followed. “Just ten minutes.”

I stopped, turned, and said, “Ethan, if you take one more step, I’m calling the police.”

His face went pale. His lips moved, but no sound came out. He stood frozen.

The harassment escalated.

All his calls went straight to voicemail. Blocked.

Dozens of texts, all ignored.

He even found my new apartment and stayed outside all night.

The next morning, he blocked my path. “What do I have to do? Tell me what to do to make you forgive me?”

“There’s nothing you can do to make me forgive you.‘ I opened my car door. “Move.”

‘I won’t!‘

I pulled out my phone, dialed nine–one–one, and hovered my thumb over the call button. “Should I make the call, or are

you going to move?”

He stared at the screen like it was a live wire. Finally, he stepped aside.

About two weeks later, the private investigator I’d hired sent a report.

The attached photos showed Ethan in a dingy little restaurant, empty beer bottles and plates in front of him. He was skin and bones, his cheekbones sharp, eyes sunken.

Another photo showed Scarlett at home, crying over a bowl of instant noodles, her school uniform wrinkled, her hair

greasy.

The report noted that Ethan was drinking heavily, had effectively been pushed out of the pack and the board of directors, and barely showed up for work.

Scarlett was often alone, her homework neglected, meals not properly made. The school had called multiple times.

Ethan would show up drunk, argue with the teachers, and be escorted out by security.

I closed the file. Not a flicker of emotion.

Their problems were theirs. From the moment I forgot, they were no longer mine.

A week later, Ethan knelt on the side of the road outside my office.

When he saw me, his eyes instantly welled up. “Elara, please, come back. Scarlett needs you. She cries every day… I need

you too…

I walked over to him and looked down. “Ethan, when you were cheating, did you think about her needing me?”

He flinched.

“When you brought Grace home, did you think about her needing me? When you called me crazy, sick, did you think

about her needing me? And now you come begging?”

My voice was low, each word a scalpel. “It’s too late.”

Later, sitting in a restaurant, my phone buzzed.

A text from my lawyer: (Court next week. Solid evidence. Very high chance of winning]