Luna Returned for Vengeance Chapter 03

Luna Returned for Vengeance Chapter 03

Nora’s POV

Clear handprints quickly surfaced on Ethan’s fair complexion.

He showed no reaction.

Sophie was the first to snap.

“Nora!”

She shrieked, snatched a cup of coffee from the side table, and hurled the boiling liquid at me.

I instinctively lifted my arms to block my face. The boiling coffee splashed across my arm. A sharp searing pain burst across my skin. My face went white. A large red rash spread across my arm, and blisters quickly surfaced.

Sophie’s eyes blazed red as she spoke in a hoarse tone.

“You may hit me, but you have no right to strike my fiancé! Who do you think you are?”

The staff who had been watching immediately crowded around.

“Oh my God. Look what she’s done to our future Luna.”

“She brought this on herself. She was the one who started the fight.”

“Exactly. Ethan is far too lenient. I would have contacted the authorities long ago.”

I trembled violently in pain, yet I stared fixedly at her.

“This is assault. Under Pack Law, harming a legally registered mate in public is an offense. I’m calling the authorities right now..”

A faint look of panic flashed across Sophie’s face.

But before she could respond, Ethan reached out and closed his fingers around my wrist.

His fingertips were cold. His Alpha aura bore down on me, trying to force my wolf into submission.

He glanced at my burned arm and frowned slightly.

“Stop making a scene. Come to my office and treat that burn.”

I wrenched my arm free.

“Get away from me.”

Ethan’s face darkened.

“Nora, Nora, do you have to push this further?”

I laughed, but there was no humor in it.

“I’m making it worse? I’m the one who got hit. I’m the one who got coffee thrown on her. Are you going to twist the truth again, just like you did all those years ago?”

Ethan’s breath caught.

A long silence passed. Then he said quietly, “Calling the authorities now will only embarrass you further, with no benefit at all. Go treat your wounds first. Don’t let them scar.”

I ignored him. I took out my phone and dialed the authorities.

Twenty minutes later, officers from the New York Pack Precinct arrived.

The lead officer entered the room and smiled obsequiously upon seeing Ethan.

“Alpha Shaw. Didn’t expect to see you here.”

His overly courteous tone was nothing like official business. My heart gradually sank.

The receptionist stepped up, smiling brightly.

“I’m sorry, the surveillance cameras broke down last month and have not been repaired yet. We haven’t had a chance to replace them yet.”

The other employees chimed in one after another.

“She hit him first.”

“She’s been harassing Attorney Shaw all day.”

“She came to the firm just to cause trouble.”

Every single person spoke for Sophie. Not one spoke for me.

But I memorized every face. Every false word. One day, they would answer for what they said today.

Nothing had changed over the years. Influential Alpha families could always find people to distort the facts for them.

The officer frowned at me.

“Ma’am, please come with us to assist with the investigation.”

I was utterly stunned.

“I am the injured party! Why are you detaining me instead of her?”

His tone turned impatient.

“Please cooperate. Otherwise we’ll have to use force.”

Then Ethan leaned down, his mouth close to my ear, and said in a low voice. “Nora, you have always been arrogant and domineering. It is time you learned your lesson.”

Staring at his cold, indifferent eyes, I was overwhelmed with desolation.

Back in college, I asked him why he wanted to study law. He said it was to fight for justice. T To speak for those whose voices were suppressed by power and influence.

In that moment, I thought he was glowing.

Now, for Sophie’s sake, he trampled the law again and again. He trampled me, too.

The Ethan I loved was just some fantasy I had when I was young. The dream was over. Nothing was left.

They took me to the Pack Precinct and confiscated my phone.

“Under Pack Law,” I said, “I’m a registered mate. I have the right to contact my mate. Can you call him for me?”

The officer didn’t even look up.

“Not happening. We call the shots here. Try again tomorrow.”

They shoved me into a holding cell. A few women were inside, chatting. When they saw me, they exchanged glances.

A woman with short hair laughed out loud.

“Well look who showed up. The homewrecker chasing after another woman’s fiancé.”

She filled a basin with cold water and dumped it onto my bed.

“You’re sleeping on that tonight.”

The others howled with laughter.

“What, can’t handle a little cold?”

“She actually hit someone’s fiancé.”

I realized then—Sophie must have gotten to them.

No one let me sleep all night. Every time I closed my eyes, someone kicked the bed. They threw trash at me. In the early hours, someone threw cold water directly in my face.

I curled up on the cold, wet mattress, shivering. The cuts on my face throbbed. The burns on my arm blazed. But my mind stayed sharp and clear.

Five years ago, they killed my mother. They drove my father to his grave.

And even now, they still wouldn’t leave me alone.

The next morning, they finally let me go. My head was spinning. I felt hollowed out, like there was nothing left inside.

An officer handed me back my phone.

“Alpha Shaw is being generous. He’s not pressing charges. You’re free to go. Stay out of trouble.”

I didn’t answer. I just turned my phone on.

Countless messages popped up instantly. The previous day’s incident had hit New York’s trending feeds. The video was maliciously edited, leaving only the clip of me slapping Ethan and footage of Sophie breaking down in tears.

The comments were brutal.

[This woman is insane.]

[I heard she was a total doormat for him in college.]

[Poor Sophie.]

[I hope this homewrecker rots.]

They had already doxxed me. Someone had even posted my grandmother’s address in the old neighborhood.

My breath stopped.

Then I found the video.

Outside a local market. My grandmother—nearly eighty years old—surrounded by reporters and pack gossip bloggers. Cameras shoved inches from her face.

“Is your granddaughter a homewrecker?”

“Is she mentally unstable?”

“We heard she used to steal other people’s boyfriends in college. Is that true?”

The old woman stood frozen, lost and confused. She clutched a bag of corn and pork ribs to her chest—things she had bought to make soup for me.

I had called her yesterday, before all of this. I told her I’d come by after I finished my errands. I said I was craving her corn and pork rib soup.