The Crippled Triplet Luna Severing the Bloodline Chapter 09

The Crippled Triplet Luna Severing the Bloodline Chapter 09

But things were different now.

I wasn’t going to think about it anymore.

And I didn’t blame them.

I wasn’t angry. I just spoke calmly.

“Mom, Dad, I really don’t blame you. You didn’t love me, so you didn’t want to spend money on my surgery. I get it.”

“Back then, sacrificing my leg to save Callum and Sylvie paid back whatever debt I owed you for raising me.”

“From now on, we don’t owe each other a thing.”

Looking into my calm, almost indifferent eyes, Mom sobbed even harder.

She clutched desperately at my clothes, crying like a helpless pup.

“Nola, what do you mean we don’t owe each other anything?”

“We’re family. You’re our daughter.”

“I was wrong. I was so wrong.”

“Please, just come home with us, okay?”

By the end, she was trembling so violently she could barely stand.

I lowered my gaze and gently pried her hands off my clothes.

“Just go. If Callum and Sylvie find out you came to look for me, they’ll just get upset again.”

“From now on… just pretend you never had me.”

With that, I turned around and walked away without looking back.

Behind me, their desperate sobs grew louder.

I walked slowly with a limp.

But every step felt solid under me.

After that day, I never saw my parents again.

When they failed to get a meeting with me at Northvale, they started sending gifts and packages.

I never accepted any of it.

If something got delivered anyway, I gave it away to the students.

Then word came through relatives–Sylvie had pushed too hard chasing her dream and broke her

leg in training.

Callum, desperate to make money fast, got scammed out of his savings and landed in deep debt.

Mom and Dad finally left Colorado, rushing home overnight.

After that, I never saw them again.

Ten years later.

My right leg had recovered to the point where I walked almost normally.

Over the years, I worked with Northvale’s adaptive rehabilitation program while continuing to

write.

It started with small stories for injured kids.

Then, those stories were published one by one.

I became a children’s book author and a core member of Northvale’s youth rehab program.

Most of my main characters weren’t born as powerful wolves.

They got hurt. They struggled to shift. They feared they would never run again.

Yet in the end, every single one of them found a new path forward.

That year,

I received the National Pack Service Award for Northvale’s youth rehabilitation project.

The ceremony happened to be in Aldercrest.

Ten years later, I set foot on this Pack Territory again.

The audience was filled with members of the media and parents of disabled children.

They wept as they thanked us, saying we had given their children a second chance at life.

In a daze, my eyes caught a familiar figure near the entrance.

After the interviews, I walked out of the banquet hall.

An elderly couple stood near the doors, pushing a battered vendor cart.

The moment they saw me, they hurriedly dropped their gazes.

soon, security came to shoo them away.

In the commotion, their cart was knocked over and broken.

The elderly woman finally looked up at me.

Those eyes were so familiar.

They were filled with regret, relief, and deep shame.

People whispered near the entrance.

They murmured about how tragic the elderly couple’s story was.

How their youngest daughter had run away years ago and never returned.

How the twins kept causing trouble at home afterward.

The couple burned through their entire savings trying to pay off debts and clean up their messes.

In the end, another fight between the twins triggered a fire.

One died, one was severely injured.

Even the last bit of property the Varen family owned was burned to ashes.

I let out a quiet sigh and looked away.

“Nola!”

Director Shaw stood in the sunlight not far away, waving at me.

I smiled and answered.

Then I ran toward her, steps swift and free.