The Dead Luna’s Resurrection-His Living Hell-

The sun crawled over the horizon, hitting the cold marble floors of the Strathmore estate. Usually, the kitchen smelled like seared steak and fresh coffee by 6:00 AM. Today, it smelled like nothing. Just the faint, sterile scent of lemon polish.

Vivienne clicked her suitcase shut. It was small. Essential documents, three passports, and a thick stack of high-denomination bills she’d been siphoning into a floorboard safe for months. She didn't need the designer gowns or the diamond-encrusted heels Julian used to "dress his doll."

The heavy thud of footsteps alerted her. Julian.

He walked into the kitchen, his silk robe hanging open. He looked around the empty counters, his brow knitting together. No plate. No steam rising from a mug.

"Where’s breakfast?" Julian’s voice was gravelly with sleep, thickened by a natural Alpha command that usually made the omegas in the house scramble.

Vivienne didn't look up from her tea. She took a slow, deliberate sip. "The stove works, Julian. Figure it out."

Julian stopped mid-stride. He stared at her like she’d just grown a second head. "What did you say?"

"You heard me." She finally met his eyes. They were bloodshot. The scent of that Omega—Selina—was still clinging to his skin, faint but unmistakable to a wife who had spent years memorizing his every note. "Maybe you should call Selina. I’m sure she’s great at flipping eggs when she’s not busy flipping for you."

The air in the kitchen turned to ice. Julian’s jaw tightened, his neck muscles bulging. "How do you know that name?"

"I know a lot of things. Like how much you spent on her bracelet yesterday." Vivienne stood up, smoothed her skirt, and walked past him.

Julian grabbed her arm. His grip was a vice, his fingers digging into her skin. "You’re crossing a line, Vivienne. You’re my wife. You don't speak to me like that. Now, go into that kitchen and—"

"Or what?" She leaned in, her face inches from his. "You’ll hit me? In front of the staff? Go ahead. Give me another reason to leave."

He let go as if her skin burned him. His chest heaved. He was used to her silence, her bowed head, her "Yes, Julian." Seeing her stand tall was a glitch in his reality.

"Get it together," he hissed. "We have the pack luncheon today. You’ll be there. You’ll smile. You’ll be the Luna I paid for."

Vivienne gave him a chillingly thin smile. "Oh, I’ll be there, Julian. I wouldn't miss it for the world."

The day was a blur of calculated moves. Vivienne moved through the city like a ghost in a high-end suit.

She stopped at a private blood-bank facility. The technician, a beta who had looked after her for years, handed over three lead-lined cases. "Your personal supply, Luna. It’s all here. Is everything okay?"

"Everything is perfect, Marcus," she said, sliding the cases into the trunk of a car he didn't recognize. "Just preparing for a long trip."

By 2:00 PM, she was at the Silver Peak country club for the luncheon. The room was a sea of pastel dresses and expensive cologne. Julian stood at the center of a group of elders, playing the part of the visionary CEO.

Then, the doors swung open.

Selina Voss walked in. She wasn't a pack member. She was a rival. But she walked in like she owned the floor, wearing a tight crimson dress and a diamond bracelet that caught the light with every move of her wrist.

The room went silent. The whispers started instantly, a low hum of gossip that vibrated through the air. The elders looked from Selina to Vivienne, waiting for the explosion. They expected tears. They expected Vivienne to claw the girl’s eyes out.

Selina walked straight up to Vivienne, a smug, cat-like grin on her face. She raised her wrist, letting the diamonds sparkle right in Vivienne’s face.

"Lovely party, Luna," Selina purred. "Don't you just love this jewelry? Julian said it was... special. One of a kind."

The crowd leaned in. Julian was frozen, his glass of scotch halfway to his mouth, his eyes darting between the two women.

Vivienne didn't flinch. She leaned in, adjusted the clasp on Selina’s wrist with a gentle, motherly touch, and smiled.

"It’s cute, honey," Vivienne said, her voice carrying across the room. "I actually turned that one down three years ago. I told Julian it looked a bit... cheap. But on you? It’s perfect. It matches the rest of the hand-me-downs you’ve been collecting."

Selina’s face turned a violent shade of purple. The "hand-me-down" comment hit like a physical slap. Behind them, a few of the younger she-wolves muffled their snorts.

Julian stepped forward, his face like a thundercloud. "Vivienne, that’s enough."

Before he could escalate, a messenger in a gray uniform burst into the room. He looked frantic. "Alpha! There’s a breach! Northern territory, sector four! The sensors are down and there’s blood on the fence!"

Julian’s Alpha instincts took over. He dropped his drink. "Secure the perimeter! Move!"

He didn't even look at Vivienne as he sprinted out, his enforcers trailing behind him.

Vivienne watched him go. She didn't tell him that "Sector Four" was a dead zone she’d hacked into the security grid an hour ago. She didn't tell him the "blood" was store-bought.

She turned and walked into the club’s private library. A man in a sharp charcoal suit was waiting there. Mr. Aris, Julian’s lead council.

"Did he sign?" Vivienne asked.

Aris pulled a thick folder from his briefcase. He looked nervous. "He thought he was signing the papers to transfer your family’s trust fund to a 'discretionary account' for Selina. He didn't even read the riders, Vivienne. He was so smug about it."

Aris slid the paper across the desk. Julian’s bold, arrogant signature was at the bottom.

"This isn't a trust transfer," Vivienne noted, her eyes scanning the legalese.

"No," Aris whispered. "It’s a full asset swap. He just signed over forty percent of his private holdings in Silver Peak Tech to a shell company in the Cayman Islands. A company owned entirely by you. He think he just robbed you. Instead, he just bought his own bankruptcy."

"Good work, Aris. Your fee has been doubled."

By 8:00 PM, Julian was back at the estate. He was covered in sweat and dirt, his ego bruised because the "breach" had turned out to be a false alarm. He slammed the front door so hard the glass rattled.

"Vivienne!" he screamed.

He marched into his office, ready to take his rage out on her. He stopped dead.

Vivienne was sitting in his chair. His high-backed, Italian leather Alpha chair. She had her feet up on his desk, swirling a glass of his $5,000 Macallan.

"Get out of my chair," Julian growled. The room began to vibrate with his power. "Now."

Vivienne didn't move. She slid a manila folder across the mahogany surface.

"Look at the photos, Julian. Page four is my personal favorite. The lighting in that alley was really quite good for an iPhone."

Julian opened the folder. His face went pale, then red, then a sickly shade of gray. "You... you had me followed? You bitch! I am your Alpha! You have no right to—"

"I have every right," she snapped, finally standing up. She leaned over the desk, her shadow falling over him. "That Luna ceremony on the full moon? That’s the last time I’m standing by your side. After the public sees us, I’m gone. We’re done."

Julian let out a harsh, jagged laugh. He threw the folder into the trash. "You’re done? You think you can just leave? Look at you! You’re wolfless. You’re a social zero. Without my name, you’re just a stray waiting to be picked off by a rogue."

He stepped closer, trying to loom over her. "If you walk out that door, I will formally reject you. I’ll strip your status. You’ll be a rogue, Vivienne. You’ll be hunted. You won't last a week in the wild."

Vivienne picked up her glass and drained the rest of the scotch. She looked him dead in the eye, her expression so cold it made his wolf whine in the back of his mind.

"Being a rogue in the woods sounds like a vacation compared to another night in this bed with you."

She walked toward the door.

"I'll kill you before I let you shame me!" Julian roared, his claws extending, the sound of his bones shifting echoing in the room.

Vivienne didn't even turn around. "You can't kill what’s already dead, Julian. Sleep well. You’re officially broke."

She stepped into the hallway and shut the door on his roar, her heart beating with a rhythm she hadn't felt in years.