My Alpha's Mistress Mistook His Sister for His Pregnant Luna novel · Chapter 3 of 24

Chapter 3: Sign the Divorce Papers

Poppy learns the woman she has been confessing to is Caleb's sister; Joanna walks downstairs on camera and Poppy climbs the stairs toward her.

"Hazel?" Poppy said.

She said it quietly, to nobody.

My husband's voice came out of the phone again, sharper this time.

"Hazel, who is that? Where are you? Is Joanna with you?"

"Joanna's upstairs," Hazel said. "I'm in your living room, Caleb. I have a guest."

"What guest?"

"Poppy Lane."

The line went quiet.

It lasted one second, maybe two. It was the longest silence I had ever heard from him.

"Hazel, listen to me. Don't say anything else. I'm coming home right now."

"Say it to her," Hazel said. "She's right here, and she has a lot to tell you. She thinks you love her."

I watched Poppy's face on the monitor.

All the color left it, from her hairline down, in one long slide.

"You're not," she said. "You're not the Luna."

"No," said Hazel.

"But you're in her house. You're sitting in her chair. You said you were calling the Alpha."

"I did." Hazel finally looked at her. "I'm Hazel Rowland. Caleb is my brother."

Poppy's mouth opened. Nothing came out.

My phone buzzed against my palm.

The comments had gone wild.

SHE THOUGHT THE SISTER WAS THE WIFE

Somebody get the real Luna on camera

The mistress told the Alpha's SISTER she was in love with him. Live. To four thousand people.

The count said eleven thousand now.

My son laughed in my head, a small delighted noise I had never heard from him.

"Aunt Hazel's the best," he said. "I'm adding her to the list."

"What list?"

"People who aren't dead on the stairs."

I almost laughed with him.

Instead I stood up from Caleb's desk, put my phone in my pocket with the camera facing out, and walked into the hall.

I had made a decision. I was done hiding.

At the top of the staircase, I stopped.

From up here I could see the front hall, the living room, and the girl in the white dress standing in the middle of it with her arms around a stack of paper.

Hazel had not moved from the sofa.

She was holding her phone up, filming too.

Her eyes met mine across the room, and she gave me the smallest nod.

Poppy followed Hazel's eyes and looked up.

"Hello, Poppy," I said.

I started down the stairs.

I was four steps from the bottom when my son said, "Mom. Stop. Right here."

I stopped with one hand on the rail.

"Why?"

"This is where it happened. Right here, on this step. Stay on it and keep your hands where the camera can see them."

I was scared now.

I did exactly as he said.

I stood on the fourth step from the bottom, with the polished banister under my right hand and my phone up in my left.

Poppy's face was bloodless.

"You're the Luna," she said.

"I'm Joanna."

"You were upstairs the whole time."

"Yes."

"You let me stand here and say all that to her."

"Yes," I said. "I wanted to hear it."

Her eyes darted to Hazel, then to the door, then back to me.

I watched her settle on a new plan.

The tears came back first.

"I'm sorry." Her voice shook. "I never meant to hurt you. I swear. I only wanted you to know the truth."

"You said that to Hazel, too."

"Caleb is in love with me." She lifted the papers again. "He signed these three weeks ago. They have his name on them. All you have to do is sign beneath it, and nobody gets hurt."

"Nobody gets hurt," I repeated.

"He wants to be free." She was almost pleading now. "If you really love him, you'll let him."

On the sofa, Hazel put her hand over her mouth to hide her expression.

I looked at the girl below me. She was twenty-two. She had been dancing in the pack's winter recital when I first saw her, and I had clapped.

"Come up and show me," I said.

Poppy hesitated.

"The papers. Come up here and show me where he signed. I can't read it from the stairs."

I watched her think about it.

She did not want to come up.

But I had handed her an excuse to get close, with a camera on both of us.

She placed one white shoe on the first step.

Then the second.

Her brooch glinted. She was smiling a little at the lens.

"Mom," my son said, so quietly it barely carried. "Don't touch her. Don't even breathe on her."

"I won't."

Poppy reached the third step.

I held the banister, and I did not move.

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