Rebirth Of The Rejected Luna Chapter 133: Legacy, Power And Control

**Alpha Corvin's POV**

I stepped out of the Constellation Room, my fists clenched tight as I tried to process what had just happened. The silence in the hallway was a stark contrast to the turmoil brewing inside me. My breathing was steady, but my mind was racing. My inner wolf was stirring, growling with a hunger for answers. I sensed that something was off about Erika, and I couldn't shake the feeling either. I'd spent years pushing aside my instincts,

As I walked down the dimly lit corridor, my eyes scanned the decorative fabrics on the walls. The gold embroidery sparkled in the candlelight.

For generations, we'd built our strength on dominance and purity of bloodline. But now, I couldn't help but wonder if that was all about to change... Now that there was her.

A girl with power she shouldn't have. A girl whose very existence threatened everything I had built.

And then, I saw her—Lady Althea.

She stood at the end of the hall, near the stained-glass window that cast long, fractured rays of color onto the polished floors. The way the light hit her face made her look ethereal, almost otherworldly. She seemed like a woman of grace, of dignity.

A woman who had kept a lie going for two decades.

I exhaled sharply, forcing the tension from my shoulders as I approached. I had to be careful. If I pushed too hard, she would realize what I was digging for.

So I smiled.

"Lady Althea," I greeted smoothly.

She turned at the sound of my voice. "Alpha Corvin."

I tilted my head, studying her. For years, I had never given her much thought. She was the respectable widow of a nobleman, nothing more. But now, looking at her, I wondered—how much did she know? How much had she been a part of?

"I was thinking about Lord Althea today," I said, keeping my tone casual. "He was a good man."

Her expression softened at the mention of her late husband. "He was," she murmured.

I paused for a beat. "It was tragic, losing him so soon. When was it again?"

There. A flicker of something in her eyes.

"A little over twenty years ago," she said after a moment, her voice smooth but careful. "Right before Erika was born."

I nodded slowly. "And when exactly was she born?"

There was no hesitation. "The same year. Just a few months after."

I held her gaze, searching. Looking for any sign of doubt, any flicker of unease. But she was steady, calm. As if she had answered this question a thousand times before.

And maybe she had.

Because this wasn’t a hastily spun deception. No, this was something else. This was a carefully constructed lie, a story that had been polished and refined until it became true in the minds of those who told it.

I should have let it go. Should have walked away, and accepted that there was no proof, nothing concrete.

But I couldn’t.

Because I knew.

Something was wrong. I could feel it.

Still, I gave her a nod, murmuring a polite farewell before turning on my heel and walking away.

The logical part of me whispered that I was overthinking, that I was seeing patterns where none existed. That Erika was just a girl with strong magic.

But that was the problem, wasn’t it?

She wasn’t just anything.

And now, I had to decide what to do about it.

*+*+"+"*

By the time I reached the dining hall, my mood had darkened. Servants flitted around, setting out dishes, and pouring wine. The scent of roasted meat and rich spices filled the air, but it only irritated me.

I took my seat at the head of the table, my gaze immediately landing on Elara.

My daughter. My true daughter.

She sat poised, graceful, everything a child of mine should be. And yet—

My jaw tightened. It isn’t enough.

She was skilled, yes. She was sharp. But no matter how hard she trained, no matter how much she proved herself, she would never have what Erika had.

Raw power.

I watched her as she cut into her meal, unaware of the thoughts running through my mind. Unaware that I was seething inside.

It wasn’t fair.

Elara should be the one they talked about in hushed whispers, the one they marveled at. She should be the one carrying our family name to greater heights. But instead.

Instead, all eyes would be on her.

The girl who wasn’t mine.

I exhaled slowly, picking up my goblet of wine and taking a slow sip, trying to control the anger simmering in my chest. Across the table, my wife smiled at me, oblivious.

Or maybe not.

Maybe she knew exactly what she had done and had simply convinced herself it didn’t matter.

I stared at her, my grip tightening around the goblet.

She had lied to me. For years.

My wife—my mate, had looked me in the eyes, slept beside me, and bore my child while carrying this secret.

And now, she sat there, pretending as if nothing had changed.

"You're quiet tonight, my love," she said gently, reaching for my hand.

I pulled away before she could touch me.

She blinked, but I saw the flicker of unease in her eyes. Good.

She was watching me.

I ignored it, cutting into my food with slow, deliberate movements. I wasn’t in the mood for conversation, least of all with her. But, of course, she never knew when to stay silent.

“I heard you spoke to Erika today.”

I didn’t react. I refused to.

Elara glanced up at the mention of the name, though she said nothing. Smart girl.

My wife, however, pressed on, tilting her head slightly as if the question was casual. As if she weren’t fishing for something.

“You spent quite a bit of time with her,” she continued, her voice light. “Some of the servants said you even took her to the Constellation Room.”

My grip tightened around my fork.

I set it down carefully.

“What of it?” I asked.

She smiled, feigning amusement. “Nothing, I just… found it interesting. You’ve never taken her there before.”

No, I hadn’t. And she knew damn well why.

My wolf bristled, restless beneath my skin. I met her gaze, searching for something—guilt, wariness, a crack in her carefully composed mask. But she was good. Too good.

“Did you find what you were looking for?” she asked, her voice still too light, too sweet.

I exhaled slowly, willing myself to remain composed. “What exactly do you think I was looking for?”

Her eyes gleamed with something unreadable. “You tell me.”

I could feel the anger rising, slow and insidious. She was testing me.

“I don’t have time for this,” I muttered, shoving my chair back as I stood.

She blinked. “Corvin—”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Father?” Elara’s voice was hesitant, confused.

I ignored them both.

I turned and walked out of the dining hall without another word.

Let her wonder. Let her worry.

Because she should.

I wouldn't confront her. Not yet.

This wasn’t something I could solve with anger, with accusations. No, this was bigger than that. This was about something deeper.

Legacy.

Power.

Control.

They thought they had outmanoeuvred me. That they had buried this truth so deep it would never surface.

But they had underestimated me.

I was not a man who let things go.

I was not a man who forgave.

And now that I know.

I would make them all pay.