Chapter 79 Moira's Secret

Chapter 79 Moira's Secret
Moira's POV

Eighteen years ago, at a charity gala held in the grand ballroom, I saw Sebastian Sterling for the first time. He stood near the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the gardens, his posture radiating the kind of natural authority that made every other men in the room look like they were trying too hard.

The moment our eyes met across that crowded space, something inside me shifted irrevocably and completely. I was twenty-three years old and had never met my fated mate, already building a modest career as an actress in romantic dramas, but none of the passion I'd performed on screen had prepared me for the overwhelming intensity of wanting someone I knew I could never have.

Sebastian was our pack's Alpha heir, destined to inherit one of the most powerful territories in the region, and I was an actress from a middle-class family with no pack connections worth mentioning. The social mathematics were brutally simple. Women like me didn't marry men like Sebastian Sterling, no matter how desperately we might want to.

So I made a calculated decision that changed the entire trajectory of my life. I would marry into the Sterling family through a different door, through Sebastian's younger brother Edwin, who had a reputation for being unconventional and romantic, who openly declared that he didn't care about pack politics or arranged marriages or any of the traditional restrictions that governed Alpha society.

Edwin was brilliant in his own right, with a sharp mind for business strategy and an artistic sensibility that made him genuinely interesting to talk to.

But I knew the truth that no one else seemed willing to acknowledge. Edwin's success in the entertainment and media sectors wasn't really his own achievement at all, but rather the result of Sebastian's behind-the-scenes support and strategic guidance. Edwin believed in his own genius with the kind of confidence that made him easy to manipulate, and within six months of our first conversation, he'd proposed marriage with romantic flourish.

I married Edwin because it meant I could live in the same house as Sebastian, see him every morning at breakfast, watch him move through the hallways with that controlled grace that made my heart race even after years of practicing indifference.

Then Sebastian did something that shattered every assumption I'd made about pack politics and social hierarchy. He married Elena Whitmore, a woman from an ordinary background with no significant pack connections, no family wealth, no political advantages whatsoever. He chose her because she was his fated mate, and he stood before the entire pack council and announced that he didn't care what anyone thought about his decision.

I watched their wedding with a smile frozen on my face and hatred burning in my chest, because if Sebastian was willing to defy pack politics for his fated mate, then he could have chosen me five years earlier if he'd wanted to, if I'd met him before Edwin. That position beside him should have been mine.

Elena gave birth to two children, a son named Damian and a daughter named Elara. Then Elara disappeared on the night of her full moon celebration, and Elena went out looking for her daughter and never came back either.

Sebastian transformed into someone I barely recognized. He became colder, harder, more ruthlessly focused on pack business and Damian's training as the future Alpha heir, and there were no other women in his life, no romantic interests or casual affairs. Part of me ached for his pain.

Part of me was relieved that no one else could claim the space in his heart that Elena had occupied.

Eight years ago, Aurora was brought to the pack house as a potential replacement for the lost Elara. Matilda had been desperate to give her son some measure of peace, but Sebastian had refused to acknowledge Aurora as anything more than a charity case for years.

That was when I had my brilliant idea. If Sebastian wanted a daughter, I could give him one. I convinced Edwin that we should have a child, and nine months later, Sophie was born. In my mind, the calculation was perfect—if I raised Sophie to be everything Sebastian might want in a daughter, if she could fill even a fraction of the void that Elara had left behind, then in a way, she would be our shared child, his and mine, connected by affection if not by direct blood.

I began carefully engineering situations where Sophie would cross paths with Sebastian as soon as she could walk and talk. I taught her to memorize poetry that Sebastian had mentioned enjoying, and she would position herself outside his study door and recite verses in her clear child's voice until he emerged.

I arranged for her to take piano lessons and learn the classical pieces that Sebastian preferred, and she would play for him during family gatherings with earnest concentration.

But Sebastian remained politely distant, offering the same measured encouragement he would give to any child in the pack, and I could see in his eyes that Sophie would never occupy the space that his real daughter had left empty.

When Elara actually came home, I saw the way Sebastian looked at her and I knew with absolute certainty that blood could never be replaced by strategy or manipulation. The softness in his expression when he spoke to Elara, the protective instinct that made him position himself between her and any perceived threat—none of that could be manufactured or transferred to another child.

But I still couldn't let it go, couldn't stand the thought of Elena's daughter living comfortably in the life that should have been mine if fate had been different.

For eighteen years, I'd lived in the same house as Sebastian and loved him from a distance that never seemed to close. We saw each other at breakfast occasionally, passed in hallways, attended the same pack functions, but the actual time we spent in genuine conversation was minimal at best.

I'd tried everything to manufacture opportunities for connection. I would research which restaurants Sebastian frequented for business lunches and arrange to be dining there at the same time. I volunteered to accompany Matilda to pack social events where Sebastian would be present.

I studied his preferences obsessively, wearing the cool-toned business suits he seemed to favor, learning about the specific brands of whiskey he preferred, reading the publications I knew he followed so I could make intelligent conversation if the opportunity arose.

None of it worked. Sebastian treated me with the same courteous distance he showed to every other family member who wasn't Damian or Elara.

The variety show invitation had seemed like divine intervention when it arrived. The filming location was in Crescent Bay, and Sebastian would be in the same city for pack business meetings during the exact same week. This was my chance to get him away from the pack house, away from all the family members whose presence forced us both into appropriate roles.

But there was one significant problem. The show had also invited Catherine Monroe, a film actress whose career had peaked about fifteen years ago but who still commanded more industry respect than I did. Catherine and I had worked together on two projects early in our careers, and she'd consistently received better roles, more screen time, more critical praise.

I couldn't show up on a national variety show and be positioned as the less important guest, not when I was representing the Sterling family name. Edwin had suggested I decline the invitation entirely, but he didn't understand what I was really trying to accomplish.

I needed Aurora's help, needed her mysterious ability to make fortunate coincidences happen around her. So I went to find her in the garden reading room and launched into my complaint with casual frustration. "I'm supposed to appear on this variety show next week, but the network also invited Catherine Monroe, and I'm concerned about how that will look. I'm one of the Sterling now. It wouldn't be appropriate for me to be overshadowed by an actress whose career peaked over a decade ago."

I mentioned Edwin's suggestion that I skip the show, then added my justifications about personal fulfillment. "Sophie is in elementary school now and doesn't need constant supervision, and I think it's important for me to pursue work that I'm passionate about, to keep myself intellectually engaged and professionally relevant."

Aurora looked up from her book with that serene smile. "Aunt Moira is absolutely right. You should definitely go to the show."

I pressed further. "But is there any way to handle the Catherine Monroe situation?"

Aurora gave her modest disclaimer. "I'm just someone the Sterling family took in out of kindness. I don't really have any methods or connections that could help with something like this."

Then she added the reassurance I'd been waiting for. "But Aunt Moira, you're so talented and accomplished. I'm sure that even without any intervention from anyone else, things will naturally work out in your favor. You'll definitely get what you deserve."

Relief flooded through me, because when Aurora said someone would get what they wanted, it happened with uncanny reliability.

Aurora stretched gracefully and asked with casual friendliness, "Aunt Moira, I've been craving Broccoli Cheddar Soup lately. Would it be possible to have some tonight?"

I jumped at the opportunity to show my gratitude. "Of course, sweetheart! I actually had the kitchen stock all the ingredients you like earlier this week. I'll make it myself this evening, exactly the way you prefer it."