Fake Heirness. True Luna

Chapter 5: Petty Tricks

Irina’s POV

After Lancer’s rejection, Theia whimpered in pain and disappeared. The void in my chest left by the broken bond was too much for her, and now I had to deal with Julie on my own.

For days, I moved through my duties like a ghost, the pain subsided, but I still couldn’t believe Lancer had done that, and all because he believed Julie’s lies. Since he had screamed in front of all the pack that I had hurt Julie, their stares were heavier, some laced with contempt and others with satisfaction, as if I deserved that rejection.

I kept my head down. I focused on the mindless repetition of my chores: scrub, polish, sweep. I became a machine, feeling nothing.

Julie, of course, was ecstatic. She didn't need to orchestrate another grand spectacle; Lancer's public rejection had been her masterpiece. But she was a creature of habit, and her hunger for my humiliation was insatiable.

She had sworn to make my life a living hell, and a mere rejection was not enough for her.

The opportunity came a week later. I was tasked with serving the family their private lunch on the sun-drenched terrace overlooking the gardens. The air was warm, filled with the scent of blooming jasmine. A picture of perfect, peaceful family life—a life I was now only permitted to serve.

I carried the heavy silver tray, laden with delicate sandwiches, fresh fruit, and a pitcher of iced tea. My arms trembled slightly under the weight. Luna Rosette was laughing softly at something Julie had said. Alpha Richard watched them both with a fond, proud smile. The scene was a knife twisting in my gut.

I set the tray down carefully on the wrought-iron table. Julie watched my every move, her eyes sharp and calculating. I began to pour the iced tea, first for the Alpha, then the Luna. My hand was steady. I would not give her anything.

As I moved to pour her glass, she shifted subtly in her seat. It was a tiny movement, a slight adjustment of her elbow. But it was enough.

The lip of the pitcher caught on the edge of her full water glass. Crystal clinked. Time seemed to slow. The glass teetered, then tipped, its contents arcing through the air before splashing directly into Julie’s lap.

I froze, the empty pitcher still in my hand. The cold water soaked through her light summer dress instantly.

A beat of stunned silence.

Then, Julie let out a sharp, startled cry. “Irina!” she gasped, jumping up from her chair as if scalded. She looked down at her drenched dress, her face a perfect mask of hurt and disbelief. “Why would you do that? It’s ice cold! I know you hate me, but you know how weak I am, I could get a cold!”

“I… it was an accident,” I said, my voice hollow. I knew it was useless. I had seen the deliberate shift of her elbow. It was no accident.

A cold? We are werewolves, but that is the story she is using to make every pack member pity her.

“An accident?” Alpha Richard’s voice was a low rumble of displeasure. He stood, his chair scraping against the stone. “It looked deliberate from here. Are you so jealous that you can’t even perform a simple task without resorting to petty attacks?”

“Richard, I’m sure she didn’t mean—” Luna Rosette began, but her defense was weak, her eyes darting between a shivering Julie and my stricken face.

“Mother is right, father,” Julie cried. That’s what she always did, after accusing me she acted like she was still acting as my savior. “I’m sure it was an accident, and even if she did it because she was jealous… she has a reason.”

Alpha Richard’s expression softened as he looked at her, his anger toward me cooling into a more permanent, icy disdain. “Your compassion is a credit to this pack, Julie. But it is misplaced. There is no excuse for such behavior.” His eyes flicked to me, devoid of any warmth. “An Omega knows her place. Or she is reminded of it.”

Luna Rosette looked relieved that the tension had diffused, even if it was at my expense. She patted Julie’s hand. “Let’s get you inside and into a dry dress, darling. You mustn’t catch a chill.”

It was absurd. Even if she suffered as much as she claimed she did, that doesn’t mean that she would magically turn into a puppy.

Lancer, who had been a silent, brooding statue throughout the exchange, finally moved. He didn’t look at me. His entire focus was on Julie. “I’ll escort you inside,” he said, his voice low and gentle for her alone.

He offered her his arm, a perfect gentleman aiding a damsel in distress. As she took it, leaning into him slightly, she glanced back at me over her shoulder. It was a fleeting look, gone before anyone else could see. But in that fraction of a second, her mask slipped completely. Her eyes, hard and glittering with malice, held not a trace of the tears that had been there moments before. It was a look of pure, unadulterated triumph.

She was trying to get my mate.

“You won’t have dinner today, for mistreating our daughter,” My father’s, no, Alpha Richard’s voice boomed.

I have to stop calling them my parents. They are not. I tried to remind myself, but it was hard.

———————————————————————

A month of careful observation had taught me everything I needed to know about Julie’s tactics. She craved a specific kind of drama: public spectacles where she was the blameless victim and I was the snarling, jealous beast. She needed the pack’s gasps, their outrage, their focused pity.

In short, she wanted to play the victim.

After several “falls, slips and stained clothes” I was finally familiar with the way she worked. Today was one of the many pack gatherings we had at Blue Moon. It was the Harvest Moon celebration, during this time of year, we thanked the Moon Goddess for her blessings.

I was serving, moving silently along the edges with a heavy carafe of wine, refilling glasses. The air was thick with laughter and the smell of roasted meat. Julie held court at the high table, nestled between the Alpha and Lancer, her laughter a little too loud, her gestures a little too broad. She was the radiant center of attention, and she was growing bored.

I felt her eyes track me as I moved. I kept my expression neutral, my posture subservient. I was a ghost. A non-entity. This, I had learned, infuriated her more than any reaction.

I saw the moment she decided to act. Her glass was still half-full. As I approached to top it up, she made her move. It was the same subtle shift, the same barely-there nudge of her elbow toward her own glass.

But this time, I was ready.

Instead of trying to pour, I stopped dead. I pulled the carafe back and held it perfectly still, my eyes fixed on her. I didn’t say a word. I just… waited.

Her elbow, expecting the resistance of the carafe to knock into, met empty air. The force of her own deliberate motion, with nothing to stop it, sent her arm jerking forward. Her own hand smacked into the base of her full wine glass.

Time seemed to freeze.

The glass tipped. Dark red wine, like a wave of blood, cascaded over the tablecloth, splashing onto her pristine white dress and into her lap.

The splash was obscenely loud in the sudden lull of conversation.

Julie let out a genuine shriek of surprise and disgust, staring down at the ruin of her dress. This wasn’t the performative cry she’d practiced; this was raw, furious shock.

Every head turned. The hall fell silent.

Before she could even think to form an accusation, I spoke. My voice was clear, calm, and carried just enough to be heard by those nearby.

“My apologies, Miss Julie,” I said, dipping into a slight bow. “I startled you. I should have announced my presence before attempting to refill your glass.”

Her mouth opened and closed, fish-like. She couldn’t accuse me. I hadn’t been touching her or her glass. The evidence of her own motion was plain for anyone who was really looking. The wine was pooling around her place setting, not mine.

A few pack members exchanged glances. A low murmur began to ripple through the hall.

“Clumsy girl,” Alpha Richard muttered, dabbing at the spill with his napkin, his tone more exasperated than angry. He was annoyed at the disruption, not at me.

Luna Rosette looked flustered. “Oh, Julie, your beautiful dress!”

But it was the murmurs from the surrounding tables that were the real victory.

“...always something dramatic with her…”

“...seems a bit... uncoordinated for an Alpha’s daughter…”

“...is she really ready for that kind of responsibility if she can’t even keep hold of her wine at dinner?”

Lancer, of course, was instantly at her side. “Are you hurt?” he asked, his voice tight. He didn’t look at me, but his anger was a palpable heat rolling off him. He would always blame me, no matter the evidence.

“She did it on purpose!” Julie finally found her voice, pointing a shaking, wine-stained finger at me. Her composure was shattered, her face mottled with real anger. “She frightened me!”

Lancer’s eyes finally snapped to me, blazing with contempt. “Your carelessness is a disgrace,” he hissed.

I simply bowed my head again. “As you say, Beta.” I used his title, reinforcing the vast, uncrossable distance between us.

I turned and walked away, carrying my carafe, leaving them to their mess. As I retreated to the shadows near the kitchen door, I heard it. A low, questioning whisper from a group of older warriors, their eyes critical on the flustered, wine-soaked girl at the high table.

“The true Alpha’s daughter… are we sure she’s got the temperament for it? A Luna needs grace under pressure, not… hysterics.”

Julie’s petty tricks did not work this time.