#Chapter 88: Luna Turned Spy


    Abby


    I stand by the long table, the air thick with the scent of gourmet hors d''oeuvres and sparkling wine. Idly,


    I pick up a tiny pastry, turning it this way and that before setting it back on the te.


    As if to steel my nerves and try not to think about what Karl is saying to Gianna in the other room, I’m


    arranging the treats into some semnce of symmetry when a familiar voice that I haven’t heard in


    years suddenly pulls me away from my thoughts.


    “Abby, darling! It’s so good to see you again!”


    I turn to find Reba, the wife of one of the Betas, her face glowing with genuine delight. I sh a


    smile, the corners of my lips straining just a bit.


    “Sarah, it’s been too long! How have you been?”


    She glides over, her high heels clicking against the polished floor. “Oh, you know, busy with pack life,


    I chuckle, trying to deflect the attention. “Thank you. You look absolutely fabulous tonight.”


    We share a few pleasantries, talking about fashion and the unusually mild weather we’ve been


    experiencing. But the conversation takes a turn when Sarah skillfully steers it into more personal


    waters.


    “So, Abby,” she says, her eyes twinkling, “I couldn’t help but notice how cozy you and Karl have been


    tonight. Is there a chance for reconciliation? The pack could really use a union like that, you know.”


    My cheeks flush. “Sarah, I’m ttered, but no. We’re friends, and I prefer it that way. So yes, I suppose


    we’ve reconciled in that regard, but not in a romantic sense.”Content rights by N?velDr//ama.Org.


    Sarah looks a bit disappointed, but understanding at the same time. “Ah, I see. Well, either way, I’m


    d he made that announcement tonight. I’ll admit, I was a bit worried when I saw you—thinking that


    our Alpha was getting back with a cheater and all that—but to find out that it was all just a mistake…”


    Caught off guard, I hesitate before answering. “Yes, it was a mistake. I hope that the word gets out.”


    Sarah’s eyes light up. “Oh, of course,” she says, smirking. “You know me; I’ll make sure all of my


    girlfriends hear about it. I’m sure a lot of people will be relieved. You two were always the golden


    couple, after all. Lots of hearts were broken when the marriage ended.”


    I shift ufortably, unsure of how to respond. Yes, I’m sure a lot of hearts were broken. Especially


    mine.


    “Well,” she beams before I have toe up with an answer, “I should mingle. But really, it was nice


    seeing you. And the food was delightful.”


    “Thank you,” I say, relieved. “You shoulde visit my restaurant sometime.”


    “I might have to do just that.”


    With that, she gives me a quick hug, her perfume wafting around me like a cloud, and then moves on to


    mingle with other guests, leaving me to my te of hors d’oeuvres.


    Despite the surface-level cheeriness of our conversation, I feel drained now. I didn’t expect to field


    questions about Karl and me so openly, so soon.


    My fingers lightly touch the edge of the table, steadying myself. Each word from our conversation


    echoes in my head, their implications adding weight to the heavy thoughts already upying my mind.


    Sarah meant well—I know she did. She’s always been one of the more empathetic wives in the pack.


    But even well-intended conversations can pull you underwater when you’re already struggling to stay


    afloat.


    I nce around the room, the elegant crowd still buzzing with energy, but I find myself disconnected


    from it all.


    That’s when I realize I need a break, a moment to breathe away from prying eyes and loaded


    questions. With onest nce at my strategically arranged hors d''oeuvres, I make my decision.


    Steeling myself, I slip away from the table and make my way toward the exit, my heels clicking a hasty


    retreat. I navigate through the maze-like hallways, feeling the atmosphere change as I distance myself


    from the crowd, as I distance myself from the version of me they all want to see.


    That’s when I spot it—the door to Karl’s private office, slightly ajar, a sliver of light spilling out into the


    dim corridor. I push it open, and the sight that greets me isfortably familiar.


    Bookshelves lining the walls, a leather armchair, and Karl’s sleek, darkwood desk hosting hisptop.


    Except, theptop screen is glowing, wide open. Karl must’ve forgotten to shut it down.


    A voice at the back of my head tells me to leave it alone, to walk away. But another, louder voice—


    perhaps fueled by my concealed desire to know more about what Karl has been up to all these years—


    prompts me to step closer. I rationalize it by telling myself that I’m just turning it off for him.


    As I move the mouse to wake the screen from its screensaver, an open email catches my eye. I know I


    shouldn’t read it, but I can’t tear my eyes away. It mentions rare ingredients and specialized supplies.


    Normally, I’d ignore something like this, figuring it’s just some work that Karl is doing in his spare time,


    something for the pack.


    But it’s the name that makes my eyes glue to the screen—Adam.


    “Hey, Karl,” the email reads, “I hate to say this, but I’ve already run out of those rare ingredients. I don’t


    suppose you’d be willing to share the name of your supplier so I can order more? I’d really appreciate


    it. Thanks. -Adam”


    Adam, as in my ex-fiancee. Adam, who came out as gay and broke up with me.


    Why would he be in contact with Karl about rare ingredients? When did Karl supply him with any in the


    first ce, and why? More than anything, why didn’t I know about this before? The questions rush


    through my mind like a torrent, each more confusing than thest.


    And then, the atmosphere changes. I sense it before I see it—the room suddenly feels smaller, more


    confined. I whip around, and there he is—Gerald, Karl’s loyal butler, his eyes narrowed into slits.


    “What do we have here?” he sneers, a look of disdain curling his lips.


    Caught red-handed, I stammer, my voice shaky. “I was just—I thought Karl left this on. I was going to


    shut it down.”


    His eyes scan me, sizing me up, thennd on theptop screen. “Oh, of course. How altruistic of you,


    Abby. Or should I say, how cunning?”


    “Gerald, you’ve got it all wrong. I wasn’t—”


    “Save it,” he interrupts, gripping my arm in a vice-like hold. “You’reing with me.”


    My heart pounds in my chest as he drags me back through the hallways. The tension in the air is


    palpable as he finally pushes me into the study, the room where I had once shared so many private


    moments with Karl.


    Except now, Karl is there, and so is Gianna, his secretary. Their faces are inches apart, a swirl of


    emotions that I can''t quite decipher. But Karl’s eyes meet mine, widening in confusion, surprise, and


    something I can''t quite ce.


    “Gerald? What is this about?” Karl demands, his eyes still locked onto mine but his words aimed at


    Gerald.


    Karl slyly wipes his mouth with the back of his hand to conceal the evidence, but I saw it: the hint of red


    lipstick smeared across his skin, not to mention the smirk on Gianna’s face as she meets my gaze.


    Were they… kissing?


    My heart sinks, even though I know it shouldn’t. Suddenly, the email, Gerald’s usation, the


    conversations at dinner, all seem like nothing. Suddenly, I’m caught up in a web of lies, wondering how


    I got here.


    “Karl,” Gerald says, his grip still tight on my arm, “I caught Abby trying to steal information from your


    <pputer.”