The Fake Luna: Marked By The Alpha King

Chapter 123: Chapter 123 All we need to do is break up

Aria’s POV

The next morning, I woke up to the insistent buzzing of my phone.

My whole body ached—Damian and I had been up until nearly dawn, tangled in each other.

The memory of his hands on me, his mouth claiming mine, sent a shiver through my exhausted limbs.

I reached blindly for my phone, eyes still half-closed, and answered without checking the caller ID.

"Hello?" My voice came out rough, sleepy.

"Aria, darling..."

I jolted upright at the sound of Rose Holt’s voice—Ethan’s grandmother.

Beside me, Damian stirred. His arm had been draped across my waist, and now his hand tightened possessively on my hip.

I pressed the phone against my ear, trying to steady my breathing. "Luna Rose?"

"Why so formal now?" Rose’s tone carried a note of gentle reproach.

"I’ve been recovering these past few days, and you haven’t called me once. Don’t tell me you’ve decided to abandon this old woman?"

Despite the warmth in her words, I felt my chest tighten.

Rose had always been kind to me—kinder than Margaret or Sophie ever were. But I’d learned the hard way that her kindness came with conditions. Family always came first.

When it mattered, she’d chosen Ethan. She always would.

I glanced at the clock. Just past seven.

Damian’s eyes opened slowly, those dark gray irises locking onto mine. He didn’t say anything, just watched me with that unnerving intensity that made my pulse skip.

I mouthed *Ethan’s grandmother* and saw his jaw tighten.

"I’m glad you’re feeling better," I said carefully into the phone. "How are you doing now?"

"Better physically," Rose sighed. "But my heart isn’t at ease. I used to stay at your place when I visited, you know. The servants at the estate are so clumsy. I can’t get comfortable there."

"You’re welcome to come back anytime," I said neutrally.

"What’s the point without you there, dear? You’re like a granddaughter to me. You know I care about you more than I care about Ethan!"

That old line again.

Rose had always said things like that—putting me on a pedestal, making me feel special. And for years, I’d believed it. I’d worked so hard to be worthy of that affection.

Now I knew better.

When I didn’t respond, Rose pressed on.

"I know how marriages work, Aria. Couples have their rough patches. You’re upset, and I understand—but surely you can see this is all just a misunderstanding? "

Once you and Ethan talk things through, you’ll realize how much you still care for him."

"A misunderstanding?" I repeated flatly.

"Yes! That whole mess online with Clara—I heard all about it. That woman got exactly what she deserved."

My heart clenched. For a split second, I thought she might actually acknowledge what Clara had done to me.

But no.

"She’s older, unmarried, and clearly jealous of what you and Ethan have," Rose continued. "She took advantage of Ethan’s past connection to her as his former and tried to insert herself into his life. "

"But I can promise you, Aria—my grandson’s heart belongs to you. There’s nothing between him and Clara. You can’t let this petty drama make you doubt him."

Petty drama.

I wanted to laugh. Or scream.

Everything was Clara’s fault, according to Rose. And if there was any blame left over, it somehow landed on me for "doubting" Ethan.

Ethan himself was painted as the innocent victim.

"Ethan, come here," Rose said suddenly, her voice shifting away from the phone. "Tell Aria yourself. In front of your grandmother, I want you to swear there’s nothing between you and Clara."

There was a pause. I heard Ethan’s voice in the background, low and reluctant. "Grandma..."

"No need," I cut in, my voice cold as ice.

Damian sat up fully now, his hand sliding to the small of my back. He didn’t speak, but I could feel the tension radiating off him—his wolf barely contained.

"Luna Holt," I said evenly, "I didn’t want to tell you this while you were recovering. But Ethan and I... we’re done. There’s nothing left between us."

Silence.

Then Rose’s voice came back, sharp and shaking.

"Done? Aria, you can’t mean that. You’re husband and wife! Even if you want a divorce, you can’t just make that decision on your own—you need the pack’s consent!"

"I do mean it," I said firmly. "And I’m not asking for a divorce. All we need to do is break up."

I heard a sharp intake of breath on the other end.

I hadn’t wanted to play this card so early. My revenge against Ethan wasn’t finished yet—I still had moves to make.

But after everything with Alpha Gerald, after realizing I’d never get my hands on Silver Creek Pack’s shares the way I’d hoped... I was done playing nice.

"Aria, what are you talking about?" Rose’s voice pitched higher. "You’re angry, I understand that, but you can’t throw around words like ’divorce’ and ’break up’—"

Before she could finish, I heard another voice cut in. Margaret’s, dripping with disdain.

"Aria, how greedy can you possibly be? You married into the Holt family—do you have any idea how lucky you are? We’ve given you everything. "

"You’ve lived like a Luna, enjoyed every privilege, and now you’re throwing a tantrum because of one little incident? You want me and Sophie to grovel at your feet? "

"You want 50% of the company shares? And now you want Ethan to beg, too?"

Margaret’s words were like nails on a chalkboard.

Before I could respond, Ethan’s voice came through, tight and controlled.

"Aria, you’re being ridiculous. I’ve let a lot slide, but this? If you’re really serious about leaving, then fine. Do whatever you want."

I didn’t even wait for him to finish.

I hung up.

Damian’s hand slid up my spine, his touch grounding me. "You okay?"

I turned to look at him.

"I’m better than okay," I whispered.

He cupped my face, his thumb brushing my cheek. "Good. You know my shoulder is always there for you."

"I know."

I leaned in and pressed my lips to his. Soft at first—just a thank you, but he kissed me back.

His hand slid into my hair, gripping gently but firmly, tilting my head back as his tongue pushed past my lips, slow and deep, tasting me like he owned every inch of my mouth.

I gasped into him, my body pressing closer.

Through the thin silk of my soft silk pajamas, I felt it—his cock, hard and thick, pressing insistently against my thigh. The heat of him seeped through the fabric, unmistakable, urgent.

A wave of heat rushed through me, but I pulled back, breathless.

"I should... go wash up," I said, already shifting away.

His hand caught my wrist before I could get far. He tugged me back down onto the bed, rolling me onto my back in one smooth motion, his body settling over mine.

"You started this," he murmured against my lips, his voice low and rough. "You don’t get to run now."