Olivia’s POV
Today had been exhausting. From meeting with the she-wolves to my heated encounter with Logan, then dealing with Lennox fussing over my injury, and finally attending to pack matters—it had been one thing after another. All I wanted was to collapse onto my bed and sleep, but tonight was a family dinner. And not just with the triplets and Anita; their parents would be there too. I had no choice but to attend.
As I arrived at the dining table, a small smile formed on my lips when I saw my mother seated. It was comforting to see her sitting at the same table as me. She had been through so much, and now that I was royalty, she was, too.
“Good evening, everyone,” I greeted.
Mother responded warmly, and the triplets’ parents acknowledged me, but the triplets themselves remained silent. Across from me, Anita sat glaring.
“I heard you officially started your duties as Luna today,” Lady Fiona, the triplets’ mother, said. I nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”
She gave me an encouraging smile. “Being a Luna is demanding, but I believe you can handle it. And if you ever need guidance, don’t hesitate to come to me, okay?”
I nodded, but deep down, I knew that was never going to happen. Don’t get me wrong—Lady Fiona was a good woman with a kind heart. But to me, she had been a terrible Luna. She had been there when my father was accused of stealing, yet she never used her position to prove his innocence. She had been Luna when my mother and I were demoted to Omegas when the she-wolves shunned my mother and banned her from their gatherings, and she had done nothing to stop it. She had been there when we were treated like trash, when my mother fell into depression—and what did she do? She turned a blind eye. And worst of all, she had been there when her sons, the triplets, treated me like garbage. As their mother and as the Luna, she could have brought them into line.
I couldn’t help but wonder—did she know her husband had ordered my father’s execution? An innocent man murdered. And if she had known… why didn’t she stop it?
Dinner was served, the clinking of cutlery filling the silence that stretched awkwardly between us. The triplets still hadn’t said a word to me. Not even Lennox, who had been surprisingly gentle earlier when tending to my wound. Louis stared at his plate like it held the secrets of the universe, while Levi occasionally glanced up, only to look away the moment our eyes met.
And Anita? She was still glaring like she wanted to set me on fire with her eyes.
“So,” Sir Phillip, the triplets’ father, began, breaking the silence. “How was your first day handling pack duties?”
I straightened in my seat, swallowing the bitterness rising in my throat. “Challenging, but manageable.”
He nodded approvingly, but his gaze held a subtle weight, as if assessing my every word. “Good. You will do well,” he said, as if praising me, and I fought the urge to glare at him. I hated him. I hated him and would never forgive him.
“Thank you, sir,” I murmured, offering a tight smile. He didn’t notice the hollowness behind it—or maybe he chose not to. He hummed in response and turned back to his food.
My mother reached out under the table and gently squeezed my hand. I almost lost it. I almost snapped at him, wanting to demand why he would order my father to be killed like that. But that simple gesture from my mom, the warmth of her fingers—anchored me and stopped me.
“Stay calm,” she whispered softly enough that only I could hear.
My throat tightened, and I quickly nodded, not trusting myself to speak. Across the table, I caught Levi watching the exchange. There was a flicker in his eyes—something like concern. Maybe regret. But then he dropped his gaze again, and the wall between us rebuilt itself in an instant. They were all good at that—building walls.
The silence stretched as we ate, tension thick in the air. My mother’s hand was still gently wrapped around mine under the table, grounding me, keeping me from saying something I would regret.
Then Lady Fiona’s voice cut through the silence, light and casual—too casual. “So, Olivia…” she began, setting her fork down gracefully. “When should we expect grandchildren?”
I froze. The triplets stilled instantly. Louis, who had been quietly cutting his food, stopped mid-slice. Levi exhaled sharply, his grip on his glass tightening. Lennox, who had been the most silent so far, let out a low scoff. Then, in perfect unison, they spoke—cold and firm. “Never.”
The word rang out, final and absolute. I swallowed. My fingers curled into fists under the table.
Lady Fiona blinked, looking at them in surprise. “What?”
Louis set his knife down, his jaw clenched. “It’s not happening. Ever.”
Levi’s expression was unreadable, but his voice was sharp. “There will be no children between us.”
Lennox leaned back in his seat, his arms crossed. “Not with her.”
The words stung more than they should have. My grip on my lap tightened, nails digging into my palm. I should have expected this—I did expect this. So why did it hurt?
My mother tensed beside me, her gaze flickering between me and the triplets, concern flashing in her eyes. Lady Fiona, on the other hand, frowned. “Don’t be ridiculous, boys. Olivia is your mate. She’s your Luna. This is your duty—”
“I don’t care about duty,” Louis cut her off, his voice low but firm. His eyes met mine for a brief second before looking away. “There will be no children.”
Something inside me cracked, but I forced a smile, refusing to show weakness. Then, out of nowhere, a memory surfaced; I was twelve. Sitting under the old willow tree, surrounded by the triplets, who were at the time seventeen.
“Do you want to get married when you grow up?” Louis had asked me.
I had laughed, kicking at the dirt with my small feet. “Of course! Don’t all girls want to get married someday?”
“To who?” Levi had teased, grinning.
I had beamed at them, innocent and unknowing of the future. “To all of you.”
They had laughed, thinking I was joking. But I hadn’t been. I had sat there, telling them about the future I had imagined. “I’ll give birth to boys, just like you. Three of them! They’ll be strong and smart and—”
Louis had smiled, reaching over to tug my braid. “You’d want to marry all three of us?”
I had nodded enthusiastically. “Yes! Why choose when I can have all of you?”
They had laughed again, and at the time, it had been an innocent fantasy. Now, sitting at this table, their rejection ringing in my ears, I realized how foolish I had been. That childhood dream had turned into my worst nightmare. I wasn’t the little girl under the willow tree anymore. And they weren’t the boys who had once teased me, who had once cared.
I swallowed down the lump in my throat and met Lady Fiona’s gaze with a soft smile. Lady Fiona still looked mildly frazzled, as if she couldn’t believe her sons had just flat-out rejected the idea of children—with me, at least. Her eyes darted between each of them, maybe hoping one would soften, take it back, or say they didn’t mean it. None of them did. That silence—their silence—was deafening.
And then Anita, who had been quiet, sat straighter in her seat, brushing invisible lint off her dress, her voice suddenly sweet, said, “Well,” she said, letting out a delicate sigh, “if Olivia won’t be giving you grandchildren, I will.”
My head snapped toward her, but I held my expression neutral, refusing to give her the satisfaction of seeing me react.
“I’ve always imagined having a big family,” she continued, glancing toward Lady Fiona with a coy smile. “Strong boys. Just like the triplets.” Her eyes sparkled with something ugly. “And I wouldn’t mind giving you a few.”
Lady Fiona’s mouth opened slightly, clearly caught off guard. But it wasn’t her reaction I was watching. It was the triplets’. Lennox didn’t even blink. Levi’s jaw ticked—but he said nothing. And Louis? He kept eating like he hadn’t even heard her. But not one of them denied it. Not one of them said no. They didn’t look at her. They didn’t look at me. They just sat there. Silent. And that silence was all the answer I needed.
Anita smirked, clearly taking their lack of protest as permission. She turned her gaze to me, her voice laced with cruel sweetness. “Don’t worry, Olivia. Some of us know how to fulfill Luna duties properly. Even if we aren’t Luna by title.”
My lips twitched into a small, cold smile. “Oh, Anita… You never told me that apart from being a concubine, you also want to be a breeder—a baby factory machine! Wow! Go girl.”
Her smirk disappeared, anger etching itself onto her makeup-filled face. I wondered how she couldn’t go a day without putting on heavy makeup.
“You can offer your womb all you want, give them as many children as you want,” I continued, my voice low and razor-sharp, “but remember this—you’re still not me. And no matter how many sons you promise them, you’ll always be second. You are not their mate. I am. Their mate. Their Luna. Even if they hate me.”
I swiftly pulled my seat away. “Please excuse me, I’m full,” I announced respectfully before leaving the table.