Neglected Luna: Her White Wolf Rises

ing him to bring me tea and rub my shoulders, each touch a brand of his deceit, each whispered reassurance a not

re a blur of clandestine activity, my sunlit graphic design studio, with its clean l

p was my

blic records, social media accounts, and, most damningly, a link to a private TikTok account she shared with a small circle of 'friends.' Zara, ever the digital ghost, h

e was Katia

kruptcy. Video after video of her preening in expensive hotel rooms, flaunting designer bags I reco

n was a rec

artier watch. *"When your married man knows your worth,"* she had captioned it, with a winking emoji.

* the text on the screen read. *"He thinks he's in charge, but we know who really runs the show."* The co

a crude parody of my existence and b

the screen of my laptop, was a 'story time' clip.

sweet kid, but a little clueless. He thinks I'm the coolest thing since sliced bread." She

you think put that idea in his head? The best part is, the wifey has no idea. She

no longer wounded. I was surgically precise. I downloaded every video, every ph

a client. I saw them celebrating his preliminary award nomination at a Michelin-star restaurant he had claimed was

. The videos were the centerpiece of my plan,

guest list for the awards gala, I approached h

rty. We should really invite Jacob's school counselor, Ms. Shepherd. Sh

nd, his back going rigid. It was

e carefully neutral. "I don't know, A

family man. It reflects well on us. Plus," I added, delivering the masterstroke, "we should invite her parents, to

suspicion. He was the great Anthony Ortiz, the community-minded family man. How co

ex." His smile was strained, a tight, painful grimace. "

no idea that he was not extending a courtesy, but rather ha

in his shoulders. He was cornered. And he did not even k

o the shape of a smile he could not see. The guest list was set. The evidence was