Claiming His Luna

Cercei’s POV

“Look at you, you look perfect,” Monsieur’s sudden intrusion disrupted my privacy. He stood there, radiant in a black tuxedo that complemented my own attire.

Vienna followed him closely, captivating everyone in the room with her stunning appearance. Her navy blue dress complemented her flawless skin, highlighting her natural beauty. Her straight, ebony hair framed her face elegantly, and the silver and diamond accessories she wore added a touch of elegance to her outfit, making her look nearly perfect.

“Thank you,” I replied, mustering a faint smile that barely touched my lips. Monsieur took my hand, and I couldn’t help but notice the roughness of his touch. For a moment, I thought about pulling my hand away from his grip, but I quickly dismissed that thought aside.

“You look stunning, Vienna,” I commented as I withdrew my arm and moved closer to her, deliberately putting some distance between Monsieur and me.

‘Don’t pretend we’re close, not after what you did to my father.’ The words lingered on the tip of my tongue, but I swallowed them down.

Vienna responded with a slight smile, but I couldn’t help but notice a lingering trace of hatred in her eyes. The animosity between us remained intact.

“My two beautiful daughters,” Monsieur’s voice quivered with emotion as he enfolded us both in a tearful embrace. Vienna and I exchanged a fleeting glance over his shoulder.

“I’m relieved that we’re all together again. The only missing piece is Emilia, but I’m confident we’ll reunite with her soon,” he added, mentioning my mother. Hearing him mention my mother’s name made my blood boil with anger.

My gaze remained fixed on his chest, an unspoken desire to tear through it burning inside me.

“Come on, it’s time for the world to meet you,” he urged, extending both his arms to us. Vienna eagerly clasped his left arm while I hesitated, my eyes fixed on his right.

“Cercei,” his voice broke through my thoughts as I remained immobile.

Both Vienna and Monsieur turned their expectant gazes toward me. I drew a deep breath, slowly extending my hand to hold his right arm. A smile crept onto Monsieur’s face, but I offered only a steely, unyielding stare in return.

Under different circumstances, I would have been filled with fear. The thought of walking in front of so many scrutinizing eyes, especially those of influential people, sent shivers down my spine. I had always been uncomfortable with attention, but now, as I thought about stepping into the spotlight tonight, I felt strangely detached.

It was as if I had become immune, numbed by a mix of anger and self-control. Indeed, it required extraordinary patience to keep my composure in this moment.

Monsieur was undeniably a skilled fighter, but I believe I could harm him if I made an attempt. However, I understand not to underestimate his intelligence. Who knows what might be concealed beneath his perfect suit? There could be snipers lurking in the shadows, ready to eliminate me in an instant if I were to entertain any foolish ideas.

Descending the grand staircase while a crowd of onlookers gathered below felt strangely routine. I couldn’t muster the energy to force a smile. My heart wasn’t in it, and besides, my cheek already ached from the façade.

“Look at them, they’re yours,” Monsieur proclaimed to both of us, although his eyes remained firmly fixed on me.

A quick glance at Vienna confirmed that she was intensely clenching her teeth.

“Their sentinels, their house, their loyalties lie with us. They are at our beck and call,” he proclaimed. I observed the people. They certainly appeared wealthy and influential, but it failed to pique my interest in the slightest.

We walked together, our expressions matching, bearing confidence and an unmistakable air of authority. To an outsider, we might have seemed like a happy family. The irony, however, was that our outward appearances concealed the intricate complexities beneath the surface.

When we descended the last steps, the assembled crowd below bowed in perfect unison. A look of satisfaction crossed Monsieur’s face as he observed their submission, their heads bowed in respect.

In stark contrast, Vienna displayed stoicism and maintained an air of cold detachment.

“Southerners, please warmly welcome the royal members of House Crescent!” The emcee’s voice echoed through the vast hall, prompting enthusiastic applause and cheers from the audience. Monsieur acknowledged the reception with a gracious wave, but Vienna stood motionless, like a barren statue, while I regarded the crowd with apathy, my attention drifting in the sea of faces.

“I would like to express my sincere thanks to all of you for honouring us with your presence tonight,” Monsieur began his speech, exuding a commanding aura.

“We are assembled here tonight to present to you my eldest daughter,” his statement elicited audible gasps of surprise among the attendees.

“The child born out of love, my firstborn, and my heir,” he continued, causing another collective astonishment, a reaction that mirrored my own inner shock. I glanced at Vienna, but her expression remained impassive.

“Cercei, come here,” He offered his hand.

I continued to stare at Vienna, waiting for her to react, but she remained motionless. Confused and shocked, I reluctantly accepted Monsieur’s outstretched hand.

“Cercei Denisovich Crescent,” Monsieur declared, and a deep silence filled the room, so profound that I could hear the rhythm of my own breath.

“The future of MoonStone pack,” Monsieur concluded, evoking a thunderous round of applause, even from those who appeared taken aback by this sudden twist of fate.

I had anticipated being introduced, but to be designated the heir? Born out of love? It was a revelation that struck me to the core.

I whispered my protest just beside him, “Heir?”

“You are my firstborn,” he responded with a casual air.

“I am not your heir,” I retorted firmly. I hadn’t come here to inherit the empire built through a life of crime. This world was not meant for me, and I wanted no part of his legacy.

“I refuse,” I declared stubbornly, locking eyes with him. He simply smiled and gently brushed my cheek with his hand in response.

“You bear a striking resemblance to your mother,” he murmured, planting a kiss on my forehead, and then he drifted away to engage with the guests.

“Are you satisfied now?” Vienna’s voice sliced through the tension as she approached from behind.

“Vienna…”

“Is this why you came here?” Her voice carried anger and wounded pride, ready for confrontation, yet her poise remained unruffled. She exuded a calm, composed elegance.

“No, I…”

“To slap into my face how I’ll never be good enough for Dad?” Her voice broke.

“That’s not…”

“Despite all I do, I will never capture his attention!” Her voice gained intensity. I glanced around, mindful of any prying ears.

“Vienna, please, let me explain…”

She cut my words short, her tone bristling with resentment. “No! You’re the same attention-seeker and stupid whore I’ve always known!”

“Even with all that gold, you’re still nothing,” she spat, her gaze sweeping me dismissively before walking away.

I fought back tears, struggling to contain the surging emotions inside my heart.

“My lady,” two men approached me. They appeared to be in their middle age and carried themselves with an air of nobility. However, I was unfamiliar with their house or lineage.

They offered a courteous bow.

“My Lords,” I replied, bracing my voice as I turned to face them.

“I am Lord Gorgolon of the Southern Tide.”

“And I am Lord Florante of the Flower Vale.”

They introduced themselves in turn.

“It’s an honour to meet you, My Lady. Please know that my house will always stand firmly behind your back,” Lord Gorgolon declared.

“As will mine, My Lady,” affirmed Lord Florante.

“I am deeply grateful for your kind words, my Lords. When the time comes, I will not forget your loyalty,” I responded with dignity and gratitude.