Chapter 370 I think you’ve overstayed your welcome

Two women were in love with the same man, but in very different ways. In this situation, one was his mother and the other was his future wife. Neither of them seemed ready to back down.

Oriana’s fingers curled into tight fists, her nails digging hard into her palms as the two women stared each other down.

Neither of them looked away for several long, charged seconds. Seraphine studied her carefully, easily picking up on the features Voren had inherited from his mother, the shape of his eyes, certain expressions that mirrored hers, while the rest clearly came from his father.

In a way, he’d gotten the best of both, but right now, all that beauty did nothing to hide the bitter poison in Oriana’s words.

“Don’t try to be clever with me,” Oriana snapped, lifting her chin with proud defiance. “Unless you’re willing to step back and become Voren’s second wife, you should leave him alone.”

Seraphine inhaled slowly, refusing to let the words rattle her. Instead of firing back right away, she carefully climbed out of bed.

The second her feet hit the floor, a deep wave of soreness shot through every muscle, forcing a quick grimace across her face before she could hide it.

She couldn’t even blame Voren. He’d wanted to take things slow, but she had been the impatient one, and her stubborn wolf had flat-out refused to help with the aftermath.

When Oriana noticed her obvious discomfort, her brows furrowed in disapproval. “You can’t even satisfy him,” she said coldly, her eyes sweeping over Seraphine with sharp criticism. “It must have been your first night together, and you already look—”

Seraphine cut her off before she could finish the sentence. “I’m glad you noticed.” A small, satisfied smile tugged at her lips as she slowly lowered herself into a nearby chair. “Looks like Voren hasn’t had any relief in a very long time, and he ended up taking all that built-up frustration out on me.”

Oriana’s expression darkened like a storm cloud rolling in. Seraphine continued as if she hadn’t noticed the change, her voice staying calm and steady.

“Actually, there’s something I’ve been really curious about. From what I heard, you pushed hard to match him with Jasmine because she supposedly saved your life.” She tilted her head slightly. “How true is that story, exactly?”

The reaction was instant. Oriana’s face tightened with tension. “What exactly are you implying?”

“Nothing,” Seraphine shrugged lightly, keeping her tone even. “At least, not at first. I just found the whole story pretty hard to believe.” She leaned back in the chair, her gaze never wavering.

“The Luna of the Grimroot Pack needing a lone wolf to save her from a few rogues? That doesn’t add up. You were close enough to your own territory to call your warriors for help. Even if things got dangerous, backup should’ve arrived fast because the mindlink would have worked according to the proximity.”

Seraphine doubted that story but kept it to herself because there was too much on her plate to deal with but now that the culprit brought herself, she wasn’t going to make it easy.

Seraphine folded her arms, her eyes narrowing thoughtfully. “And then there’s the other thing. What was Jasmine even doing near the Grimroot Pack in the first place? Aren’t lone wolves supposed to stay out in the Outlands?”

The question hung heavy in the air. For the briefest moment, something uneasy flickered across Oriana’s face, something most people would’ve missed. But Seraphine caught it clearly. The older woman recovered almost immediately, but the crack had already shown.

“I hope you haven’t been filling my son’s head with these ridiculous theories,” Oriana hissed.

“No,” Seraphine answered so calmly it almost sounded innocent. Then her smile sharpened. “But now I’m thinking maybe I should. Because the more I sit with it, the more convinced I am that there’s some kind of connection between you and Jasmine. And if that’s true, Voren deserves to know the truth.”

The air in the cabin grew thicker, heavier with tension. Oriana’s eyes flashed with anger, but for the first time since she’d walked in, she looked genuinely unsettled.

That discomfort quickly boiled over into pure fury. “I can see why Ravyn chose your nanny’s daughter over you,” she spat, the insult meant to cut deep. “You’re nowhere near fit to be a Luna.”

Seraphine simply smiled, which only irritated Oriana more. “If you’re talking about the kind of Luna the academy tries to churn out, then yeah, you’re absolutely right. I never fit that mold.” She rested her arms on the table between them, her smile growing bolder. “But let’s be honest here. If Voren cared that much about tradition and expectations, he would’ve been married a long time ago.”

Oriana’s face darkened even further. “He could have chosen Jasmine,” Seraphine shot back.

She started counting on her fingers, her voice steady and confident. “He could’ve chosen Athaliah. He could’ve chosen dozens of other women.” Her gaze locked directly with Oriana’s. “But he didn’t. He waited.”

The silence stretched between them. “He waited through my marriage, waited through my divorce.” Her confidence never wavered for a second. “I think that tells us everything we need to know.”

Oriana’s lips pressed into a thin, angry line. “He told me about the spell,” she said, her voice turning ice-cold. “But that changes nothing. You should care more about his reputation than your own selfish feelings.”

She leaned forward, cruelty dripping from every word. “You’re a woman who was rejected. Your husband chose another woman over you, even after you gave him a child.” A nasty smile twisted her lips. “You’re tainted, face reality.”

The smile completely vanished from Seraphine’s face. The warmth in her eyes drained away, replaced by a dangerous, chilling darkness that settled deep in her gaze.

For the first time, Oriana felt the full weight of it. The raw pressure, the hidden authority, the quiet strength radiating from the woman in front of her.

Seraphine slowly rose from the chair, ignoring the lingering soreness in her body. When she spoke, her voice was eerily calm, too calm. “Luna Oriana.” The title came out like a clear warning. “I think you’ve overstayed your welcome.”