Chapter 2 Chapter 2: What Do You Want?

It was already 9:00 p.m.

After leaving the church, the group headed straight to the hotel.

Luna was about to follow Henry and the others out.

“Why are you coming with us?” Henry asked, puzzled.

She paused, then said matter-of-factly, “You go ahead. I’m heading home.”

“You’re married, Luna. You should go back to the Davis home.” His lips curved into a teasing smile.

“I—” She got tongue-tied.

“Come on, sweetheart. Go back with Theodore,” Henry coaxed.

Luna’s brows knitted tightly.

Ignoring her resistance, Henry continued with a grin, “If I were you, I’d settle down with Theodore. He’s tall, handsome, responsible, and very talented. In every way, he surpasses Noah.”

“If you come home with us now, Noah might think you still love him,” he added.

Furious, she glared at him.

“You’re getting on my nerves!” she snapped.

He chuckled. “To get back at Noah, you should live happily with Theodore. Help Theodore drag him off that pedestal. Make him lose everything.”

“Put up or shut up,” she shot back.

Henry shrugged.

Maggie approached, her face a mix of concern and resignation. She patted Luna’s shoulder gently and spoke softly. “Luna, your father and I know everything that happened today. We’re sorry you had to go through this. Just… keep up appearances with Theodore for now. When the time is right, you can divorce him.”

“Mom, why won’t you just bless me?” Luna asked.

“Would you be willing to build a good life with Theodore?” Maggie asked.

“No.” Luna shook her head without hesitation.

Maggie sighed deeply.

“All right,” Luna murmured, giving in.

She followed the Davis family back to their home.

As they entered, the clock on the wall ticked toward ten.

John Davis looked at Luna and Theodore. His expression was gentle but weary.

“Luna, Theodore, get some rest. Good night,” he said slowly.

Luna hesitated, awkwardness washing over her.

*Which room am I supposed to stay in? Theodore’s? Or the bridal suite meant for Noah?

Either way, it’s absurd.*

“Dad…” Ava Brown glanced at John, hesitant.

As Noah’s mother, Ava was a distant relative of Luna’s mother, Maggie. The two women had grown up together, which was why they’d arranged Noah and Luna’s marriage—to keep their families intertwined.

But Noah’s elopement had shattered that trust.

Even so, Ava still hoped Luna would forgive him; she adored Luna like her own daughter.

John’s cold glance silenced her instantly. A chill ran through her, and she closed her mouth.

“Let’s go,” Theodore said, his voice calm as ever.

Luna froze, then nodded softly. She followed him into the elevator.

Having frequented the Davis residence, she knew the layout well.

John had divorced his first wife, Mia, thirty years ago and later married Mary. Since then, though Mary often meddled in family affairs, John’s word was final.

John and Mia had two sons—James Davis and Robert Davis.

John and Mary had one child: Theodore.

James married Ava; they had two children, Noah and Riley.

Robert and his wife, Sophia Martinez, had two children, Casey and Jordan.

John and Mary lived on the second floor.

James and Ava lived on the third with their kids.

Robert and Sophia’s family occupied the fourth.

Theodore lived alone on the fifth.

The elevator doors closed slowly.

Luna instinctively pressed the button for the third floor.

Theodore turned his head, eyes narrowing slightly.

She met his gaze, confused. What’s wrong now?

Without a word, he pressed the “3” button twice, then the “5.”

Realization hit her. She had pressed the wrong floor.

“My—my clothes are on the third floor,” she explained, blushing.

“They’ve already been moved to my room,” Theodore said evenly.

Luna’s eyes widened. “When did you move them?”

“Today.”

Moments later, the elevator doors opened.

Theodore stepped out first.

Luna frowned, still dazed, and followed him down the hall to his room.

She froze at the doorway. Colorful helium balloons still floated inside, adding a faintly surreal cheer to the cozy space.

She stepped in. The layout mirrored Noah’s—every piece of furniture, every detail aligned almost identically.

She wandered to the walk-in closet. Inside hung her clothes, handbags, and accessories—neatly arranged.

Then she walked to the sofa, sat down, and crossed her arms. Lifting her chin, she fixed Theodore with a steady stare.

“Tell me,” she said, her voice low and sharp. “What do you want?”