Filed to story: The Luna is Secret Heiress Book PDF Free by Sylvia
I sipped my wine pensively, my mind swirling with these unexpected revelations. The pieces were falling into place – Vanessa’s cold glares, her barely concealed
– contempt, her stiff formality when Connor introduced us.
“So that’s why she hates me,” I murmured, more to myself than to my friends.
What I didn’t notice was the pair of violet eyes fixed upon me from across the room – Vanessa Reed herself, her face a mask of cold fury as she overheard every word.
After a few more drinks, I excused myself to use the restroom. “I’ll be right back,” I told
Rebecca and Lily, sliding out of the booth.
The bathroom was clean and quiet, a welcome respite from the noise of the bar. I checked my appearance in the mirror, tucking a strand of honey-brown hair behind my ear before heading back out.
As I stepped into the dimly lit corridor, I pulled out my phone to check my messages. Connor had texted, asking if I was enjoying my night out. I smiled, typing a quick reply.
Suddenly, two men blocked my path. One was burly with a shaved head, his muscular arms covered in tattoos. He wore a black tank top that strained against his chest. The other was lanky with bleached-blonde hair and a cigarette dangling from his lips.
The tattooed one whistled, his eyes traveling up and down my body. “Hey pretty girl, come play with us, hm?”
Without missing a beat, I smoothly switched my phone to recording mode and slipped it into my pocket. Years of legal training had taught me the value of evidence.
The blonde one leaned against the wall, his eyes gleaming with something predatory. “You’re a real beauty. Must be a wild ride.”
I kept my expression neutral, though disgust churned in my stomach. “Did you just eat something rotten in the bathroom? Your mouth stinks.”
The blonde’s face twisted with anger, but quickly morphed back into a leering grin. “How much for a night? Name your price.”
I crossed my arms calmly, assessing the situation. The corridor was narrow, with both men effectively blocking my path back to the main area. I could feel my wolf stirring inside me, sensing danger.
“Funeral vigil: 5,000 dollars a night,” I replied coolly. “Wailing service, add 2,000. Band with traditional music, 2,800. Basic cremation, 499. Wooden coffin, 500 extra.”
Their leers faltered, confusion crossing their faces.
“If the bones aren’t crushed post-cremation, add 1,200,” I continued, my voice steady. “Who in your family died? More than one corpse? Discounts available. Spend 10,000, save 1,000.”
The blonde spat on the floor, his face contorting with rage. “f*****g b***h! Playing hard to get?”
–
The tattooed one – Brock, I’d later learn advanced toward me, his hands moving to unbuckle his belt. “Acting all pure? Bet you’ve been with plenty of men. Stop pretending. Let’s do it right here!”
He nodded to his accomplice. “Drag her into the men’s room and have some real fun.”
Both lunged toward me simultaneously. In that split second, everything slowed down.
My self-defense training kicked in automatically.
I pivoted on my heel and kicked out with all my strength, my foot connecting squarely with Brock’s groin. The impact was devastating.
A shrill scream tore from his throat as he crumpled to the ground, clutching his crotch in agony. His face instantly drenched in sweat, all color draining away.
The blonde – Tyler – cursed furiously and threw a wild punch at my head. I ducked under his arm, grabbed it, and twisted sharply until a sickening c***k announced his shoulder dislocating.
His scream joined Brock’s, echoing through the corridor. Both men were down, writhing in pain on the dirty floor.
I calmly pulled a tissue from my purse and wiped my hands, my lips curling in disdain. “Seriously? Not even worth the warm-up.”
Tyler, despite his dislocated shoulder, tried to strike back with his other arm. I easily sidestepped, grabbed his wrist, and flipped him over my shoulder. He slammed hard onto the floor, the impact knocking the wind from his lungs.
I placed my high heel on his cheek, applying just enough pressure to make him freeze. “Go practice some more before picking fights.”
Looking over at Brock, I noticed his pants darkening with spreading blood. I clicked my tongue, a cool observation crossing my mind. Oops, maybe I kicked too hard. Did I just rupture his balls…?
The commotion had finally drawn attention. Bar staff rushed over, their faces showing shock at the scene before them woman in heels.
– two grown men incapacitated by a single
Brock was whimpering now, curled into a fetal position. “Call an ambulance! f**k! It hurts so bad!”
A crowd had gathered, including Lily and Rebecca, who had come looking when I was gone too long.
Lily’s jaw dropped as she took in the scene. “Holy s**t! Your legendary defensive moves are back in action?”
Rebecca’s eyes moved from the groaning men to me, her expression a mix of concern and admiration. “Liv, are you alright?”
I smirked lightly, tucking back a strand of hair that had fallen across my face. “Fine. With these guys? They couldn’t even touch a strand.”
Lily’s eyes shone with undisguised awe. “You’re a total badass! Should’ve learned self-defense with you back then.”
The police and ambulance arrived shortly after. The two men were loaded onto stretchers, still moaning in pain. The officers took statements from witnesses while the bar manager explained what had happened.
Lily, Rebecca, and I were escorted to the police station to give formal statements. I remained calm throughout, my legal training serving me well in this unexpected situation.
Hidden behind a pillar, Vanessa Reed watched the entire scene unfold with a cold sneer. Useless trash. Two against one and still beaten bloody. Clearly, I wasn’t the weakling she had assumed. Next time, she would hire more people – real thugs, professional hitmen. She would ensure that Connor Rivers’ precious little fiancée would suffer properly. Her violet eyes gleamed with malice as she slipped away from the scene, already formulating her next move against the woman who dared to take what she considered rightfully hers.
At the police station, I sat calmly in the interview room, giving my statement with professional precision. The officer across from me looked impressed by my composure.
“The surveillance footage confirms your account, Ms. Winters,” he said, closing his notebook. “Those men clearly initiated the harassment and assault.”
Inodded, maintaining my professional demeanor. “I only acted in self-defense.”
Just then, another officer entered with a message from the hospital. His expression was grave as he handed a note to his colleague.
“There’s a complication,” the first officer said after reading it. “Mr. Harding’s injuries are severe. He has a ruptured testicle that requires surgical evaluation.”
My heart sank slightly, but I kept my face neutral. As a lawyer, I understood the potential legal implications immediately.
“If both testicles were damaged and needed removal,” the officer continued, “this might escalate to a case of excessive self-defense, possibly constituting intentional assault.”
The door opened again, and Connor strode in, his ice-blue eyes immediately finding mine. Relief washed over me at the sight of him.
“What’s going on?” he demanded, his voice carrying the unmistakable authority of an
Alpha.
The officer explained the situation, concluding that they couldn’t release me until the hospital determined the extent of Brock’s injuries.
Connor’s jaw tightened. “This is ridiculous. She was defending herself against attempted s****l assault.”
He pulled out his phone, clearly ready to call in favors to get me released immediately.
I placed my hand on his arm, stopping him.
“It’s okay,” I said calmly. “Let me handle this.”
I turned back to the officers, my professional composure unshaken. “One ruptured is minor injury, two is serious. If both were removed, yes, it could be injury beyond necessity, possibly intentional harm.”
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