The night of Catherine’s birthday party arrived, and the mansion was unrecognizable. Elegant decorations adorned the walls, expensive wines flowed endlessly, and the grand ballroom sparkled with golden chandeliers. It was a celebration fit for Luna.
But Catherine wasn’t the Luna. I was.
I stood near the back of the room, unnoticed, watching as Luther paraded her around like she was his queen. The way he looked at her, the way he held her waist, it was something I had never received from him.
My own birthday had passed months ago. No celebration. No party. Just me, sitting alone while Luther claimed he had urgent packing matters to attend to. But now, seeing this—how he moved heaven and earth for Catherine, I realized how blind I had been.
The expensive gifts he had brought for her weren’t simple tokens of appreciation. The lingering touches, the stolen glances, the way he defended her at every turn—it wasn’t just favoritism.
It was love.
And I had been nothing but a placeholder.
The party carried on, the loud music and laughter filled the air. I was nothing more than a shadow against the walls, listening to the whispers that floated around me.