Abandoned Luna: Now Untouchable-Chapter 258 Breakfast Interrogation

Author’s pov

Outside the bedroom, Harper was rapidly losing control of the situation.

Her attempt to maintain light conversation with Esther had disintegrated into a painful silence, broken only by the faint clinking of cutlery against porcelain. The tension in the room was thick enough to slice with a dinner knife.

Then came the sound of tiny claws tapping rhythmically against wood.

Muffin, oblivious to human drama, had decided to escalate things by scratching at the bedroom door, his high-pitched meows echoing through the apartment like a siren.

"Such a... playful little cat," Harper said, her laugh brittle and forced.

Esther didn’t respond. Her narrowed eyes were fixed on the hallway, expression unreadable, but far from trusting.

Then the doorbell rang.

The sharp chime cut through the silence like a shot.

Esther’s eyes narrowed further. "Harper," she said, her tone icy. "Didn’t you say this floor only had one apartment?"

Harper blinked. "Uh... yes, I did."

Esther stood from the table. "Then who’s at the door?"

Footsteps echoed across the hardwood as Harper rushed to intercept. She opened the front door a crack, just wide enough to see—and immediately wished she hadn’t. 𝒻𝘳ℯℯ𝑤ℯ𝒷𝘯ℴ𝓋ℯ𝘭.𝑐ℴ𝑚

There stood Liam , dressed crisply as always, carrying a sleek insulated food bag and looking completely unfazed by the early hour or the growing disaster inside.

"Good morning, ma’am," he said with a professional smile. "I’m Liam , Alpha Sebastian’s house manager."

Esther’s brows lifted in cool recognition, but she said nothing.

Liam continued smoothly, "Miss Moore wasn’t feeling well last night—she came down with a sudden fever. Alpha Sebastian came by to check on her, and when her condition worsened, he stayed to make sure she didn’t need emergency care."

There was a pause.

"I see," Esther replied, her voice flat. "And you’re here now because... ?"

"I brought breakfast," Liam said, holding up the bag. "Something high in nutrients for recovery."

From behind the door, Harper visibly winced.

She had told Esther that Cecilia had already left for work, probably sipping coffee at her desk by now.

Now Liam was painting a very different picture—one involving bed rest, fevers, and overnight male company.

And Muffin, bless his timing, was still scratching at the bedroom door like a furry tattletale.

Esther glanced toward the hallway. "It seems my daughter truly is ill," she said, tone dripping with skepticism. "What a misunderstanding."

"I apologize for the confusion," Harper blurted out, trying to salvage what she could. "I should’ve been more clear from the beginning."

Esther turned back toward the dining area. "Then perhaps you should invite them out to join us."

"Of course," Harper said quickly, retreating down the hall.

She paused in front of the bedroom door, took a deep breath, then knocked.

"Cecilia," she called, her voice pitched just a little too high, just a little too cheerful. "Liam brought breakfast that should help with your... fever. Why don’t you and Alpha Sebastian come out? We’re all waiting."

Her emphasis on "fever" couldn’t have been more obvious if she’d drawn quotation marks in the air with her fingers.

Cecilia’s pov

Inside, I buried my face in my hands.

"We’re so dead," I muttered.

Harper might as well have held up a neon sign that read: "They slept together."

"Looks like the curtain’s up," he said in that maddeningly calm way of his.

I knelt on the bed, heartbeat in my ears, trying to strategize.

Damage control mode activated.

"Listen," I hissed, grabbing his shoulders. "We’ll deal with the fallout later. For now, we’re sticking to the’fever’ story. No ad-libs, no charming smirks, and definitely no flirting. Got it?"

I wrapped my fingers lightly around his throat in mock threat.

"Don’t make me regret this."

"A butter knife might be more menacing," he muttered with a smirk.

I rolled my eyes, dropped my hands, and changed tactics.

Cupping his face, I softened my voice. "Please, just follow my lead. It’s not a lot to ask."

When he didn’t answer, I kissed his left cheek. "Please? For me?"

Finally, he gave me the faintest smile.

"Only the left? What did the right cheek do to deserve rejection?"

I kissed the right one too, then added a firm kiss to his forehead.

Five painfully long minutes later, we stepped out.

Sebastian draped an arm around my waist like I was one cough away from fainting.

"Meow!"

And of course, Muffin made his entrance, tail high, weaving between our legs like this was his morning routine.

"Muffin, not now," I whispered, trying to nudge him away with my foot.

He just purred louder and tangled himself between us.

My mother’s eyes narrowed. "This cat..."

"It is mine," Liam interrupted smoothly, picking Muffin up like a furry prop in a courtroom drama. "He slipped downstairs yesterday. I’ve been looking for him."

I slid into a chair, pulled a throw blanket around my shoulders, and forced out a few half-hearted coughs.

Oscar-worthy? No. But passable.

I avoided my mother’s eyes.

Sebastian, of course, was completely composed.

"Good morning, Mrs. Moore," he said with the kind of ease that made me question if he even had a pulse.

My mother gave a tight smile. "Good morning, Alpha Sebastian. Thank you for... caring for Cecilia. It seems you’ve gone out of your way."

If only she knew how far.

"It wasn’t any trouble," he answered smoothly, taking the seat beside me like he’d always belonged there.

Her gaze shifted to the kitchen counter.

"Your house manager brought breakfast."

"I didn’t realize you’d already prepared something, ma’am," Liam said with a respectful nod.

"Mine’s nothing fancy. Just a few recovery staples."

"It’s already made. No sense in wasting food."

"I can save it for later."

"Bring it out."

"As you wish."

He set Muffin down and began unpacking the containers.

I watched in horror as he laid out the most suspicious lineup of food I’d ever seen.

Not toast. Not eggs. Not even plain oatmeal.

Instead, he pulled out:

A smoothie packed with protein powder, banana, and spinach.

A thermos of chicken bone broth.

A container of scrambled eggs with kale.

High-calorie granola bars.

Avocado slices with sea salt.

And yes, a bottle of electrolyte-enhanced water.

This wasn’t "Oh no, I have a fever" food. This was "Post-marathon recovery with bonus vitamin shock" food.

The table went dead silent.

My mom’s expression shifted from concern to suspicion faster than a small-town gossip circle catching sight of a scandal.

Harper played with her earring, her face practically screaming:

This breakfast is evidence. Direct, damning, and impossible to explain away.

I wanted to crawl under the table.

"Liam," I said with a forced smile, "the work trip was exhausting, but you didn’t have to raid the entire wellness aisle at Whole Foods."

"You’ve barely been eating or sleeping properly for ten days, Miss Moore," he said without missing a beat.

Then, realizing the implication, he turned to my mother. "Alpha Sebastian keeps a similar diet, of course. Performance-focused. Routine."

My mom didn’t reply, but her silence spoke volumes.