Ch. Luna Untouchable: After Divorcing The Alpha 7 Luna Untouchable: After Divorcing The Alpha 7

Chapter 7 

AVA’S POINT OF VIEW 

The moment my eyes landed on the steak, my appetite vanished. 

It wasn’t steak anymore-it was ginger. 

Thick slices of ginger. Shredded ginger. Minced ginger. 

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There was so much of it that I had to stare for a second just to find the meat buried beneath the yellow 

mountain. 

My stomach twisted. 

I hated ginger. 

Not disliked it-hated it. 

Even the faintest trace of its taste made me nauseous, and everyone in this family knew it. Logan 

knew it better than anyone. We’d been mates for four years. He’d watched me pick ginger out of every 

meal countless times. 

Yet here it was. 

Every single dish on the table carried that sharp, spicy scent that made my stomach churn. Five 

dishes. 

Five. 

Not one was safe for me. 

Then my gaze drifted to the fruit platter waiting on the counter. 

Peaches. 

A bitter laugh nearly escaped me. 

Of course. 

The one fruit I was allergic to. 

It was almost impressive how perfectly they’d managed to prepare an entire meal I couldn’t touch. 

“So this was the surprise,” I thought bitterly. 

“Ava, come! Sit down.” 

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Isla beamed at me as though she were the warmest mother-in-law in the world, waving me over with a 

smile that didn’t reach her eyes. 

I looked at the dining table. 

To Logan’s left sat Celine. 

To his right sat Naya. 

There wasn’t even a chair left for me. 

A smile tugged at my lips, though it held no warmth. 

“I’m not hungry,” I said quietly. “You all can eat.” 

I turned to leave. 

“Wait.” 

Celine’s voice stopped me. 

“How can you not be hungry after working all day?” She tilted her head innocently. “Or… do you dislike 

my mother’s cooking?” 

The room fell silent. 

Everyone looked at me. 

I slowly turned back, a faint smile still resting on my lips. 

“That’s a pretty serious accusation.” 

I folded my arms across my chest. 

“It’s not that I dislike Mother’s cooking. I simply don’t eat ginger, and I’m allergic to peaches. If you don’t believe me…” My eyes shifted to Logan. “…ask your brother. It’s not as though he doesn’t know.” 

I gestured toward the table. 

“There’s nothing here I can eat, so why would I sit down and pretend otherwise?” 

My voice rernained calm. 

I didn’t raise it. 

I didn’t need to. 

The silence that followed was louder than any argument. 

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Celine had nothing to say. 

Neither did Logan. 

A flicker of guilt crossed his face before he quickly looked away. 

He knew exactly why this had happened. 

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His mother was still furious that I had taken the emergency pack funds without asking her first, and 

this dinner was her way of reminding me where I stood. 

Only now, I’d exposed it. 

Anyone looking at this table could see it wasn’t an accident. 

It looked exactly like what it was-a family deliberately humiliating their Luna. 

Caught between his mother and his mate, Logan rubbed the back of his neck. 

“Ava…” His voice softened. “Mother didn’t mean it. She doesn’t know your preferences, and… I forgot to 

tell her.” 

Forgot? 

After four years? 

“You can just pick around the ginger and eat a little.” 

Before I could answer, Isla chimed in with a sigh. 

“Exactly. Ginger is good for your body.” She looked me up and down before clicking her tongue. “You’re far too picky with food. Maybe that’s why you’ve failed to give Logan an heir after four years. My hair is 

turning gray waiting for a grandson.” 

“I don’t even act that picky!” Naya piped up proudly, swinging her legs beneath the chair. “And I’m only 

four!” 

Celine chuckled before gently stroking the little girl’s hair. 

“That’s because Naya is a good girl.” She smiled sweetly. “Don’t grow up to be like your aunt.” 

The words settled over the room like ash. 

I almost laughed. 

How strange. 

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It had started with them serving me food they knew I couldn’t eat, yet somehow I’d become the 

unreasonable one. 

How had I never noticed this family for what they truly were? 

Or perhaps… 

I had noticed. 

I’d simply been too blinded by love to admit it. 

The thought stung far more than the hunger gnawing at my stomach. 

Not yet. 

The urge to expose everything burned beneath my skin, clawing for release, but I forced it down until 

my expression remained perfectly composed. 

This wasn’t the time. 

Logan wasn’t exactly where I wanted him, blissfully unaware that the ground beneath his feet was 

already beginning to crack. I could wait a little longer. When the truth comes out, it wouldn’t just 

embarrass him-it would shatter him, and I intended to strike when he least expected it. 

I drew a slow breath, swallowing every trace of anger before it could reach my face. 

“Mother,” I said, my voice calm enough to betray nothing, “you’re mistaken.” 

Without the slightest hesitation, I met her gaze. 

“My inability to conceive has nothing to do with eating ginger. I’m perfectly healthy.” 

The smile on Isla’s face stiffened before slowly fading. 

“Then what is the reason?” 

My eyes drifted to Logan. 

The moment our gazes locked, the room seemed to fall away. 

We had been mated for years. 

Years. 

Yet not once had he claimed me as his mate. Not once had he reached for me, shared my bed, or given 

our bond the chance to become what the Moon Goddess had intended. 

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How could I possibly carry his pup? 

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I held his gaze, saying nothing as the silence stretched between us, growing heavier with every passing second. For the first time that evening, uncertainty flickered across his face. 

Only then did I speak. 

“Logan,” I said softly, my voice almost gentle, “perhaps you should answer that.” 

The color drained from Logan’s face. 

His eyes instinctively darted toward Celine before returning to me, guilt flashing across them so clearly 

it was almost embarrassing. 

“What are you talking about?” he snapped a little too quickly. “There’s nothing to explain. Ava and I have been trying for a pup. Whether it happens or not depends on the Moon Goddess.” 

He forced out a laugh before looking at Isla. 

“Mom, stop worrying so much.” 

Instead of calming her, his words only made Isla more agitated. 

Within seconds, mother and son were arguing across the table while everyone else awkwardly 

pretended not to listen. 

I had completely lost interest. 

Pulling out my phone, I decided a game would be far more entertaining than listening to another 

lecture about grandchildren. 

Before I could open it, a message appeared. 

Alpha Lucian. 

~What are you doing?~ 

I blinked. 

The message was so casual it almost sounded as though we’d known each other for years. 

Without thinking much about it, I replied honestly. 

~Having dinner… although there’s nothing I can actually eat.~ 

His reply came almost instantly. 

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What do you want to eat?~ 

A smile tugged at my lips before I could stop it. 

So direct. 

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So…cold. 

As though if I simply named it, he’d somehow make it appear. 

I humored him anyway. 

~Roasted meat. Fresh bread. And fruit.~ 

I tapped send and waited. 

Nothing. 

The screen remained stubbornly silent. 

After a few seconds, I let out a quiet breath and tossed the phone onto the couch. If he wasn’t going to reply, then there was no point staring at the screen. 

Across the room, Isla and Logan were still locked in another argument, their voices rising and falling like a storm that refused to pass. 

Then- 

Ding. 

The doorbell sliced through the tension. 

“Who could that be?” Isla muttered before her gaze snapped toward me. 

“What are you sitting there for? Go answer the door.” 

I bit back the urge to roll my eyes. Arguing with her wasn’t worth the effort. 

Without a word, I pushed myself to my feet and walked to the front door. 

The moment I pulled it open, I found a delivery rider standing outside, several elegant shopping bags neatly arranged in his hands. The rich aroma drifting from them was enough to tell me it wasn’t an ordinary delivery. 

“Are you Luna Ava?” he asked politely. 

“I am.” 

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He offered me a courteous smile before holding out a clipboard. 

“This delivery is from Alpha Lucian. Please sign here.” 

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My fingers stilled around the pen. 

“…Excuse me?” 

“The meal was ordered specifically for you by Alpha Lucian.” 

For several long seconds, I could only stare at him. 

He actually… 

He actually sent me food? 

Still trying to make sense of it, I signed the receipt and carried the bags inside. 

The warm scent of the meal curled through the air, but instead of making me hungry, it only deepened 

my suspicion. 

Alpha Lucian was definitely up to something. 

“What is that?” 

Isla, Celine, and Naya all leaned forward curiously. 

Truthfully… 

I was just as curious. 

I opened the first container. 

The rich aroma of perfectly roasted meat escaped instantly, followed by the warm scent of freshly 

baked bread. 

Within seconds, the entire living room was filled with a mouthwatering fragrance. 

My eyes widened. 

“No way… 

Celine suddenly shot to her feet. 

“Is… is that from Moonrise Bistro?” 

I looked down at the elegant packaging. 

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The silver wolf crest embossed on the box caught the light. 

It was. 

“Yes,” I answered, unable to hide my surprise. 

Celine stared as though she’d seen a ghost. 

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“That’s impossible…” 

Everyone knew Moonrise Bistro. 

Its legendary chef accepted only a handful of orders each day, with people lining up before sunrise just 

for a chance to eat there. The restaurant didn’t deliver, no matter how wealthy or influential you were. 

He rarely answered clients. As for Celine – she had always longed to eat there. But no one dared help 

her, not with a chef so proud and picky. 

Yet somehow… 

Lucian had not only gotten the food- 

He’d had it delivered directly to me. 

Feeling Celine’s burning gaze fixed on my plate, I smiled sweetly before taking a bite of the tender 

roasted meat. 

“Mmm…” 

I sighed contentedly. 

“You’re so lucky, Celine.” 

She frowned. 

“You aren’t picky, so you get to enjoy Mother’s cooking.” 

I lifted another piece of roasted meat onto my 

fork. 

“Unlike me. Since I’m so ‘picky,’ I guess I’ll have to settle for this.” 

The compliment immediately brightened Isla’s expression. 

She eagerly served Celine another helping. 

“Exactly! Home-cooked meals are much healthier than restaurant food.” 

Celine forced a smile. 

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Judging by the way her expression twisted as she chewed, she wasn’t enjoying it nearly as much as she pretended. 

I was halfway through my meal when someone quietly approached. 

A shadow fell across the coffee table. 

I looked up. 

Logan stood there, his untouched plate abandoned behind him. 

His eyes lingered on the takeout boxes before finally meeting mine. 

“Who,” he asked, his voice low and unreadable, “is Lucian?” r 

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