Emily Pov.

Basic human taboos made the possibility seem so unthinkable that I doubted my own hearing. This led me to make the catastrophic decision to knock on the door rather than immediately leaving.

When no response came despite the continuing sounds from inside, the part of me conditioned by years of captivity to always assume the worst finally began raising urgent alarms.

"Something's wrong here," the survival-oriented part of my brain insisted while my conscious mind continued rejecting the increasingly obvious conclusion. "You need to know exactly what you're dealing with."

This internal conflict resulted in the worst possible compromise. Rather than either leaving or announcing my presence more forcefully, I quietly opened the door just enough to confirm whatever was happening inside.

What I saw in that moment destroyed any remaining illusions I'd been carefully building about my marriage and future.

"No, this can't be happening," my mind protested even as my eyes registered the undeniable reality before me. Nathan, completely naked, having explicit sex with his equally naked sister.

The scene was so shocking, so fundamentally disturbing on multiple levels, that I momentarily lost the ability to breathe or think clearly.

"I'm hallucinating," was my first desperate attempt at denial. This was followed immediately by, "Maybe it's not actually them," though both figures were unmistakably recognizable.

When those defenses failed, my mind tried to rationalize. "Maybe they're not actually related? Maybe 'sister' means something different in werewolf culture?"

But Nathan's own words from earlier conversations made such interpretations impossible to maintain. He'd described how he'd raised Mila after their parents died.

The brutal truth crashed through my carefully constructed hopes with devastating finality. My husband, the man who had just hours earlier promised me a fresh start and genuine relationship, was having an incestuous relationship with his sister. All while I waited obediently in our cottage believing his lies about just checking on her emotional wellbeing.

I didn't scream or make any sound that might alert them to my presence.

"He's naked... his... his fluid is all over her lips," my stunned mind registered mechanically. It was cataloging details while my emotional system temporarily shut down in self-defense.

The numbness that spread through me was actually a blessing. It was a psychological protection mechanism preventing the full impact of betrayal from hitting all at once.

Without conscious decision, I quietly closed the door and retreated from the cottage. My movements were mechanical and my expression blank as the guard hurriedly escorted me back to our villa.

"Why am I not more surprised?" I wondered distantly as shock gradually gave way to a strange, detached clarity. "Did I somehow expect this? Is this why I felt compelled to check on him?"

The scene replayed in my mind with merciless precision. Nathan with his sister, engaged in an act that violated not just his marriage vows but fundamental human taboos.

"A brother and sister having sex," I thought with distant horror. "Is this normal for werewolves? Or is it as wrong in their culture as in human society?"

These questions circulated uselessly as I walked. My body functioned on autopilot while my mind struggled to process the catastrophic implications for my already precarious situation.

After what seemed like both an eternity and mere seconds, I found myself back in our cottage. I sat motionless on the edge of the bed as I waited for Nathan's return.

"I have nowhere to go," I acknowledged with brutal practicality as shock gradually gave way to strategic thinking. "No money, no identification, no knowledge of this world or how to navigate it safely."

The reality of my dependence forced me to consider my limited options with ruthless objectivity rather than emotional reaction. Nathan represented my only protection from potentially worse fates.

"I could confront him, demand explanations or promises he clearly has no intention of keeping," I considered briefly before dismissing the approach as both dangerous and pointless.

"I could pretend I saw nothing, continue the charade of our 'fresh start' while knowing it's all a lie." This option, while safer in the short term, seemed emotionally unsustainable. How long could I maintain such a pretense before resentment and revulsion destroyed my carefully constructed facade?

"Or I could acknowledge what I saw but establish new terms for our arrangement. A purely business relationship where expectations and limitations are clearly defined."

This last option, while deeply unsatisfying emotionally, seemed the most practically viable given my lack of alternatives.

"I'll be his Luna publicly, fulfill whatever duties that involves, but with no more illusions about love or genuine connection."

When Nathan finally returned, I had composed myself enough to present a calm exterior despite the emotional turmoil still raging beneath.

"I want to talk to you," I stated firmly. I deliberately positioned myself between him and the bathroom where he would typically retreat to shower. It was a strategic decision to force conversation before he could wash away the physical evidence of his activities.

His immediate response was telling. Rather than looking at me directly, his eyes darted to my stomach as he asked with evident concern, "Are you okay? Is everything okay with my baby?"

The emphasis on "my baby" rather than any concern for my wellbeing personally spoke volumes about his priorities. It reinforced my growing understanding that I represented little more than a convenient incubator for his heir.

The realization should have hurt more than it did. But the emotional numbness lingering from my earlier shock provided unexpected protection.

"Yes, everything is okay with your baby," I confirmed with deliberate emphasis that mirrored his own phrasing. "But not with me."

The distinction was intentional. I was separating myself from the child I carried, a way of acknowledging the reality that his concern extended only to his offspring rather than its mother.

Nathan's response to my confrontation revealed both arrogance and a surprising lack of shame about his behavior.

"What do you want?" he asked bluntly. His tone suggested impatience rather than guilt or even concern about what I might have discovered.

The casual dismissiveness in his question confirmed my decision to approach our relationship as a practical arrangement rather than an emotional connection. As though my feelings or concerns were merely inconvenient obstacles to be navigated rather than legitimate issues deserving respect.

"I want you to respect me and treat me like a wife," I stated directly. I saw no benefit in pretending ignorance about what I'd witnessed. "You can't go fuck her every night and come back and act like nothing happened."

The crude directness of my language seemed to momentarily surprise him. It was so different from my usual careful speech. Though his quick recovery suggested he'd anticipated eventual discovery of his activities.

"So you do know?" he confirmed with remarkable casualness. He was neither denying the accusation nor offering justification or apology for behavior that would be considered unacceptable by virtually any cultural standard.