The Fake Luna: Marked By The Alpha King

Chapter 265: Chapter 265 Had we met before?

Author’s POV

A flicker of satisfaction crossed Clara’s face.

She’d always known the Holts were opportunists. As long as she had power, they’d fall in line.

"Fine," Clara said curtly. "Follow me."

But when they reached the entrance, the security guards stopped them cold.

One of the guards checked their faces against a list, then looked up sharply. "You’re from Silver Creek Pack?"

"That’s right," Derek said quickly. "But I’m not with the pack directly—I work for Harborview Trust Bank."

"Doesn’t matter." The guard’s voice was flat and unyielding. "You’re all on the blacklist. Orders from the top. None of you are allowed inside. And anyone accompanying you is also barred entry. Leave now, or we’ll have you escorted out."

Clara’s face went pale with shock and embarrassment.

She forced a strained smile. "I’m sure there’s been a mistake. VIP guests are allowed to bring family members. They’re with me—I’m here representing Sentinel—"

"Orders are orders," the guard cut her off sharply. "No exceptions. Move along."

"This is ridiculous!" Sophia’s voice rose sharply, her wolf snarling inside her chest. "You’re banning us over some stupid argument? If you’re going to block us, why don’t you drag that bitch Aria Smith out here too!"

Sophia was too furious to notice the irony.

Clara felt her own wolf stir restlessly, her blood boiling. Who the hell did they think they were, throwing their weight around like this?

This had to be someone pulling strings. And if she had to guess, it was probably connected to that *other* Clara—the one Sophia had fought with outside.

But how could some nobody with a startup company possibly have this much influence?

Clara pulled out her phone, intending to call Julian and ask him to vouch for her. But she hesitated—she didn’t want him to know about her messy family drama.

She tried reasoning with the guards again, but it was useless. Within minutes, a dozen more security personnel arrived and began forcibly ushering them away from the entrance.

Rose had never been humiliated like this in her life. Her face flushed a deep, furious red, and her breathing became labored.

Margaret quickly pulled her aside, afraid the old woman might actually collapse.

Clara tried to salvage the situation by suggesting the Holts leave while she went in alone—but the guards refused to let even *her* through now.

"I’m a registered VIP guest!" Clara shouted, her voice shaking with barely suppressed rage.

"Everyone in there is a VIP," the guard shot back coldly. "You violated the venue’s code of conduct. If we let you in, how are we supposed to explain that to the others?"

No amount of arguing made a difference. Clara was physically escorted off the premises along with the rest of them.

Rose couldn’t bear the shame and left immediately with Margaret, her face still flushed with anger.

Sophia, meanwhile, could barely contain her glee at seeing Clara humiliated just as badly as she’d been.

"Well, Clara," Sophia said mockingly. "I thought you said you could get us in? Guess you’re not as useful as you thought. Hell, even that *other* Clara has more pull than you do."

"Shut. Up." Clara hissed, her eyes flashing gold for a brief second before she turned away and began furiously dialing Julian’s number.

Derek hesitated, still hoping the situation might turn around, but Sophia grabbed his arm and dragged him toward the parking lot.

"Let’s go," she snapped. "I’m not staying here to watch her embarrass herself even more. Unlike some people, I actually have standards."

Julian’s phone was on silent. He had no idea Clara was stranded outside, barred from entry and seething with humiliation.

---

Aria’s POV

I took a breath and stepped away from the microphone, relief flooding through me as the polite applause echoed through the ballroom. My opening speech was done. Simple, clean, professional—I’d touched on the major domestic enterprises and projects without overselling anything. The kind of pitch that opened doors without making promises I couldn’t keep.

As I made my way down from the podium, I caught sight of a tall man in thin-framed glasses watching me from across the room. His gaze was sharp, assessing—the kind of look I’d learned to read in boardrooms. Interest, but guarded.

I didn’t recognize him, but that wasn’t unusual. The werewolf business world was vast, and I was still the newcomer everyone was sizing up.

I knew what they were all thinking. I’d heard the whispers before I even walked into this venue.

*Vincent Smith’s illegitimate daughter. The one who grew up in foster care. No elite education, no pack grooming, no proper training. Just a human girl playing dress-up in a world she doesn’t understand.*

They were waiting for me to fail. Waiting for proof that Vincent had made a mistake leaving V&A Group to someone like me.

Let them wait.

I’d spent the last three weeks memorizing every file, every contract, every operational detail Damian could throw at me.

I’d delivered that entire speech without notes, switching between English and French mid-stream because half the investors in this room operated out of Europe.

If they wanted to dismiss me as some unprepared outsider, they’d have to work a lot harder than that.

I was just about to make my exit—networking done, obligations fulfilled—when a man in an expensive suit intercepted me near the VIP lounge entrance.

"Miss Smith." The voice belonged to someone I actually did recognize—Harrison Cole, one of the tech moguls who’d been copied on half my emails this month.

He smiled warmly and gestured to the man beside him. "I’d like to introduce you to Julian Cross. He’s the VP of Sentinel Energy.The Alpha of Shadowveil Pack.I believe I mentioned him in our last correspondence."

Julian Cross.

I’d done my homework. Sentinel Energy wasn’t just another corporation—it was a Crown-backed enterprise with direct ties to the Blackwood Pack and the Alpha King himself.

Julian’s father, Alpha Nathaniel Cross, ran the Shadowveil Pack, one of the most politically powerful packs in North America.

This was exactly the kind of connection I needed.

I extended my hand smoothly, letting a practiced smile settle on my lips. "Alpha Cross. It’s a pleasure. I’ve been hoping for an opportunity to discuss potential collaboration."

"You’re stealing my lines, Miss Smith," Julian said with a low laugh. His handshake was firm, confident. Behind the thin frames of his glasses, his dark eyes studied me with unsettling focus.

I pulled a business card from Rick’s hand and offered it to him with both hands, the way I’d learned from Damian. Respect the hierarchy. Show deference without submission.

Julian accepted it and handed me his own card in return, his gaze never leaving my face.

We exchanged a few pleasantries—standard corporate small talk—but then he tilted his head slightly, his brow furrowing.

"Miss Smith... have we met before?"

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