Bound To The Broken Alpha (Amy and Daniel) novel Chapter 38

**When Dawn Breaks Slowly Hope Finds Space To Grow by Jin Rowan Vale**

**Chapter 38: Crossing A Line**

**AMY**

The faint murmur of Daniel’s voice drifted into my consciousness once more, a whisper that felt both urgent and distant. “Now you see it… they’re moving faster than I thought.”

I straightened in my chair, glancing toward the office door, paranoia creeping in as if the walls themselves were eavesdropping.

“Daniel,” I murmured, my voice barely above a whisper, “what are they planning?”

Silence enveloped me in response, heavy and foreboding. I shut the folder with a decisive snap, locked my computer, and leaned back, feeling the weight of my wolf’s restless energy thrumming within me, pacing in anxious circles.

The following day, I had scarcely settled into my office when Mrs. Carter summoned me to her domain. Her voice, as calm as a still lake but laced with tension, cut through the air.

“I need you to attend the pre-fashion gala tonight,” she instructed, her eyes scanning a pile of event documents with practiced precision. “You’ll be attending as Daniel’s wife. The Carters must maintain their presence, particularly now.”

Her words hung in the air, thick with unspoken meaning. I understood perfectly; the family’s reputation was paramount, and with Daniel still locked in the depths of a coma, I was to stand in for him, a silent sentinel beside his name. I nodded in acknowledgment, my heart heavy with the weight of expectation.

“Yes, Mrs. Carter,” I replied, my voice steady despite the turmoil inside.

Finally, she lifted her gaze to meet mine. “You will represent us admirably, Mrs. Amy. The press will be present. Remember, how you present yourself tonight will be scrutinized. Do not give them any reason to gossip.”

Her warning echoed in my mind as I exited her office, a nagging reminder of the stakes at play.

Later, Sandra approached with a file in hand, detailing the gala’s schedule and security measures. I feigned interest as I flipped through the pages, but my thoughts were elsewhere. The very idea of dressing up and putting on a façade for the cameras felt suffocating, especially when the uncertainty of our situation loomed over me like a storm cloud. Yet, I had no other choice but to comply.

As evening descended, I found myself ready. The stylist had expertly fashioned my hair into a sleek bun, and the deep blue gown clung to my form, elegant yet understated—a perfect embodiment of the Carter family’s aesthetic. I stood before the mirror for what felt like an eternity, reminding myself to maintain composure, no matter how turbulent the night might become.

Upon arriving at the venue, I was nearly blinded by the barrage of flashing lights. Reporters clamored, their voices overlapping in a cacophony of questions, while photographers surged forward, eager to capture the moment. Security personnel guided me through the throng, and I offered polite smiles and waves, stepping into the grand ballroom with a sense of foreboding.

Inside, the venue sparkled with opulence. Chandeliers dangled from lofty ceilings, tables adorned in gold shimmered under the lights, and the air was thick with the scent of wealth and perfume. I focused on regulating my breathing, trying to remain calm amidst the chaos.

“Mrs. Amy Carter, a pleasure to see you,” greeted one of the board members, his voice oozing with practiced charm.

“Good evening,” I replied, my tone polite yet distant.

And then, as if the universe had conspired against me, Clara made her entrance, draped in a gown strikingly similar to mine. The same hue of blue, identical neckline, and a cascade of crystals that mirrored my own. My jaw clenched involuntarily as our eyes locked.

“What a coincidence,” she said, her voice dripping with false sweetness. “It seems we share a taste in fashion.”

I managed a tight smile in return. “Yes, quite the coincidence.”

The tension between us was palpable, a silent battle that needed no words to convey its weight. Mrs. Carter’s warning echoed in my mind, a constant reminder to keep my composure.

For the first hour, the attendees mingled, shaking hands and exchanging pleasantries, all while posing for photographs. Yet, my wolf remained agitated, pacing restlessly within me, sensing the undercurrents of hostility.

Then, from a nearby bar, I overheard two werewolves whispering, their voices low but distinct.

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify