Bound To The Broken Alpha (Amy and Daniel) novel Chapter 42

### When Dawn Breaks Slowly Hope Finds Space To Grow by Jin Rowan
**Chapter 42: Hate Is A Strong Word**

**MARK**

I was meant to harbor hatred towards her, to stand resolutely against everything she represented. Yet, as I watched her face plastered across every news outlet, a strange ache settled in my chest, one I was reluctant to acknowledge. My emotions were at war, tumultuous and confusing, and I couldn’t quite grasp the reason behind it.

The sound of Clara bustling around upstairs broke through my thoughts. She was likely still absorbed in the frenzy of the unfolding drama, relishing the chaos that surrounded Amy. I chose to remain where I was, grappling with the guilt that churned in my gut like a storm.

Perhaps Amy was right; perhaps I was merely masquerading as someone who felt sympathy. But deep down, a voice whispered that this wasn’t the case. Something about the entire situation felt fundamentally wrong.

With a heavy heart, I reopened several of the gossip articles, scrutinizing the images with a newfound intensity. The angles, the timing—they were too precise to be mere happenstance. Whoever had captured these moments had been stalking her for days, waiting patiently for the perfect opportunity. This was no amateur work; this was a calculated strike.

“Still thinking about her?” Clara’s voice drifted down from the stairs, laced with a hint of amusement.

I looked up, meeting her gaze. “I’m trying to understand what kind of person orchestrates something like this.”

A smirk danced on her lips. “Someone clever. Someone who knows how to win.”

I held her stare, unyielding. “You didn’t do this.”

She shrugged nonchalantly. “Why would I waste my time?”

“Because you hate her,” I replied, my voice barely above a whisper.

Her smile remained intact, unfazed. “Hate is a strong word. I prefer to think of it as ‘putting people in their place.’”

There was no point in arguing further; I turned off my phone, sliding it into my pocket with a sense of finality.

“Where are you heading?” Clara inquired, her curiosity piqued.

“To the office,” I replied, my mind already racing ahead. “There’s something I need to investigate.”

“About her?”

I hesitated at the door, my heart heavy. “About the truth.”

Just as I was about to step outside, a piercing scream shattered the stillness of the house. Clara’s voice echoed sharply, slicing through the air like a knife. I spun around, my heart racing, and saw her halfway down the stairs, one hand gripping the railing while the other pressed against her chest. Before I could react, she crumpled forward, collapsing onto the floor.

“Clara!” Panic surged through me as I rushed back to her side. She lay there, unresponsive, her eyes half-open but devoid of life. I knelt beside her, my fingers trembling as I checked for a pulse. It was faint, barely there, and her skin felt alarmingly cold. Her breaths were shallow, each one a struggle.

“Clara, can you hear me?” I called out, shaking her shoulder gently, desperation creeping into my voice. Nothing. My heart raced as I scooped her into my arms, adrenaline propelling me forward. I didn’t waste a second on calls or questions; I just drove straight to the hospital.

The drive felt interminable, every second stretching into eternity. I kept glancing at her in the passenger seat, her head lolling against the window, her face ghostly pale. I spoke to her, my voice a desperate plea to keep her awake. “Clara, stay with me. You’re going to be okay. We’re almost there.”

Upon reaching the hospital, I parked near the emergency entrance and rushed inside, Clara cradled in my arms. A nurse spotted me immediately and called for assistance. Two attendants hurried over with a stretcher, and I laid her down, my heart pounding in my chest.

“What happened?” one of them inquired, concern etched on their face.

“She just collapsed. One moment she was fine, then she screamed and fainted,” I explained, my voice trembling with urgency.

They whisked her away before I could utter another word, and I followed, but a nurse blocked my path at the double doors. “You’ll have to wait outside, sir.”

I nodded, stepping back as my hands began to shake. It struck me then that I hadn’t stopped moving since I picked her up, my body caught in a whirlwind of panic.

The waiting area was nearly desolate, the sterile scent of disinfectant filling the air, a familiar reminder of the hospital’s cold embrace. I sank into a chair, elbows resting on my knees, lost in thought. Clara’s health had been fragile for months, yet she always wore a mask of improvement, convincing everyone, including herself, that she was getting stronger.

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