Bound To The Broken Alpha (Amy and Daniel) novel Chapter 50

**When Dawn Breaks Slowly Hope Finds Space To Grow by Jin Rowan**
**Chapter 50: She Is Doing It Well**

**MARK**

A sense of finality washed over me.

The Carter Foundation Charity Gala had at long last commenced. The expansive hall was a dazzling spectacle of lights, music, and an array of elegantly dressed guests, as if they had all just stepped off the glossy pages of a high-fashion magazine. Waiters glided through the crowd, expertly balancing trays laden with flutes of champagne, while the air buzzed with a symphony of hushed conversations and laughter. Everything appeared flawless, and for a fleeting moment, I found myself genuinely impressed.

At the heart of the stage stood Amy, her presence commanding as she spoke into the microphone. Her voice resonated through the hall, wrapping around the audience like a warm embrace, effortlessly capturing the attention of everyone present.

“Tonight,” she began, her tone imbued with sincerity, “is not merely a celebration of charity. It’s a testament to our responsibility towards one another, a celebration of community, and a reminder that our true strength lies in how we uplift each other.”

A gentle wave of applause rippled through the audience. I found myself unable to tear my gaze away from her. Clad in a stunning deep emerald gown that shimmered with every graceful movement, she radiated confidence. Her hair was perfectly styled, her posture exuding poise, and the way she spoke was captivating. I had known Amy for years, yet this moment revealed a side of her I had never witnessed before.

In that instant, she didn’t resemble someone recovering from a scandal; she embodied a woman in complete control of her narrative. It became clear that she didn’t require my assistance after all.

A smile crept onto my face before I even recognized it. A few seats away, Elias stood with an impassive expression, but even he couldn’t mask the undeniable fact that Amy had seized the evening. Mrs. Carter, observing from the front row, wore an inscrutable expression, yet I sensed her satisfaction with the event’s unfolding.

Amy continued, her voice unwavering, “This foundation stands for hope. And as long as we persist in giving, we are constructing something far greater than ourselves.”

The applause that followed was enthusiastic, and I joined in, though a part of me wasn’t clapping solely for the eloquence of her speech. I was celebrating her. Deep within, an unwelcome thought began to take shape—a wish that she was mine.

It felt foolish, perhaps even selfish, but witnessing her like this ignited memories of how she used to speak, how effortlessly she commanded attention, and how much I had adored that aspect of her.

I glanced down momentarily, pretending to adjust my cufflinks, grappling with the frustration of my own thoughts. Clara was present tonight as well, meant to be the star model of the evening, the face of the campaign, yet all my focus remained on Amy.

After thanking the sponsors, Amy turned her gaze towards the front row, her smile brightening the room before she gracefully stepped off the stage. The crowd erupted into animated chatter, drinks clinking together, conversations reigniting like sparks in the night.

It was then that Clara appeared beside me. She looked stunning, as always, but there was an undeniable fragility about her. Despite the expertly applied makeup, her skin appeared pale, and her hands trembled slightly as she adjusted the strap of her gown. I had urged her not to participate in this event, but her inner resentment towards Amy refused to allow her any peace.

“You’re awfully quiet,” she remarked, her tone edged with suspicion.

“I’m just listening,” I replied, striving to keep my voice even.

“Listening?” she echoed, a dry laugh escaping her lips. “You mean staring. You’ve been fixated on her since she took the stage.”

I cast a brief glance in her direction. “She’s delivering the welcome speech. Everyone is watching her.”

“Not like you are,” Clara retorted. “You haven’t looked away even once.”

“I was paying attention,” I insisted, maintaining my calm demeanor. “She’s the host of the event. She’s literally guiding the proceedings.”

“She’s always leading something when you’re around,” she muttered, her bitterness palpable. “You think I don’t notice?”

“Clara,” I said quietly, “let’s not start this here.”

“I’m just asking,” she replied, her expression taut. “Are you proud of her or just obsessed again?”

Her tone irked me, but I hesitated before responding. The reality was a tangled mix of emotions. I was proud—genuinely proud. I had never seen Amy handle herself with such grace. Not even during our time together. She stood tall, unflinching, effortlessly owning the room.

“I’m proud,” I finally affirmed. “That’s all there is to it.”

Clara tilted her head slightly, skepticism etched across her features. “Proud? Of her? After everything that’s happened?”

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