#Chapter 125 The Campaign

By the look on Andrew’s face at dinner, I knew that his meeting had not gone well. At first, he hardly talked, focused more on his food than on me. It made me worry about what was on his mind. I kept stealing glances his way as I ate, trying to will him to look at me, but he would not take his eyes off of his fillet. The silence was killing me, and soon my stomach hurt too much from the anxiety for me to eat. I swallowed my mouthful and set my knife and fork aside. “How was the meeting?” I finally dared to ask. Andrew froze, his knife and fork stuck in his steak. He raised his eyes to me for the first time that entire meal. “Not well,” he admitted. “What happened?” I asked, emboldened by the fact that he had given me any answer at all. He sighed and set his utensils down. “My advisors and the Werewolf Council ambushed me. They told me that you’re a liability to my position and demanded that I break up with you.”