#Chapter 222: The Performance

Alexander’s POV “Are you okay?” Margaret, Brian, and Richard crowded around me, their faces etched with concern. My little performance had been more convincing than I expected. A lot more convincing. The onlookers around us were now surrounding the table. A few even pulled out their phones to capture my moment of weakness—the great Alpha King, reduced to a quivering, coughing puddle on the floor. But what they didn’t know was that the “blood” that spurted out of my closed fist was actually a small capsule of red food coloring and corn syrup. Maybe I was actually dying, but not at the present moment. Just moments prior, I had spotted Anya and Ella slip away under the guise of fixing Anya’s dress. Everything seemed to be going according to plan; I just needed to keep Ella’s family occupied for a few more minutes. “Alexander? Are you alright?” Richard repeated, placing his hand on my elbow. I nodded, still sputtering, and let him help me to my feet. I