#Chapter 63: Fracture Lines

Amelia The event was supposed to be a display of unity. The kind that costs a fortune to manufacture, chandeliers sparkling above crystal place settings, soft music fluttering like a pulse beneath polite conversation. This was the first gala held since Richard officially became one of two final candidates for Alpha King. It was meant to solidify donor support and sway neutral Packs. The room was packed with influential Alphas and their heirs, journalists from across the Kingdom, and council members whose smiles meant nothing. I wore a navy silk dress and my best impression of a person who wasn’t unraveling. Every inch of me had been styled to evoke strength and poise. Not a hair out of place. Not a single word off script. I hadn’t been inside ten minutes before Elsa found me. "Still no title? No last name? I suppose not all orphans get that luxury," she said, voice light and coated in sugar. It was too perfectly pitched for a room full of predators. She smiled like we were old