Chapter 55 An ignorant wife

Chapter 55 An ignorant wife
As Charles turned to adjust his cuffs, his eyes casually swept across the sea of spectators filtered near the back exit doors. Deep in the shadows of the doorway, a tall man in a long coat stood watching him. His features were partially hidden, but Charles recognized the cold, familiar jawline instantly, Maxwell Edwin.
Charles’s brow furrowed. He took two fast strides toward the exit, but by the time he cleared the reporters, Maxwell had completely vanished into the corridor shadows like a ghost.
By four in the afternoon, the sky above the city had turned an ominous grey. The moment Charles stepped out of the private rear exit of the Council Building toward his awaiting car, the clouds broke open. A sudden, violent torrential downpour slammed into the concrete, soaking the pavement in seconds.
Charles took three strides across the wet blacktop.
Then, without warning, a sharp, blinding agony stabbed straight through the center of his chest.
It wasn't a blow from an enemy. It felt as if his very core was being torn apart from the inside. His vision flickered violently, black spots swimming across his golden eyes. His knees buckled under the sudden, immense weight, his Alpha strength evaporating in a single second.
"Alpha!" Seraphina screamed, her sharp voice cutting through the heavy sound of the falling rain.
Charles slammed face-first onto the soaking asphalt, his body completely rigid before going entirely limp.
"Get the car up here now!" Godwin yelled from the doorway, panic cracking his usually flawless voice.
Seraphina and two heavy security guards hauled Charles’s massive, unconscious body off the wet ground and shoved him into the back seat of the SUV. The tires shrieked against the wet pavement as the car sped away, racing toward the high-security private pack clinic under full lockdown protocols.
Within an hour, every major news station across the territory was broadcasting the same breaking headline: "ALPHA CHARLES EDWIN COLLAPSES ON CAMPAIGN TRAIL RUSHED TO EMERGENCY CARE."
Inside the private VIP lounge of the pack clinic, Charles’s grandfather stood near the window, watching the rain strike the glass while a televised news broadcast played quietly in the corner.
The old man scoffed, taking a quiet sip of his bitter tea. "Look at him," he muttered with a subtle smirk. "Fainting in the middle of a storm just to make the voters weep for him. The dramatic fool... though I suppose I can't complain, considering the poll numbers are already spiking in his favor."
At the exact same moment, miles away inside her quiet office at the fashion house, Harriet sat at her desk staring at the glowing screen of her phone.
The news report was playing on repeat, showing clear, grainy footage of Charles falling face-down into the rain before being dragged into his car.
Harriet looked at the screen with cold, unblinking eyes. After everything he had done to her—after the secret contracts, the threats against her sister, and the terrifying way he had trapped her in his bed the night before she didn't feel a shred of panic.
She felt disgusted.
"A collapse?" she whispered to the empty room, her voice full of bitter disdain. "He really will do anything to get my attention, won't he?"
She clicked her phone screen off, plunging the room back into darkness. She ignored the five missed calls from Godwin and the frantic text messages from the pack estate asking if she was on her way to the hospital. She wasn't going to play his sick, manipulative games anymore. She wasn't going to run to his bedside like a tearful, obedient prize.
Harriet gathered her coat, packed her sketchbooks, and walked out of the fashion house. She stepped out into the pouring rain, flagged down a regular street cab by herself, and rode back to the massive, empty mansion, completely unaware that for the first time in his life, the Alpha was actually dying.