Chapter 162 Unexpected Changes

Chapter 162 Unexpected Changes
Amelia's POV

I got off the bus at the stop nearest Alexander's estate, still about a quarter mile away. The evening air was cool against my skin as I walked the remaining distance, my thoughts racing ahead of me to the man waiting inside.

The security guards recognized me immediately as I approached the imposing iron gates, nodding respectfully as they swung them open. Though I'd been here several times before, something felt different tonight. Maybe it was the anticipation building in my chest, or maybe it was something else entirely.

I straightened my blouse and smoothed my hair as I approached the entrance. Something about crossing the threshold of Alexander's personal domain always made me hyper-aware of myself, no matter how many times I'd been here before.

The massive front door opened before I could knock, but instead of Maria's familiar grandmotherly smile, I was greeted by an unfamiliar face. A tall, rail-thin woman with platinum blonde hair pulled into a severe bun stood in the doorway, her face expertly made up but expression cold and appraising.

"Ms. Throne," she said, her voice carrying the crisp precision of someone who measured every word. "Head Alpha Westbrook informed us you would be arriving."

She stepped aside to let me enter, and I immediately noticed the chaos inside. Several female staff members were frantically polishing, dusting, and rearranging items throughout the foyer and visible living spaces.

"For goodness' sake, Charlotte, that vase costs more than you'll earn in five years. Handle it properly!" the woman snapped at a young maid who was dusting a crystal vase.

The girl flinched visibly. "Yes, Madam Shackle."

I glanced around, searching for Maria's comforting presence, but she was nowhere to be seen. The house felt different—colder somehow, despite the warmth of the evening.

"Where's Maria?" I asked, unable to mask my confusion.

The woman's lips thinned into what barely passed for a smile. "I am Iris Shackle, the new housekeeper. Maria has been... reassigned." The slight pause before the last word carried an undercurrent of satisfaction that made my skin crawl.

"I want everything perfect before Head Alpha returns," Iris continued, addressing the staff. "He works hard enough without coming home to mediocrity."

As the maids scurried around, something else caught my attention. Their uniforms were... different. Gone were the professional, modest black dresses with white aprons I'd seen before.

Instead, they wore skintight black dresses that barely covered their thighs, with plunging necklines and cinched waists that emphasized every curve.

One young maid bent to pick up a fallen dust cloth, and I had to look away as her uniform rode up dangerously high. The poor girl looked mortified, hastily pulling down the hem that refused to stay in place.

"Is something wrong, Ms. Throne?" Iris asked, noticing my stare.

"The uniforms..." I said before I could stop myself.

Iris raised a perfectly arched eyebrow. "Indeed. This is the proper attire for staff serving an Alpha of Mr. Westbrook's caliber. The previous standards were..." she paused, searching for the word, "outdated."

Something about her smug expression made me bristle. "I don't remember Alexander mentioning any uniform changes."

"Head Alpha has many concerns beyond household management details, Ms. Throne. That's precisely why I'm here." Her smile didn't reach her eyes. "May I offer you a refreshment while you wait? Head Alpha should return shortly."

Head Alpha this, Head Alpha that. The way she said his title dripped with reverence that felt performative. I'd bet my last dollar she called him something much more familiar when they were alone.

"No, thank you," I replied, trying to keep my voice neutral despite the unease settling in my stomach.

As Iris turned away to berate another maid, a disturbing thought crept into my mind. While I'd been buried in textbooks this past week, Alexander had been here... with these women dressed like they were auditioning for a role in some tasteless fantasy.

No. I shook my head slightly. Alexander wouldn't... This wasn't his doing. The Alexander I knew valued competence over appearance, power over seduction. These changes felt wrong, forced—like someone else's fantasy imposed on his home.

My mind flashed to Elaine's venomous glare at Pack House. The way her eyes had narrowed when Alexander placed his hand on my lower back. The unmistakable hatred whenever she looked my way.

Was this her doing? Some attempt to remind me that others could give Alexander what she thought I couldn't? Or maybe to tempt him away with these constant visual reminders of what else was available to him?

Determination surged through me. I wasn't about to let Elaine's machinations—if that's what this was—drive a wedge between Alexander and me. If she thought I'd be intimidated by a parade of scantily-clad maids, she didn't know me at all.

"Actually," I called out to Iris's retreating figure, "I'd like to see the kitchen."

Iris paused, turning slowly as if I'd suggested something scandalous. "The kitchen? Whatever for?"

"I'd like to prepare dinner for Alexander myself." The words came out more challenging than I'd intended, but I didn't back down.

Surprise flickered across her features before she recovered her composure. "That's... highly irregular. We have a professional chef on staff."

"I'm aware," I said, keeping my voice firm. "But I'd like to cook for him tonight. Personally."

After a moment of obvious internal debate, Iris nodded stiffly. "As you wish. Follow me."

The kitchen was a chef's dream—all gleaming stainless steel and marble, with top-of-the-line appliances and every tool imaginable. A middle-aged man in chef's whites looked up in surprise as we entered.

"Chef Bernard, Ms. Throne wishes to prepare Head Alpha's dinner herself," Iris announced, making it sound like I'd asked to rewire the electrical system.

Bernard's eyebrows shot up, but to my relief, his expression held more curiosity than offense. "Does she now? Can you cook, Ms. Throne?"

"I can," I replied, thinking of the years I'd spent in our small kitchen at home, preparing meals when Mom was too sick to stand. "But I wouldn't mind some guidance."

The chef's face softened, the first genuine smile I'd seen since arriving. "What did you have in mind?"

"Something simple but hearty. Comfort food, but elevated."

Bernard nodded approvingly. "Head Alpha appreciates honesty in his food as much as in his people. No pretension."

As we discussed menu options, I felt Iris hovering disapprovingly in the doorway. Finally, she left with a curt, "I'll inform Head Alpha of this... arrangement when he arrives."

Working alongside Bernard was surprisingly easy. He was knowledgeable but kind, guiding without controlling. As we prepared Alexander's favorites—a perfectly seared steak, roasted vegetables with herbs from the garden, and potatoes dauphinoise—I found myself relaxing for the first time since arriving.

"You have good instincts," Bernard commented as I added a splash of wine to the pan. "Where did you learn to cook?"

I smiled, thinking of our tiny kitchen at home. "My mom got sick when I was young. I had to step up."

"Necessity is the finest teacher," he nodded. "The Head Alpha will appreciate this. He values capability over pretense."

By seven o'clock, dinner was ready and keeping warm. Bernard had helped me plate everything beautifully, and I'd even managed a simple chocolate dessert I remembered Alexander mentioning he enjoyed.

I waited in the living room, stomach fluttering with nerves and anticipation. It had been a week since I'd seen Alexander in person—our connection maintained through late-night phone calls and text messages that never felt quite enough.

Every few minutes I smoothed my clothes or checked my reflection in the ornate mirror hanging on the wall. The house felt different tonight—less like Alexander's sanctuary and more like an elaborate stage set.

Those uniforms, the missing Maria, the coldly efficient Iris... something was off, and I couldn't shake the feeling that I was being tested.

Just as I was contemplating texting him, a ripple of tension ran through the house. The staff straightened, their movements becoming more precise, the atmosphere charging with anticipation.

A young maid appeared in the doorway, her expression both nervous and reverent.

"Head Alpha has returned," she announced.