Alpha Dom and His Human Surrogate by Caroline Above Story

Accidental Surrogate for Alpha by Caroline Above Story Chapter 116

Chapter 116 – Reeling

Ella

Hugo, Sinclair and I are all staring at the television with wide eyes and slack jaws, unable to process the images flitting across the screen. It seems like every time we manage to take a few steps forward, Lydia and the Prince find a way to send us reeling back – and this is no exception.

“This doesn’t make any sense.” Hugo expresses, obviously overwhelmed. “Why would he risk losing the pack’s sympathy by parading around another woman so soon after his wife’s death?”

“Trust me, Hugo – Damon isn’t the one calling the shots here. This is all Lydia.” Sinclair states gruffly. “She’s going to force her way onto the throne one way or another. Right now she’s playing the doting friend, but mark my words, by the time the election ends she’ll be in his bed.”

“How bad is this?’ I ask, looking up at Sinclair’s handsome face, “Does she have information that could hurt you?”

Sinclair squeezes my shoulders, “She knows some secrets.” He relates, “but luckily nothing I could imagine as a smoking gun. In fact most of what she knows would be more harmful to the Prince – things like my father’s attack. Things the public believes were accidents but our private investigators proved malicious.” His mouth flattens into a hard line. “The real danger is that she knows how we think, how we operate. Not to mention that the Prince doesn’t have more than two brain cells to rub together, but Lydia has plenty.”

“So what do we do?” I ask anxiously, my head replaying the news reel over and over again. “My bed rest isn’t common knowledge, and they’re making it sound like my absence from the public eye is suspicious. Do we tell everyone about my condition? Or do we make an appearance?”

“I’m afraid making an appearance might play right into their hands. This could be some sort of attempt to lure us out of hiding.” Hugo advises, looking very grim indeed.

close – a fact which comes as quite a surprise, since my hearing has never been so sharp before. Wheels roll over the door jam, and then Henry’s voice floats up toward

we stayed in bed so long. Sinclair’s father has been coming over almost every day since we agreed to be

I might be a wolf, but my human modesty is too deeply ingrained to allow me to strut around nude the way Sinclair does – and I’m definitely not changing in front of Hugo. When I emerge, Sinclair is also dressed, though much more formally than

and more every day, but it isn’t enough to free me of bed rest yet. We all gather around the breakfast table, the men analyzing these recent developments in low, serious voices, and

They’ve been going around in circles for more than half an hour, debating

to ignore the flash of emotion in Sinclair’s eye as he observes the nervous habit. Releasing my swollen lip, I sigh, “Do we ever know what happened with Lydia’s husband? I mean the Princess is dead, but Lydia’s

trying to understand their motivations, we can simply leave it at knowing they’re corrupt and respond without playing into their hands. After all, they’ll be expecting some sort of countermove to challenge the media’s narrative, but we

them busy and distract the pack by rustling up her husband and causing

drawn with worry. “I still don’t like it. I think it’s the best hope we have, but something about this entire

“You don’t need to convene a blue-ribbon committee to tell

feel like I’m missing something.” Sinclair replies drying. “There’s something bothering me and I just can’t put my

you’ve been saying from the beginning that Princess Angeline’s death felt off –

but one the Prince is too unimaginative to have

shut, closing his hand into a fist

know who isn’t too unimaginative?” Sinclair growls, scanning our concerned

Damon might have seen his mate as little more than a trophy, he’s not the type to impulsively destroy one of his prized possessions. But Lydia wouldn’t have any reservations about getting the Princess out

you saying what I think you are?” I gape, both certain I’ve understood

other explanation do we have?” Sinclair inquires, rising to his feet and pacing back and forth behind the dining table. “If the Prince had lost his temper and beat her to death, I wouldn’t question it. And if there was some sort of violent attack, you could make the case for rogues or vengeance for some slight committed by Damon. But poison? That’s a woman’s

and spun the details in a way that benefitted the

on the golden opportunity to lay blame and cast aspersions? Why haven’t the Prince and his son been parading their grief around Moon Valley for all to see?” He gesticulates, getting more and more enthused