Claimed by My Bestie's Alpha Daddy novel Chapter 82

The night of the council dinner, everything felt too glossy. Too staged.

Richard barely looked at me through the whole thing. He sat at the head of the table in his polished black suit, nodding through toasts and offering tight smiles when expected, but his eyes never lingered on mine. Not even once. I kept my own expression neutral, smiled when necessary, and drank exactly one glass of wine before switching to water. I tried not to let it bother me. Treally did.

When the last councilmember left and the plates had been cleared, I slipped out to the conservatory. I needed air. The glass dome shimmered with condensation, and the moonlight filtered in through vines that had grown out of control since the last event. The scent of earth and jasmine lingered in the warm, humid space, and for a second, I could almost pretend everything was fine.

I heard his footsteps before I saw him.

“You hiding from me?” Richard asked, his voice lower than usual, tired but warm.

“Maybe. You’ve been a ghost all night.”

” had to be. Too many eyes. Too many chances for someone to draw the wrong conclusion.”

I turned slowly, and he was there. Still in the jacket, but his tie was Loose, and the lines around his mouth looked deeper in the low light.

He crossed the space between us without hesitation.

“I didn’t like the way Adam talked to you yesterday,” he said, his voice sharp around the edges now.

“Neither did I.”

I blinked. “Wait, you heard that?”Richard nodded once, his expression unreadable. “Thin walls, Amelia And I’ve trained myself to listen when my name comes up, especially in your voice.”

Richard’s gaze darkened. “I really don’t trust him. We’re keeping tabs, but we need hard evidence before we make a move. If we act too soon, he’ll spin it into some kind of loyalty martyrdom and that’ll just make things worse.”

“I get it,” I said. “But what if the damage is already done?”

His eyes searched mine. “Then we repair it. Together.”

There was a pause. The kind of pause that sits between two people who want to say something real but are too afraid of what it might mean.

“You look beautiful tonight,” he said softly.

“Even after four hours in that chair?” I tried to joke, but it came out quieter than I meant it to.

“Especially after four hours in that chair.”

He stepped in and brushed a stray curl behind my ear. His fingers Lingered for a second longer than necessary, and I leaned into the touch before I could stop myself.

I leaned in just slightly. He met me there.

The kiss was slow, deliberate, a sharp contrast to the way things had been lately. His hand cradled my jaw, thumb stroking just beneath my cheekbone, and I stepped closer, my other hand curling into the lapel of his jacket. My breath hitched when he exhaled through his nose, like he’d been holding it the whole time.

“I missed this,” I murmured against his mouth.”So did I.”

We didn’t undress each other. Not here. Not yet. But his hands slipped beneath the hem of my blouse and settled on my waist, warm and steady, while we kissed.

When we finally pulled apart, he didn’t say anything right away. He just kept looking at me, like he was trying to memorize something.

“I don’t know what’s coming,” he said quietly. “But I want you next to me when it does.”

I nodded, throat tight.

“Then stop disappearing,” I whispered.

He kissed my forehead, and for once, he didn’t argue. He just stayed close, his breath warm against my hair.

And for just a moment, in the glass cocoon of the conservatory, it felt Like maybe we weren’t at war with the world.

He scowled. “I never, ”

“You wanted leverage. Instead, you gave me cause. Your clearance has been revoked. Nathan is overseeing your exit. You are no longer part of this campaign.”

He stepped back like he’d been slapped. “You’re making a mistake.

You’re going to regret this.”

“I don’t think I will.”

He hesitated for a moment, as if expecting me to change my mind, then turned and stormed out. The door shut hard behind him.

I waited a full minute before calling Nathan.

“Walk him out. Quietly. No public drama. Make sure his access is locked across every channel. Change door codes, reassign passkeys. I want him erased.””Yes, sir.”

I looked down at the open folder on my desk, the list of flagged timestamps Amelia had given me. All that quiet diligence she had done without being, asked, trying to prove to herself that she wasn’t paranoid. She’d been right.

He’d been circling her like a vulture. I’d seen it long before she had. I’d watched him at meetings, the way his eyes followed her, the way he twisted his words to sound helpful while undermining her credibility. It had made me sick.

I hadn’t done this for the council, or for optics, or even the campaign’s stability. I’d done this for her.

Amelia

They didn’t make an announcement. No alarms, no angry emails, not even a change to the schedule. Just a quiet flicker in the security log and a list of updated clearance codes that no longer included Adam’s name.

I noticed it first when I couldn’t assign him to a comms review. His name didn’t autofill. I tried again, slower, as if I had misspelled it, but the system treated him like he had never worked here.