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76. Alastair

Alastair

The moment I stumbled upon a servant giving away one of my favorite attires, I knew something was amiss. To catch the culprits red-handed, I decided to enter the closet from the secret door in my bedroom – a door only I could open. Little did I expect to find Chelsea there, of all people. My blood simmered as I witnessed the sight before me – she had torn apart the clothes I intended to wear for tomorrow's event. And to add insult to injury, she had the audacity to distribute my favorite garments.

Chelsea stood there, frozen, as I Chelsea stood there, frozen like a deer caught in headlights, as I raised a sly brow, waiting for an explanation. She swallowed hard, her gaze darting around the room as my eyes slowly swept over the closets, then the ruined fabrics, and finally landed on her face. There was a frantic rhythm to her heartbeat, audible to me in the charged silence that hung in the air.

“Cutting the shoelaces would be enough to ruin it,” I remarked, taking a step closer
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