{Third Person}

The study fell into an uncomfortable silence once again.

But eventually, Alexander broke it.

"From what you’ve said so far, you noticed your reaction to cold long ago. Did the thought that you might be different from your family never cross your mind?"

The question caught Amara off guard. She simply stared at him for a moment before lowering her gaze.

"It did," she admitted after a brief hesitation. Her voice was quiet, but there was no point denying it now.

"There were times when I wondered about it." She paused, searching for the right words.

"When I was younger, winter was always harder for me than for everyone else. I would be sitting beside a fireplace, wrapped in a blanket, while everyone around me seemed perfectly comfortable with just a jacket. There were moments when I wondered why I was different."

A faint crease appeared between her brows. "But I never wanted to think too deeply about it."

Alexander continued watching her. "Why not?"

Amara looked away before admitting, "Because I was afraid."

The answer left her mouth before she could stop it.

She let out a small breath and continued. "I was afraid that if I looked too closely, I would find something I didn’t want to know."

Neither of them spoke for a few moments after that.

Then Amara added quietly, "As for what happened recently... the veins and arteries appearing like that have never happened before."

Her expression reflected genuine confusion. "I have never seen anything like it. Not even once."

Alexander’s face remained unreadable. He stared at her for so long that Amara began feeling increasingly uncomfortable beneath his gaze.

Finally, he repeated a previous question. "So, as it stands now, you truly do not know who your biological parents are?"

Amara shook her head. "No."

"And you do not know what you are?"

Again, she shook her head. "No."

The admission felt humiliating. How could she explain something she did not understand herself?

The silence that followed seemed endless.

Alexander leaned back slightly in his chair and remained lost in thought for several moments. When he finally spoke again, his tone was colder than before.

"You realize it would not be difficult for others to discover that something is wrong with you."

Amara slowly looked up. Alexander’s gaze remained fixed on her.

"People become sick during winter. They develop fevers. They cough. Their noses run. That is how the body normally reacts to prolonged exposure to cold."

He paused briefly before adding, "You do not suffer any of those symptoms. You simply feel cold."

His voice was calm and analytical.

"You become weaker than usual, but you do not develop any ordinary illness. Instead, strange markings begin appearing beneath your skin."

Without meaning to, Amara’s hand moved toward her covered arm.

Alexander noticed. "The more severe your condition becomes, the more obvious those markings will become. Eventually, someone will notice."

His eyes narrowed slightly. "You will not be able to hide it forever."

The statement settled heavily in the room.

Amara already knew he was right. Before this winter, she had always managed to appear normal. Now that certainty was gone.

After everything that had happened that morning, even she no longer believed she could continue hiding whatever was happening to her body.

The thought frightened her, but not as much as the man sitting across from her.

For several moments, she remained silent. Then, slowly, she lifted her head. She already knew her punishment was inevitable, and there was no reason to pretend otherwise.

"What do you plan to do with me?"

The moment the question left her mouth, the atmosphere in the room changed.

Alexander’s expression darkened immediately. Though he stared at her in silence, inside, irritation rose unexpectedly.

Of all the things he expected from her, this was not one of them.

Most people in her situation would be begging for mercy by now. They would be pleading for another chance, trying desperately to save themselves.

Instead, Amara had calmly asked what punishment awaited her.

Alexander found that strangely aggravating. A cold scoff escaped him. "You have more courage than I gave you credit for."

Amara’s heart skipped nervously, not understanding his statement. She didn’t think she had said anything wrong.

But his eyes remained fixed on her. "Do you understand the consequences of what you and your family have done?"

She swallowed but said nothing.

"The damage caused by this deception extends far beyond your own life, which you should already know by now." His voice remained controlled, but every word carried unmistakable weight.

"The moment the truth becomes public, relations between the Human Kingdom and the Werewolf Kingdom will suffer."

Amara felt her stomach tighten, but Alexander continued.

"Your family sent a false daughter into a political marriage." His expression hardened. "They deceived a foreign royal house."

The pressure in the room seemed to increase with every sentence.

"And you participated in that deception."

Amara opened her mouth instinctively. "I didn’t have a choice—"

"You did."

The interruption came immediately, firm and unyielding. The words struck her like a slap.

Alexander leaned forward slightly. "The day you arrived in this kingdom, you had a choice."

Amara’s fingers tightened around the fabric of her dress.

"You could have told me the truth." His gaze on her intensified. "You could have informed me that you were not a Caldwell."

Amara felt her heartbeat quicken.

Instead of continuing, Alexander allowed the silence to linger for a moment. When he finally spoke again, his voice had grown even colder.

"But you chose not to." Every word felt deliberate. "You can blame your father’s threats all you want, but that was not the only reason."

Amara lowered her eyes. Deep down, she already knew where this was heading.

"You wanted to survive." The statement landed with painful accuracy, but Alexander did not look away. "You chose silence because it protected you."

Amara could not deny it. Fear had influenced every decision she made after arriving in the Werewolf Kingdom.

Fear of exposure, fear of punishment, and fear of death.

Alexander continued. "If you had confessed the truth on your first day here and informed me that you were not a Caldwell, your life would have been spared."

The words drained the remaining colour from her face.

He had not openly threatened her or directly announced a punishment, yet she could not ignore what she was hearing.

He was speaking about mercy as something that belonged in the past. Something she could have received. Something she had lost.

And as she sat there listening to him, a terrifying thought slowly took root in her mind.

Perhaps Alexander was no longer discussing what could have happened. He was telling her exactly what would happen now.