The Cursed Alpha Prince's Replacement Bride-Chapter 13: Unhurried and Unbothered

{Third Person}

Two Days Later — Human Clan.

The Parliament Hall was tense.

The air carried the weight of urgency, sharpened by the contents of the letter that had just been read aloud to every member present.

The letter from the Werewolf King had been clear and direct.

The political bride—Amara Caldwell—had been detained on suspicion after an anonymous report alleged she was not the biological daughter of the Caldwell family.

The King had demanded immediate proof of her legitimacy to avoid... complications. To avoid war.

A low murmur spread through the chamber as the implications settled in.

At the centre of it all, Anthony Caldwell sat rigidly in his seat, restless and uncomfortable. But beneath that tension, there was relief.

The letter had revealed something important. Amara had not spoken. She had not exposed the truth.

Anthony’s jaw tightened slightly as that realization settled. At least the girl had enough sense to keep her mouth shut. Otherwise, the consequences... would not have ended with her alone.

"Minister Caldwell." The voice pulled him out of his thoughts, and all eyes turned toward him.

One of the senior members leaned forward slightly. "We need confirmation. The girl sent to the Werewolf Kingdom—Amara Caldwell—is indeed your biological daughter?"

Another voice followed. "This is not a matter for ambiguity. The stability of both kingdoms rests on this answer."

Anthony did not hesitate. "Yes," he said firmly. His tone was steady and convincing. "She is my daughter."

There was no fidgeting or pause. Just certainty.

The room held still for a moment longer before the tension eased slightly. A few members nodded among themselves, reassured.

"Good," one of them said. "Then there is no issue."

"Prepare all necessary documentation to prove her legitimacy," another added. "It must be sent to the Werewolf King immediately. We cannot afford delays."

Anthony inclined his head. "Of course."

The meeting moved on, but the weight of it lingered.

---

By the time Anthony returned to the Caldwell mansion, his steps were quick and purposeful.

He did not stop in the sitting room. He did not speak to anyone. He simply went straight to his master bedroom.

Once inside, he began searching—pulling open drawers, shifting items with growing urgency. Behind him, the door opened.

Matilda stepped in, her brows furrowed. "What are you looking for?"

Anthony didn’t stop. "The Werewolf King sent a letter," he said. "The Parliament received it this morning."

Matilda stilled. "A letter?"

"They have detained Amara," he continued, his tone tight. "An anonymous report claimed she is not our biological daughter."

Matilda’s face paled instantly. "What?!"

Her hand flew to her chest. "Then... then what happens to us? Are we—are we in danger?"

Anthony finally paused, glancing at her briefly. "As long as that girl isn’t foolish enough to seek her own death, we will be fine."

Matilda wasn’t reassured. "This could have been avoided," she said anxiously. "If we had just sent Lila instead—"

"Lower your voice." Anthony shot her a sharp look. "I will never send my precious daughter to those barbaric beasts."

His tone left no room for argument. Matilda fell silent.

Moments later, Anthony found what he had been searching for. An envelope. He pulled it out and opened it just enough to confirm its contents—the DNA report. The truth that Amara was not his child.

A flicker of something cold passed through his eyes. Then he turned to Matilda, holding it up slightly.

"This," he said, "will need to disappear." His voice hardened. "Along with every other record."

Then, he folded it back carefully. "From this moment on, it never existed."

Matilda nodded quickly, though worry still lingered in her expression. "But... who could have sent that letter?" she asked. "Who would know something like this aside us?"

Anthony’s expression darkened. "That," he said slowly, "is something I intend to find out." His grip tightened around the envelope.

"And when I do..." his voice dropped, cold and decisive, "they won’t live to regret it."

Right then, a soft knock sounded. Before either of them could respond, the door opened, and Lila walked in.

She was dressed for the evening in a short, stylish, eye-catching gown. Her makeup was flawless, her perfume lingering sweetly in the air as she stepped inside.

Her sharp, curious gaze moved between them as she stepped further into the room, her heels clicking softly against the floor.

"What’s wrong?" she asked, a faint frown forming on her face as she took in the tension in the air.

Matilda glanced at Anthony before finally speaking. "An anonymous letter was sent to the Werewolf Kingdom," she said, her voice tight. "Your sister... has been locked up."

Lila’s brows pulled together instantly. "What?"

"The King has demanded proof," Matilda continued. "Proof that Amara is truly a Caldwell. If we fail..." Her voice faltered slightly. "Our family could be destroyed. And the peace treaty as well."

For a moment, Lila looked genuinely taken aback, then her expression shifted. She scoffed.

"That loser," she snapped, irritation flashing across her face. "Whatever mess she gets herself into, why does it always have to involve us?"

Her lips curled slightly. "Why is she always dragging people down and expecting to be saved?"

"Lila," Matilda said sharply, lowering her voice at once. "Watch what you say."

Lila crossed her arms, clearly displeased, but said nothing more.

Matilda stepped closer, her tone turning serious. "Listen to me carefully. No one must ever find out that Amara is not your sister. If that truth gets out—if it reaches the wrong ears—this family is finished."

For a split second, Lila blinked. A flicker of something—guilt or discomfort—flashed through her eyes too quickly to fully catch. But there it was, then it vanished.

She straightened slightly and nodded. "I understand."

Anthony, who had been watching her quietly, finally spoke. "Where are you going?"

Lila’s mood shifted instantly. A smile spread across her lips, smooth and effortless. "I’m heading to a Prisca’s party," she said lightly. "With my boyfriend."

Matilda frowned faintly. "Be careful. And don’t stay out too late."

Lila stepped closer, leaning in to kiss her mother’s cheek, then her father’s. "If it gets too late," she said sweetly, "I will just stay over at Prisca’s."

She didn’t wait for further instructions. With a small wave, she turned and walked out of the room, closing the door behind her.

"Bye!"

The moment the door shut, the smile completely vanished. Her expression turned cold and calculating.

Her heels clicked against the marble floor as she walked down the hallway with a natural, confident sway—each step steady, unhurried and unbothered.

As if nothing had happened at all.