Clara’s POV
"What about fabric?" Sophia asked, holding up swatches of silk and satin. "The alpha mentioned formal, but what's your preference?"
I stared at the samples blankly. They all looked the same to me. Pretty pieces of cloth that would transform me into something I wasn't.
"Whatever you think is best," I said finally.
She nodded and made notes on her pad. "And for colors? I was thinking perhaps a deep blue to complement your eyes, or maybe a rich burgundy—"
"I don't care."
The words came out harsher than I intended, and Sophia's eyebrows lifted in surprise. I forced myself to soften my tone.
"I'm sorry. I'm just... tired. Pick whatever you think looks good."
She studied me for a moment, her expression maternal and concerned. "Are you alright, dear?"
No. I wasn't alright. I
