Reclaiming My Broken Luna

Andros's POV

With a stoic expression on my face, I silently stood by the side, my keen eyes observing their interaction with my usual detached demeanor.

I watched as a beaming grin spread across the sewing manager's face as my father's discerning eyes swept over the elegant dress before him. The dress before us is a stunning creation, as expected from our team of talented seamstresses.

The dress has a bloody red hue, an arresting contrast against the pristine white walls of the chamber. Every intricate detail has been meticulously crafted by the skilled hands of our selected Pack seamstresses.

The delicate fabric was handpicked for comfort and design. Its lightweight and silky feel created a graceful fluidity that defied the limitations of textiles.

Delicate embroidery danced across the surface, the threads weaving an intricate tapestry that could only have been achieved through painstaking manual labor.

The delicate fabric and thread used also left the seamstresses with minimal error. The weight of the hand could ruin the whole dress and design, which could put all the expensive materials to waste.

Still, they were able to stitch intricate patterns of swirling vines and delicate flowers that looked so realistic they could almost pop out of the dress to life.

Even the smallest embellishments, such as the delicate beading that adorned the necklines and cuffs, had been carefully applied by hand.

Of course, everything in this dress had to be hand-stitched. A sewing machine could disrupt the delicateness of the fabric.

No wonder why the sewing manager couldn't hold back his beaming expression. He is very confident about their work. Maybe he's also expecting to receive praise from his father.

I glanced at my father, and he suddenly sighed after taking a good look at the dress. I was expecting to see a smile on his face and a proud look in his eyes, but instead, I saw a lack of satisfaction in him. The sewing manager's smile instantly disappeared. His eyes widened as he held his breath, waiting with bated anticipation for my father's verdict.

"I really like the dress," my father muttered as he held up a fabric.

The smile on the sewing manager's face is back again.

"However... I don't like the color. Everything is fine, but the color."

The sewing manager's face instantly paled when he heard the rest of what my father was thinking.

"B-but, Alpha," the sewing manager stammered. "We chose red to make Miss Astrid to stand out among the crowd just as you wanted."

My father let out a deep breath. I know he also feels bad for the dress and the work that our Pack seamstresses poured down for it, but he just didn't like it because it was red.

"I don't like red... any color will do except red," My father responded firmly.

The sewing manager's eyes widened; he looked like he was about to go crazy because of my father's unreasonable explanation.

"Alpha, please try to reconsider." The sewing manager instantly bowed his head. "Our team spent day and night to finish this dress in such a short time. Our team poured our heart and soul into this creation. Please see our dedication," he begged with half of his body lowered before my father.

"You still have another three days to finish your task. If you are able to finish such a design in a short time, I'm sure you can do it again," my father answered heartlessly.

I held back a smile that threatened to appear on my face when I heard my father's stubborn reply. Of course, there's no way he would go through with this dress.

The color red, after all, held a

เอนน

complicated and often ominous symbolism in the Pack. It was shade associated with passion, power, and the spilling of blood emotions and imagery that, while undeniably potent, also carried with

them a sense of danger and

unpredictability.

It was my idea to make the dress red. I never directly suggested the sewing department choose red, but I made it clear to them that they should choose a color that would make Astrid stand out from the crowd.

The color yellow or orange would have done that, but red will always be the best color for the job.

Out of all the Pack's departments, the sewing team had been the first to complete their assigned task. Hand-stitching a whole dress from scratch is not an easy task. Our skilled seamstresses had worked tirelessly both day and night, only for their work to be unappreciated.

"Sir Andros, please help us convince

your father. Altour seamstress poured their time and efforts on this dress. Everyone are now exhausted and some of us even fell sick from lack of sleep. I'm afraid that we won't be able to make another dress on time for the event." The sewing manager suddenly turned to me for help, which I hadn't expected at all.

I glanced at my father after the sewing manager placed me in a difficult situation.

Father locked gazes with me without saying anything as he waited for what I was going to do.

The sewing manager dared to ask me to defy my father in front of him. Just judging the look in my father's eyes, he was curious about how I was going to react.

Father has always been concerned with his people. In this situation, I know he would be more pleased if I tried to help the sewing manager out. However, I do not want to defy my father.

I'm afraid that if I try to reason out with him, my father would be convinced to change his mind and ruin my own plans.