Chapter 174

Almara’s Pov

The buzz regarding the fire and orphanage has not died down, despite the lawyer who smoked the cigarette took the blame for the entire situation.

Just the other day, we have received our 158(th) piece of hate mail. Hate-mail. The Hurricane Pack has only ever received fan mail. While I’m sure there are always some stray dogs who don’t know loyalty, at least they kept to themselves.

It seems people have already made up their minds and are sticking to the conspiracy theory that the Hurricane Pack exercised their privilege and believed themselves to be above the law.

Truth be told, the Hurricane Pack has always gotten special treatment the only difference is now people seem to think we went and sought it out rather than it being offered. Still, that’s no way to explain the situation.

Author and Roman have already made several public service announcements stating their innocence and offered millions to help rebuild the orphanage. This actually is quite a generous offer considering the stocks in the sports equipment has significantly plummeted.

Still, we all gather outside The Met Museum which is the city’s historical landmark not too far from city hall. Roman and Arthur are going to make another speech while Elenor and I stand as the attractive support by their sides. Together as a family unit, besides Grace.

We considered bringing her but the publicists said that given the nature of the speech, it’s possible people may not take kindly to seeing a baby when so many children are left without a home now. I was relieved at this suggestion. I want to keep Grace out of the limelight as much as possible.

Roman chose the museum because the building was partially founded by his great-grandfather, not that I expect any of the citizens to know that but who knows, maybe someone will and be reminded of all the good the Hurricane Pack has done.

We’re seated on the stage just behind the large wooden podium as the mayor makes his introduction. A large crowd has gathered at the base of the stage and extends for at least a mile. I try to avoid the eyes staring up at us. Some look angry, though most are covered by phones recording what’s going on.

I fidget with a loose string on my knee-length cream and black plaid skirt. I can’t help but imagine how I look on the other side of that camera. I remember seeing Arthur with Sofia clinging to his arm and feeling like we we’re living in two completely different worlds.

In some way, we definitely world and I’ve just managed to travel through space and end up on the same planet at Arthur which is great for me, but the problem is I know exactly how those left in the world that I was in are feeling. Disconnected, alienated.

I can feel their judgmental stares through the camera lens, they think that we live in a world thickly cushioned by money and prestige that nothing can hurt us, no matter how hard we fall. The truth is, they’re probably right. The scarier truth is, I don’t think they are this time.

Before I know it, everyone begins to rise and I drop the loose string and rise with what I hope comes off as humility and grace. Arthur puts his hand on the small of my back and we cross the stage, my cherry-red closed-toe heels clack against the wood.

Roman and Arthur stand shoulder to shoulder at the podium, Elenor and I keep a step behind them but stay at their sides. I can see further back into the crown now.

Usually, there’s blinding lights that prevent my vision from seeing so far back, but now that we’re outside everything and everyone is illuminated clearly. My palms begin to sweat, and I’m glad I don’t have to talk. I look at Arthur who’s used to these speeches, but even his back is rigid.

People clap, but it’s only out of habit. No love or adoration sounds through the crown that’s typically accompanied by a warm greeting. This time, even the claps sound hollow.

“Thank you every one for gathering today, and everyone watching from home.” Roman begins, his voice unwavering and strong as ever. “In light of the recent events, our family has been deeply pained.” As though on cue, Arthur hangs his head in shame. I follow suit and cast my eyes down.

“We are pained that a place viewed to be a home by many is no longer part of our city’s landscape. This is the kind of pain that drives action which is why we are donating and helping to restore the orphanage so that pups without parents will always have a home.”

The audio from the microphone sends feedback, a pitchy squeak amongst the otherwise silence. Roman clears his throat. “The other pain is the rumors that our family would have something to do with it in the first place.” At this point, Arthur raises his head and looks into the crowd.

“We want more than anything for your love and trust as the Alpha Pack. What good is the Alpha without the support of his dogs?” Arthur says, connecting with people on a personal level.

“Which is why we’ve decided to step out of the spotlight and spend more time in our community,” Roman says. Murmurs pass through the crowd, a shift in the energy.

Arthur and Roman continue making their speech just as the sky begins to darken. I hope they finish before the first rain falls, but something tells me that standing out here in the rain begging for forgiveness is something the publicist would want.

At least it’ll be the last public speech for a while. Roman decided that perhaps the best way to mend public relationships isn’t through mass publications, big speeches, or overly generous donations but instead to level with the lower packs.

It’s the first time that the Hurricane Pack is willingly stepping down from fame and laying low. Of course, we’ll still be living in a multi-million dollar house and the press will be knocking at the door but no more fancy clubs or celebrity dinners, talk shows, or red-carpet events. This, may not have happened anyway considering Arthur and I weren’t permitted in that A-list club anyways at least now this makes it look like our choice.

Just as the speech is being wrapped up, a fat raindrop plops onto my head. Instinctively, I want to feel the wet spot on my head, but I think better of it. I don’t want people to assume I was bored and fixing my hair.

Pretty quickly the rain starts come down in a shower. We’re being ushered off stage as reporters are shouting questions: “Is it true Grace was the only pup in the orphanage when the fire started?” and “Can you explain how you ended up getting Grace without yet going to court?”

We ignore these questions. There’s no good answer that people will accept. We’re ushered all the way to our cars. We were going to come in a limo, but thought perhaps that would look ironic given the speech that was just made.

Roman shouts over the stirring wind that he’ll see us back at the house and Arthur and I climb into a separate car. Once the door shuts, the drama of the weather and the social events completely ceases.

The smell of wet leather overpowers my scent and I want to roll down the window but decide to settle into the peace instead. Arthur puts a wet palm on my thigh. “Thanks for being there.” I tilt my head toward him.

“Of course,” I say. “We’re in this together.”