Broken Bond: Claimed by My Ex-Husband's Alpha Billionaire Uncle-Chapter 62: Realistic Shot

Since the night had grown late, Charlotte ended up staying at the villa. The next morning, just as she was preparing to leave, Damon surprised her by introducing a female werewolf who would be her private bodyguard.

"Good morning, Luna!"

A cheerful voice made Charlotte turn her head. A young woman with short brunette hair beamed at her, her bright, open expression making it impossible to doubt her sincerity.

"Let me introduce myself! I’m Isolde, and from now on, I’ll be your bodyguard!"

She extended a hand toward Charlotte, her enthusiasm almost contagious.

Charlotte hesitated for a second before shaking her hand, a small smile tugging at her lips as her initial surprise faded. "Ah, yes. You can just call me Charlotte."

She was going to be around humans most of the time, so it was better if Isolde didn’t use any weird titles.

Isolde nodded eagerly. "Got it. No problem at all." She grinned. "I just hope I won’t disappoint you, Charlotte."

After their introductions, Isolde stepped outside to wait by the car while Charlotte lingered to speak with Damon.

"I didn’t expect you to assign a woman as my bodyguard," she admitted, tilting her head slightly.

"You don’t like that?" Damon asked, watching her carefully.

"No! I actually love it." A small, relieved laugh escaped her. "Honestly, I think I’d feel much more comfortable with a female bodyguard than a male one."

She didn’t know why she felt the need to explain herself, but the words spilled out anyway.

For some reason, she had always felt uneasy being alone with male werewolves—except for Damon or Louis.

Even though she logically knew most of them would never harm her, that lingering discomfort never truly faded. Maybe it was just an old wound, a scar left by years of being under Julian’s control—a werewolf who had done nothing but hurt her.

Since then, she had always felt safer and more at ease when surrounded by women.

"I also feel more at ease knowing you’re being guarded by a woman," Damon said, his voice laced with quiet satisfaction.

Charlotte let out a soft laugh, shaking her head. "You can’t just get jealous over every little thing," she teased, twirling her fingers. Then, in a softer voice, she murmured, "It’s not like I’d fall for just any man, anyway."

"Of course, you wouldn’t." Damon leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to the corner of her lips. "You already told me that you’re only going to fall for me."

She let out a soft giggle before gently taking his hand, but her expression soon turned serious. "Damon, I think today the director wants me to film my first domestic abuse scene."

Damon’s expression darkened the moment Charlotte mentioned it. "And you’ll be okay with that?" His voice was calm, he wasn’t trying to argue, just making sure.

Charlotte nodded. "I will." She hesitated before adding, "I know it might be a little uncomfortable, but it’s just a scene. I’ve prepared myself."

Damon watched her face carefully, his gaze searching for any hint of doubt. When he found none, he exhaled slowly and nodded. "Alright. Just remember, if at any point it gets too much, you don’t have to force yourself to finish it."

A small smile tugged at her lips. "I know."

He reached out, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "And if that actor even looks at you the wrong way—"

Charlotte laughed softly. "Damon."

He smiled, but there was still a glint of protectiveness in his eyes. "Fine. I’ll behave." He paused before adding, "Isolde will be with you, but if you need me—"

"I’ll call you," Charlotte finished for him.

Damon nodded, satisfied with her answer. "Good." He leaned in, pressing a lingering kiss to her forehead. "Do your best, but don’t push yourself too hard, okay?"

"I won’t," she promised, squeezing his hand once before stepping back.

Damon watched as she grabbed her things and headed out, an unreadable expression on his face. He trusted her strength, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t worry.

When Charlotte arrived at the shooting location, she introduced Isolde as her new assistant rather than her bodyguard. The last thing she wanted was to draw unnecessary attention or make anyone feel uneasy around them.

Isolde blended in seamlessly, offering a warm smile to the crew members who greeted her. She carried herself with ease, making it believable that she was just another assistant, not a bodyguard assigned to watch over Charlotte.

The director, Logan, approached with a clipboard in hand, looking pleased. "Charlotte, glad you’re here. We’ll start with the glass scene today. Are you feeling up to it?"

Charlotte forced a small smile, though the unease in her chest tightened. "Yeah, I’m ready."

The scene wouldn’t show Alan actually hitting Lena with the glass bottle, but the moment afterward—when he whispered over and over again that it was her fault. And somehow, that was just as chilling.

As the makeup artist worked, painting bruises and subtle cuts across her skin, Charlotte sat still, her fingers unconsciously curling into her lap.

The sensation of cold foundation pressing against her face sent a shiver down her spine, dragging her back to a memory she’d rather forget—Julian’s fists, the unbearable ache, the way her own reflection had once become a stranger to her.

A gentle nudge on her arm brought her back.

"Are you okay, Charlotte?" Isolde’s voice was soft but steady, grounding her in the present.

Noella and Mia had done an incredible job—the bruises and cuts on her face looked hauntingly realistic. But instead of feeling proud of their work, both of them seemed uneasy, their expressions tense as they observed her.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" Charlotte asked, forcing a small laugh in an attempt to lighten the mood. "I promise, I’m fine."

But even as the words left her lips, she could see the doubt in their eyes.

"Come on, don’t be like this." Charlotte nudged their hands playfully and joked, "People might actually think I just got beaten up for real if you keep looking at me with those sad faces."

Noella sighed, crossing her arms. "It’s just ... you look too real, Charlotte. It’s unsettling."

Mia nodded in agreement. "Yeah, even though we know it’s just makeup, it still feels wrong seeing you like this."

If they hadn’t known about Charlotte’s past, maybe they wouldn’t have reacted this way. But they did. And now, the weight of their concerned stares pressed down on her.

Charlotte let out a small chuckle, trying to lighten the mood. "That just means you two did an incredible job. It looks so real that even you’re unsettled."

Noella and Mia exchanged glances, clearly still unconvinced.

It wasn’t just them—the entire crew seemed to have fallen silent, their eyes flickering with unease every time they looked at her.

Charlotte sighed, rolling her shoulders as if shaking off the invisible tension. If only they knew how much worse it had been. If they had seen the real thing—seen what Julian had done to her—they wouldn’t just be uncomfortable. They’d be horrified.

The director clapped his hands, snapping everyone out of their silence. "Alright, everyone, let’s get into position. Charlotte, are you ready?"

She took a deep breath and nodded. "Yeah. Let’s do this."

The set was already arranged—a dimly lit living room with shards of fake glass scattered across the wooden floor. Charlotte—no, Lena—knelt among the shards, her fingers trembling as she reached for the pieces.

The camera rolled.

Alan’s cold voice echoed through the room. "You know why this happened, don’t you?"

Charlotte flinched on instinct, her breath hitching. She wasn’t looking at the actor playing Alan anymore—her mind flickered back to a memory she had buried long ago.

Julian.

Whispering cruel words in her ear, blaming her even as she bled.

Her fingers curled around a shard of fake glass, pressing too hard. A sharp sting brought her back to reality, and she realized she had actually cut herself.

Even though it wasn’t in the script, Charlotte immediately continued her lines before Logan could say, "Cut."

"I’m sorry ... I should’ve known better." Charlotte’s voice sounded trembling.

The words weren’t in the script, but they slipped out so naturally that even Alan’s actor stiffened. His throat bobbed slightly, as if suddenly unsure how to respond.

The set was eerily quiet. No one dared to move, let alone breathe.

"You should’ve," he murmured, his voice carrying the same sickly sweet venom as before. Then, he took a step back, as if dismissing her completely. "Clean it up."

Charlotte lowered her head, her fingers curling into fists before slowly reaching for the fake shards of glass. The weight of the scene pressed down on her, but she kept her movements controlled.

The camera zoomed in, capturing the slight tremble in her hands, the way her shoulders curled inward as if to make herself smaller. A single tear slipped down her cheek, but she didn’t wipe it away.

The script called for Lena to respond immediately. But Charlotte let the silence linger just a second longer, as if Lena was gathering the courage to speak.

"... Yes," she finally whispered.