Broken Bond: Claimed by My Ex-Husband's Alpha Billionaire Uncle-Chapter 63: I Want To Know You Better

Alan’s actor turned on his heel and walked away.

Logan finally snapped out of his trance. "Cut!"

Everyone let out a sigh of relief. The crew exchanged glances, some of them visibly shaken.

Alan’s actor sighed, rolling his shoulders as if trying to shake off the character. "Shit," he muttered under his breath. "That was intense."

Charlotte blinked rapidly, grounding herself back into reality. She could still feel the scene clinging to her, but she forced a smile. "Did it look good?"

Logan stared at her for a moment, then scoffed lightly, running a hand down his face. "Good? Charlotte, that was incredible." He turned to the crew. "We’re keeping that take. No reshoots needed."

The praise washed over her, but she barely heard it. She clenched her fists, hiding the blood from the others.

She knew all too well that the tremble in her hands wasn’t just an act. The scene before her felt eerily familiar—too familiar. It reminded her of Julian.

He had done the same thing to her once. Smashed a wine bottle over her head. All because she had asked to visit her parents for Christmas.

That was all she wanted—to see her parents. But he had been furious, accusing her of looking for an excuse to leave him.

Now, as those memories surfaced, a dull ache settled in her chest. She missed her parents.

They had visited the Crimson Moon Manor every week, but their time together was always brief, stolen between their busy schedules. Charlotte was the same. Always rushing, always leaving.

Sometimes, she longed for just one full day with them. No interruptions, no time limits. Maybe Damon could be there too. But with everything that was happening now, she wasn’t sure she had the courage to ask him to take a day off.

Or ... should she try?

In two weeks, she would have two days off—an unexpected break granted by the director, who had taken into account the grueling intensity of her filming schedule.

Maybe she could visit her parents, step into the warmth of her childhood home, and relive the life she had before marrying Julian.

She wasn’t sure if Damon could come with her, but it wouldn’t hurt to ask.

As she made her way home after the shoot, her thoughts swirled with possible ways to bring it up—how to ask without making it sound like she was pressuring him.

"Charlotte, are you okay?"

Isolde’s voice snapped her out of her thoughts. She gently took Charlotte’s hand, inspecting the faint trace of a wound that had long since healed. "You need to be more careful during filming. The Alpha specifically told me to make sure you don’t get hurt."

Charlotte blinked, then let out a small smile. "Don’t worry, Damon won’t be mad at you. It was just an accident."

Damon wasn’t exactly angry that she had accidentally hurt her hand while filming—but his reaction was a bit ... excessive?

"Does it hurt?" His voice was soft, but there was an unmistakable tension in it as he inspected her palm with careful fingers. "Isolde told me what happened on set."

Charlotte had barely stepped foot inside the manor when Damon pulled her straight into his study room, ensuring they wouldn’t be interrupted.

"Damon, I’m fine," she reassured him, though she didn’t pull away. His warmth was oddly comforting. "It was just an accident. I gripped the fake glass too hard, that’s all."

Damon let out a harsh sigh, his grip on her hand tightening just slightly. "Was it because that scene reminded you of what happened before?" His gray eyes darkened. "I should have never encouraged you to take this role."

Charlotte frowned. "What? Damon, you told me I could inspire other women who’ve been through the same thing. You never pressured me, I was the one who insisted on doing this."

The concern in his eyes didn’t fade. If anything, it deepened.

She hesitated for a moment before finally admitting the truth.

"Alright... yes. That scene felt too real." Her voice lowered slightly as she told him everything—how Julian had hurt her, how his anger had spiraled into irrational abuse.

Damon’s jaw tensed, his hand curling into a fist at his side. He looked livid—but not at her. Never at her.

"That bastard." He groaned lowly. "If I ever find him, I swear I’ll break his damn face."

Julian had disappeared ever since his business collapsed. Clients and investors kept trying to reach the company, demanding answers, but with Julian long gone, the entire empire crumbled.

His employees left one by one, investors pulled out whatever scraps remained, and the once-thriving business was reduced to nothing but ruins.

To this day, no one knew where he had gone. Even his own mother—who had defended him to the bitter end—claimed to know nothing. At first, Charlotte had suspected Priscilla was lying to protect him, but Carmen had made sure she had no chance to cover for her son.

A part of Charlotte should have felt relieved that Julian was out of the picture. But another part of her knew that some ghosts never truly disappeared.

She couldn’t shake the worry that one day, Julian would suddenly reappear out of nowhere and do something reckless. Something cruel.

But she wasn’t alone anymore. Damon was here, and she knew, without a doubt, that he would never let her ex-husband lay a hand on her again.

"Damon." Charlotte gently took his hand, her fingers brushing through his as she tried to ease the tension. Her voice softened, taking on a sweeter tone. "I actually have two days off in two weeks."

Damon didn’t respond right away. He simply watched her, waiting for her to go on.

She hesitated for a moment, then finally said, "I ... I was thinking of going to Velmoria City to visit my parents. Would that be okay with you?"

"Of course, sweetheart." Damon’s voice softened, his thumb gently brushing over the back of her hand. "Like I’ve told you before, you can visit your parents anytime you want. But please, take Isolde with you, just to be safe."

Charlotte bit her lower lip, hesitating. Should she say it? Should she ask?

Oh, screw it. It’s just a question.

"A-Actually ... I was wondering ..." She took a deep breath, then glanced up at him. "Would you like to come with me? To Velmoria?"

Before he could respond, she rushed to add, "I mean, you don’t have to! I’m just asking. If you’re busy, that’s totally fine, really—"

"I’ll go with you."

Charlotte froze mid-ramble, her lips still parted as Damon’s words sank in.

"... Wait. Really?" she asked, blinking up at him as if she hadn’t heard him correctly.

Damon’s smile deepened, and he gave her hand a gentle squeeze. "Yes, really."

For a moment, she just stared at him, processing his answer. She had been so sure he’d be too busy or simply uninterested. But here he was, agreeing without hesitation.

"I’d like to meet your parents properly this time," he added, his voice softer now.

Her heart skipped a beat. "Properly?"

Damon let out a low chuckle. "Last time, I was too busy making a good impression to steal their beautiful daughter."

Charlotte’s face burned instantly. "Damon!" she scolded, smacking his arm, but he only laughed, clearly amused by her reaction.

Still, beneath her flustered embarrassment, warmth spread through her chest.

He wanted to go with her.

Not out of obligation. Not because she begged him.

But because he wanted to.

And somehow, that made all the difference.

"Besides, it would be nice to take a short vacation," Damon said, "And it’ll give me a chance to get to know you better."

Charlotte paused, caught off guard by his words. "You already know me," she pointed out, tilting her head.

He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a murmur. "I want to know the Charlotte, who lived in Velmoria. The Charlotte who grew up with her parents."

Not just the Charlotte who had just escaped from an abusive household.

Charlotte lowered her head. He was right. Damon knew nothing about the person she used to be.

Damon had only ever known the version of her that was piecing herself back together. The woman who carried the weight of a broken past, who had once been too afraid to speak up, too fragile to fight back.

The woman who had struggled with an eating disorder just to feel like she had control over something.

It wasn’t fair for him.

"Hey." Damon’s voice was gentle as he cupped her cheek, his thumb brushing lightly against her skin. He could see the sadness creeping into her eyes, the way her shoulders tensed as if she were bracing for something.

"Whatever it is you’re thinking right now ... that’s not what I meant," he murmured. "I just want to know you ... all of you."

Charlotte swallowed, her chest tightening at the sincerity in his voice.

All of her.

Not just the broken parts. Not just the pieces she had tried so hard to rebuild.

She let out a slow breath, forcing a small smile. "You might be disappointed," she said, trying to lighten the mood. "I wasn’t all that interesting back then."

"I highly doubt that." Damon leaned in, giving her a gentle kiss on her lips. "The Charlotte Dawson will always be interesting to me."