Broken Bond: Claimed by My Ex-Husband's Alpha Billionaire Uncle-Chapter 79: First Session of Healing (1)

Charlotte had been on edge all weekend.

She kept pacing around her bedroom, glancing at the clock every few minutes, waiting for Damon to get back from his quick stop at the office. He was supposed to take her to her therapy session, and the closer the time got, the more restless she became.

For a brief moment, she thought about canceling. Maybe today wasn’t the right time. Maybe she wasn’t ready.

But then she remembered how much effort Damon had put into finding the right therapist for her, how he had personally made the call and arranged everything. The last thing she wanted was to let him down.

When she heard the familiar sound of his car pulling into the driveway, Charlotte bit her thumb anxiously. Her heart raced as she bounced on her feet a few times before grabbing her bag and hurrying out of her room.

"Charlotte, where are you off to in such a hurry?" Diana’s puzzled voice called out as Charlotte sped past her.

She hesitated for half a second, debating whether to tell the truth. But she didn’t want anyone looking at her with pity, didn’t want to deal with soft voices and overly concerned glances.

"I’m going on a date with Damon," she blurted out. The words tumbled out too fast, her mouth moving before her brain could catch up.

Oh well.

It didn’t matter.

She had bigger things to worry about, like her very first therapy session and the tight knot of nerves in her stomach.

Just as she reached the front door, Damon stepped inside. He barely had a chance to react before Charlotte nearly barreled into him.

"Sweetheart," he said, steadying her with a firm grip. His brows furrowed in concern. "Why are you running?"

"Let’s go," she said quickly, grabbing his hand and pulling him toward the car. "I don’t want to be late."

Damon glanced at his watch. "Your appointment isn’t for another two hours."

Charlotte huffed, not missing a beat. "So what? There’s no harm in getting there early. What if there’s traffic? What if we can’t find parking? Better safe than sorry, right?"

The truth was, if Charlotte didn’t force herself out of the house right this second, she wasn’t sure she’d go at all. The anxiety clawing at her chest was so overwhelming that it made her limbs feel heavy, her mind sluggish, like she was wading through quicksand.

Was it normal to feel this nervous?

All she had to do was talk. That was it.

So why did it feel like she was walking to her own execution? It wasn’t like she was about to be interrogated for a crime she didn’t commit.

"Alright, take a deep breath." Damon’s warm hand wrapped around hers, slowing her steps. "I don’t want you tripping and falling before we even get there." He opened the car door for her with an easy smile. "How about some ice cream to calm your nerves?"

Charlotte shot him a flat look. "Damon, I’m not five."

He just chuckled as she slid into the car. They had chosen to go alone, without a chauffeur, because as much as Charlotte hated to admit it, she felt safer when it was just the two of them.

She sighed, rubbing her hands over her thighs. "But ... maybe some gum wouldn’t hurt."

"Alright. Let’s grab a pack of gum first," Damon said before smoothly pulling the car out of the driveway.

To Charlotte’s relief, the traffic wasn’t as bad as she had feared, and they even managed to find a parking spot without much trouble.

Still, her nerves refused to settle. By the time they reached the clinic, she found herself anxiously fidgeting in her seat as they waited.

Many supernatural beings came and went—some looked completely normal, while others unmistakably belonged in a psychiatrist’s office.

"She’s an old friend of mine from high school," Damon said, trying to ease her nerves. "She’s been running this clinic for seven years now. Helped a lot of supernatural beings deal with their emotions and trauma."

Charlotte sighed slowly. She knew supernatural trauma tended to be far worse than anything humans could comprehend. Their world was crueler, their battles bloodier. That was why seeing a human therapist had never been an option.

Supernatural beings needed someone who truly understood them. But finding a therapist was difficult, especially when most of them spent their lives hiding their weaknesses. In a world where only the strong survived, showing vulnerability felt like an invitation to be devoured.

Fortunately, times were changing. More and more of them had started to accept that seeking help didn’t make them weak. If anything, it made them stronger.

"What’s her name again?" Charlotte asked, for what felt like the fourth time.

Damon chuckled. "Emilia Delaney. You can call her Emi." He glanced at her with a reassuring smile. "She’s a plant fairy. Loves helping people grow, just like she does with her plants. Trust me, she’s the best therapist you could ask for."

When Charlotte’s name was finally called, her stomach twisted into knots. She let out a slow breath and stood up, only to feel Damon’s fingers brush against hers.

"You got this," he murmured. His voice was warm, like he had no doubt she’d be okay.

Charlotte gave him a half-smile, more for his sake than hers, then followed the receptionist down the hall.

The clinic smelled like lavender and something fresh—earthy, maybe like the scent of soil after rain. It was strangely comforting, though it did little to ease her nerves.

Emilia Delaney’s office was nothing like the cold, sterile space Charlotte had imagined.

Soft lighting bathed the room in a warm glow, and bookshelves lined the walls, not just filled with books but overflowing with potted plants, as if they, too, had come here to heal.

Behind a wooden desk sat a woman with wavy green-tinted hair, her smile was warm and welcoming. She looked up from a notebook and met Charlotte’s gaze with kind eyes. "Charlotte, right?"

Charlotte nodded, shifting awkwardly on her feet. "Uh, yeah. Hi."