Alpha's Regret: Losing His True Mate-Chapter 165

Rex’s fingers tightened around his wine glass. The question had hit a nerve, and Jimmy knew it.

"Can we just not talk about her?" Rex said, his voice coming out sharper than intended. He forced himself to relax, to take a breath. "There’s nothing interesting there. Let’s order."

Jimmy shrugged, a small smile playing at the corner of his mouth. He’d gotten his answer, even if it wasn’t the one Rex had spoken aloud.

---

Wednesday morning came too fast. The conference room was freezing, the air conditioning blasting, smelling faintly of stale coffee and dry-erase markers. Elodie sat at the head of the table, flipping a pen between her fingers. The sound echoed in the quiet room.

Johnny was droning on about Q3 projections. Elodie was halfway through zoning out, thinking about how much she needed a latte, when the door opened.

Johnny’s secretary, a nervous girl named Beth, peeked her head in. "Mr. Gray? I’m so sorry to interrupt. Mr. Becker is here. He says it’s urgent."

The room went still. Johnny didn’t move for a second. His face went blank, that corporate mask slamming into place. But Elodie saw his hand stop moving over his tablet.

Harry, she thought. Well, shit. That was fast.

It had been two days since Johnny had basically hung up on the guy. And now here he was. No call, no email, just showing up at the office like he owned the building. It was a power move. A big, flashy, ‘I don’t need an appointment’ power move.

Johnny stood up, smoothing his tie. He looked calm, but Elodie could smell the shift in his scent, sharpened adrenaline under the cologne. "You continue with the meeting," he said, his voice even. "I’ll go take a look."

"Okay," Elodie said simply. She didn’t offer to come. She knew better. This was alpha business.

As soon as the door clicked shut behind him, the silence in the room changed. Everyone looked at her.

"So," the CFO started, leaning forward. "Becker Capital. In the flesh."

Elodie just shrugged, leaning back in her chair. "Let’s finish the budget. He’ll tell us if we need to know." But her mind was racing.

By the time Johnny got to the reception area, Harry was already sitting on the white leather sofa, looking like he’d been there for an hour. He was scrolling through his phone, completely at ease.

When he saw Johnny walk in alone, his eyes lifted. They were dark, assessing. A slow smile spread across his face, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He stood up, tall and imposing in a way that was practiced, not natural like Dante’s.

"I didn’t give notice before coming," Harry said smoothly. He extended a hand. "Please forgive me, Mr. Gray."

Johnny took the hand into a firm grip. "Mr. Becker," Johnny said, pulling his hand back. "You’re too polite. Walk with me."

He led Harry into the private reception room, the one with the view of the city. No windows here, just soundproof walls and expensive art.

Once they sat, Harry didn’t waste a breath. No small talk about the weather, no "how’s the family." He reached into his briefcase and slid a manila folder across the glass table. It landed with a heavy thud.

"This is my proposal for cooperation," Harry said. "Please. Take a look."

Johnny picked it up. The paper was thick. Expensive. He opened it.

His eyes scanned the first page. Then the second. The numbers jumped out at him. The equity split. The territory. The Bellini Pack’s involvement in logistics.

Shit, Johnny thought, his heart giving a hard thump against his ribs.

He kept reading. The more he read, the tighter his chest got. It was... good. It was really fucking good. Better than he’d expected. Better than he’d even dreamed up in his late-night sessions. Harry hadn’t just come to beg; he’d come with a weapon, and the weapon was a deal so sweet it tasted like poison.

Johnny forced himself to slow down. He reached the last page. He set the document down, aligning the corners perfectly with the edge of the table. He looked up.

Harry was watching him, that same calm, gracious smile on his face. Waiting.

"Mr. Becker," Johnny said, his voice carefully controlled. "You certainly have shown a lot of sincerity. However, I have other considerations. I’ll probably need some time before I can give you a reply."

Harry leaned back, spreading his hands. "That’s fine. It’s always good to compare different offers. If Mr. Gray has any concerns with the conditions I’ve provided, feel free to contact me anytime. I’m happy to discuss and adjust."

He stood up. Just like that. He didn’t push. He didn’t glare. He just... left.

Johnny had to walk him out. The guy had just dropped a nuclear bomb on his desk and walked out whistling.

When Johnny got back to the office, the meeting was over. The conference room was empty except for Elodie, who was packing her laptop into her bag.

She looked up as he came in. "Well?"

Johnny walked over to the window, staring out at the gray sky. He ran a hand through his hair, messing it up. He felt unmoored.

"Harry is quite efficient," Johnny said, the words tasting like ash.

Elodie stopped zipping her bag. "Define efficient."

Johnny turned around, leaning against the glass. "Just the other day, I shut him down over the phone. Today? He shows up. No warning." He gestured vaguely at his office, where the folder was sitting on his desk. "He had a full proposal. Not a pitch. A proposal. Didn’t waste a single word."

He looked at her, and for the first time all morning, he let the mask drop. He looked tired. And impressed.

"Honestly, Elodie," he said, his voice dropping. "The proposal he gave... I’m pretty tempted."

"You can wait and see," she said with her voice even. "If the numbers really hold up, working with him isn’t a bad idea."

Johnny leaned back in his chair, the leather groaning in protest. He knew she was right. Logically, it was a smart play. But logic didn’t stop the bitter taste in his mouth. Harry was a snake, and Dante’s friend on top of it. Wanting to tear the guy’s throat out for business reasons was one thing; wanting to do it because he was Dante’s friend was personal. And now, Elodie was taking that away from him too. It left him with this restless, buzzing frustration, like a fly trapped in a jar with no lid.

Five o’clock in the evening rolled around, painting the city outside in shades of bruised purple and orange. Elodie was still buried in work, the glow of the monitor reflecting in her tired eyes.

Her phone buzzed on the desk. A sharp, insistent rattle against the wood.

She glanced at the screen and saw it was Liora.

The name sat there, glowing, demanding attention. Elodie stared at it for three full seconds. Then, she turned her back to it, picking up her pen and clicking it open. She didn’t silence it. She just let it ring until the screen went dark.

Two days passed by. Forty-eight hours of silence.

Friday morning, the sun was barely up, just a gray sliver through the blinds. Elodie was standing at the kitchen island, cracking eggs into a bowl, when the phone started screaming again. This time Liora again.

She didn’t even look at the table. She whisked the eggs, the metal tines clinking against the ceramic, drowning out the sound. When it finally stopped, the silence in the apartment felt heavier.

Meanwhile miles away, in the quietness of Dante’s mansion, Liora stared at her phone like it had personally betrayed her. She looked like she wanted to throw it through the window.

She didn’t. She just lowered her head, her shoulders slumping. She picked at her pancakes, cutting them into tiny, miserable pieces.

"Dad," she mumbled, not looking up. "This is the fourth time. Since last Saturday, I’ve called Mom four times. She hasn’t picked up once."

Dante sat across from her, scrolling through financial reports on his tablet. He didn’t even blink. "Then just wait a bit longer."

Liora pushed the plate away. The syrup was making her sick. "What if she still doesn’t pick up?"

"Then just wait a bit longer," Dante repeated, his voice flat, devoid of any emotion. "After some time, she’ll answer."

Liora looked up, a tiny, desperate flicker of hope in her eyes. "How long is ’some time’?" 𝚏𝗿𝗲𝐞𝐰𝚎𝕓𝐧𝚘𝘃𝗲𝐥.𝐜𝚘𝕞

Dante finally paused. He looked at his daughter, really looked at her, with that cold, calculating gaze he reserved for board meetings. "Within two weeks."

The hope died instantly. "Two weeks? That’s... that’s forever!"

Dante took a sip of his black coffee. "Yes. It is a bit long."

Liora let out a sigh that sounded like it came from the bottom of her soul. She poked at a strawberry. "But I want to go out this weekend. Auntie Sienna still can’t walk right and can’t come with me. Dad, will you come instead?"

Dante actually considered it. "Dad has a lot to do on Saturday. But I’ll be free on Sunday. If you want to go out Saturday, you can go with Uncle Harry and Daisy."

"Okay," Liora whispered.

Anything. As long as she wasn’t stuck in this house with the ghosts.

Dante picked up his phone and dialed Harry. It was answered on the first ring.

"Take Liora for the day, Harry. Would you please?” Dante said.

"Sure," Harry’s voice came back.

______________

Saturday at Disneyland was an assault on the senses. Several noises. Colors. Screaming kids. The smell of popcorn and sugar hanging thick in the air.

Harry walked between the two girls, Daisy chattering a mile a minute about meeting Mickey. Liora trailed behind, her hands shoved deep into her hoodie pockets. She wasn’t looking at the castle. She wasn’t looking at the rides. She looked like she was walking through a graveyard.

Harry stopped at a cart and bought two giant ice cream cones, strawberry and vanilla. He handed one to Daisy, then knelt down and offered the other to Liora.

"Hey," he said softly. "Earth to Liora. You still with us?"

She took the cone, her fingers brushing his. She sat down on a nearby swing, not moving, just holding the melting treat. She licked it, once, a tiny, mechanical movement.

Harry sat on the swing next to her, watching the crowd. He looked at her profile, the shape of her jaw, the frown between her brows. It was uncanny. It was like looking at a smaller, sadder version of Elodie.

"You’re not having any fun today, are you?" he asked.

Liora didn’t look at him. She stared at her shoes, scuffing the woodchips on the ground. The noise of the park seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of them in a bubble of quiet misery.

"I miss Mom a little," she whispered. It was so quiet he almost didn’t hear it over the roar of a roller coaster. "Just a little."