Alpha's Regret: Losing His True Mate-Chapter 163

Elodie didn’t even look at the phone.

It buzzed against the mahogany desk, a frantic, vibrating little scream that tried to derail her train of thought. It was Dante. The name flashed on the screen, illuminating the dusty sunbeams cutting through the Miller house library.

But instead she stared at the laptop screen instead.

The buzzing stopped. Then started again.

And it was Liora this time.

Elodie’s finger hovered over the trackpad. The old instinct kicked in, to answer, answer, answer, she might be hurt, she might need you’ but she crushed it down like a cigarette under a heel. She took a sip of cold coffee, let the bitterness settle on her tongue, and kept typing.

---

"Dad!"

Dante paused, one arm halfway into the sleeve of his suit jacket. Liora was standing in the doorway of his walk-in closet, her phone held out like a weapon. 𝙛𝓻𝒆𝓮𝒘𝙚𝙗𝒏𝙤𝙫𝓮𝒍.𝓬𝒐𝙢

"Mom still isn’t picking up. Can you call her? Please?"

Dante looked at his daughter. She looked... unmoored. Her hair was half-brushed, her favorite ski jacket bundled in her arms, but her face was crumpled with a confusion he hadn’t seen in years.

"Alright." He pulled his phone out, dialed Elodie’s number, and put it on speaker.

It rang once. Twice.

Then, silence.

‘User busy.’

Dante stared at the screen. He hadn’t been declined. He hadn’t been sent to voicemail. She had hung up on him.

"Well?" Liora pressed, bouncing on her heels. "Is she on her way?"

Dante killed the screen, his face a mask of calm he didn’t feel. "She didn’t pick up for me either."

Liora’s face fell. "That’s... impossible. Mom always picks up for you. Even when she’s mad. Even when she’s in the bathroom. She always—" She cut herself off, looking down at her boots. "Maybe she was busy? Like, really busy? And didn’t see it was you?"

"Maybe," he said, because the truth was too sharp to say out loud.

He grabbed his coat in his hands. "I have to go. Hospital first, then the office. If you want to ski, tell the bodyguard to take you."

"But I want Mom," Liora whined, the pout back in full force. "It’s not fun with just the bodyguard. He just stands there and looks scary."

Dante walked over, resisting the urge to check his own phone again. He tapped her forehead, a gesture that felt automatic, rehearsed. "Go have fun, Liora. I’ll see you tonight."

He left before she could argue.

Liora tried two more times in the car. Nothing. By the time she got to the slopes, the snow looked grey, the wind felt mean, and the whole day felt like a waste. She was home by two, throwing her jacket on the floor and slamming her bedroom door.

————————

The Bellini Group office was cold. Dante had just poured two scotches when Levi wandered in, looking like a cat who’d found the cream and wasn’t going to share.

"Heard there was a circus in town," Levi said, flopping into the leather chair opposite the desk. "Thought I’d buy a ticket."

Dante slid a glass toward him. "You’re an asshole."

"And you’re a man whose wife isn’t answering his calls. So, who’s really winning?"

Before Dante could tell him to get out, the intercom buzzed. "Sir? Mr. Blake is here."

"Send him up."

Paul Blake didn’t look like a man bringing the end of the world. He looked like a guy who’d had a good lunch. He shook Dante’s hand, nodded at Levi, and sat down.

No small talk.

He opened his briefcase and slid a single sheet of paper across the desk.

The divorce agreement.

Dante picked it up. His eyes went straight to the bottom.

Elodie Miller.

The signature was clean. No smudges. No shaky lines. The ’E’ had that little loop she always did, the one he used to tease her about. It looked exactly like her grocery lists.

"She signed it," Levi said, leaning over the arm of the chair to look. "Holy shit. She actually signed it."

Dante didn’t say anything. He just stared at the ink.

"The asset division is fair," Paul said, his voice cutting through the silence. "My client isn’t interested in bleeding you dry. She just wants out."

‘Out.’ The word echoed in Dante’s head.

He forced himself to look up, to meet Paul’s eyes. "The property transfers and share liquidations... it’s a lot. I’ll need my finance team to go over it. It’ll take time."

"Take your time," Paul said, standing up. He didn’t look fooled. "But Elodie wants this done. Don’t drag it out."

"Chad," Dante called out, his voice sounding distant to his own ears. "See Mr. Blake out."

When the door clicked shut, the silence rushed back in, heavier than before.

Levi picked up the scotch Dante had poured him, swirling it and then proceeded to say nothing.

Paul the moment he was down, he called Elodie from the car.

——————-

Elodie’s PoV~

Paul’s voice on the other end was crisp and professional, exactly what I needed right now.

"He has the papers," he said.

I leaned back in my chair, staring at the ceiling of my aunt’s guest room. "And? How long until it’s done? Until everything is actually processed and he’s out of my life?"

"That depends on Dante," Paul said. "He claimed the asset division is too complex to rush. Needs his finance team to go over it. Blah, blah, blah."

I let out a short, sharp breath. A laugh without the humor. "Stalling."

"Looks that way."

"Figures." I closed my eyes. Of course Dante wouldn’t just sign and let go. He had to drag it out. Had to remind me that even in ending this, he was the one holding the clock. "Fine. Let him stall. Just make sure he knows we’re not waiting forever."

"I will. Talk soon, Elodie."

I hung up and tossed the phone onto the duvet. Well, let him. I had work to do. I had a life to build. He could play his CEO games all he wanted; I was done being a pawn in them.

The next day, the hum of the Cole office was a balm to my soul.

I was in Johnny’s office, my feet propped up on the edge of his desk, going over the Q3 projections for the bio-tech division. The numbers were beautiful. Green and upward-trending.

"If we keep this pace," Johnny was saying, tapping a pen against his teeth, "we’re going to need a bigger building. Or at least a better espresso machine."

"Priorities, Johnny."

"Profit is my priority. Better coffee means better work, means more profit. It’s a cycle."

He was just about to pull up the personnel files when his phone buzzed. He glanced at it, and his whole face soured, like he’d just bitten into a lemon.

"What?" I asked, not looking up from the tablet.

He turned the screen toward me. Rex Hardin.

My eyebrows went up.

"The one and only crafty old fox." Johnny stared at the phone like it was a bomb. "We haven’t spoken since the Wilson Tech gala. Why is he calling me?"

We both knew why. The projects I’d been leading were about to blow up. Big government contracts, massive funding. The kind of thing that made sharks circle. The news hadn’t even broken yet, but Reed Hardin didn’t get to be where he was by waiting for the morning paper.

"Answer it," I said, taking a sip of my lukewarm tea. "Be nice."

"I hate being nice to him," Johnny muttered, but he swiped to answer. "Rex. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

I watched his face. He listened for a solid minute, just making noncommittal noises. Mm-hmm. I see. Of course. Then he said, "Yes, I think a meeting would be... productive. Let me check my calendar."

He was lying. His calendar was wide open.

"Right. I’ll have my assistant reach out. Goodbye, Rex."

He hung up and threw the phone onto the desk like it burned him.

"He wants a partnership," Johnny said, disgust dripping from every word. "Wants to ‘discuss synergies’ over dinner. The slimy bastard probably has a dossier on us already."

"He’s a politician like his father, Johnny. That’s what they do."

“Rex’s father is interested in you," Johnny shot back, his eyes narrowing. "Don’t pretend you don’t know. Ever since he met you at that gala, he’s been sniffing around. And I know his son got a hard-on for Sienna, too. It’s creepy."

I felt a flicker of annoyance, but I kept my voice even. "So what? Reed Hardin is in a position to help us fast-track the approvals we need. If he wants to have dinner and flirt a little, let him. Our goal is profit. His ego is secondary."

I had met Reed once. He was intense, yeah. A little too handsy. But my old professor trusted him, and in this world, trust was a currency more valuable than gold.

Johnny sighed, slumping back in his chair. "I know. I know. I’m just... tired of these people." He ran a hand through his hair. "Fine. We’ll take his money. But I’m not making it easy for him."

He smirked, a wicked, petty little thing. "I’m going to make him wait. Make him think we’ve got five other offers on the table. Let the old fox sweat a little."

I couldn’t help but smile. "Whatever makes you happy."

"Damn right."

We went back to the spreadsheets. Then, thirty minutes later, Johnny’s phone buzzed again.

He picked it up, ready to roll his eyes at Rex again, I assumed. But when he looked at the screen, his expression shifted. The annoyance was still there, but underneath it... something else. Something like amusement. A grudging respect.

"Who is it?" I asked, my curiosity piquing. Another shark?

Johnny chuckled, a low, dry sound. He turned the phone so I could see the screen.

"Harry Becker."

I froze.