Alpha's Regret: Losing His True Mate-Chapter 153

Elodie’s POV ~

Both grandmothers turned to me immediately, concern written all over their faces. "Are you alright, dear? Are you catching a cold?"

I grabbed a tissue and wiped my nose, trying to sound casual. "Maybe. I’m not sure."

I probably had caught something last night, the wind at the campsite had been brutal but it hadn’t really hit me until now. My throat felt scratchy, and there was this dull ache starting to settle behind my eyes.

My grandmother and Nonna had been friends for decades. You’d think that would make things easier, but it didn’t. Neither of them mentioned the disaster that was Nonna’s birthday banquet. Neither of them brought up Dante or Sienna or the fact that my marriage was a public joke at this point.

They just kept chatting. Laughing. Pretending everything was fine.

I sat there, half-listening, feeling the fog in my head getting thicker.

My phone buzzed in my lap. Cara’s name flashed across the screen.

I excused myself quietly and stepped into the hallway to answer.

"I swear to God, Elodie, I can’t escape these people," Cara said immediately, her voice sharp with frustration. "I just ran into Dante and the entire Green family again. I’m so over this. Where are you?"

"At my grandmother’s."

"Did you go alone?"

"No. Liora and Nonna are with me."

There was a pause. Then Cara’s tone shifted, colder now. "So Dante didn’t come back with you. He went to have dinner with the Greens instead."

I didn’t answer.

What was there to say? She already knew.

"Elodie—"

"I have to go," I said, cutting her off gently. "I’ll call you later."

I hung up before she could argue.

When I walked back into the sitting room, I felt another sneeze building. I tried to hold it back, but it came anyway.

Aunty looked at me with motherly concern. "You’re definitely getting sick. Come on, let me make you some ginger soup."

I tried to protest, but she was already heading toward the kitchen.

Twenty minutes later, I was sitting at the table, forcing down a bowl of ginger soup that tasted like liquid fire. It burned all the way down, but I finished it because she was watching me like a hawk.

Almost immediately after, the exhaustion hit me hard like a freight train. My head felt heavy, my limbs sluggish.

I must’ve dozed off on the couch because the next thing I knew, someone was shaking my shoulder gently.

When I opened my eyes, everything felt wrong. My head was pounding. My body ached. And I was *burning up*.

Liora was standing next to me, her face scrunched up in something that might’ve been concern. "Mom, are you sick?"

I nodded. Even that small movement made my head throb.

Nonna was there too, hovering nearby. "We need to take you back to the estate. Dr. Stanley can see you there, he’ll know exactly what to do."

My grandmother agreed immediately. "Don’t wait. If she’s running a fever, she needs to be looked at now."

I didn’t have the energy to argue.

---

The ride back to the Wilson estate was a blur. I remember the car moving, the low hum of conversation around me, but none of it really registered.

By the time we arrived, Dr. Stanley was already waiting. He checked my temperature, listened to my breathing, asked a few questions I barely had the strength to answer.

Then he handed me a bowl of some herbal medicine that smelled like death and tasted worse.

I drank it anyway.

After that, someone, Nonna, I think, guided me upstairs. I didn’t even realize where I was until I collapsed onto the bed and felt the familiar weight of the blankets.

I was in Dante’s room.

The room he grew up in. The one that still had traces of him everywhere, his books on the shelf, his scent faintly clinging to the pillows.

I was too tired to care.

I closed my eyes and let the darkness pull me under.

---

When I woke up, the room was dim. The small lamp on the nightstand cast a soft, golden glow across the space.

I blinked slowly, my head still heavy but not quite as unbearable as before.

Then I saw Dante was sitting in the chair by the window, a book open in his hands. He looked calm. Like this was perfectly normal.

I froze.

For a second, I thought I was still dreaming.

But then he turned his head, and his eyes met mine.

"You’re awake," he said quietly.

My throat felt like sandpaper. I didn’t want to talk. Didn’t want to engage. Didn’t want to be here, in his space, with him looking at me like that.

I didn’t answer.

Instead, I reached for the coat draped over the chair beside the bed and pulled it on. My body protested every movement, but I forced myself to sit up.

I needed to leave.

But before I could swing my legs over the side of the bed, Dante stood and walked over, holding a glass of water.

I stared at it.

Then, after a long pause, I took it.

I didn’t say thank you.

I drank in silence, the cool water soothing my raw throat.

Dante watched me for a moment, then reached out, his hand moving toward my forehead like he was going to check my temperature.

Instinct kicked in.

I jerked my head back, avoiding his touch.

His hand hovered in the air for a second. Then he pulled it back, his expression unreadable.

He stood there for another moment, then turned toward the door.

"Dr. Stanley’s still downstairs," he said flatly. "I’ll have him come up and check on you again."

And then he left.

The door clicked shut behind him, and I was alone again.

I set the glass down on the nightstand and lay back against the pillows, staring up at the ceiling.

A few minutes later, the door opened again, and this time it wasn’t just Dante.

Dr. Stanley walked in first, followed by Nonna, then Dante, and finally Liora trailing behind like she wasn’t sure if she wanted to be here or not.

Dr. Stanley came over to the bed, checked my pulse, peered at my eyes, asked me a few questions. After a moment, he nodded to himself.

"You’re already improving," he said, his tone measured and professional. "But you’ll need to keep taking the medicine for at least another few days."

I nodded.

He hesitated, then added, "Your body’s run down. You’re physically exhausted, and there’s... emotional strain as well. That’s why a simple cold hit you this hard. You need to take better care of yourself."

Emotional strain. Right.

What a polite way to say my life was falling apart.

I nodded again, because what else was I supposed to do? Argue with him?

Nonna stepped closer, her face soft with concern. "Elodie, sweetheart, are you hungry?"

I hadn’t eaten much at lunch, my stomach had been in knots all afternoon, and I’d passed out not long after. Now, the sky outside the window was darkening, and yeah, I was hungry. But I didn’t really have an appetite.

Before I could answer, Nonna was already making decisions for me.

"Dante, go downstairs and bring her something to eat. Something light, soup, maybe some bread."

Dante didn’t argue. He just stood, set his book down on the chair, and left the room without a word.

Dr. Stanley packed up his things, gave me one last look that said *take care of yourself*, and followed Nonna and Liora out.

The door clicked shut.

And I was alone again.

For about five minutes.

Then Dante came back, carrying a tray that consisted of soup and then bread and a small bowl of fruit.

He set it down on the nightstand, then, without asking, he sat back down in the chair beside the bed.

Like he planned to stay. 𝙛𝓻𝒆𝒆𝒘𝙚𝓫𝙣𝙤𝒗𝙚𝓵.𝙘𝙤𝙢

I picked up the spoon, more to have something to do with my hands than because I actually wanted to eat.

Dante picked up his book again. The same one he’d been reading earlier.

I glanced over at it, and something clicked in my brain.

That book. I knew that book.

I stared at the cover for a second longer, and then it hit me. That was my book. The one I’d been reading at the hot spring resort. The one I must’ve left behind when I—

"You kept it," I said before I could stop myself.

Dante looked up, his expression unreadable. "I did."

"Why?"

He leaned back in the chair, his thumb marking his place in the book. "I started reading it that day. Just out of curiosity. But some of the notes you’d written in the margins, they were interesting. Gave me a different perspective on a few things. So I kept it. Been reading it whenever I had time."

My notes.

He’d been reading my notes*.

I felt something tighten in my chest, but I forced it down.

"You could’ve just asked for it back," he added, his tone annoyingly calm.

I turned my face away and focused on the soup in front of me. "I didn’t care enough to ask."

That wasn’t entirely true, but I wasn’t about to admit that.

I took a spoonful of soup. It was warm, savory, exactly the type of thing Nonna would’ve insisted on. But it tasted like nothing.

Dante was still watching me.

"You still can’t take a compliment, can you?" he said after a moment, and there was something almost amused in his voice.

I didn’t answer.

He sighed, like I was some kind of puzzle he couldn’t quite figure out. "Fine. I won’t push. Just eat."

I wanted to snap at him. Wanted to ask him what the hell he was doing here, sitting beside me like he had any right to be concerned.

But more than that, I wanted to ask him about the divorce.

I’d left the agreement on his desk months ago. Three months, to be exact. I’d made it clear that I didn’t want anything. No money. No property. No custody battle over Liora.

I’d signed it. I would walk away.

And yet, he still hadn’t finalized it.

He hadn’t called. Hadn’t sent the papers. Hadn’t done a damn thing.

And I didn’t understand why.

I set the spoon down and turned to look at him, ready to ask, ready to finally force the conversation we’d been avoiding.

But before I could say a word, there was a knock at the door.