Alpha's Regret: The Seventh Time was Forever-Chapter 22 – Don’t even try

"Marjorie Steward."

Seraphine’s voice was calm, stripped of warmth, as she settled into the leather chair directly opposite Ravyn.

Her posture was composed, almost relaxed, but her eyes were empty, hard, distant, nothing like the woman he remembered.

On either side of her stood two men in dark suits, silent and alert, their presence unmistakably protective. They didn’t look like assistants. They looked like men trained to intervene if necessary.

Maddox glanced between them, brow creasing. "You two know each other?" he asked, genuine confusion coloring his tone.

No one answered. The silence pressed down heavily, thick enough that Ravyn felt it lodge in his chest. His shock was immediate, and sharp. For a brief second, his composure cracked.

"No," he said finally, shaking his head once as if dismissing the entire situation. "Sadly, Daisy is injured, so I have to leave. I don’t have time for this."

He rose from his seat, irritation rolling off him in waves. But before he could take more than a step, Corvine moved, positioning himself squarely in Ravyn’s path.

"I’m sorry, Ravyn," Corvine said evenly, his voice polite but firm, "but you need to sign the documents before you go."

The way Corvine addressed him by name, without title or deference, sent something dark stirring behind Ravyn’s eyes. Once upon a time, that tone alone would have been unthinkable.

But this wasn’t the pack, and they weren’t alone. More importantly, they weren’t on sacred ground.

Ravyn could feel the absence of the invisible current that usually answered his call. The city obeyed different laws, and the gravity here was heavier, duller, resistant. His Alpha authority had no reach in this place.

Here, they were all human, and in a fight Ravyn would have no advantage over Corvine.

Slowly, Ravyn turned back around, his gaze locking onto Seraphine. Confusion and suspicion darkened his expression. "What proof do you have that you’re Marjorie Steward?"

Seraphine didn’t respond. Instead, she glanced at Maddox.

Maddox immediately understood. He retrieved a folder from his briefcase and placed it neatly on the table. "Here is her identification documents. Marjorie Steward is not a registered legal name. As you can see, the additional paperwork states that the client requested anonymity. Her real identity is known only to us, but these documents validate the transaction."

Ravyn sat back down slowly and flipped through the papers. His fingers tightened as his eyes scanned the forms.

There it was. Seraphine’s real name, clearly written. Beneath it, a legal provision allowing the use of a decoy identity.

His thoughts raced. He had come here prepared to negotiate with a stranger, to persuade Marjorie Steward not to reclaim her shares and was never prepared for this.

He looked up sharply. "Where did you get all this money?"

Seraphine’s gaze flicked to Maddox. "Can you excuse us for a moment?"

Maddox hesitated only briefly before nodding. "Of course." He exited, closing the door behind him.

Seraphine leaned back in her chair, crossing one leg over the other with deliberate ease. "How I make my money does not concern you. You’ve been given proof it’s mine. Sign the transfer agreement."

"No." Ravyn’s refusal was immediate. "You stole from the pack. Otherwise, there’s no way you could have acquired this kind of money," he accused her but Seraphine’s jaw tightened, teeth grinding together audibly.

"Before you accuse me," she said coldly, "you should produce evidence. Otherwise, I’ll sue you for slander."

The reminder struck home, Ravyn exhaled slowly, forcing himself to regain control. This was not pack territory. His authority meant nothing here beyond what the law allowed, and the law did not favor unfounded accusations.

His glare hardened. "If this is your way of trying to make me want you again," he said sharply, "then you’ve lost your mind."

Seraphine laughed. It was soft, and amusing, but her eyes remained glacial. "Ravyn, I’ve been foolish before," she said, "but not anymore. I would never want you, neither in this life nor the next."

A faint, satisfied smile tugged at Corvine’s lips, and Ravyn noticed it. "You’re following her now," he said, his voice dropping. "Corvine, your position in the pack still stands. Come back with me, or you’ll fall just like her."

Corvine scoffed. "Go back and be controlled by that bitch of yours?" The insult hit like a spark to dry tinder.

Ravyn’s anger flared violently. He lifted his hand to strike but Corvine caught his wrist midair. With a sharp twist, Corvine forced Ravyn’s arm down, his eyes daring. "Don’t even try."

Ravyn yanked his hand back, breathing hard. "Make sure you never return to the pack."

"I won’t," Corvine replied without hesitation. Then, colder, firmer. "Now sign the document."

Seraphine watched the exchange with quiet interest. A faint smile curved her lips. Corvine was proving far more useful than she had anticipated. In time, she would reward that loyalty generously.

Ravyn stared at the documents, conflicted. Then he looked up. "I’ll sign, but only if she returns Daisy’s research first."

The response was immediate. Seraphine and Corvine burst out laughing. "Daisy’s research?" Seraphine repeated, incredulous. "Has she ever even stepped foot in the lab?"

Ravyn stiffened. "What are you talking about?" If Daisy said it, then it was true. Seraphine was just being jealous.

"What I destroyed," Seraphine said calmly, "was my research."

"No," Ravyn snapped. "They were Daisy’s. She told me herself. Bring them for verification."

Seraphine stared at him as if he’d said something utterly ridiculous. "I can’t. I destroyed them. But if they truly belonged to her, why does it matter? She can simply reproduce them."

"You used pack resources," Ravyn insisted.

Seraphine’s glare was sharp and unforgiving. "With my billions invested in your company," she shot back, "what makes you think I needed pack resources? Do you have proof, brother?"

The word dripped with disgust. The confusion on Ravyn’s face was almost entertaining.

"I’ll verify everything myself," he said after a pause. "Until then, I’m not signing. If you insist, we’ll settle this legally."

Seraphine leaned back again, utterly unbothered. "Fine. Let’s go the legal route. I’ll have Augustine Clyde serve you the lawsuit."

Ravyn’s eyes narrowed. "Augustine?" His tone sharpened. "How can you afford him?"

Seraphine had no idea that Augustine Clyde was the best lawyer in the United States, undefeated, ruthless, and impossibly expensive. "That’s none of your concern," Seraphine replied coolly. "And you’re not leaving until my investment is returned."

Ravyn opened his mouth to respond when the intercom buzzed. He answered it sharply. "Yes?"

"Sir," the voice came through, "Mr. Voren Ashkael is here."

A slow smile spread across Ravyn’s face as an idea took shape. "Let him in."