Alpha's Regret: Losing His True Mate Chapter 153 - 154

Elodie’s POV ~

Both grandmothers turned to imdiately, 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 sothing last night, the wind at the campsite had been brutal but it hadn’t really hit 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 ntioned 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 na 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 imdiately, 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 ."

There was a pause. Then Cara’s tone shifted, colder now. "So Dante didn’t co 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 ca anyway.

Aunty looked at with motherly concern. "You’re definitely getting sick. Co on, let make you so 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 like a hawk.

Almost imdiately after, the exhaustion hit 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, soone 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 , her face scrunched up in sothing that might’ve been concern. "Mom, are you sick?"

I nodded. Even that small movent 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 imdiately. "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 rember the car moving, the low hum of conversation around , but none of it really registered.

By the ti 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 a bowl of so herbal dicine that slled like death and tasted worse.

I drank it anyway.

After that, soone, Nonna, I think, guided 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 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 t 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 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 movent, 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 for a mont, 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 mont, then turned toward the door.

"Dr. Stanley’s still downstairs," he said flatly. "I’ll have him co 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 ti 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 ca over to the bed, checked my pulse, peered at my eyes, asked a few questions. After a mont, he nodded to himself.

"You’re already improving," he said, his tone asured and professional. "But you’ll need to keep taking the dicine 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 .

"Dante, go downstairs and bring her sothing to eat. Sothing light, soup, maybe so 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 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 ca 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.

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

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

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

That book. I knew that book.

I stared at the cover for a second longer, and then it hit . 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 so of the notes you’d written in the margins, they were interesting. Gave a different perspective on a few things. So I kept it. Been reading it whenever I had ti."

My notes.

He’d been reading my notes*.

I felt sothing 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 . "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 .

"You still can’t take a complint, can you?" he said after a mont, and there was sothing almost amused in his voice.

I didn’t answer.

He sighed, like I was so 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 like he had any right to be concerned.

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

I’d left the agreent 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.