Alpha's Regret After the Divorce by Christina novel Chapter 12

Chapter 12

“Moving out? Today?” Harper’s eyes widened in surprise. “Do you need a hand with anything?”

“Sure,” I replied quietly.

Back at the Blackwood mansion, the moment I crossed the threshold, I came to an abrupt halt. Three years of my life had been spent here, yet now, everything felt utterly foreign. My fingers grazed the cold marble countertop—chilly, just like its owner. Had this place ever truly been my home?

I drifted through the rooms, the weight of reality settling heavily on my chest: I possessed nothing here. Three suitcases contained all that was genuinely mine. The rest—the ornate furniture, the priceless artwork, the delicate crystal—belonged to the Blackwood legacy, a heritage I was never fully a part of.

Then my eyes landed on it—our bonding ceremony photo, hanging on the wall like a cruel reminder. My smile was radiant, almost painfully bright. Even Rocco’s usually stern, icy expression had softened that night, his eyes gentle in a way I’d never witnessed again. A lump formed in my throat.

“When bonds are broken, everything should be split evenly,” I murmured, my fingers trembling as I carefully removed the frame. When Marcus appeared quietly in the doorway, I pressed the photo into his hands. “Cut out my part and put it back in the frame.”

The nursery door stood ajar, as if silently beckoning me. I had avoided it since losing the baby, but now I found myself pushing it open wider. The pain crashed over me like a physical blow. Moon-themed mobiles I had painstakingly hand-painted swayed gently. Star patterns Rocco had helped me stencil during that one weekend—when he had actually seemed excited about becoming a father—decorated the walls.

“Take everything,” I told the movers, my voice cracking. I quickly turned away, blinking back tears. “Every single thing.” The thought of Kim’s babies sleeping beneath those stars made me feel sick to my core.

Hours later, standing at the front door, I drew in a deep breath—one last inhale of the life I had known. The woman who had first stepped through this door, so hopeful and in love, was gone forever.

“Harper,” I said suddenly, turning away from the house without a backward glance. “Let’s go get haircuts.”

Her jaw dropped in disbelief. “Your hair? But it’s your best feature!”

“Exactly,” I replied coldly. “It needs to go. Just like everything else he ever touched.”

At the salon, the stylist’s horrified expression almost made me laugh. “But long hair is a symbol of female wolf vitality,” she protested.

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