Alpha's Regret After the Divorce by Christina novel Chapter 142

I stood rooted on the bustling sidewalk of Downtown as the unmarked sedan slowly disappeared into the night, leaving me utterly alone. Across the street, the Lunar Lounge radiated an electric glow, its blue-purple neon lights pulsing rhythmically, casting a surreal aura over the eager crowd waiting patiently behind the velvet ropes. My heart pounded fiercely in my chest, betraying the calm I had meticulously trained myself to maintain over the past three years for moments just like this.

“Pull yourself together,” I murmured under my breath, smoothing my hands over the sleek black dress that clung tightly to my curves. I adjusted the fiery red wig framing my face, acutely aware of its unfamiliar weight resting against my neck, a stark contrast to my usual self.

Reaching up casually, I pretended to tuck a loose strand behind my ear, but in truth, I was activating the communication device cleverly disguised as an elegant earring.

“Testing, do you read me?” I whispered softly, barely moving my lips.

“Crystal clear,” Andy’s voice crackled through the earpiece. “I’m already inside. Third seat at the bar, left side.”

Drawing in a deep, steadying breath, I anchored myself. “From now on, I’m Sophia Carter. Kira doesn’t exist tonight.”

—

The bouncer barely spared a glance at the counterfeit ID before pulling back the velvet rope. The moment I stepped inside, a wave of familiar and unsettling scents washed over me—musk, spice, and that unmistakable primal odor marking wolf territory. The blue-violet lights flashed across the dance floor, bathing everyone in an ethereal glow that felt both intoxicating and dangerous.

I scanned the room methodically: four exits, six security personnel strategically placed, and the VIP section elevated in the far back right corner. The bartender caught my eye, his curiosity evident as he studied the new face. I returned a confident smile, though the tension coiled tight in my shoulders betrayed my composure.

“The target hasn’t arrived yet,” I whispered, moving to a calculated spot at the bar that offered clear views of both the entrance and the VIP area.

I ordered a vibrant cocktail but nursed it slowly, pretending to be absorbed in people-watching while my eyes meticulously cataloged every detail of the club. Several men had already taken notice, their gazes lingering longer than polite, but none matched the profile we were after.

“Don’t rush it,” Andy advised quietly through the earpiece. “Our intel says Ethan usually arrives after ten.”

Two men approached me, offering drinks and idle chatter. I declined smoothly with practiced ease: “I’m actually waiting for someone… though I think I’ve been stood up.” The perfect blend of availability and reluctance.

As midnight neared, the atmosphere shifted palpably.

“The target’s here,” I breathed out, spotting Ethan Morris stride in with two imposing bodyguards flanking him. “Blue suit, two security, heading straight for VIP.”

My pulse accelerated. In person, Ethan was even more intimidating than his photos suggested—tall, broad-shouldered, every movement radiating predatory confidence. This was the man who had orchestrated my downfall, colluding with the Triads to shatter my life.

“Remember the objective,” Andy reminded me sharply, sensing the flicker of emotion in my breath. “Information only. Don’t let it get personal.”

I let Ethan settle, watching closely until I caught him scanning the crowd. His eyes landed on me briefly; I held his gaze for a heartbeat before turning away with practiced indifference. Then, I slipped onto the dance floor, ensuring my movements were smooth and alluring, but never too obvious.

—

The plan unfolded perfectly. Within minutes, a server approached me with a polished smile.

“The gentleman in the VIP section would like to buy you a drink and invites you to join him,” he said with effortless charm.

I widened my eyes in mock surprise and hesitation. “Which gentleman? I don’t know anyone here.”

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