Alpha's Regret After the Divorce by Christina novel Chapter 197

Morning sunlight gently streamed through the curtains, casting a warm glow across my face and slowly coaxing me from the depths of sleep. For a fleeting moment, my mind was blissfully blank, free from worries, and I forgot entirely where I was. But that fragile peace shattered as reality returned with a jolt. I found myself lying in an unfamiliar guest bedroom, the sheets beneath me smooth and expensive, and faint sounds of movement drifting in from a nearby room.

Dad was here. Right here, inside Rocco’s sprawling mansion. And I was still pretending to be Rocco’s mate, clinging to a fragile illusion.

I pushed myself up, fingers threading through my tangled hair in a restless gesture. A dull throb pulsed from my ankle beneath its bandage—a constant, aching reminder of everything that had happened in that dark cave. I needed to check on Dad, to see how he had fared through his first night in this strange place.

After a quick shower and slipping into the casual clothes I had packed, I made my way down the hall to Dad’s room. The door was slightly ajar, and I could catch the soft murmur of voices inside. I hesitated, took a steadying breath, then knocked gently.

“Come in,” called a nurse I didn’t recognize.

I pushed the door open and found Dad sitting upright in bed, a middle-aged woman in scrubs carefully checking his vitals. He looked better—there was a flush returning to his cheeks, a spark of alertness in his eyes that hadn’t been there yesterday. He was flipping through an old business magazine, probably left by one of Rocco’s staff members.

When his eyes met mine, his face brightened with a smile that made my heart ache with a mixture of love and worry.

“Good morning,” I whispered, moving closer to his bedside.

The nurse finished jotting something on her tablet. “All vitals are stable, Alpha Silverstone. I’ll be back in an hour with your medication.”

As she left the room, my gaze fell on the windowsill where fresh lilies stood in a vase—Dad’s favorite. Rocco must have arranged them. The thought should have been comforting, but instead, it felt strangely unsettling.

Dad set aside his magazine and smiled warmly. “Good morning, my little princess. Did you sleep well?”

I forced a smile, swallowing the discomfort that nickname always stirred in me. “Very well. And you? How are you feeling?”

“Much better,” he replied, his voice stronger than it had been in the hospital. “Though these nurses treat me like I’m made of glass.” He chuckled softly, then looked around the room. “Everything here is so… precise. Just as I remember.”

I swallowed hard, the weight of unspoken memories pressing down on me.

“The doctor said your vitals are improving,” I said, steering the conversation away from anything too heavy.

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify