Alpha's Regret After the Divorce by Christina novel Chapter 73

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Chapter 73

A few moments later, Vanessa slipped away toward the kitchen, only to return carrying a large platter. “Here you go! Your favorite breakfast,” she announced cheerfully.

She set down a plate piled high with Belgian waffles, topped with fresh strawberries and a generous dollop of whipped cream. My heart sank instantly. Strawberries had always been my nemesis—they gave me hives as a child. My true favorite breakfast had been blueberry pancakes, something she had mentioned over the phone but now seemed to have completely forgotten.

“Thanks,” I murmured, forcing a smile as I picked up my fork. “It looks delicious.”

William took a bite and nodded approvingly. “As excellent as ever, dear. Just the way Kim likes them.”

Vanessa’s smile faltered for a brief second. “Oh, I might have mixed things up. Kim loves these waffles.”

The truth struck me like a harsh slap across the face. She hadn’t made my favorite breakfast—she’d prepared Kim’s, either forgetting or never realizing the difference. I forced myself to nibble cautiously, carefully avoiding the strawberries.

“It’s alright,” I said, though inside I felt anything but okay. “How’s Kim doing?”

Vanessa’s face lit up with pride. “She’s doing wonderfully! Excelling at the charity foundation—everyone just adores her.”

Of course they did. My perfect twin sister, raised by our mother while I stayed behind with our broken father.

The conversation dragged on, awkward and strained. I mentioned Dad’s health, and Vanessa offered the expected sympathetic noises before steering the talk back to Kim’s accomplishments. William kept checking his watch, his impatience palpable. Not once did anyone ask about my work or how I was feeling.

“If you’ll excuse me,” I finally said, standing up, “I need to use the restroom.”

Vanessa pointed down the hall, and I gratefully slipped away from the suffocating atmosphere of forced smiles and polite small talk. The hallway was a brief sanctuary, a chance to breathe and collect myself. This had been a mistake. Whatever fragile hope I’d held about rebuilding something with my mother was clearly one-sided.

As I made my way back, a door further down the corridor opened. My heart froze.

Rocco stepped out, dressed casually in a simple black T-shirt and jeans—clothes that did nothing to diminish his commanding presence. Kim followed close behind, her arm linked possessively through his. Her smile was intimate, triumphant. She wore a silky robe that barely reached mid-thigh, her hair tousled in a way that left no doubt they had spent the night together.

Rocco’s eyes met mine first, a flash of surprise crossing his face before he masked it with a carefully neutral expression. Kim’s smile widened when she saw me, a gleam of victory shining in her eyes. She pressed even closer to Rocco, her hand sliding slowly up his arm in a deliberate display of intimacy.