Jealousy Alpha's Regret novel Chapter 162

Chapter 162

Sebastien’s POV

I stared at the design schematics in front of me, the lines blurring together after hours of pointless revisions. The office felt suffocating, even though i was the only one left on the entire floor. The digital clock on my desk showed 12:17 AM. Nearly five hours since the hunting competition ended, and the hallow victory still felt like ash in my mouth. I still couldn’t get the image out of my head–Iris adjusting Ethan Lowell’s tie, her fingers lingering just a second too long on his chest.

“Fuck this,” I muttered, slamming my laptop closed. I couldn’t focus, couldn’t think straight. Not with that scene playing on repeat in my mind.

I grabbed my coat and keys, flicking off lights as I went. The elevator ride down was mercifully quick, and soon I was in my car, windows down despite the

biting cold. Maybe the night air would clear my head.

As I drove, one question kept circling: How could she be so comfortable with Ethan Lowell? So at ease? Something about their interaction seemed practiced, familiar. The way she’d leaned in, smiling as she adjusted that damn tie clip–the one I’d watched her buy at the mall.

I pressed harder on the accelerator, watching the speedometer climb. Why did it matter? We were separated. Divorcing. She could do whatever the hell she

wanted with whomever she wanted.

So why did my chest feel like it was being crushed?

When I pulled into the family estate’s long driveway, I noticed Parker, our family’s head groundskeeper, standing near the front entrance. Strange for this

hour.

“Alpha, you’ve returned,” he greeted me with a slight bow as I stepped out of the car.

I frowned, checking my watch. “Why aren’t you resting? It’s well past midnight.”

‘Just inspected the territory perimeter to ensure everything is secure,” he explained. “Also noticed the flowers in the back garden haven’t been tended to in quite some time. Would you like me to prepare something for you to eat?”

“No,” I said curtly, heading toward the stairs. The last thing I wanted was company.

Inside, the house felt empty. Hollow. I paused at the second–floor landing, my gaze drawn to the back garden visible through the large windows. Moonlight illuminated the flower beds–the ones Iris had planted during our first spring together.

I walked to the balcony doors and pushed them open. The night air was crisp, carrying the scent of pine and earth. Below, the garden was a mix of neglect and stubborn survival. Some flowers had withered completely, but others–the hardier varieties–still bloomed despite the lack of care.

Like her. Since leaving the Grey family, Iris seemed to be thriving. The woman I’d seen today wasn’t the same quiet, reserved bride who’d entered this house two years ago. She stood taller. Spoke with confidence. Smiled more easily.

And none of those smiles were for me.

The memory of her with Ethan Lowell at the competition burned fresh in my mind. The way they’d stood close, sharing some private joke. The silver tie clip -her gift to him–glinting in the sunlight.

My fingers gripped the balcony railing so hard my knuckles turned white. The faint hope I’d clung to–that her buying that clap was a coincidence, that it meant nothing–shattered completely. I had seen her buy it, and now I’d seen her give it to him. It was always for hima

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9:31 am

Chapter 162

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I turned away from the garden and walked back inside, my footsteps echoing through the silent house. Our bedroom–my bedroom now–was immaculately kept by the staff. No trace of Iris remained, not a single hair on the pillows or scent in the air.

But I knew better.

I crossed to the large dresser and pulled open the bottom drawer. Hidden beneath folded winter sweaters was a box–the one I’d threatened to throw away

countless times but never could.

“What secrets were you keeping?” I muttered, settling on the edge of the bed and opening the box.

Inside lay dozens of colorful postcards, neatly arranged. I’d never seen them before, never knew Iris had kept such a collection. I picked one up randomly–a pencil sketch of a forest under moonlight, surprisingly well–drawn.

It slipped from my fingers, falling face–down on the carpet. When I retrieved it, I noticed handwriting on the back–Iris’s neat, flowing script.

“We met under moonlight, when will we share the same sky again?”

My breath caught. I quickly grabbed another card, turning it over.

“The stars know our secret. Distance means nothing when two hearts

share the same dream.”

My hands moved faster now, checking card after card. Each bore similar messages–romantic, yearning words written in Iris’s hand. Some were dated years ago, long before we’d met.

“Who were these for?” I wondered aloud, a sick feeling spreading through my stomach. “She never spoke to me like this.”

Our marriage had been arranged, political. A merger of packs more than a union of hearts. Iris had never written me love notes or whispered sweet words.

But she’d written these. For someone else.

I searched the cards for a name, any clue to the recipient. There were odd symbols on some–little drawings or codes I couldn’t decipher. Was it Noah Phillips, her high school friend who clearly wanted more? Or Ethan Lowell? Had they known each other before?

I thought of how easily she’d touched Ethan today, how comfortable they seemed together. The memory made my jaw clench tight enough to hurt,

The walls of the bedroom suddenly felt too close. I needed air, space. I strode back to the balcony and threw open the doors, gulping the cold night air. The scent of the forest called to me, promised freedom from these suffocating thoughts.

Without conscious decision, I stripped off my clothes and shifted. The transformation was quick, practiced–bones reforming, skin giving way to silver–gray fur. As a wolf, everything was simpler. Clearer.

I leapt from the balcony to the ground below, paws barely making a sound on impact. Then I was running, tearing through the woods that surrounded our territory, pushing myself harder and faster until my lungs burned.

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