Jealousy Alpha's Regret novel Chapter 172

Jealousy Alpha’s Regret

Chapter 172

Iris’s POV

I stood in front of my bathroom mirror, studying my reflection with a critical eye. My fingers traced the subtle curve of my stomach, barely noticeable to anyone who didn’t know what to look for.

“This loose blouse should work for a while longer,” I murmured, smoothing the fabric over my abdomen. “At least my cowork

notice anything yet.”

won’t

It was strange how my body was changing. I gently placed my palm against the small bump, feeling a connection to the life growing

inside me. “Not a single morning of throwing up or feeling sick. Lucky me, I guess.”

Most pregnant werewolves I’d known had dealt with horrible morning sickness. My mother–my real mother, not Catherine–had

apparently been bedridden for months when carrying me. At least according to the stories my father used to tell.

As I ran a brush through my hair, I made a mental note: “Really need to schedule that prenatal appointment soon. Just to make sure

everything’s okay in there.” The thought brought both anxiety and a strange flutter of anticipation. This pregnancy was unexpected,

unwanted even, but lately…

I finished my morning routine and grabbed my bag, ready to head to work. There was a design team meeting scheduled for ten, and I

needed to review some submissions beforehand.

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My thoughts drifted to Jack Lowell as I locked my apartment door. He’d been surprisingly attentive lately. Just yesterday, a beautiful potted orchid had appeared at my doorstep with a simple card wishing me well. Last week it had been imported pastries, and before that,

a rare design portfolio book I’d mentioned wanting.

“He’s thoughtful,” I whispered to myself as I walked to my car. “Always drops off gifts in the early evening. His lights are always out by eight.” I’d noticed his regular schedule–the way his house went dark early each night. Old werewolves often kept those kinds of hours,

rising with the sun rather than staying up late.

As I pulled into the Crescent Design parking lot, something felt off. There was a small crowd gathered near the entrance, and even from here, I could pick up the sound of someone crying dramatically. A familiar voice.

My stomach tightened as I parked and stepped out of my car. I walked slowly toward the building, catching snippets of what was

happening.

I’m just so heartbroken,” Catherine’s voice wailed, perfectly pitched to sound devastated. “To raise a child for so many years, only for her

to do this to her own family…”

Seriously? I slowed my pace, staying back to observe. The security guards looked uncomfortable, clearly unsure how to handle a crying middle–aged woman making a scene.

“First she posts those doctored DNA tests online to humiliate me, and now she’s trying to steal what little we have left, Catherine

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Chapter 172

continued, dabbing at dry eyes with a tissue. “What kind of daughter does that?‘

I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing. This was predictable. After her social media stunt failed to get the reaction she

wanted, of course she’d escalate to showing up at my workplace.

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Kim stood next to her, the perfect supporting actress. “Mom, please don’t cry,” she said, voice pitched just loud enough for everyone to

hear. “Maybe Iris isn’t here yet. I’m sure deep down she still cares about you.”

I stood at the edge of the crowd, watching their performance with detached interest. What were they hoping to accompli

public embarrassment for me? It was hard to care anymore.

Money? More

Did you hear about Iris Stone? A whisper from a couple of designers I recognized from the third floor. “Apparently she’s been terrible to

her family. Her poor mother…”

“I always thought there was something off about her,” another voice murmured. “So quiet and standoffish.”

I felt my lip curl slightly. People were so quick to judge without knowing facts. Sebastien had warned me about this once. “Some people’s

mouths you can never shut,” he’d told me. “So don’t waste energy trying.”

For once, I agreed with him.

Catherine continued her sobbing act. “Doesn’t she miss her mother at all? After everything I’ve done for her?”

I couldn’t help the cold smile that formed on my lips. “That’s actually a good question,” I thought. “I’ve never missed you for a single day

of my life.”

Standing there watching this circus, I felt my wolf stir inside me–angry, wanting to confront, to challenge. But I took a deep breath and pushed those instincts down. Getting into a public confrontation with Catherine wouldn’t help me.

I checked my watch. If I didn’t go in soon, I’d be late for my first meeting. And I wasn’t about to call in sick because my fake mother was

throwing a tantrum at my workplace.

“Just get through them and get to work,” I told myself, drawing another calming breath. I had design samples to review and team feedback to provide. I wouldn’t let Catherine disrupt my professional responsibilities.

I straightened my shoulders and began walking toward the entrance, weaving through the gathered onlookers. As I got closer, conversations hushed, and eyes turned toward me. The sudden quiet made Catherine look up, and her gaze locked onto mine.

“My daughter!” she cried, her entire body suddenly animated as she lunged toward me with outstretched arms.

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