Page 127 of Alpha-Ex Wedding Ruse
My jaw ticced. I wanted to tear out his tongue for merely speaking about her.
“But she’s not worth throwing all that away. If I were you, I’d never do it.”
He stood, smoothening out a crease in his suit jacket and buttoning it like someone who’d just won a million-dollar contract.
“Good luck fixing the mess you made, brother.”
And just like the others, he walked out—leaving the room stinking of his smugness. Like I’d done him a huge favor by calling off the wedding.
I spentthe rest of the day trying to salvage the mess. Charles had done well containing the media, but the news had spread like wildfire. The damage was done. The board had already moved for a vote to remove me as CEO, and I was standing on thin ice.
But even with the chaos, my mind kept circling back to Leila. The way it felt to be buried deep inside her again. It was bliss. Like something right had finally clicked in my life. Something I’d been missing for far too long.
My work was cut out for me, but I was ready to do it.
I clocked out around nine-thirty p.m. and headed home, thinking I’d finally have a quiet night. Instead, I walked straight into another storm.
The moment I stepped into the lobby, I froze.
My mother was sitting in the waiting area, head buried on the floor, her hands wringing in her lap like she was trying to squeeze the nerves out of them. She hadn’t seen me yet, so I took the chance to really look at her—the woman who had called herself my mother, the woman who turned her back on me when I was a kid.
Isabella Vaughn.
She’d changed. Her long black hair was now cropped short, and deep lines carved the corners of her eyes and mouth, each one a tally mark for the years that had passed. She used to be radiant—her smile was like a light I ran toward as a boy. Now, it looked like she hadn’t smiled in years. Like life had stolen whatever joy she had left. She looked…small.
I killed the thought before it could turn into pity. She didn’t deserve my pity. She didn’t deserve anything from me. Not even a word.
That was when she looked up. Her eyes widened, and she shot to her feet.
“Luca…” she breathed. A faint smile tugged at her lips, but fell away the moment she saw my face.
“What are you doing here?” I snapped.
“Luca—” she stepped toward me, but I raised a hand, stopping her cold.
“We have to talk,” she said with a tremble in her voice. “Please. I have so much to tell you.”
I scoffed, bitterness coating my tongue. My eyes burned. “You lost the right to talk to me when you walked out of my life twenty-one years ago.”
Her face faltered, like she’d only just realized how long twenty-one fucking years was when I said it out loud.
“Haven’t you ever wondered why?” Her eyes glossed over with tears. “I loved you and your brother more than anything. Did you think I wanted to leave?”
“But you left anyway,” I bit out. “There’s no excuse for abandoning your children. No good mother would.”
“You’re angry. I get it. But you need to hear the truth—”
“I don’t need anything from you,” I snapped. My control was slipping now. My eyes were burning. And I wasn’t about to give this woman the satisfaction that she still affected me, that I cared about her presence. I needed to get out of here.
I turned to walk away. But her hand shot out as she wrapped her fingers around my forearm.
“Son, please—” Desperation clung to her words.
I went still, the word ringing in my head. Son.
“Don’t you ever call me that,” I said, my voice like ice. “My mother died twenty-one years ago. You don’t get to rise from the dead and expect anything. I don’t know why you came back, but I suggest you pack up and go. I’ve moved on from you. Everyone has.”
I tore my hand from hers and walked to the elevator without looking back.
