Page 47 of Alpha-Ex Wedding Ruse
And I’d been the reason.
I kept staring at it, like I could explain myself. Like I could somehow make that toy understand that none of it had been my fault. That I didn’t know three gossip-hungry assholes would walk into the cafe and turn what was meant to be a civil wedding planning meeting into a public spectacle.
Okay—fuck it.
Who was I kidding?
I could’ve scheduled that meeting anywhere. Even in an overbooked five-star restaurant. One call from me, and they’d be clearing tables and pulling strings.
On paper, Elvis Cafe was a convenient, central, public meeting space.
But deep down? It was a test. A part of me—the hurt and bleeding part still nursing old wounds—chose it knowing exactly what it would do to her. The rest of me knew it was a low blow, but I let the bitter part win.
I wanted to see what she’d do when she walked in. Would she smile like before? Would she avoid my eyes, like she’d been doing since the moment we ran into each other again? Would she remember how we used to sit tucked in the back booth, her feet brushing mine under the table, laughing over boba teas I pretended to like but in actuality thought tasted like death?
I wanted to see if the past haunted her the way it still haunted me—or if she’d moved on so cleanly, so coldly, that what we had really had meant nothing.
And maybe—just maybe—I wanted to remind her of what we used to be.
Before she fucked it all up.
What I didn’t expect was to feel this much regret. The colder part of me had told itself she deserved this. That if she felt even a fraction of the pain she’d caused me, it would be fair. But the second I saw her face, saw the way her eyes brimmed with unshed tears, something twisted in my chest. I didn’t want her to feel pain. I didn’t want to be the reason she cried. No matter what had happened between us…I still didn’t want that.
I’d fired them, by the way—the ones who couldn’t keep their goddamn mouths shut at the cafe.
Vaughn Industries didn’t have room for employees who gossiped about my personal life like it was sport, especially if it was related to her. I didn’t care how competent they were.
I’d told myself I was keeping it to return out of courtesy.
But really? I just wanted a reason to see her again.
A knock sounded at the door before it creaked open. Charles stepped in.
“I’ve got the revised Q3 projections for VaughnTech’s launch quarter,” he said, cutting to business as he dropped a folder on my desk. “Numbers are steady, but if we don’t smooth out the supply chain in Europe, we’re looking at a seven percent dip by November. The Moreau line’s still stalling.”
He froze as his eyes landed on the Labubu lying on its side. He tilted his head, stared at it for a beat, then narrowed his gaze at me.
“You redecorating?”
“With a Labubu? Fuck no.” I pushed up from my chair and leaned over the desk.
“Then what’s it doing here?” he asked, suspicion crawling across his face.
I met his gaze and didn’t blink. I also said nothing. Charles had learned not to probe into my silence.
I picked up the folder, flipped it open, and skimmed the numbers.
“I thought things with Sterling Moreau were solid,” he continued. “Why’s he stalling on the logistics?”
“You tell me,” I muttered. “Old man’s got trust issues.”
“Can you blame him?”
I looked up, meeting Charles’s eyes. My voice went colder. “If you’ve got something to say, say it. Stop dancing around it.”
Charles lifted his hands in mock surrender. “Hey, I’m just telling you what I’m sure he’s thinking. Moreau’s not stalling over shipping delays—he’s playing chess. This is leverage. He smells hesitation. He feels you slipping. The moment he suspects you’re not all in on Elena, he pulls the plug on the tech. And with it? Your position as Alpha. Your shot at Alpha Regent.”
“I never said I wasn’t all in,” I replied, tight-lipped.
