Alpha, I Don’t Need You Anymore Chapter 10

Alpha, I Don’t Need You Anymore Chapter 10

Six months later.

The company Isaac and I founded went public successfully

At the celebratory gala, I stood in the center of the crowd, wearing a stunning red haute couture gown, a glass of champagne in my hand, graciously accepting everyone’s congratulations.

Those six months felt like a different life.

Freed from the dead weight of toxic people and drama, I poured all my energy into work.

Revenue doubled, the company went public, and I became a respected and formidable

force in the industry.

Just then, I caught sight of a familiar figure at the entrance of the ballroom.

Brandon.

He was wearing that same suit–the Italian silk one I’d once ruined in the washing machine, now permanently wrinkled.

His hair was unkempt, his face covered in a scraggly beard. In just half a year, he looked like he’d aged two decades.

In his hand, he clutched a crumpled piece of paper–a resume, or perhaps a desperate plea for reconciliation.

Security blocked his entry without ceremony. In the ensuing scuffle, he was shoved to the floor, a picture of utter humiliation.

He scrambled back up, pressing his face against the glass wall, peering inside.

Our eyes met through the floor–to–ceiling window.

His gaze was a muddled mess of regret, desperation, and a lingering, pathetic greed.

My phone vibrated in my clutch.

A text from an unknown number:

[Sophia, I see you. You look breathtaking. I know I was wrong. I’ve thought of you every single day for six months. I can’t eat the food you used to make anymore. Everything else tastes awful. Can you give me another chance? I promise I’ll listen to you

on. I’ll take the trash out every time…]
I read it, a cold, sharp smile touching my lips.

Block. Delete.

A seamless, practiced motion.

from now

I turned to Isaac beside me and said lightly, “It seems the trash wasn’t taken out

properly tonight. It’s rather unsightly.”

Isaac followed my gaze. His expression hardened.

He slid an arm around my waist, leaning close to murmur in my ear, “Don’t worry. I’ll handle it. Trash like that doesn’t belong in your world.“”

With a subtle gesture from him, the security guards at the entrance immediately

understood. They firmly took hold of Brandon’s arms and dragged him away from the glass doors.

Brandon struggled, his shouts muffled by the glass, a pathetic spectacle.

But I could no longer hear him.

Inside the ballroom, music swelled.

Isaac turned to me, offering his hand with old–world courtesy.

“Ms. Hayes, may I have this dance?”

I looked into his eyes, which held a warmth and depth I’d come to trust, and placed my

hand in his.

“The honor would be mine.”

In the center of the dance floor, under the glittering lights, I knew.