The Omega Who Rose from the Ashes: The Alpha's Regret

Bradley’s POV

More than three weeks had passed, and Bradley appeared no closer to wrapping up his business obligations than when they’d begun. After paparazzi snapped his photo at a recent event, meeting requests and appearance invitations flooded in relentlessly. He had always carried himself with maturity - even as a child, befitting a future Alpha - but right now, he wanted nothing more than to throw himself on the floor and pitch a tantrum that would make any four-year-old proud.

He glanced at Martha’s sharp glare and recognized the warning in her eyes. She knew exactly what he was thinking, and he had no desire to hear her signature "you ain’t gonna embarrass your mother" lecture. The weight of responsibility pressed down on his shoulders, making them ache with tension.

Sighing, he closed his eyes and rubbed his temples, trying to ease the headache building behind them. Currently, he stood behind the scenes of a commercial shoot, watching an up-and-coming actress demonstrate one of his company’s latest products. He vaguely remembered agreeing to this appearance weeks ago, but he certainly hadn’t agreed to his sore backside actually being here in person. Afterward, he would take her out for a late lunch, pretending gratitude for her well-paid sacrifice, while allowing a planted photographer to capture candid shots. His Social Media Department would then tweet - or chirp, or whatever they called it - about the outing to boost sales.

"I miss my mate," he mumbled, the words barely audible.

Martha laid a sympathetic hand on his arm, her touch gentle despite her usual stern demeanor. "I know you do, sweetheart, but just think - handling things this way means you won’t have to show your face publicly for quite a while afterward."

Bradley nodded, fighting the overwhelming temptation to pull out his phone and stare at Trishelle’s picture. He’d learned that indulging only deepened his misery, making the ache in his chest unbearable. The shoot finally ended, and he offered feedback on the photos with professional detachment. Then he whisked away the lovely - but nowhere near as lovely as his Trishelle - uhmmm... Audrey? Yes, Audrey. He escorted her to an elegant dinner at some upscale restaurant where his secret photographer would be waiting.

Throughout the meal, the young woman attempted to flirt with him, batting her eyelashes and leaning forward conspiratorially. It took every ounce of self-control to keep his wolf from surfacing in irritation. He despised the way this girl looked at him, her gaze hungry and calculating. Thank God Martha served as his chaperone, her presence a barrier against any misunderstanding. Bradley extracted himself from that disaster quickly, citing another meeting, and practically ran for the car.

Hopping in, he loosened his tie as Sam chuckled from the front seat.

"Where to now?" Sam checked his watch, eyebrows rising. "Actually, you have an hour and fifteen minutes before your next appointment."

Bradley opened his eyes - he hadn’t even realized he’d closed them. The exhaustion was seeping into his bones. "Really?" he asked, glancing at Martha for confirmation. At her nod, he smiled for the first time that day. "Great. Let’s get back to the hotel. I’m grabbing a nap after I talk to my mate."

The driver nodded, and the trio returned to their rooms, Bradley already anticipating the sound of Trishelle’s voice.

Trishelle’s POV

Trishelle’s heart lifted when Bradley’s face appeared on her phone screen, even though the connection was digital rather than physical. He looked utterly weary, dark circles shadowing his eyes, and she wished desperately that he was here beside her instead of hundreds of miles away. He’d asked several times if he should come home, concern evident in his voice, but she always turned him down. She insisted he needed to capitalize on this opportunity now, to make his money and secure their future - especially with their pup, who seemed to eat constantly.

In the past two weeks, her appetite had grown exponentially, and she found herself snacking at all hours. Lorenzo assured her this was normal, but Alexa suspected it also stemmed from stress. Eventually, Trishelle returned to Goldmoon, hoping the familiar surroundings would ease her anxiety. It helped somewhat, though the loneliness still gnawed at her. Sammy visited regularly to check on her, while Alexa and her grandmother kept her company during the long afternoons. Cynthia made her laugh with tales of a young Bradley - stories of his childhood mischief and stubborn determination - and there were even a few old photographs to fawn over, images of a gap-toothed boy who would grow into her mate.

Their call was brief; she could see the exhaustion etched into every line of his face. She was certain it had more to do with missing her than with his hectic schedule, though he’d never admit it. After encouraging him to get some rest, she hung up, feeling deflated and hollow. Of course, what could lift her spirits better than a chocolate mousse? As she rolled herself to a seated position on the bed - no easy feat with her growing belly - her phone beeped. A new notification appeared, and she opened it absently.

When she’d first discovered her mate’s prominent position in the business world, she’d spent days googling him and his company, devouring every article and press release. She’d subscribed to their social media pages and quickly caught up on the latest developments. This notification was a "sneak-peek" post about their new product launch. Trishelle clicked on the link, and a photograph of Bradley appearing far too cozy with a young woman filled her screen.

Her breath caught in her throat.

They sat in what looked like a romantic restaurant, just the two of them, no Martha visible in the frame. The way the sunlight fell across the woman’s face made her seem flawless - a beautiful flower in full bloom, all delicate features and radiant skin. Trishelle’s heart squeezed painfully, an ache spreading through her chest. She closed her eyes, willing the tears not to fall. Logically, she knew there was no way Bradley would do anything to break her trust. Her head understood this with absolute certainty, but her heart - her foolish, hormone-addled heart - harbored doubts that whispered poisonous suggestions.

The phone rang in her clenched hands, startling her. She answered without checking the screen, certain it was Bradley calling to explain.

"Trishelle, what’s wrong? Are you and my pup okay?"

Trishelle pulled the phone away and stared at the screen in surprise. James’s name glowed there, not Bradley’s. Wiping her eyes quickly, she sniffed and tried to compose herself.

"Oh, James. I’m alright, we both are." She absentmindedly rubbed her belly where the pup kicked enthusiastically at the sound of his father’s voice. Truth be told, she’d been having trouble staying asleep lately, and just the sound of James’s voice made her feel drowsy, as if his presence - even through the phone - could soothe her.

"Are you sure? Don’t lie to me. I felt like you were upset or in distress. Is everything okay?" The genuine concern in his tone warmed her.

Trishelle sighed, knowing she was being ridiculous. "Well, I just saw a new post about Bradley having a meal with some actress, that’s all. I’m just being silly and hormonal." She tried to laugh it off, but the sound came out hollow.

A slight pause followed. "Are you worried that he would cheat?" James asked slowly, carefully, as if testing the waters.

Trishelle huffed and shrugged one shoulder, even though James couldn’t see the gesture. "No... well, maybe for just half a second, the stupid thought ran through my mind." She felt foolish admitting it aloud.

James chuckled low in his throat, the sound rich and reassuring. "That’s not gonna happen, Trish. Trust me."

The warmth in his voice spread through her, and Trishelle found herself lying back down, the phone pressed to her ear. Something about his certainty eased the knot in her chest.

"How are you so sure he won’t? I mean, we aren’t fully mated yet, so who knows what could happen."

James chuckled again, the sound even lower this time. "I know. Have you forgotten that he’s wanted to kill me more than once over you? Don’t worry your pretty little head about that. Bradley thinks you’re the most amazing woman in the world - the only woman for him."

Trishelle huffed softly, and that chuckle returned, lower still, feeling like dark melted chocolate sliding down her spine and pooling in her belly.

"Besides," he added huskily, his voice dropping to an intimate register that made her breath catch, "I think the same about you."

With that, James ended the call, leaving Trishelle breathless and flushed. She lay there in the gathering dusk, her mind filled with confusing thoughts of James and the sensation of drizzling melted chocolate, wondering why her heart was racing and why she suddenly felt too warm beneath the covers.

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