Too Late To Regret, My Alphas

Rosalie:

The notification had arrived barely a minute ago, and yet I had already read it at least ten times.

I looked down at my phone once more, convinced my bank application had somehow glitched. The amount staring back at me looked so surreal that it almost didn’t feel like it belonged to me.

My novel had been doing well for the past two months. I knew that much. Every morning I woke up to more comments, more readers adding it to their libraries, more gifts sent by readers, and messages from people telling me how much they loved the story. The ranking had continued climbing until it was sitting comfortably among the platform’s top novels, and I had secretly hoped that my first royalty payment would at least be enough to cover a few months of rent. Never - not even in my wildest imagination - had I expected a number like this.

I reread the message yet again before opening my banking application. The balance displayed on the screen remained exactly the same. It wasn’t a mistake. It wasn’t a dream. I actually had more money in my account than I had ever possessed in my entire life.

My fingers trembled slightly as I calculated it in my head. This single payment was almost equal to what I would earn working at the bookstore for an entire year. The realization made my eyes sting unexpectedly. A few months ago, I had been terrified about paying my electricity bill. Now, for the first time in months, I wasn’t worried about money.

A cheerful voice pulled me back to reality.

"Excuse me, Miss Rosalie?"

I blinked, immediately locking my phone and placing it beneath the counter before looking up with my usual smile. Standing in front of the reception desk were two boys who looked around my age, perhaps a year or two younger. Judging by the university logo embroidered onto their backpacks, they were local college students. One had neatly styled brown hair and wore round glasses that somehow made him look both handsome and approachable. The other was taller, with messy black hair and a grin that suggested he was responsible for most of the trouble between the two.

"Welcome," I greeted warmly. "How can I help you?"

The taller one rested both elbows on the reception desk before flashing an easy smile. "Actually... we were hoping you could help us find something."

"Of course," I replied. "What kind of book are you looking for?"

He exchanged a quick glance with his friend before answering with a perfectly straight face, "A book that explains how to talk to a beautiful bookstore owner."

His friend immediately covered his face. "I told you not to say it like that," he muttered under his breath.

I couldn’t help laughing softly. "I’m afraid," I answered politely, "that particular section hasn’t arrived yet."

The boy placed a dramatic hand over his heart. "So there isn’t one?"

"There might be," I replied with a smile. "But if there is, I’d probably need help finding it myself."

Both of them laughed.

The atmosphere immediately became light and comfortable.

The quieter one adjusted his glasses before speaking. "Sorry about him. He’s always like this."

"He’s exaggerating," the taller one protested before turning back to me. "We sre actually looking for architecture reference books. We have a design competition coming up."

"That sounds much easier to find." I said, already stepping out from behind the reception desk and gesturing for them to follow me upstairs.

As we walked between the shelves, the taller boy continued making harmless conversation.

"So... do you read all these books?"

"I try," I answered honestly.

"That’s... honestly kind of amazing."

"It mostly comes with the job."

"And making drinks?"

"That too."

He smiled again. "I finally understand why everyone keeps recommending this place."

I glanced back curiously. "Everyone?"

"Oh, absolutely." He nodded enthusiastically. "Half our department talks about this bookstore now. Some come for the books. Some come for the coffee."

His friend coughed loudly. "And some," he added dryly, "come because someone keeps telling them the owner is nice."

The taller boy looked thoroughly offended. "I said professional."

"You also said pretty."

"I can appreciate professionalism and beauty at the same time."

I laughed again, shaking my head. "You two seem to argue a lot."

"We are roommates."

"That explains everything."

The three of us stopped in front of the architecture shelves, and almost immediately both boys became absorbed in the books. Their teasing disappeared as they enthusiastically discussed different authors, building techniques, and historical structures. Watching them reminded me of the group of archaeology students who had practically adopted my bookstore over the past months. Moments like these made every long night and every early morning worthwhile.

About half an hour later, they returned downstairs carrying six books along with notebooks, mechanical pencils, drafting rulers, and several sketchbooks from the stationery section.

While I scanned each item, the taller boy smiled sheepishly. "So... if we need more recommendations..."

"You can always ask."

"Even if we don’t buy anything?"

"You’ll still be welcome."

His grin widened. "I think we’ll become regular customers."

"I hope so."

Once they had paid, both thanked me politely before leaving the store, waving goodbye through the glass front as they stepped onto the sidewalk.

The bookstore grew quiet once again.

I smiled to myself while arranging the receipt book back into its drawer. Days like today felt... peaceful. Normal. Happy. Exactly the kind of life I had once believed I would never have.

The bell above the entrance rang again. Without looking up, I greeted automatically. "Welcome to-"

The words died in my throat.

Three women had entered together, and something about their mere presence didn’t set right.

They weren’t browsing. They weren’t looking around with curiosity like most first-time visitors. Instead, they walked straight toward the reception desk with stiff expressions and folded arms.

The oldest among them slammed her handbag onto the counter hard enough to make several bookmarks fall over.

"So," she announced loudly enough for everyone inside the store to hear, "you are the woman who thinks she can destroy another woman’s family."

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