Too Late To Regret, My Alphas

Rosalie:

Every conversation inside the bookstore stopped.The few customers browsing nearby slowly turned their heads toward us.

Confusion washed over me.

"What...?"

The woman pointed an accusing finger directly at me. "Don’t pretend you don’t know." Her voice rose even louder. "We know exactly who you are."

Outside the glass wall, more people began slowing down, curiosity drawing them toward the bookstore. Within seconds, several unfamiliar faces had gathered outside the entrance, peering inside to see what the commotion was about.

A strange, uneasy feeling settled deep in my stomach. Somehow, the sudden appearance of these women didn’t seem like a misunderstanding or a mere coincidence.

The entire bookstore fell into an uneasy silence.

I could feel dozens of eyes settling on me from every direction. Customers who had been peacefully browsing only moments ago now stood frozen between the bookshelves, while those sitting near the café section slowly lowered their cups. Outside the floor-to-ceiling glass windows, more pedestrians had begun gathering after hearing the raised voices. Several people had already pulled out their phones, aiming their cameras toward the bookstore.

The woman standing in front of me seemed to enjoy every second of the attention. "Oh?" she scoffed loudly, folding her arms across her chest. "Now you are pretending not to know? That’s quite impressive."

The woman beside her stepped forward before I could answer. "Of course she’ll pretend. Women like her always do." She deliberately raised her voice another notch. "Do you people even know who this woman is?" Her finger shot toward me as though I were some criminal. "She seduced another woman’s mates and destroyed their family. She acts all innocent while living off other people’s men."

A wave of whispers immediately swept through the customers.

"What..."

"Is that true?"

"I don’t believe it..."

"She doesn’t seem like that..."

Phones continued recording.

For just the briefest moment, the old me wanted to panic. The Rosalie from four months ago would have frozen where she stood, desperately trying to explain herself while tears filled her eyes.

But that Rosalie no longer existed.

I slowly walked out from behind the reception desk until I stood directly opposite the three women. My heart was pounding. My palms were damp. Yet my voice came out far steadier than I expected.

"You have entered a private business," I said calmly. "If you are here to purchase something, you are welcome to stay. If you are here to create trouble, I’m asking you to leave."

The oldest woman barked out a mocking laugh. "Listen to her! Asking us to leave? You should be the one hiding your face!"

The third woman sneered. "You stole another woman’s men and now you are pretending to be some respectable bookstore owner."

I looked directly into her eyes as I spoke loud enough for everyone to hear. "I stole no one." The firmness in my voice surprised even me. "If you are going to accuse someone," I continued, "then at least bring proof instead of gossip."

The youngest among them immediately pointed her phone toward my face. "So you are denying everything?"

"I’m denying lies."

"You weren’t involved with three Alphas?" She pressed.

"I owe you no explanation regarding my personal life."

Her smile widened. "See? She can’t deny it."

Several people outside murmured louder.

One of the customers who visited almost every afternoon - a middle-aged office worker who had become a regular because of my coffee - suddenly stood from her chair.

"Excuse me," she interrupted firmly. "I have known Miss Rosalie for over two months now."

Everyone turned toward her.

"She has treated every customer kindly since the day she opened this café section. If you have personal issues with her, don’t bring them into her workplace."

Another familiar voice joined in. It was one of the archaeology students who had practically adopted the bookstore.

"Yeah," the young man frowned. "She’s never been anything but helpful to everyone here."

His four friends immediately nodded.

"Exactly."

"She’s always respectful."

"She’s helped us loads."

More voices slowly began joining.

Grandpa Lewis, who came every Wednesday to read newspapers, tapped his walking stick against the floor. "This young lady has done more for this bookstore in one month than anyone in years."

The woman who spent every morning working from the café section closed her laptop. "I don’t know what happened in her private life," she said evenly, "but what you are doing right now is harassment."

For the first time, uncertainty flashed across the faces of the three women. Though only briefly. The oldest recovered almost immediately. "So you have all been fooled by her innocent act." She turned toward the crowd gathering outside. "She’s manipulating everyone just like she manipulated those Alphas."

I couldn’t help letting out a tired sigh. "You keep talking about manipulation," I said quietly. "Yet you have provided nothing except accusations." I met each of their gazes one by one and a small, controlled smile appeared on my lips. "If someone truly sent you here believing I’d quietly let you insult me all afternoon, they clearly don’t know me anymore."

The oldest woman’s face twisted with anger. "Oh, you have got quite the attitude."

"I have simply learned to respect myself."

Those simple words seemed to strike a nerve.

"You little-"

She suddenly reached across the counter, grabbing the ceramic cup sitting beside the cash register. Before I could react, she raised it high.

Time seemed to slow.

Someone shouted.

"Watch out!"

The woman swung the heavy mug directly toward my face. Instinctively, I stepped backward. But I already knew... I wasn’t going to be fast enough.

The mug never reached me.

A hand appeared from the side with impossible speed. Strong fingers caught the woman’s wrist in midair.

The bookstore went completely silent.

The woman’s eyes widened in pain as her wrist was effortlessly held in place.

"That’s enough."

The familiar voice was sharp and commanding.

Everyone inside the bookstore instinctively stopped moving. Even the phones recording the incident seemed to lower ever so slightly.

The newcomer slowly stepped forward until they stood between me and the three women.

I stared at the familiar broad back now shielding me, my own heartbeat still racing from the near miss.

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