The Alpha's Regret

{Elle's POV} The greatest stories are the ones we carry silently within our souls—the ones we wish would have ended beautifully… But how could it become a story when it had already ended without even starting? “Maybe in some other universe, I would be able to hold on to you forever,” I whispered, looking at the cream-colored piece of paper in my hand and reading through the cursive handwritten letter that I had read a thousand times before. I let out a shaky breath and briefly closed my eyes, picturing my mother’s face on my head, her sweet smile, and her soft eyes as they gazed down lovingly at me. I miss you so much, Mom. Suddenly, I heard a high-pitched scream coming from upstairs. I quickly but carefully folded the piece of paper in my hand and then slipped it into one of the books placed on my small study table. “Ellie!” I didn’t bother fixing my crumbled clothes and practically sprinted upstairs and into the dining area, where a girl my age was standing in front of her father, who was sitting at the head of the table, a newspaper in hand. And in case you were wondering, yes, my room was indeed in the small, crampy basement. The girl was complaining again to her parents, and then suddenly, a finger was pointed at me. “And it was all her fault! She was so good at making it seem like I was bullying her! I got humiliated and almost got suspended because our teachers accused me of locking her in the janitor’s closet!”Her face was so red in anger as she complained to her parents. And no matter how long I’ve been living with them, this girl really never fails to make me freeze in shock. “But it was—” True. However, instead of finishing my sentence, I was cut off by a hard slap that made my face whip to the side because of the hard impact. I stare at the floor in shock while my left hand goes to my left cheek, where I feel the stinging pain caused by her slap. Some of my hair even fell out of my face, and I was glad it did because it was enough to cover my eyes that were beginning to blur with tears. “Millie! ”Her father scolded. “Not in front of the food! ” I could feel two pairs of eyes glaring daggers at me, but I kept my eyes on the floor, desperately trying to stop myself from shedding a tear. I heard a chair sliding backward, creating a scraping sound on the floor. “Did you do such things to my daughter? ”I finally heard her say. It was Aunt Rebecca, my mom’s cousin. “After all the things we did for you, ”she scoffed. “Ellie, have you forgotten how we took you in and gave you a home after your mother passed away? And now, you have the nerve to humiliate my daughter? ” I shook my head, trying to deny the accusation, but I knew that speaking wasn’t an option. Trust me, I’ve learned that the hard way. “Oh, so I’m a liar now, huh? ”Millie suddenly grabbed my hair and forcefully made me look at her. “You’re making me look like a liar now?! ”She pulled my hair so tight that I felt like my scalp was about to pull off. “No, please, let go.” I looked at Mr. Smith, or rather her father, for help, but all he did was put down the newspaper in his hand and then left the dining table, seeming too uninterested to care. “I think it’s just right to teach her a lesson,” Aunt Rebecca spits out, and my eyes widen in horror when she storms towards the basement. “No. No. Please no! ”I tried to get out of Millie’s hold, but she had my hair around her fingers, gripping them tightly. “Please, let me go! No! ”I screamed when I heard things breaking from the basement. My things. I barely had anything new in my life; hence, most of my things were from my mother. Those were the last things I have of her. When I finally managed to get out of Millie’s hold, I practically ran down the basement to stop Aunt Rebecca, but it was too late. Piles of broken things were scattered on the floor; almost all of them looked impossible to fix. I heard footsteps coming towards me, followed by a slap echoing in the basement. I held my right cheek this time as Aunt Rebecca stood in front of me. “Pull another stunt like this, and you’ll be homeless next, you insolent child,” she hisses before leaving the basement and purposely bumping into me. I felt my knees go weak as they made contact with the hard floor, but my eyes were directly glued to the broken photo of me and my mom as well as the now-torn pieces of the letter I was reading earlier. That was her last and only letter to me before she passed away, and now it’s been ripped into small pieces. I didn’t even know that Aunt Rebecca knew where I was hiding it. Drops of tears fell on the floor as I cried silently, trying not to make any sound. I cover my mouth with both of my hands to stifle my sobs as my shoulder shakes violently. I want to scream so badly. I wanted to take all this pain away and imagine how my life would be if my mom were still here, but instead, I silently picked up the pieces of broken glass from our photo and the torn pieces of paper from her letter. Because, just like before, no matter what they throw at me, at the end of the day, all I could do was pick those things up and try to place them back where they were before without hearing anything from me. That’s all I could ever do. “Ellie! Where have you been? ” I smiled at my friend, Nicky, as she waved her hands in the air while waiting for me in front of my locker, her short hair full of different hairpins bouncing as she did so. “You missed the first and second period, girl. Ms. Brooke even asked me if I’d seen you because, you know, the only girl listening in her class was absent.” She laughed, but then her face grew serious. “So, mind telling me? ” I jokingly pushed her aside and opened my locker, taking all the things I might need for the next class. “I might sort of... have overslept,” I reasoned out. “Ellie, you know that’s bullsh*t.” I turned toward her after closing my locker. “Nicky, it’s true. I had to stay up all night to finish some things, like Millie’s homework and projects. I also have mine to finish, and I need to study.” Her eyes told me she never believed anything I’d said, but I felt relieved when she didn’t push it further. Even though Nicky knew my house situation, I would never be able to tell her exactly all the things that were happening inside that house. And that includes violence. Never. Not because I don’t trust her enough, but because I felt like she already pities me as it is. I don’t want her to see me as someone whose life is a living hell, even though that was exactly the word to sum it up. I met her last year. She was a new student. At first, she was too shy to talk to other students; hence, she probably chose to hang out with me, seeing as I was the only other student besides her who talked to no one. “Why don’t you crash at my place tonight? ," she suggested as we both sat down in the front seat of our English class. I took out all the necessary things I might need during the lecture and sighed, turning to her with a small smile, half apologetic that, for the hundredth time, I had to reject her offer. “You know I can’t do that, and besides, it’s not like I’ll have any sleep at all. I’m lucky to even manage to have five hours of sleep.” “Come on, Elle, that’s not healthy. Why don’t you just leave that house? You can stay with me in the meantime, and I’m sure my mom would be happy to have you with us. Just a few months, and you’ll turn eighteen anyway.” If only it was that easy. But instead of explaining all the reasons why I couldn’t do that, I just smiled and said, “Maybe some other time.” I was kind of relieved when our English teacher went inside the classroom, stopping her from making another attempt to convince me to leave the house. In other circumstances, I would be more than thrilled to leave that hellhole, but that family seems to always have me on a leash. In other words, they have something that I cannot just leave there, and as long as it’s in their possession, I will never ever be able to leave that house. Not yet, at least. The classes ended around four, but instead of heading directly to the madhouse I live in, I went to a café two blocks from school. I entered through the backdoor and immediately changed into my staff uniform, which consisted of a gray polo shirt with a name tag pinned and slacks. After changing, I immediately went to work. I started working here when I was fifteen, and even though it had crossed my mind before, I never intended to work as a part-timer, especially that early. But the owner of this café, Mrs. Harrison, saw me outside this café two and a half years ago, no doubt looking like a hungry homeless kid, so she trained me, and, after a few weeks, I started working here as a waitress, and sometimes I worked at the counter as the cashier. I saved up enough money to be able to leave the house, rent a small room, and continue going to school, but the same reason as to why I kept rejecting Nicky’s offer. I can’t leave that house yet. My shift’s actually around five to nine, but I started an hour early, so I could leave around eight. I had just finished serving a customer her order, so I went back to the kitchen. A few minutes later, Tessa, the assigned cashier today, went in, holding a phone up to show me that someone was calling her. “Hey, can you cover up for me? I’ll just answer this call.” She looked at me pleadingly. “I’ll make it quick, promise.” “Sure.” I smiled and removed my black apron. Tessa was quick to leave, using the back door. I sighed and just shook my head before proceeding to go over the counter. I looked over at the now-quiet café. It was already past seven, and there was only one customer left, so I presumed that we were going to close the café soon. I was wiping the countertop when the bell rang, indicating that there was a new customer. I put on a smile and faced the customer. “Good evening. Welcome to—" My words were cut off when I saw a man walking inside. He has buzzcut chestnut brown hair and green eyes that kind of resemble mine. He stood around six feet tall with a lean body and muscles in all the right places. His features were strangely familiar for someone whom I was just seeing for the first time. His massive figure seems to dominate the whole place with his presence. I heard someone clear their throat. I blinked a few times and then realized that the man was already right in front of the counter. I swallowed and immediately made a move to get his order, and to my utter relief, I heard the door from the kitchen open, revealing Tessa. “I’ll take it from here, Elle. Thanks,” she smiled before facing the customer with a bright smile. “Hi! Welcome to our café, sir. May I take your order? ” I didn’t wait to hear his response and immediately went inside the kitchen, suddenly having this strange feeling. That guy—he resembles someone I know. Someone who was already buried deep in my memory. My shift ended around 8:30 p.m. And as expected, I reached the house around nine. I was kind of afraid to find out if the front door was locked, but that fear was quickly forgotten when I saw a very expensive-looking car parked outside the house. My first thought was, did Aunt Rebecca choose to buy a car? But there was no way they could ever afford to buy that kind of car unless they sold something expensive. My eyes widened. I quickly ran inside the house, dread overflowing inside my body, but I stopped in my tracks after I swung the front door open and heard Aunt Rebecca screaming. “You lost your right seventeen years ago! She will never come with you! I promised my cousin I’d take care of her, and I’ve been so good at doing that for the past ten years that she was under my care, so go! Leave! ” What is this nonsense? I slowly walked inside and into the living room, but not to the point that I’d make my presence known. That’s probably the only thing I was ever good at. But then I felt a hole burning in my head, and so I looked around the chaotic living room, and my eyes widened in shock when I saw the same green-eyed customer earlier at the café. He was standing in the corner, hands inside the pocket of his jeans, looking just as surprised as me. “I will not leave without my daughter! I’m taking her back, and she will come with me.” My attention was caught when I heard those words coming from the man standing in the middle of the living room, facing Aunt Rebecca and Millie, while Mr. Smith was quietly sitting on the couch, looking through some magazine as if it were the most uninteresting night of his life. Don’t tell me he’s my… Dad