TOO LATE, ALPHA: THE BILLIONAIRE LUNA STRIKES BACK

CHAPTER 3: DONE WITH LOVE

ROSETTE’S POV

I’d almost died.

That was the first coherent thought when I woke in silk sheets I barely recognized as my own.

The softness felt foreign after two years of rough cotton at the Blackwell estate, the scent of jasmine strange after endless chemical cleaners. Pale Christmas morning light filtered through the curtains, catching on fresh snow in the gardens below.

Then I saw the vaulted ceiling of my childhood bedroom, and everything came crashing back.

“Miss Rosette?” The voice was tentative, hopeful, tinged with relief. “Oh, thank the Goddess. You’re awake.”

I turned my head, even that small movement taking effort, and found Willow standing beside my bed. My maid from before I’d left everything behind for a man who’d treated me like dirt.

She looked older, exhausted, shadows carved under her eyes. But when our gazes met, her face crumpled with relief that loosened something in my chest.

“Willow,” I managed, my voice rough and unused.

“Don’t try to sit up yet.” She moved closer to adjust my pillows with careful efficiency. “Dr. Orson said you need to take it slowly. Your body has been through tremendous trauma.”

Trauma. Such a clinical word for what had happened.

I let Willow fuss over me, pouring water from a crystal pitcher into a glass that probably cost more than my entire wardrobe at the Blackwell estate.

“How long was I unconscious?” I asked after I’d drained the glass.

“Nearly fourteen hours.” Willow set the pitcher down, her hands shaking slightly. “The doctors worked through the night. The mate bond severance combined with your power awakening after such long suppression… Miss Rosette, we thought we’d lost you.” Her voice broke. “Your father wouldn’t leave your side. He sat right there in that chair, holding your hand, and I swear I saw him praying.”

Richard Sinclair, Alpha King. The man who controlled over fifty packs and commanded more wealth than most countries. The man who’d buried his mate and son with dry eyes because Alpha Kings couldn’t afford weakness.

That man had been frightened for me.

Something warm and painful twisted in my chest.

“He only left an hour ago,” Willow continued, smoothing invisible wrinkles from the silk duvet. “Dr. Orson practically had to threaten him to get him to rest. But he made me promise to fetch him the moment you woke up.”

She didn’t need to fetch him. As if he’d sensed the change, the door opened and Richard Sinclair walked in.

Papa.

He looked nothing like the immaculate Alpha King the world knew. His silver hair was disheveled, his shirt wrinkled and untucked. Those ice-blue eyes that could freeze boardrooms were red-rimmed and haunted.

“Rosette.” My name came out like a prayer, broken and relieved and aching.

Willow quietly excused herself, understanding without being told that we needed privacy.

My father crossed the room in a few long strides and pulled me into his arms. Carefully, like I was made of glass. Like I might shatter if he held too tight.

His embrace was warm and solid and safe in a way I’d forgotten existed.

“I’m sorry,” he said into my hair, his voice rough with emotion he rarely let anyone see. “Goddess, Rosette, I’m so sorry. When Luther called to tell me what happened, when he said you’d collapsed and they couldn’t wake you up, I thought—” He pulled back just enough to look at me, his hands framing my face. “I thought I’d lost you too. After your mother and Raphael, I thought I’d lost my last piece of them. My daughter. My little girl.”

“I’m here, Papa,” I said softly, using the name I hadn’t called him in years. “I’m still here.”

He held me for a long moment more, and when he finally pulled away, he was composed again. The Alpha King mask sliding back into place, though his eyes remained softer than usual.

We talked as the afternoon faded into evening.

Willow brought food, real food, the kind I remembered from childhood. “Christmas dinner,” she said quietly as she set down the tray. “Cook insisted you needed proper nourishment.”

I picked at it while my father told me things I’d suspected but never had confirmed.

Luther had been my bodyguard all along, posing as my father’s driver.

Richard had spent two years quietly buying up Blackwell Industries through shell companies, building majority ownership while Ethan remained oblivious.

Every business success Ethan had celebrated had been orchestrated by my father’s network.

“I was ready to intervene if he ever physically harmed you,” Richard said, his voice taking on an edge that reminded me why Alphas twice his size feared him. “Luther had orders to extract you immediately if Ethan ever raised a hand to you. But emotional abuse, manipulation, infidelity…” He exhaled slowly. “Those I couldn’t protect you from without interfering with the test.”

“The test,” I repeated, something bitter and tired in my voice. “I can’t believe I’d once thought it was a bad idea.”

“Any man who becomes your mate doesn’t just marry you, Rosette. He becomes Alpha King. He’ll rule beside you over fifty packs, control Sinclair Global, hold power that most Alphas can only dream about.” Richard leaned forward, intensity burning in his gaze. “I needed absolute certainty that he loved you. Not your title, not your wealth, not the power you could give him. Just you.”

“And he failed.”

“Most weak men do.” Richard’s voice softened. “And I’m proud that you walked away. He didn’t deserve my precious girl.”

We sat in silence. Outside, the Sinclair estate gardens stretched out, manicured lawns blanketed in white, elegant fountains frozen mid-flow, evergreens heavy with snow.

Everything beautiful and expensive and perfect. Everything I’d given up for a shitty room and a man ashamed to call me his wife.

“I’m ready, Papa.” The words came out stronger than I expected. “I know I said I never wanted to be part of the family business and throne before, but I think I’m ready now to be your heir.”

Richard looked up sharply. “Rosette, you don’t have to feel pressured into this because of what happened—”

“I mean it.” I cut him off. “I’m ready to be Rosette Sinclair, CEO of Sinclair Global and future Alpha Queen of the Eastern Territories.”

Richard must have seen something in my expression because his own softened. He sighed.

“Fine. You’d make an excellent CEO, my dear. But there’s something we need to discuss. Your future. Now that you’re taking your place in the company and preparing to eventually take the throne, perhaps you could consider another—”

“If you’re about to suggest suitors or alliance marriages, don’t.” The words came out harder and colder than I’d intended, but I couldn’t soften them.

“Rosette—”

“I mean it, Papa.” I set down the teacup I’d been holding, meeting his gaze directly. “I know what you’re going to say. That there are powerful Alphas from good families who would make suitable Alpha Kings. Men who could stand beside me when I take the throne, who bring their own territories and alliances and strength to the union. Men who would be honored to mate with a True Blood Alpha and gain access to everything the Sinclair family represents.”

Richard opened his mouth, but I continued before he could speak.

“And maybe some of them would even be decent. Maybe some of them wouldn’t cheat or lie or hide me away. Maybe some of them would actually try to be good partners.” I felt something hard and final settle in my chest. “But I don’t care. I’m done, Papa. Completely done. Done with love, done with mates, done with the Goddess and her supposed sacred bonds that can be severed with a few cruel words. Done with men who look at me and see a stepping stone to power or a prize to be won.”

“Sweetheart, I understand you’re hurt right now—”

“This isn’t about being hurt.” I stood up, surprised by how steady my legs felt despite everything. “This is about being realistic. Ethan taught me something valuable these past two years, even if he didn’t mean to. He taught me that love makes you weak. That giving someone your heart gives them a weapon to destroy you. That mates and bonds and all those pretty fairy tales we’re told as children are just lies designed to make us vulnerable.”

I walked to the window, looking out over the gardens where I’d played as a child. Where my mother had taught me about plants and my brother had pushed me on the swings and everything had been perfect before it all fell apart.

“I’ll rule alone,” I said quietly. “No Alpha King. No alliance marriage. No mate. Just me and the power I was born with and the empire you built. That’s enough. That has to be enough.”

Behind me, I heard Richard stand. He crossed the room to stand beside me, both of us looking out at the same view.

“Your mother used to stand here,” he said softly. “After difficult board meetings or exhausting pack politics, she’d stand here and tell me the hardest part of being a Luna wasn’t the power or responsibility. It was maintaining hope. Hope that people were better than they seemed. That love was worth the risk.”

My throat tightened. “Mom was wrong.”

“Maybe,” Richard conceded. “Or maybe she just never met someone like Ethan Blackwell. Someone who could take that hope and grind it into dust.” He was quiet for a moment. “I won’t push you toward any suitors, Rosette. If you want to rule alone, that’s your choice to make. You’re my daughter and my heir, and I’ll support whatever decision you make about your future.”

Relief flooded through me. “Thank you.”

“But,” he continued, and I tensed, “you need to understand what revealing yourself means. Every ambitious Alpha in North America now knows you exist. Knows you’re a True Blood. Knows you’re my heir and will inherit everything I’ve built.” His voice hardened. “They will come after you, Rosette. Not all of them will be as obvious about it as Ethan was. Some will try charm. Some will try alliances. Some will try force.”

“Let them try.”

“I’m serious.” Richard turned to face me fully. “You’ll face challenges to your authority from Alphas who don’t believe a woman should hold this much power. Attempted kidnappings from those who think they can claim you by force. Assassination attempts from rivals who want to destabilize Sinclair Global. You need to be strategic, careful, absolutely ruthless in protecting yourself.”

I thought about Patricia Blackwell on her knees, cradling the wrist I’d twisted until I felt bones grind together. About Madison Pierce’s shocked face when my palm connected with her cheek. About Ethan frozen mid-step by my Alpha Command, unable to even follow me as I walked away.

“I can be ruthless,” I said, and meant it.

Richard studied my face for a long moment, and I saw pride flicker in his eyes. Then his expression darkened.

“There’s one man you need to be particularly wary of,” he said carefully. “One man who represents a threat unlike any other you’ll face. Zavien Giordani.”

The name meant nothing to me, but the way my father said it, like it tasted bitter on his tongue, made me pay attention.

“The Lycan King,” Richard continued. “Our family’s oldest and most dangerous enemy.”