《GL》 The Alpha Tried to Forget Her Omega Ex-Wife… Until a Little Girl Said, “You’re My Mom”

Rain always made Seraphine Vale remember the day Alara left. Not the arguments.

Not the papers on the dining table. Not even the unbearable silence that had followed their final conversation. Rain.

It had been raining when Alara Marin had stood in the doorway of the apartment they had chosen together.

One hand wrapped around the handle of a small suitcase,

and the other pressed against her coat as if she were holding herself together. Seraphine had wanted to cross the room.

She had wanted to take the suitcase from Alara's hand, pull her close, and tell her that none of it mattered.

Not the pressure. Not Seraphine's career. Not the whispers surrounding an alpha executive marrying a quiet Omega from a small coastal town.

not the exhausting expectations that seemed to follow Seraphine wherever she went. She had wanted to say, Stay.

Instead, wounded pride had kept her frozen. Ilara had looked back once.

Her hazel eyes had been swollen from crying. Is there really nothing you want to say to me?

There had been a thousand things. Seraphine had chosen the worst one.

If leaving is what you want, I won't stop you. Ilara's face had changed.

It was a tiny change, almost invisible.

But Seraphine remembered it better than anything else from their marriage. Hope disappearing.

Okay, Ilara had whispered. Then she had walked into the rain.

Seven years later, Seraphine still hated rainy mornings.

She stood beside the enormous window of her office and watched water stripe the glass.

At thirty-four, Seraphine was everything people had once predicted she would become.

President of Vale Meridian, owner of three luxury hotel chains,

featured on business covers, feared in negotiation rooms, respected by women twice her age.

She wore cream silk beneath a tailored charcoal suit.

her long black hair pinned neatly behind her shoulders, her posture was straight, her voice rarely rose,

and no one who worked beneath her command ever questioned who was in charge.

She was an alpha in every sense people expected, decisive, controlled, uncompromising.

Only one person had ever known how soft Seraphine could become,

And Seraphine had signed divorce papers from that woman seven years ago. Your ten o'clock moved to eleven?

Seraphine turned. Her assistant, Morel, stood at the office entrance holding a tablet.

Morel was a beta in her forties, efficient enough that Seraphine trusted her with nearly everything. Why?

The community center director called. Flood damage from last night.

They're asking if the foundation inspection can happen earlier instead. Seraphine looked toward the rain again.

Vale Meridian's charitable foundation had funded the restoration of an old neighborhood library and children's art center.

Normally someone else would inspect it. Today Seraphine wanted to be anywhere except inside this office with rain crawling down the windows.

I'll go. Morel blinked. You personally? Yes. Should I send security?

No. Seraphine. I am visiting a children's center, Morell, not entering a war zone.

Morell's mouth twitched. Some of those six-year-olds can be vicious.

For the first time that morning, Seraphine almost smiled. Move everything until after lunch.

The community center smelled like wet coats, crayons, old books, and cinnamon.

Seraphine had forgotten places could smell like childhood.

Women hurried through the halls carrying buckets beneath leaking sections of the ceiling.

Volunteers moved furniture away from damp walls while children were gathered in the renovated library room.

Seraphine listened to the director explain repairs. She asked direct questions.

How much water damage? Were any children present when the ceiling leaked?

Was the electrical system secure? What materials were needed immediately?

Within fifteen minutes, she had authorized emergency funding and arranged contractors. That was the easy part.

Problems made sense to Seraphine when they had numbers attached. A damaged roof could be repaired.