Alpha's Regret: The Seventh Time was Forever

Chapter 32 - All you do is create chaos and destruction

A young boy, no more than six was thrashing violently in the backseat of a sleek black sedan, his small body bucking against the leather as though the car itself were his enemy.

His face was flushed a deep, painful red, tears soaking his lashes and streaking down his cheeks unchecked.

Tiny fists slammed against the seat, against the door, anywhere they could reach, his screams raw and desperate, echoing through the underground garage with a panic that clawed at the chest.

A woman stood frozen by the open door. She was dressed in immaculate designer clothes, tailored, flawless, expensive, but her composure had completely unraveled.

Her hands shook as she hovered uselessly, whispering pleas that went unheard, her face drawn tight with exhaustion and fear. Seraphine did not hesitate.

She moved instantly, her heels striking the concrete as she rushed forward, every instinct honed by years of crisis response snapping into place. Her voice, when she spoke, was calm and steady, low, controlled, grounding. "Is he injured?"

The woman shook her head quickly and lowered her sunglasses, revealing eyes rimmed red from sleepless nights and endless tears. "No... no. He has a neurologic condition, a brain injury which causes these episodes."

Her voice cracked. "There’s no cure. He screams until he exhausts himself, and nothing I do helps, nothing."

Seraphine’s chest tightened, a familiar ache blooming beneath her ribs, but training overrode emotion. She crouched beside the boy, careful not to crowd him, her presence deliberate and assured.

She spoke softly, not to silence him but to reach him, her words slow, rhythmic, paired with measured breathing meant to give his frantic body something else to follow.

calming points, guiding sensation, redirecting focus away from the

faltered, and the boy’s fists loosened, fingers trembling

body sagged against the seat, breaths coming in broken hiccups, then slowly, miraculously, beginning to even out. The panic ebbed, leaving behind exhaustion

woman stared in stunned disbelief. "How... how did

She wrote swiftly, efficiently, her pen scratching with purpose.

condition, but they can reduce the agitation and frequency of episodes." She tore the page free and handed

as though afraid it might vanish. Her carefully constructed composure finally shattered. "Thank you," she whispered, tears

boy, now quiet, his storm temporarily stilled. Then she stepped back, allowing the mother

lips, not of amusement, but recognition. This was Seraphine. He had

only he had not hated her then. If only he

time realization fully settled in his chest, Seraphine was already walking away.

Ashkael Holdings, she felt disoriented. It was her first time inside the tower, and the sheer scale

monolith of power, glass

seemed to move with purpose. Men and women in

reception desk and approached without hesitation.

receptionist, barely older than a teenager froze. Her eyes widened slightly as she stared at Seraphine, clearly shocked by how casually the name had been spoken. Still, professionalism won out. "Ninetieth floor," she said

Seraphine replied, already

closed. Five other occupants stood inside, silent and rigid. Corvine

shifted instantly. The chaos

in business attire, glasses perched neatly on her nose, looked up