Alpha's Regret Too Late to Love Me novel Chapter 101

Chapter 101

Alexander understood immediately. “He’s… being taken care of. Ethan and Lyra arranged everything, but we’ve waited for you.”

The thought of my baby alone in some cold morgue nearly triggered another breakdown. I bit my lip until I tasted blood, trying to anchor myself to physical pain rather than emotional.

“I need to see him.”

“Summer-”

“I need to see my son.” My voice broke on the last word.

Alexander nodded slowly. “I’ll arrange it when the doctors say you’re stable enough.”

For a while, we sat in silence. The enormity of loss pressed down on me, making each breath a conscious

effort.

“The doctors said you were severely dehydrated and malnourished even before… before this happened,” Alexander eventually said. “You haven’t been taking care of yourself.”

“Here,” he said, reaching for a cup of water with a straw. “Small sips.”

I stared at the offered cup, not caring enough to reach for it. Then something in Alexander’s expression

caught my attention–the raw, naked grief etched into every line of his face. For the first time, I really

looked at him–saw the red–rimmed eyes, the unshaven face, the slumped shoulders. He had loved Felix

too.

Something shifted inside me, a tiny crack in the wall of my isolation. Slowly, I turned back and accepted

the water, taking a small sip. Alexander’s relief was palpable.

“I’m well enough to see him now,” I said after a moment, my voice strengthening with determination. “I

won’t collapse or try anything stupid. But I need to see my son, Alexander.”

He studied my face for a long moment before nodding. “I’ll speak with the doctor.”

An hour later, after the doctor’s reluctant approval and Alexander’s fierce insistence, I was in a

wheelchair being pushed toward the hospital morgue. Every inch we traveled felt like moving through

concrete, my heart pounding harder with each floor we descended.

The morgue attendant looked uncomfortable as Alexander spoke quietly with him. Words like “special circumstances” and “family closure” drifted to me, along with the soft rustle of what I suspected was a substantial amount of cash changing hands.

“Are you sure about this?” Alexander asked one last time, kneeling beside my wheelchair.

I nodded, unable to speak.

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The attendant led us into a cold room where a small sheet–covered form lay on a table. My breath caught in my throat.

“Do you want me to-?” Alexander began.

“No.” I gripped the armrests of the wheelchair. “Help me up.”

With his support, I stood on trembling legs and approached the table. The attendant discreetly stepped outside, leaving us alone.

For a long moment, I couldn’t bring myself to pull back the sheet. As long as I didn’t see him, I could pretend this wasn’t real.

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