All Chapters of Once His Mate, Now His Regret: Chapter 101 - Chapter 110

Aurielle DuVallI woke up feeling… lighter. Brighter. Hopeful in a way I hadn’t felt in weeks—maybe months.There was a quiet calm in the air, the kind that slips into your bones and makes you believe, just for a moment, that today might be good. I stretched slowly, allowing myself to enjoy the rare feeling of optimism. I didn’t have much to do today—technically nothing urgent—but I did want to speak with Matthias. The list of fourteen candidates had been sitting with him for a good amount of time now, and I needed to know if he’d finally made his picks.If he hadn’t… well, I’d handle it myself.I’d go through the list again, narrow it down to three strong contenders, contact them, schedule individual interviews, and—if they passed—begin the training process immediately. We didn’t have time to waste, and this wasn’t a role just anyone could fill. They had to be sharp, focused, and loyal.And after that, I’d speak with Matthias about compensation. Contracts. Bonuses. Travel allowance i

Aurielle DuVallI let out a sharp huff and crossed one leg over the other, my heel bouncing with pent-up irritation. Typical Matthias. He hadn’t changed. Still using cheap tactics and emotional sabotage to try and keep control of a situation that slipped from his hands days ago. Of course, he brought her, Nerissa. It wasn’t just a meeting. It was an ambush, carefully dressed up as coincidence.Thank the gods—all of them—for Cassiel showing up this morning. I’m not sure how I would’ve handled that alone. I probably would've kept my cool on the outside, but internally? I'd have been a storm. Matthias had this way of pretending to listen. He’d nod, ask the right questions, say the right words… and then do whatever he wanted anyway, like my voice was just background noise to him. Despite Cassiel’s talk with him yesterday, he still wanted me to train Nerissa.How entitled can one person be?Cassiel sat down beside me, solid and reassuring, and I accepted the folders from his hands with a s

Matthias CroweI tried—I really, really tried—to enjoy my evening.I focused on the food first. Every bite was artfully plated and full of rich, carefully crafted flavors. I forced myself to taste it and to nod and hum in appreciation whenever Nerissa commented on the spices or asked me to try something off her plate. It was easy for the first few minutes. I distracted myself with delicious food and Nerissa, trying to admire how pretty she is. Trying to remind my wolf that we were not defined by our instincts, by our mating bonds, we’re not controlled by any of it. Still, it didn’t work. I drank from my cup. Then I focused on the sound. The band played a soft, almost haunting rendition of an old love song I used to adore. The melody drifted through the restaurant like smoke, curling around every candle flame and whispered conversation. The dancers moved like water, fluid and elegant, dressed in silks that shimmered under golden lighting.And through it all, Nerissa talked about her

I stepped into the bathroom, heels clicking softly against the polished marble floor. It was pristine. Elegant. The soft hum of ambient music filtered faintly through the walls, and the scent—sweet, floral, something like jasmine and lily—hung in the air like perfume on silk.Not a single stall door was ajar. No scuff marks on the floor. No sign that anyone had used the space before me. It felt more like a private lounge than a restroom, and for a second, I let myself breathe in the stillness.I turned on the tap and watched the cold water run in steady ribbons down the gold-lined sink. I considered splashing some on my face, maybe to shock myself back into control—but I couldn’t risk ruining my makeup. Not after tonight. Not after how beautiful I felt for the first time in what felt like forever.So I didn’t touch the water.Instead, I leaned against the counter and stared at my reflection.My hair was still in place. My lipstick hadn’t smudged. My eyes sparkled—maybe from the dance,

Matthias CroweAurielle left first.I didn’t even realize it at first—too lost in thought, too busy trying not to look in her direction. But then her chair was empty. A ghost of her perfume still lingered faintly in the air like the aftertaste of something sweet I hadn’t earned the right to have. When she'd spotted me, I stared her down, then forced myself to look away. I didn’t know the next time I looked up, she would be gone. She just left. I watched her pretty smile diminish at the sight of me, like I was the dark cloud over her otherwise sunny day.Cassiel followed a few minutes later. He didn’t say anything to anyone. Just stood, glanced across the room, and left. But not before looking at me.It wasn’t a glare, and it wasn’t smugness, either. His face was unreadable—blank in the kind of way that made me feel like I wasn’t even worth the expression. That was what pissed me off: that silent dismissal, that calm assurance that he had no respect for me, that he could tell I was f