Chapter 288

Daphne

"What do you mean, he slept with the other one?" I ask, dumbfounded.

As far as I understand, unlike other worlds, I arrived here early,before the harem was fully established.

I was under the impression the main character, Elliot, was only entangled with one of the CEOs in a transactional, secret arrangement. Now, he’s already sleeping with the rival CEO, too?

I suppose I can’t exactly blame him. If there’s one thing I despise about this world already, it’s the sheer lack of control. The animalistic pull that overrides reason, dignity, and choice.

And that’s saying something, because in my last world, we were actual animals,beast-kin with instincts and claws,and at no point did we experience this all-consuming, feverish biological compulsion.

I hate it

I learned that lesson the hard way on the flight here. I remember sitting in first class, thinking the flight attendant had a pleasant, calming scent.

Next thing I knew, the usually tame and unfamiliar organ between my legs was stiffening, throbbing, entirely against my will.

That surge of raw, urgent want—the sudden, overwhelming need to pull her into my lap, to bury my face in her neck, to claim.

It was horrible, extremely horrible, it felt like I was drugged but simultaneously I was sane.

Trapped in a clear mind, forced to watch my own body betray me.

I’ve made it my life’s mission, right now, to stay away from Omegas.

I hate this. It makes me feel like shit. It makes me feel like those weak, pathetic men who talk about avoiding women as "temptations," blaming others for their own lack of control.

But for me, it’s not about temptation. It’s about self-preservation. It’s something I really, really don’t want—this chemical override, this theft of my own will.

I’m going to be in this world for a while. The thought is a stone in my stomach.

I hope I meet her soon. I think she’s the only person that will make life here bearable.

Anyway.

I straighten up, pushing the thoughts aside. I have things to do before the plot escalates even further. Before Elliot’s harem becomes a loaded gun pointed at the world.

Time to get to work.

***

Elijah

I get off the bed, the sheets tangled and still warm, and walk straight to the shower. I leave the omega there, sleeping or pretending to sleep,I don’t look back to check.

I don’t like the way he makes me lose control. The clarity I pride myself on, the discipline that built my empire from nothing... it all dissolves around him.

But I can’t let him go.

To make matters worse, he’s got these intoxicating pheromones and a face that pulls attention like a magnet. Like most beautiful, fragile things do. And beautiful, fragile things draw in all sorts of bugs.

One particularly nasty bug is that bastard, Charles.

I know about their little... activities at the hotel. I have eyes on Elliot. I always have eyes on him.

I remember the burn of it when I found out. Cold, sharp anger. I even felt... betrayed. I wanted to make him pay. For daring to open his legs for that bastard.

But when the rage cooled, I saw the trap.

That’s exactly what Charles wants. For me to get angry. To punish Elliot. To let him go in a fit of pride.

And if I let him go, I know that bastard will swoop in without a second thought.

I don’t know how many contracts I lost in my early career thanks to that bastard and the family name backing him.

Every win he stole still feels like a fresh bruise. It makes me unwilling,unable to lose anything else to him.

Especially not an Omega.

Especially not this one.

He’s mine. Not because I want him, but because I refuse to let Charles Grey win.

***

Damien

"It was an unfortunate incident... I’ll cover the full costs of repair and ensure thorough maintenance is conducted to prevent anything like this from happening again..." I continue the press release, my voice steady, practiced.

A local middle school collapsed due to aging infrastructure, injuring several children. The cameras flash; the reporters scribble. A few more pictures, a few more pointed questions, and it’s over.

My next stop is the hospital. I move through the corridors with my security detail a silent, vigilant shadow.

I’m heading toward the pediatric ward when someone rounds the corner too fast and crashes straight into my chest.

My guards tense instantly. I hold up a hand, stopping them before they can intervene.

The culprit stumbles back, looks up and my heart stops.

I’ve seen my fair share of Omegas. Beautiful, delicate, engineered to appeal. But this one... he could easily be at the top of that list.

Curly blonde hair a little tousled, and these wide, startled green eyes that seem to hold too much light for this sterile hallway.

"Hey," I say, my voice lower than I intended.

He flushes, a pretty, rapid pink that spreads from his cheeks down to his throat. Suddenly, it feels quite unfortunate that we’re in a hospital.

I find myself wondering what else on him turns that same shade.

"I’m sorry," he murmurs, his voice soft, and slips out of my grasp before I can steady him. He’s gone in a flutter of movement, disappearing around the corner.

I’ll have my secretary look into him, I think, filing the encounter away. A small, unexpected spark in an otherwise scripted day.

I continue to the hospital room of the last student on my list. When I enter, I find him again. The Omega. He’s fussing over a boy with a leg in a cast and a scattering of bruises. They look similar—same hair, same eyes.

Family.

"Hello," I say, but they don’t hear me over their own conversation.

"Ellie, please stop, I told you I’m okay," the boy whines, pushing at the Omega’s hands gently.

Ellie.

His name is just as pretty, too.

"Gary, I almost lost you. Let me," the Omega insists, his voice laced with a worry so raw it feels private. I can’t help the faint smile that touches my lips.

"Ahem." My secretary clears his throat loudly beside me.

They both startle and look toward the door. The Omega stands quickly, his cautious gaze sweeping over me and my security.

"This is Mayor Damien Han," my secretary announces smoothly.

"He heard about what happened. He’s personally checking on the injured students."

The Omega’s eyes widen slightly. Surprise, not recognition. Someone not well-versed in politics, then. Interesting.

"Of course," he says, voice polite but distant.

I step fully into the room, falling into the rhythm of official concern. The generic questions, the well-wishes, the presentation of the oversized fruit basket. I smile at the boy, and nod to make my leave.

In the quiet, plush interior of the town car, safely away from the hospital’s smell of antiseptic and anxiety, my secretary glances at me from the front seat.

"Want me to pull some strings?" he asks, his tone neutral. He’s been with me long enough to read the subtlest of interests.

"That’s why you have such an outrageous salary," I reply, looking out the window as the city slides by.

"A pleasure," he says, and I know it’s already done.