Chapter 302

Vivienne

I look at the pictures and sigh.

The photos are damning—Damien and that omega, Elliot, in various states of intimacy. A parking garage. A hotel lobby. The bathroom at the golf course, somehow captured through a gap in the door. Nothing explicit enough to be pornographic, but more than enough to destroy a political campaign.

Careless. So fucking careless.

I walk toward Damien’s room, the photos tucked in a folder under my arm. My heels click against the marble floor, each step echoing in the quiet hallway. Part of me wants to turn around, to pretend I never saw them. Let him burn. Let the whole carefully constructed facade crumble.

Then the face of Daphne appears in my mind. I’m in no position to throw stones.

I knock.

He opens the door, surprised to see me. We don’t visit each other’s rooms. We don’t visit each other at all, beyond the required public appearances.

"What is it?" he asks, already sounding annoyed.

Like I would want to be here.

I step past him into the room, holding out the folder. "Someone sent me pictures of that omega of yours."

He flinches. Good. At least he has the sense to be afraid.

He takes the folder, opens it, flips through the photos. His face goes pale, then red. "Who sent these?"

"I don’t know. Anonymous delivery. No note, no demands. Just the photos."

He looks up at me, suspicious. "Why are you bringing these to me?"

"Because I’m your fiancée. Because if this leaks, it doesn’t just ruin you—it ruins the whole family." I fold my arms, fixing him with my coldest stare.

"I don’t care if you have one Omega or a hundred. That’s your business. But the elections are around the corner. How could you be so careless?"

He has the grace to look ashamed. Just for a moment, before the defensiveness kicks in.

"You knew about Elliot. You’ve always known."

"I knew you had someone. I didn’t know you were documenting it for blackmailers." I gesture at the photos.

"These aren’t paparazzi shots, Damien. These are professional. Someone’s been watching you."

He flips through them again, jaw tight. "I’ll handle it."

"How?"

"I don’t know yet. But I’ll handle it."

I study him for a long moment. He’s handsome, in that polished political way. He’s not cruel, not intentionally. But he’s weak. Weak in ways that make him dangerous.

"Who else knows about him?" I ask.

"Just... a few people. His brother. My driver. Maybe some others."

"Maybe." I shake my head.

"Mayor Han, wake up. Your position is not so frivolous." I jab his chest with my finger, watching him flinch. "I suggest you don’t meet with that Omega for a while. At least until the election is over and we find out who’s behind these photos."

He clenches his jaw. That stubborn set to his mouth that I’ve seen in countless photos and exactly zero private moments that mattered.

"I’ll deal with it," he says.

It’s dismissal. Clear and cold.

I sigh and walk out of the room, not bothering to look back.

The hallway stretches before me, empty and ornate, the kind of wealth that’s supposed to feel like security. It doesn’t. Not anymore.

I can’t help but think how different my life would be if I had been engaged to the other Han sibling.

The thought is treasonous. Disloyal. Everything I was raised not to be.

But it’s also true.

Daphne looks at me like I’m the answer to a question she’s been asking for centuries.

I press my hand to my chest, feeling my heart race at just the thought of her.

Stop it, I tell myself. You’re engaged. You have responsibilities. You have— 𝕗𝐫𝚎𝗲𝘄𝐞𝕓𝐧𝕠𝘃𝕖𝐥.𝐜𝚘𝚖

I have nothing. Nothing except a ring on my finger and a future that feels increasingly like a cage.

I walk to my room and close the door, leaning against it in the dark.

***

Daphne

Well. That was cold.

I watched the whole exchange—Vivienne’s frustration, Damien’s dismissal, the way she walked out with her shoulders tight and her head high.

I’ve always known their relationship was on the rocks. But this is worse than I imagined.

[The photos served their purpose.] The System’s voice is calm, clinical. [Damien’s response confirms his priorities. Position over person.]

Exactly.

I sent the pictures, with the System’s help. Anonymous delivery, untraceable, perfectly timed. I needed Damien to step back from Elliot for a while. Needed space to work, to plan, to dismantle this harem piece by piece without the MC constantly distracted by one of his Alphas.

But I also needed to see.

To understand what I’m dealing with.

And what I saw is this: Damien Han does not love Elliot Wallace. Not the way that matters. Not enough to sacrifice for.

In the original timeline, he never publicly acknowledged their relationship either. Even in the so-called "happily ever after," their connection existed in shadows, in whispers, in convenient arrangements.

Never his priority.

This time, I’ll make him choose. Really choose. Between his status and his beloved Omega.

I wonder which one will win.

[Analysis suggests Damien will choose status. His character construct prioritizes external validation and political power above emotional connection.]

Exactly.

I open my laptop screen, pulling up the feeds and reports from Vincent Moretti’s crumbling empire.

The screen flickers to life, displaying a mosaic of information—financial trackers, communication intercepts, surveillance updates. The System’s upgrades have made this almost too easy. Almost.

Vincent’s face appears in a grainy security feed from one of his remaining safe houses. He looks terrible. Dark circles under his eyes, twitching hands, the kind of desperate energy that precedes catastrophic mistakes.

Good.

I scroll through the updates:

· Three more lieutenants have been picked up by federal authorities. All of them are singing.

· Two offshore accounts frozen by "unexplained regulatory scrutiny."

· A shipment of weapons intercepted at the docks—anonymous tip to the police.

· His remaining captains are meeting without him. Discussing "alternatives."

[Vincent has identified a pattern. He knows someone is systematically dismantling his operations. He does not yet know who.]

He will soon.

[That is inadvisable. Direct confrontation—]

I’m not going to confront him. I’m going to let him find what I want him to find.