Page 39 of The Honor of Being Hers
“We’ll fund the legal escalation,” she continued.“Not quietly.Not through donation filters.I want our names on the filings.”
“Done,” Ryan nodded.“I’ll also have William audit every system with access to Omega files.If there are more breaches, we’ll find them.”
William was already typing.“I’ve already started mapping the network vulnerabilities.This wasn’t a one-off; someone’s been systematically accessing private files.”
Lauren took the cup of tea Tyler offered, the porcelain warm against her palms, steam rising to brush against her face with the scent of bergamot and honey.“They made my body into a message,” she said."We’ll give them a better one.”
Sarah raised a brow.“Do you want fire, or do you want damage?”
“Both.”
The next hour passed in coordinated strategy planning.Rachel worked her network, her manicured fingers flying across her tablet screen while Tyler drafted medical board communications with clinical precision.Sarah reviewed legal frameworks with Samantha, who documented the cases and evidence.Meanwhile, Lauren noticed Samantha’s phone buzzing insistently beside her laptop, and though she ignored it, it was clear the insistent messages and calls caused her stress.Justin assembled media contacts while William traced digital footprints, his scarred hands steady on the keyboard.Ryan coordinated resources with the focused intensity that had made him successful, ensuring no avenue was left unexplored.
No one second-guessed her.No one redirected the plan.The scratching of pens on paper filled the quiet spaces between discussion, a steady rhythm of productivity and purpose.
They followed her lead, not because she demanded it, but because they recognized it.When the first emails went out, Lauren didn’t hide her name.
And when Sarah asked, “Do you want to go public with the bond too?”she paused, just long enough to consider the shape of her answer.
“Not because I’m claimed,” she said.“Because I choose to stand with the people who stood with me.”
The decision didn’t feel like surrender.
It felt like power.
As the meeting began to wind down, Lauren caught Samantha’s eye.Her friend was staring at her still-buzzing phone with a pained expression, caught between loyalty to Lauren’s cause and whatever family emergency was being manufactured this time.
“Take the call,” Lauren said quietly.“We’ve got this handled for now.”
Samantha’s grateful smile was tinged with guilt as she stepped outside, and Lauren made a mental note to check on her later.Some battles required fighting on multiple fronts.
20
Lauren noticed it right away.
Her desk was usually tidy, though not obsessively so, papers stacked in neat rows, a tea mug half-finished from this morning, the worn spine of her field notebook splayed open beside a fountain pen still uncapped.Nevertheless, the flat portfolio lying at the center of her workspace didn’t belong.The ribbon was a soft slate grey, not a color she’d ever use herself.And someone had aligned it perfectly parallel to the edge of the wood, like they knew she’d spot it before she even entered the room.
She paused, fingers brushing the frame of the door.No scent gave anything away.No scribbled note.Just the folder, waiting.
Her first instinct was suspicion.She didn’t like being caught off guard anymore.She crossed the room slowly, set her satchel aside, and ran one finger along the edge of the ribbon before untying it.It loosened easily.Whoever had done the knot had been gentle about it.
The folder unfolded with a whisper, not a snap.Inside, there were thick pages that felt substantial between her fingers: architectural paper, the kind with weight and texture.Blue lines, Ryan’s distinctive handwriting filled the margins in precise, measured strokes along with subtle smudges where adjustments had been made and re-erased with the care of someone who understood that details mattered.
She pulled the first page into view.
It was a layout of the west wing.The same space she had stayed in since the heat, only… not quite.Walls had shifted.Rooms realigned.A soft partition had been added to the corridor that linked her sleeping area to the shared hall.She stared at the section Ryan had re-labeled: Lauren’s Suite.Not nest.Not enough room.Not Omega wing.
Lauren’s.The lettering was precise, each character formed with deliberate care.
The second sheet revealed more: a converted eastward corner into a narrow balcony garden.Reinforced glass.A skylight designed to open or darken automatically depending on the time of day.And here, in a smaller script at the bottom of the page, a line of annotation.
This would be yours entirely.
She sat down, carefully, as if the weight of the paper demanded the same attention as her body.Her fingers trembled slightly as they moved over the lines slowly, reverent in a way she hadn’t expected to feel.This wasn’t just a revised blueprint for the estate.This was an offering.A gesture she hadn’t asked for.There was no assumption, nor was it a dictate from an Alpha to an Omega—just space for her to be herself.
He had created a space for her, right here in the home he already shared with William and Tyler.
She turned the last page and found a scaled rendering of a joint studio.Sound-treated.Divided storage.Dual lighting.And a small note in the margin near the corner where the desk would go.“For the woman who chooses her own words, her own battles, her own future.A space worthy of your brilliance.”Her breath caught in her throat at the simple sincerity of it.
