The story started without me deciding to tell it. Maybe the food had lowered my defenses. Maybe exhaustion had finally won over paranoia. Maybe I just needed someone, anyone, to know the truth before it crushed me.
Wayne’s eyebrows rose but he didn’t interrupt. I pushed soup around with my spoon, watching carrots chase celery in circles.
“His brother was found dead. In my room. And the rest as you can guess,” I finally said making a wide gesture with my hand. The condensed version left out so much. The blood, the public rejection, the mark carved from my throat. But even this abbreviated truth felt like pulling glass from wounds.
The words spilled out in whispered fragments between bites I forced myself to take. Not everything. I kept Damon’s name locked behind my teeth like the last defense I had. The mate bond formed and severed in days. The trial where truth hadn’t mattered. The medical reality of twin alphas eating me alive from inside.
I finished with the final detail, my voice barely audible over the diner’s ambient noise. “The healer said without their father’s support, my odds aren’t good.”
The understatement tasted bitter as the coffee Wayne hadn’t touched since adding sugar. Not good meant maybe thirty percent survival rate. Maybe watching my body fail organ by organ as the twins demanded more than I could provide. Maybe bleeding out during delivery because omega bodies weren’t designed for multiple alpha births without support.
Wayne’s expression had shifted from curiosity to something fiercer. Protective anger on my behalf. It had been so long since anyone was angry for me rather than at me.
“Those bastards,” he said quietly, but the words carried weight. “Blaming an omega for something she couldn’t have done.”
He understood without me spelling it out. The impossibility of an omega overpowering an alpha, especially one from royal bloodlines. The convenience of a scapegoat who couldn’t fight back. The way power protected itself by sacrificing the vulnerable.
“How far along?” He pushed my juice closer when my voice cracked on the medical details.
“Seventeen as of this week.”
Wayne pulled out his phone, scrolling through contacts with purpose that made me tense. “April’s got a cousin who’s a midwife. Off books, helps girls in trouble. We’ll get you proper care.”
“I appreciate the help. But I can barely afford the vitamins. And I don’t want to burden anyone or her having to lose out on anything by helping me. It is risky as it is.”
He waved me off like money was the least important part of this conversation. “You know about April. Consider this our chance to grandparent by proxy.”
The casual adoption into their childless life broke something in my chest. This man I’d known for months, who paid me minimum wage to show ratty apartments, had just claimed me as family. Not the family you’re born to but the kind you choose when biology fails you.
“Wayne, I can’t ask you to...”
“You’re not asking. I’m telling you.” He tucked his phone away, a decision already made. “You’ll keep working as long as you’reable. Routine provides cover, makes you look stable. April will handle prenatal appointments through her network. We can stockpile supplies for when you can’t work anymore.”
He laid out a plan with military efficiency while I sat stunned. Each point addressed a fear I hadn’t voiced.
“Why would you risk this for me?” The question escaped before pride could stop it.
Wayne finally took a sip of his oversugared coffee, grimacing at the cold temperature. “Because you are somebody’s child too. And it is not much, Rhea.”
Found family chooses harder but holds tighter.
“I don’t know what to say.” Words felt inadequate for the gift being offered.
He simply put his hand over mine, and patted it. The gesture was significant, even though it was silent. The check arrived and Wayne paid before I could protest.
We walked back to the office in comfortable silence. Once inside, I settled at my desk, reorganized back to its original position because paranoia seemed less urgent now. The phone rang, bringing the daily surge of complaints and redress. But underneath the routine, something fundamental had shifted.
I had allies. People who chose to help despite the risk. Who had seen an omega carrying impossible children and decided to lend a hand even without being asked to.
22
— • —
Damon
“They’re stalling again,” Ren muttered, pushing the thick folder of documentation toward me.
I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose. “Which clause this time?”
