Page 15 of Broken Omega

“I might have a new client set up for later in the year. He’s not ready to start until December.”

“Will that be the one who pushes you over the million mark?” Mom raises her eyebrows.

I should have known she’d bring it up. It’s not like I have much else going on.

I shake my head.

“He’s already there,” my dad cuts in, reaching for the lemonade.

“What?” Mom asks. “No. He would have said …”

“I was waiting until I put my application in,” I admit. “I didn’t want to say anything until I got approved.”

Mom looks shocked. “You’re serious? You’ve got a million dollars in the bank?”

Dad smiles. “Always knew you could do it.”

Because he knows he could have, too. We’re both Alphas. We both have the potential to reach any goal we set for ourselves. He chose a different kind of path when he met my mom. That was it for him. It didn’t matter that she was a Beta, and that his parents expected something more from him.

When he tells the story of meeting my mom, it’s obvious the second he laid eyes on her he didn’t care about meeting Omegas, or any other women. He knew Mom was meant for him, and he knew he wanted to be near her as much as possible which would be harder if he went into the kind of high-flying business life that most Alphas choose. So, he found work as a fire-fighter locally instead, and his parents promptly disowned him.

I don’t understand how people who claimed to love him could be so heartless.

I know my parents would never disown me over a choice I made, even if they didn’t agree with it.

“Thanks,” I murmur, still feeling weird about my financial success.

Truth is, I’ve been working my ass off for years to make myself financially viable, so I’d be accepted as a suitor to the Omegas at the most elite academy in the country. However, actually getting to the point where I have a million dollars in the bank is crazy.

I knew I could do it, and I worked hard until it happened.

Still, it’s not something that’s achievable for most people, so it feels kind of weird that I set my sights that high, and I got there. If I wasn’t an Alpha, I’d have had no hope in hell of doing that. That’s what makes me feel a little uneasy about it.

“Why haven’t you applied yet?” Mom asks. “The year is more than halfway through, and you’re met their standards. I don’t understand.”

I can feel my dad’s silent gaze on me, watching carefully and avoiding commenting.

My mom can be a bit oblivious to the obvious, but he doesn’t miss a thing.

He can tell I’m torn about it now that I’m so close to the finish line and everything I’ve been trying to achieve. Now that I can see it, I’m having doubts. It’s hard not to, after so many knock backs up until this moment. If I get one more standard letter that tells me I didn’t meet Goldcrest’s criteria, I think I’m done chasing this crazy dream.

I take a long sip of lemonade and then smile at my mom reassuringly. “I’m just taking my time. Making sure the application is perfect. Lana said she’ll check it over for me next week. Help me tweak it.”

“Lana? Oh, right. Your friend who works at the academy. Can’t she get you inside for a visit, or something?” Mom inquires.

I shake my head. “It’s not the kind of place you can just visit. Once my application gets approved, I could request to take a tour, but not before.”

She exchanges a look with my father and manages not to blurt out that Goldcrest’s rules are stupid.

I know she thinks I’d be happier if I just met a girl out in the real world, but she knows how I feel about this and she’s trying to be supportive about it. My father probably has similar feelings, but he’s not as vocal as my mom.

Mom picks up her glass. “Well, you just make sure you get that application in soon. They have to approve it now. They have no excuse not to.”

I’m not so sure about that. Most of the Alphas on Goldcrest’s approved list are billionaires, or close to it. Or, at least, their parents are. I beefed up my parents’ investment portfolio when I started being rejected, but a few years of work on it hasn’t amounted to huge dividends yet. I’m not as good with that stuff as I am with data science reports.

I smile anyway. “Don’t worry. I’ll hand the application in soon.”

That seems to satisfy my mother, and the conversation starts to move along to other things.

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