Page 225 of Stolen Omega

If I did, I would probably be upset that my fake parents spent almost every penny I made in the last six years. Well, Mrs. Ortega did, at least. She was the one who decided I was their meal ticket. Her husband was just at her side. He was on strong antidepressants after they lost their daughter. Turns out he barely interacted with me because he was grieving, and he only went along with what his wife and Warren Corvina decided because he was so lost to depression.

Mrs. Ortega was charged with a bunch of crimes relating to the money she was laundering for Warren Corvina. Everything they could trace was seized. The money she made from me was kept separate from that and the courts had it paid back to me.

Twenty grand. Kind of a joke, but I guess it was better than nothing.

I was just glad when she got put away.

Like Brooke was glad when her father got locked up for Zelena’s murder and a bunch of crimes relating to money laundering and human trafficking. If my fake mother hadn’t tried to throw Warren under the bus, he might have been tried for one murder, and potentially his super rich guy lawyers might have gotten him a single light sentence for that. The stuff they got him on because of Mrs. Ortega’s testimony was insane.

He’s a complete psychopath.

Brooke’s testimony made me tear up. She didn’t know until around the same time that I was on that private island with my mates that she’d been brainwashed like I was. She got her memories back when one of her mates used his Alpha command voice after she obeyed one of her father’s triggers.

He started brainwashing her to make her think she’d been friends with me since we were babies.

Later, he decided to brainwash her to make her pliable to potential mates.

Then, he tried to marry her off to a creep who assaulted her.

Complete. Psychopath.

I’m glad he’s rotting away in a jail cell. He’ll be locked up until he dies.

I know some of my mates would prefer it if he actually was dead, but I’d rather they avoided the inside of a prison cell. I want my baby’s fathers to be in his or her life.

I smile at Russ and Archer as they walk with us to the side of the stage, where Zane is standing with his arms around Dale, and Dale has Cam’s hand in his.

“Can you hear that?” Dale asks, shaking his head as he points to the closed curtains.

The crowd is calling for me. It’s fairly typical, but it takes me a second to realize they’re calling out my real name, not the one I took from a girl I’ll never know.

“Are they chanting Zoey?” I ask, not believing it.

Zane nods. “I told you, your story spread like wildfire in the press. It was the craziest thing the newspapers had to report that wasn’t an exaggeration. Everyone knows who you are, Zoey. They don’t care what your name is. They love you.”

“You love me, we’ll see about the public,” I tell him, not quite willing to believe my own hype.

“Everyone loves you,” Brooke tells me. “Now get out there and show Cressidan City you’re still the best singer on the planet.”

I hug her one last time and blow my mates kisses before Harvey guides me out onto the stage.

“Earpiece,” he says, as he hands it to me. “Microphone.”

I take in a deep breath. It’s been four months. That’s twice as long as my usual break from touring.

I’ve been practicing the new routine all week, and I’m ready, but I forgot about pre-show nerves.

“No jumping please, little bean,” I murmur, sure I can manage my nerves as long as I don’t suddenly need to pee.

“You’re going to do great,” Harvey tells me as he backs away, giving me two thumbs up before he disappears.

I squint over at stage left. I can see my mates standing there, watching me from the wings.

I can feel their excitement and their love. When the curtains open, and I can feel the energy from the crowd out there, every last trace of nerves disappear.

The spotlight hits me, and the first bars of my opening song play.

I’m floating on a cloud as I start to sing, and that feeling stays with me from start to finish.

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