"Yes, sir," he replied, turning toward her.

Elara masked her surprise, forcing her face to remain a sheet of ice. Up close, the contrast was jarring. How had that small, fragile boy grown so fast? He was tall now, his frame bulky and filled out beneath the expensive fabric of his suit. Time had been generous to him, molding those soft, childhood features into something dangerously striking.

The memory of him at twelve flashed vividly in her mind. Twelve was the age of judgment, the year the secondary gender manifested, and determined your worth in the eyes of the Republic. Your fate was written in your pheromones. If you were an orphan raised by the Vance family, one of the hundred lucky or unlucky souls they took in each year, your only hope for survival was to emerge as something useful. To be a dominant Alpha was to be reborn; you became a Vance automatically, a weapon for the state.

In the entire history of their lineage, after her father, the President, Elara was the only one who had truly stunned the nation. She hadn't just become an Alpha; she had emerged as a dominant. It was a statistical anomaly. Most female Alphas were recessive, destined to eventually mate with a dominant male Alpha to balance their power. But Elara was a predator in her own right.

She could still hear her father's voice echoing in the marble halls the day her results came back. He hadn't been proud; he had been practical.

"She will get surgery," he had stated to his council, as if she weren't standing right there. "She was clearly supposed to be a boy but was born in the wrong body. When she turns eighteen, she will get surgery to change her sex. She is supposed to be a man. No one will ever mate with a dominant Alpha female. It is a biological dead end."

The memory made her stomach churn. That was the real reason she had fled at eighteen. She was tired of the dictatorial rule, tired of being a shadow treated like a princess only to be told her very identity was an error to be corrected by a scalpel.

It was the night of her planned escape that she found him.

She had been creeping through the servants' quarters, her bags packed, when she heard the sound. A little boy, barely twelve, was tucked into a dark corner of the gardens, whimpering. His pheromones were leaking into the cool night air-sweet, floral, and terrifyingly recognizable. He was crying profusely, his small hands clamped over his mouth to stifle the agonizing whimpers that escaped him.

Elara had paused, stunned. She knew what that scent meant. The boy was an Omega.

It was a death sentence in this house. Her father loathed the "weakness" of Omegas. Betas were tolerated as staff, Alphas were groomed for power, but an Omega orphan would be discarded, sent to the slums, or worse.

The boy had looked up at her then, his eyes wide and drowning in tears, smelling the predatory strength of the girl standing over him.

"Please save me..." he had whispered, his voice cracking with a terror that mirrored her own. "Save me..."

She had been a girl about to lose her womanhood to her father's ambition, and he was a boy about to lose his life to her father's prejudice.

Now, that same boy stood before her right now taking orders from his father as if he were an alpha. 

"This way, Alpha Vance," Silas said softly as he gestured toward the grand staircase, but as he stepped closer to lead the way, Elara caught the scent of him. It wasn't the sweet, cloying odor of an Omega child. It was something deeper, masked by heavy suppressants. 

She followed him up the stairs, her eyes fixed on his broad back.

She walked into her room, her eyes taking in the entire space she had once rejected twelve years ago. The room was sprawling, a museum of a life she had tried to erase. The high ceilings were adorned with intricate gold molding, and the heavy velvet curtains were pulled back to reveal the sweeping views of the capital she used to dream of escaping.

Every space her eyes landed on felt like a ghost. There was her mahogany desk where she'd hidden her travel maps, and the bookshelf was still lined with tactical manuals and history books. The air was thick with her own scent, a suffocating blanket of nostalgia that made her heart quake terribly. She felt like an intruder in her own skin. Without a word, she crashed into the massive, silk-sheeted bed, the softness felt alien against her back, which had grown used to the lumpy, spring-punctured mattress she'd shared with Greene.

She closed her eyes, and like a dam breaking, the last ten years began to replay in a jagged, cruel loop.

"You're nothing but a weakling!" Her mother-in-law's voice echoed in her skull, shrill and poisonous. "You're nothing but something Greene decided to help! Who do you think you are if not some orphan Greene is housing? Why did he even marry you?"

"I'm sorry, mother," she heard her own voice whisper in the memory. It sounded pathetic. She remembered how she would cower, bending her neck, suppressing the Alpha fire in her blood until it nearly choked her. Someone like her, who was born to lead nations, had spent a decade bowing to lowly beings who weren't fit to scrub her boots.

The memory shifted, turning colder.

"Let's throw her out of this house!" Her sister-in-law's voice pierced through. "She's going to sleep in the streets until Greene comes back!"

Elara felt the phantom shove against her shoulders. She remembered the sensation of her knees hitting the wet pavement, the rain lashing down on a night of the full blood moon. It was her Alpha rut, a time when her body was a furnace of power and need and she had been forced to endure it in a dark alley, shivering in the mud, nearly killed by the cold while her "family" sat inside the house she paid for.

She gasped, her eyes snapping open as she tossed over on the bed, only to find Silas still standing there, his silhouette dark against the opulent wallpaper, watching her with an unreadable expression.

"Aren't you going to leave?" she snapped, her voice trembling with the leftovers of her nightmare.

"I am to keep watch over you," he replied, his voice steady, not budging an inch from where he stood near the door.

She sat up, her short hair messy, "Send in the maids. I don't want to see you. So leave."

"Alpha Vance..." Silas started, his blue eyes dropping for a fraction of a second. 

"Just leave. Send the maids. I'm okay," she replied sharply. 

She got down from the bed and headed toward the bathroom, her footsteps silent on the plush carpet. Pushing open the heavy marble doors, she found everything sparkling clean. It was haunting; nothing had changed. The bathroom was a sea of white Carrara marble and gold fixtures, centered by a sunken tub that looked more like a small pool.

She peeled off her worn, cheap clothes and sank into the already prepared bath. The water was perfectly heated, infused with oils that smelled of jasmine and cedar. She submerged herself up to her chin, the heat beginning to soak into her tired muscles, soothing her skin like a long-lost lover. She can't believe that divorce was a way of saying goodbye to suffering. How could she compare a life in a sprawling home like this to what she gave herself with Greene? 

She suddenly rose, and stepped out of the bath, her gaze hitting Silas as she walked into her own room naked, 

"I need you to find someone for me, his name is Greene."

Silas stood frozen, his eyes raking over her with a hunger he couldn't mask, his breathing turning shallow as her dominant scent filled the room like a physical weight. He didn't look away; he couldn't.

"Mr. Greene Jones? The ordinary Alpha who works in one of the lower companies that belongs to Mr. Prime Minister, Arthur Sterling?"

"You know him?"

"Yes, he's been quite a ruse since he started dating the prime minister's daughter, Beatrice Sterling."

Oh, that was the girl she was replaced with? But why did the girl lie that she was the President's daughter? Perhaps Greene was so desperate for power that he had hallucinated the title, or Beatrice was so desperate for status that she had stolen a crown that didn't belong to her. Either way, the irony was delicious.

"Okay, but can you locate him?" She asked while Silas fought to keep his eyes away from her body as she walked across the room to fetch her neatly tucked robe.

"Yeah, he was invited to the party too. Beatrice Sterling insisted on bringing her 'new find' to the Vance homecoming gala. She wants to show him off to the elite."

"Invited?" She asked, her mouth releasing into a smirk. Looks like things just got more interesting. The man who had kicked her out of a "rickety house" hours ago was now a guest in her palace. He was coming here to worship at the altar of her father, probably hoping to shake the hand of the man whose daughter he had just discarded like trash.

"Do I have new clothes and good ones in my wardrobe?"

"I sent the maids to get you new ones, they will be here soon."

As if on cue, the heavy doors groaned open. A procession of six maids entered, their heads bowed so low their chins nearly touched their chests. They carried garment bags of opaque silk, they laid them down in the bed and her eyes ran through that dress. She remembered herself in dresses like these, she remembered herself adorned in jewelry that were specifically made for her. No one wore her kind of dress or clothes. They even had a brand made in her name, for clothes, shoes, perfumes, makeup, everything was in her name. 

It's almost like a trend when people dress in the president's daughter's name even when they haven't seen her, but they know her brand name, "Elara". Everything she did was a lifestyle but twelve year age gap seemed to rip it all away. She must've been so stupid to think running away was the best option. If only her father stopped her, locked her up instead of letting her walk free, he could have gotten to her and chosen not to. 

She slipped the robe over her shoulders, tying the silk cord with a sharp, decisive tug. She turned to the mirrors, watching the maids begin to lay out the options.

The maids swarmed around her, making up her face, changing her entire look, until she was a whole new person. Someone she'd craved to be twelve years ago was finally staring at her as she looked in the mirror. Where had she hidden all this beauty? Behind suffering, when she mopped floors and cleaned dirt like a slave, even omegas were never treated the way she was treated. Was she treated so badly because she claimed to be an omega simply to gain Greene's love? Well, did she gain that in the end?

She walked out of her room, the heavy doors thudding shut behind her. Silas was there, leaning against the far wall, but as she emerged, he straightened as if struck. His breath hitched, his eyes traveling from her sharp, short hair down to the lethal curve of her silhouette. 

"Lead me down the stairs," she said, stretching out her hand. Silas nodded, his throat bobbing as he took her hand in a firm, protective grip.

They walked down the stairs, and the atmospheric pressure in the ballroom shifted instantly. Every head turned. The hum of a thousand elite voices died down into a series of jagged whispers.

"Wow, truly, the heiress is back," she heard a woman breathe.

"Wow, she's so beautiful. How can she be so beautiful even after all these years?" 

"Is this how she looks? No one has seen her since she was a child. She's beautiful."

"Do you think Calvin will like this development?" a man muttered near the banister. "He's been the heir apparent for twelve years. If she's back to claim the prize after he did all the labor... the White House will be torn apart."

"I heard they were supposed to be mates," another whispered. "Why would she run from this?"

"Careful," a stern voice warned. "She's a dominant Alpha. Her pheromones can shut yours down forever if she catches you gossiping."

At the bottom of the stairs, President Vance was waiting. He didn't waste time with sentiment. He tucked her arm into his, leading her straight into a circle of the most powerful men in the country.

"Arthur," the President said, nodding to the Prime Minister. "You remember my daughter, Elara."

Arthur Sterling leaned in, his eyes narrowed. "I remember a rebellious girl. I see a woman who looks like she's been to war and won. Tell me, Elara, where does a Vance hide for twelve years?"

"In the places men like you are too afraid to look, Mr. Prime Minister," Elara replied, her voice smooth as glass. "How have you been your honor?" 

"She has your bite, Alexander," laughed a man with silver stars on his shoulders, General Ross. Calvin's father, "Have you seen Calvin yet? I think he's been looking for you since he heard you're back."

Calvin? She furrowed her brows as that name bit into her memory, her fated mate..the alternative her father offered if she didn't want to change her sex. 

"I haven't seen him" she said, letting a flicker of her pheromones flare. The General blinked, his bravado momentarily faltering.

"A dominant indeed," noted the Chief Justice, sipping his wine. "What are we to do when we have two strong alpha males in this environment? I mean one has to topple the order in my opinion"

So many references to Calvin again. And where the hell is he? It's been so long since she's seen him. The last time was when he helped her climb over the walls of her father's house twelve years ago.

Her father chuckled, a sound like grinding stones. "She's had enough of you old wolves for one night. Go, Elara. Mingle, the party is made for you."

She drifted away, her eyes scanning the sea of faces looking for two people, she bumped into old faces, gave a smile, still searching, still... until she found them. Greene and Beatrice had just walked in, looking smug, until Greene saw her. He stormed over, his face twisting with a fury that looked pathetic in this room.

"What are you doing here, you lowly being!" he hissed. "Are you determined to follow me everywhere? We're divorced! Where did you get this makeup? These clothes? You think it makes you less of a swine? A pig is a pig, even in silk."

"Do you know who you're speaking with?" she asked, feeling a dark amusement.

"And who am I speaking with?" Greene sneered, leaning in.

"I'm the President's daughter," she said clearly like she'd been waiting twelve years to finally let him know that. 

Greene's laughter rang through the room, attracting every eye. "You're the President's daughter? What an irony! If you're the President's daughter, then I'm nothing but the god of birth!"

" What did you just say?" Came Silas' voice from behind me as he approached.

"What did you just say?" Silas's voice dropped like a guillotine. He stepped from behind Elara, his presence expanding until he seemed to eclipse the very light in the room. The sheer intensity of his gaze was a physical blow, yet Greene, blinded by his own delusion, didn't flinch.

"Who are you having the audacity to talk to like that?" Silas asked, his voice vibrating with a fury that made the nearest guests take a collective step back.

"And who are you to speak to me like that?" Greene challenged, his chest puffed out. He sneered, looking Silas up and down with a dismissive grunt. "Are you the one who smuggled her into this place?" He scoffed, gesturing vaguely at Elara's gown. "Were you also invited? You don't look like an Alpha to me, more like a Beta feeding on suppressants."

Silas took another step forward, his shadow looming over Greene. "What did you just say?"

"I'm with the President's daughter!" Greene boasted, throwing an arm around Beatrice's waist. "You don't want to be thrown out of here. I can have you sacked with one word to her father!"

Beatrice, however, had gone deathly pale. Her eyes were fixed on Silas, and her expression shifted from smugness to pure, unadulterated terror. She recognized him. Everyone in the inner circle knew the 'Beast of the Presidential Guard.' She began to shrink back, her voice a frantic whisper. "Greene... lower your voice."

"Lower my voice? I'm not going to lower my voice! Speaking to me like this when you're here with me? I'm going to have him dealt with!"

"Greene, stop raising your voice..." Beatrice pleaded, her hand shaking as she tried to detach herself from his side.

The murmurs from the crowd grew sharper, biting into the silence.

"Who's that guy speaking arrogantly to Alpha Vance?"

"He must have a death wish. Who gave him an invitation? Ordinary Alphas of low rank are suddenly allowed into spaces like this?"

"And he's so brazenly pointing at Silas... that beast no one dares look at twice. He's cooked."

Greene ignored them all, looking at Beatrice with confusion. "Why are you scared? Do they intimidate you? Look at me, I'm this woman's ex-husband. You know who she is already. She's nothing!"

"You're Alpha Vance's ex-husband?"

The voice that cut through the air was like cold steel sliding over silk. The entire room pivoted. The crowd parted like the Red Sea as a man walked through, his every step echoing with the weight of absolute authority.

It was Calvin.

Elara's breath hitched as she looked at him. Twelve years had transformed the boy who helped her scale the wall into a titan. He was massive, his physique honed by a decade of military command, his shoulders broad enough to carry the weight of the nation. His hair was dark and swept back, framing a face that was strikingly handsome but carved from granite. His eyes, a piercing, predatory grey, locked onto hers for a fraction of a second, a soft, knowing smile ghosting his lips, before they turned back into ice as he looked at Greene.

"Calvin is here," someone whispered. "That mentally deranged man is as good as dead."

"You said you were Alpha Vance's ex-husband?" Calvin repeated, stopping mere inches from Greene. Silas stepped aside, yielding the floor to the man who had been groomed to be Elara's mate.

Greene's smile died a little. He looked at Elara, then at Calvin, then back at Elara. A flicker of doubt finally crossed his face, but his arrogance was a hard habit to break. "I don't know about an 'Alpha Vance,' but I know I'm this woman's ex-husband," he replied, pointing a finger at Elara.

Calvin's jaw tightened. "Stop embarrassing her by saying you're Alpha Vance's ex-husband. You could be jailed for such a claim."

"Jailed for what? Beatrice, can you hear what they're saying?" Greene turned to the girl, but Beatrice was already three steps away, her face a mask of sweating panic.

"You're supposed to keep quiet at this point, Greene," Elara said, her voice cutting through his panic like a scalpel. She turned her cold gaze to the girl. "Beatrice... you said you're the President's daughter?"

Beatrice looked like she wanted to melt into the floorboards. She couldn't even find her voice.

"Well, you know she is!" Greene snapped, letting go of Beatrice's hand to gesture toward the ballroom at large. "Go find your father, Beatrice. I would love to discuss our marriage proceedings with him right now."

"Marriage proceedings?" Elara asked while Greene nodded proudly, adjusted his lapels as if he already wore the crown.

"Yeah, marriage proceedings. To marry an Alpha, things like this always happen. You know, you don't just marry them off like Omegas who have no real marriage, they just stick with their Alphas that they're mated... why am I explaining all these to you like you actually understand."

Elara suddenly began to spread her pheromones as the anger in her began to set in. It wasn't just a scent; it was a tidal wave of pure, unadulterated power. A dizzying feeling enveloped everyone in a thirty-foot radius. The air grew heavy, thick with the metallic tang of a Dominant Alpha's rage. The only people not affected were the other apex predators, Calvin, her father, and a few other Dominant Alphas. Every other person in the room began to take wavering steps, clutching their heads as dizziness washed over them. His father flickered a gaze from where he stood to where she was, wondering what must've made her spread out her strong pheromones so angrily. 

"Who is this Alpha with such strong pheromones?" Greene asked, his voice cracking as he tried plucking his nose, his knees beginning to tremble under a weight he didn't comprehend.

Calvin turned to look at Elara. Of course, he had missed her strong pheromones for so long. The feel of it brought back memories of their childhood, the way they used to spar until the air itself felt like it would combust. He connected to her mind effortlessly, his voice echoing in her head via their old mind link.

"Seriously? This man is your ex-husband? He asked, his mental tone dripping with condescending disbelief. "You didn't want me as your mate so you could be with such a blabbermouth like this? What did he give to you to make you waste years with him?"

"Calvin, just shut up."

"I will shut up, but please stop spreading your pheromones everywhere. You're contaminating the party. There are some Omegas in this building, Elara. You won't know how to take care of them all if you break them into their heat cycles."

The warning snapped her back. She remembered someone, she turned around immediately to where Silas stood. He was shaking violently, his knuckles white as he gripped the back of a chair. He was trying so hard to maintain his composure, but the sweat soaking through his suit gave him away. Her pheromones were hitting him like a physical blow; even the strongest suppressants couldn't shield an Omega from a Dominant Alpha's direct, unbridled fury.

"Who is this Alpha with these pheromones? He should stop spreading it!" Greene yelled, his voice rising in a panicked pitch as the room began to spin for him.

Elara stepped closer toward him, her shadow looming large. "It's me. I'm the woman with those pheromones you're talking about."

"You?" He asked, a scoff forming on his lips, but the scoff died as she released them further. "You're an alpha?" 

The surge was too much. To everyone's absolute shock, Silas slumped to the floor immediately. The air was suddenly flooded with a new scent, something sweet, raw, and terrifyingly vulnerable. His own Omega pheromones were slipping out of him in a desperate, uncontrollable rush, stripped bare by Elara's presence. It was as if he had turned twelve again, caught in the terrifying onset of a gender he had spent a decade hiding.

Elara blinked, swallowing hard as the sweet scent hit her senses.