Caelen POV

(Flashback - 48 Hours Before)

I woke before the alarm, the pale morning light slipping through the thin curtains as it always did. It hit the far wall first, warming the peeling paint instead of making it look tired. I stayed still, listening: pipes humming somewhere in the building, a neighbor's radio muffled through the wall, footsteps above me. Ordinary sounds I'd heard a thousand times, but that morning they settled differently.

When the alarm chimed softly and unassumingly, I shut it off immediately. My mother hated snoozing alarms, saying they taught the body to argue with itself. Even alone, I made the bed as soon as my feet hit the floor, sheets smoothed, pillow straightened, small acts of control in a room where nothing ever surprised me anymore.

The apartment was small but spotless. Everything had a place because it had to. The couch was secondhand, the table too small for more than two, the chair slightly uneven, but I arranged it all with care. Three plants sat on the windowsill, leaves turned toward the light. I watered them carefully while coffee brewed, counting drops: too much drowned them, too little made them brittle. I'd learned that the hard way.

The scent of instant coffee filled the room, sharp and familiar. I showered in the cramped bathroom, water pressure weak but warm, steam fogging the mirror until I stopped looking. I dressed in clean jeans and a sweater without holes, nothing fancy, just presentable, just enough.

Before eating, I checked my phone.

Good morning, sweetheart! Don't forget Sunday dinner. I'm making your favorite. So proud of you! 

I smiled without realizing it.

Wouldn't miss it, Mom. Love you.

I set the phone face down, leaned back in the chair, and stared at the wall where my acceptance letter was pinned. Its edges curled slightly, but the words remained clear: Marketing assistant. Start date: Monday.

Two more shifts at the convenience store, I thought. Then I'd start my real career. It wasn't impressive, but it was mine. Maybe in a few years, I could convince Mom to retire, let her rest for once.

Breakfast was simple: toast, eggs, and coffee. I ate slowly, scrolling through my schedule. Saturday evening shift, Sunday off, Monday is the start of everything I've worked for. I touched the letter again, fingers lingering as if it might vanish if I wasn't careful.

At the café near campus, the doorbell jingled the moment I arrived. Mira was already there, her curly hair pulled back messily, fingers tapping her cup like she was vibrating. She grinned when she saw me.

"Three days," she said. "Three days until we're real adults."

I laughed and slid into the seat across from her. "You say that like we haven't been working since we were sixteen."

"That was survival work," she said, waving a hand. "This is career work. Totally different."

We split a muffin, tearing it unevenly, neither of us caring who got the bigger half. Neither of us even checked who got the bigger half. She asked if I was nervous. I admitted I was terrified. What if they made a mistake hiring me? What if I wasn't enough?

She told me to stop. Said I was brilliant. I called her biased. She said there's a difference.

When she brought up dating, I felt my shoulders tense before I could stop them. I stared into my coffee instead of at her.

"I don't know," I said. "Maybe someday."

She didn't let it go, but she didn't push hard either. Said I deserved romance, love, the messy, beautiful parts of life.

"I've seen what happens when Omegas date the wrong Alphas," I whispered. "Control. Ownership. I'd rather be alone than belong to someone like that."

She argued softly that not all Alphas were like that. I didn't dispute it aloud, but didn't believe it either. I told her I hadn't met the exceptions yet.

"When you do," she said, "I hope they deserve you."

I laughed, a little bitterly. "That's a fantasy."

"Then you'll find a Beta, or another Omega. Or you'll be the first Omega to tame an Alpha with an actual soul."

"I'm not taming anyone," I said. "I'm focusing on my career, helping my mom, and maybe adopting cats."

She laughed, and I did too. It felt good, warm, real.

When she left for work, I watched her go through the window, sunlight catching her hair. For once, nothing in my life felt like it was about to fall apart.

At the store, the fluorescent lights buzzed and flickered annoyingly. The smell of cleaning chemicals mixed with old hot dogs and stale coffee. I clocked in, restocked shelves, wiped counters, and nodded politely at regulars. Mrs. Ross asked about my mother. I said she was working too hard, as always. She told me my mother was lucky to have me.

Later, an Alpha in a tailored suit lingered too long. He commented on my scent and asked if I was an Omega. I kept my voice flat and professional, handed him his total, and told him to move along. When he left, I scrubbed the counter harder than necessary.

By 8:30 p.m., the store was quiet. Three men entered together, one an Alpha. I felt his presence before he spoke. When he leaned over the counter and asked for my number, I said no. When he pushed, I stayed calm. When his scent sharpened, I braced myself and told him to leave.

His friends dragged him out before it escalated. My hands trembled afterward. It never helped as much as I pretended it did.

At ten, I closed the store: swept, counted the register, filled out the report. The refrigerators hummed steadily, almost like breathing.

My mother called just before I locked up.

She sounded tired. I told her my shift was over. She told me to get home safely. We joked about who worked harder. She said she loved me. I said it back.

Just a few more months, I thought as I walked home. Once I settle in, I'll convince her to slow down.

Sunday afternoon smelled like roast chicken and home. Her apartment was warm, cluttered with memories. Photos of me at every age lined the walls. She looked smaller than I remembered, thinner, but her smile was bright.

She insisted it was a celebration: my first real job. She said my father would be proud. We cooked together in comfortable silence, grief and joy woven so tightly they felt like the same thing.

Mira arrived with her usual energy. Dinner was loud, full of laughter. My mother talked about dating. I groaned. Mira rescued me by asking for seconds of pie.

After she left, my mother sank into the couch, exhaustion finally showing. She took my hand, told me she was proud, and urged me to stay kind, to never let anyone make me feel small.

I hugged her longer than usual. Something in her voice made my chest ache, though I didn't know why.

When I left, she waved from the window until I turned the corner. The sunset turned the street to gold. I felt content, hopeful.

I didn't know how close I was to losing all of it.

Caelen POV

For a moment, I didn't know where I was. My body felt heavy, like I'd been pulled out of sleep instead of waking up. I fumbled for the phone on the bedside table, blinking at the unfamiliar number.

"Hello?" My voice sounded thick and unused.

"Is this Caelen Ryn?"

I sat up, the sheet slipping down my legs. My heart pounded, though I didn't know why. "Yes. Speaking."

"This is City General Hospital. Your mother, Eleanor Ryn, was brought in by ambulance about forty-five minutes ago. She's in the ICU. You need to come immediately."

The words didn't land right. ICU. Ambulance. None of it felt real.

"What happened? Is she awake? Is she..."

"The doctor will explain when you arrive," the nurse said, calm but distant, trained to be professional. "Please come now."

The line went dead.

I stared at my phone, thumb still pressed to the screen. The room felt too small, too quiet. The alarm clock glowed 6:02 a.m. on the dresser.

Without thinking, I grabbed jeans, a sweater, and shoes. Wallet, keys, phone. I didn't check if anything matched or lock the door behind me.

The bus ride felt endless. I sat near the back, my leg bouncing so hard the seat vibrated. My hands trembled uncontrollably. Every thought crashed into the next: Heart attack. Stroke. Accident. Why didn't she call me? Please don't be dead. Please...

I typed a message to my new manager with trembling fingers:

Family emergency. I can't come in today. Sorry.

The reply came instantly:

First day and you're already calling out? We'll discuss this tomorrow.

Tomorrow. Like it mattered if my mother didn't make it through the day.

The hospital smelled like disinfectant and recycled air, too sterile, too bright. The ICU waiting room was already full, faces gray with fear. I checked in, then everything blurred: machines, tubes, my mother unconscious and smaller than I'd ever seen her. A doctor explained organ failure, complications, and urgent surgery, but I couldn't process the costs.

Half a million dollars.

I nodded like I understood, like I wasn't drowning.

I didn't sleep that night, or the next. I left at dawn, still in yesterday's clothes, and went straight to the bank.

The loan officer was kind, which somehow made it harder.

He shook his head gently. With my income, credit, and no collateral, they could max out at ten thousand dollars.

"I need five hundred thousand," I said, and hated how small my voice sounded.

He asked about a cosigner, someone with assets, wealth.

I stared at the desk between us. "I don't have anyone."

He said he was sorry. I believed him.

My phone rang as I stepped outside.

"Mr. Ryn," HR said, cool and professional. "We need to discuss your absence yesterday."

"My mother's in the hospital," I cut in. "It was an emergency. I can start tomorrow, today, or even. Just.."

"Missing your first day without notice is grounds for termination," she said. "We've decided to move forward with our second choice."

The call ended.

I stood there, staring at my phone as people rushed past. Four years of college. Loans I'd be paying forever. Gone before I even showed up.

Later, I met Mira because I didn't know where else to go.

She looked horrified when I told her. She asked questions I couldn't answer. When she asked how much I needed, the words stuck in my throat.

"I have five hundred saved," she finally said. "You can have all of it."

I nodded, thankful, even though it was nothing against half a million. She talked about fundraisers, social media, and asking everyone she knew.

"She doesn't have months," I said. "She has weeks."

We cried right there in the café, holding on to each other because neither of us knew what else to do.

***

That night, I sat in the hospital cafeteria with my laptop, searching desperately, but nothing. Grants with waiting lists. Loans I didn't qualify for. Every ad that promised quick cash ended the same way.

Then I saw it:

Omega Companions Wanted. Earn $$$.

I read it once, then again. Closed my laptop, then reopened it.

I slammed it shut and pushed it away.

There had to be another way.

By Wednesday afternoon, exhaustion hollowed me out. I must have dozed off in the waiting room because a rough hand shaking my shoulder jolted me awake.

"Time for a chat."

They dragged me into the stairwell before I could react. The loan shark grabbed my jaw hard enough to make my eyes water.

"This isn't a negotiation," he said. "Your mother owed us. Now you do."

One of his men flashed brass knuckles. Another smiled like he was enjoying this.

They talked about clubs. About work. About how much Alphas paid for desperate Omegas.

"And your mother," he added casually. "A lot can happen in a place like this," he said."

When they left, I slid down the wall, shaking until my teeth rattled.

I went back to my mother's bedside at dusk, holding her hand. I whispered everything, about the banks, the job, the men, the offer I hadn't taken.

"I'm going to save you," I promised. "Whatever it costs."

Her fingers twitched faintly in my grasp.

***

Later, in the bathroom, I stared at my reflection. I barely recognized myself. Then I pulled Sebastian's card from my pocket.

I almost called.

I told myself I'd try one more thing tomorrow.

But the sharks didn't wait.

They grabbed me in the parking lot, dragging me toward a van, hands over my mouth. I fought until headlights cut across the asphalt.

A black sedan rolled in silently.

Two men stepped out, big, calm, dangerous.

"Release him," one said.

The air shifted when the other Alpha let loose his pheromones. The sharks backed away, swearing, promising this wasn't over.

They left.

The bodyguard told me they'd been watching, protecting me. My mother's surgery could happen tomorrow if I accept.

Later, in my apartment, I finally broke down, crying until I had nothing left.

I looked around the room that had been my life.

I kept waiting for another option to appear. Nothing did.

I set my alarm for the morning and stared at the ceiling, exhausted.

Tomorrow, whatever my life was about to become would start.

Tomorrow, everything would change.

Caelen Pov

I didn't sleep at all.

 Lying on my back, I watched the ceiling fade from black to gray, counting familiar cracks I knew by heart. Every time I closed my eyes, my mind filled with my mother's face in the ICU, pale, still, machines breathing for her. After a while, I stopped trying. Lying there with my eyes closed wasn't rest anyway.

 At six, the alarm sounded unnecessary. I turned it off and sat up, stiff and slow, my body lagging behind my thoughts.

 Sebastian's number was already on my screen. I must have pulled it up before dawn, when focusing on details felt safer than feeling anything at all.

 I stared at the screen longer than needed before pressing call.

 It rang once.

 "Mr. Ryn," Sebastian said, alert, as if he'd been waiting. "I wasn't sure you'd call."

 "I will," I said, surprising myself with a steady voice. "I'll do it. I'll marry him."

 He didn't answer right away. When he did, his voice sounded different.

 "I'll send a car at seven. Pack only essentials, clothes, and personal items. Everything else will be provided."

 "My mother's surgery," I blurted faster than I intended. "When will it happen?"

 "This afternoon," he replied. "The medical team is ready. Once the contract is signed, everything proceeds immediately."

 I swallowed. "When do I meet Aldric?"

 "At the signing," Sebastian said. "Nine a.m. at Fenmore Group headquarters. You'll have legal representation and time to review the contract."

 "I don't have a lawyer."

 "One will be provided. Mr. Fenmore insists the contract is legally sound. No future claims of coercion."

 Of course he does, I thought.

 "Fine," I said. "Seven."

 "Caelen," Sebastian said.

 It was the first time he used my name.

 "Yes?"

 "For what it's worth," he added carefully, "you're making the right choice."

 The line went dead.

 I packed in silence.

***

My suitcase looked too small on the bed. It felt wrong that everything I owned fit inside it. I folded clothes that still faintly smelled of detergent and cheap fabric softener. Everything fit too easily.

 I added toiletries, my charger, and my laptop. Then I hesitated, reaching for the photo albums, my parents on their wedding day, my mother smiling at graduation, her hand on my shoulder. I slid the acceptance letter from the marketing firm between the pages, even though it meant nothing now.

 At the last second, I grabbed the small stuffed bear from the closet. I hadn't touched it in years, but I couldn't leave it behind.

 I walked through the apartment one last time. The desk. The kitchen. The window. The bed. Every corner held something I wasn't ready to leave.

 I shut the door quietly behind me.

 The car arrived exactly at seven.

 The man waiting outside nodded and took my suitcase without a word, though his eyes flickered at its size. The car was sleek, quiet, with soft classical music playing.

 As we drove, the city slipped past, my favorite café, campus, and my mother's apartment. I looked away when it disappeared from view.

 My phone buzzed.

 Hey. How's your mom? Want to grab coffee later?

 I stared at the message until the screen dimmed, then turned off the phone.

***

 Fenmore Group rose above everything else, all glass and steel, impossible to miss. The car vanished into a private entrance, and I was escorted through security into an elevator that moved smoothly upward.

 Sebastian was waiting when the doors opened.

 "You look exhausted," he said.

 "I didn't sleep."

 He nodded as if that was expected. "Coffee?"

 "Yes."

 The conference room was vast and quiet, sunlight pouring through floor-to-ceiling windows. The city looked small from here. Sebastian poured coffee and slid a cup toward me.

 "The legal team will arrive soon," he said. "Mr. Fenmore will join us at nine."

 "What's he like?" I asked before I could stop myself.

 Sebastian considered. "Private. Controlled. He doesn't waste words."

 "Will he be cold?"

 "I don't know," Sebastian said. Some people stay cold because it's easier," he said. Whether he takes it off depends on many things."

 The lawyers arrived. The contract was thick. Angela went through the contract slowly, stopping whenever I tensed. Separate bedrooms. No forced intimacy. My mother's care is covered for life.

 By the time Aldric Fenmore entered, my hands were damp.

 He was taller and broader than I expected. His presence filled the room effortlessly. His gaze settled on me.

 "You're smaller than the file indicated," he said.

 That was the first thing he said.

 We shook hands. His grip was firm, impersonal. He sat, glanced at his watch, and nodded at the papers.

 "Any questions?"

 I had hundreds.

 "No," I said.

 He signed without hesitation.

 I followed.

 My hand shook as I signed.

 When it was over, he stood. "The wedding is tomorrow. Sebastian will give details. Your room is prepared."

 "My mother's surgery," I blurted.

 "Scheduled for 1 p.m. You'll be informed," he said.

 He paused at the door. "Welcome to the Fenmore family."

 Then he left.

 The estate was larger than I'd imagined, with manicured grounds, fountains, and staff moving silently and efficiently.

 My room was bigger than my entire apartment.

 When Sebastian called to say the surgery went perfectly, I sank onto the bed, pressing my face into my hands. I didn't know whether to breathe or cry, so I did both.

 That night, alone in the silence, I stared at the ceiling.

 Tomorrow, my name won't belong only to me.

 I closed my eyes.

I did not sleep.