“The van was stranded because a tree fell and blocked the access road,” she countered, already swiping to a different file. It was a municipal services report, complete with time-stamped photos of a massive oak tree lying across a two-lane road. “And the power outage affected a three-block radius. I pulled the grid data. A transformer blew. It had nothing to do with the venue.”
“But he was there,” I insisted. “I saw him. How did he get in? Security was on lockdown because of the weather.”
“He walked in,” Danae said, and the simplicity of it was more infuriating than any complex hack. “I interviewed the head of security myself. Beta man, ex-military, impeccable record. He doesn’t even remember letting Stormwright pass. He just remembers a… feeling. Of absolute certainty that Stormwright belonged there, that questioning him would be a profoundmistake. It’s a classic application of a House Zeus Alpha charismatic aura.” She looked at me, her expression earnest, almost pleading. “That’s the only piece of evidence, Andie. His presence. There were no financial transfers to disgruntled staff, no back-channel communications, no digital footprints of any kind. He used his aura to get past a single guard, watched the chaos for twenty minutes, and then left.”
Of course he’d walked in, because he’d done that at the Fairmont, too. But even so… There had to be something more to it. Something more to his schemes.
I stared at the screen, at the clean, logical information Danae had brought. It was all a lie. It had to be. He was hunting me. Iknewit. I could feel it in my bones. The intricate dragons on the scroll seemed to writhe, their painted scales shimmering with mockery.
“But he’s always there,” I whispered. “Every time something goes wrong, he’s there. That can’t be a coincidence.”
“I know,” Danae said softly. “But correlation isn’t causation. I’ve looked everywhere, Andie. I’ve peeled back every layer. There’s no proof he’s doing anything.”
No proof.The words echoed the conversation with my fathers. Their suggestion that I just… run. Hide. The utter helplessness of it crashed over me, a suffocating wave of impotent rage. I was being hunted, my life’s work was being dismantled piece by piece, and the one person I trusted to give me a weapon had just handed me an empty holster.
With a choked cry of frustration, I slammed my hands down on the table. The heavy ceramic teacup jumped, spun, and crashed to the floor. It shattered with a sound that was shockingly loud in our small, private room.
The world snapped back into focus. Danae was staring at me, her eyes wide with a mixture of shock and alarm. A splash of hot tea soaked the tablecloth between us. The sudden, violent silence was deafening, broken only by my own ragged breathing.
Before either of us could speak, the wooden screen slid open. It was Mr. Chen, his aged face etched with concern. He held a small tray with two fresh cups and a steaming pot of tea. He must have been on his way to check on us when he heard the crash. His gaze flickered from my face to Danae’s to the broken porcelain on the floor.
“Aiya,” he murmured, the sound soft with dismay. He didn’t sound angry, which was somehow worse. He set the tray down on a clear corner of the table. “Cross Xiaojie. A big noise. Everything okay here?”
My cheeks burned hot. I had just thrown a childish tantrum in my favorite restaurant, in front of a man who had only ever been kind to me. The quiet privacy of our booth was gone, replaced by the humiliating reality of my own loss of control. I couldn’t even look at him.
“We’re fine, Mr. Chen,” Danae said quickly, her voice a little strained but recovering faster than mine. “I’m so sorry. Thatwas my fault. I knocked it over by accident. We’ll pay for it, of course.”
She was lying for me. Covering for me. Her effortless excuse was a knife in my gut.
Mr. Chen just shook his head, already kneeling with a dustpan he seemed to produce from nowhere. “No, no. Not important. Just a cup.” He swept the pieces up with quiet efficiency. “You two look like you need something sweet. To settle the stomach.” He gave me a brief, concerned glance. Then, he slid the screen closed, leaving us alone once more.
The intrusion, as gentle as it was, had irrevocably broken the spell. My rage had curdled into a thick, nauseating stew of humiliation. I felt cornered, judged, and utterly exposed. And Danae’s lie, her attempt to protect me, now felt like another layer to the trap.
Danae picked up the fresh teapot he’d left and poured for both of us, her movements precise and steady. The perfect engineer, restoring order to a chaotic system. To her, I was now exactly that. Pure chaos.
“Andie,” she began, her voice soft, cautious. “Okay. Let’s just forget the data for a minute. You’re wound so tight you’re snapping. Maybe he’s not actively sabotaging you. Maybe he’s just… watching you. And the pressure of that is enough to make things fall apart. Maybe you just… need a break.”
It was the most infuriatingly logical thing she could have said. It was so much like what my fathers had said. And because it held a sliver of truth, it felt like the most profound betrayal of all.
She was turning it all back on me. My reaction was the problem, not his action. I was the one falling apart. I was the hysterical Omega.
“So you think I’m imagining it?” I asked. “You think I’m so weak, so emotionally fragile, that the mere presence of an Alpha is enough to make me ruin my own career?”
“That’s not what I said,” she insisted, but the damage was done. “I’m just saying there are other possibilities besides a grand conspiracy. I’m trying to help you see this from another angle.”
“What you’re doing is dismissing me,” I shot back, the rage returning, cold and sharp this time. “You’re sitting there with your perfect Beta logic, looking at your perfect data, and telling me that what I feel, what I know in my gut, is wrong. You’re patting me on the head and telling me to calm down.”
The chasm between us was suddenly immense. She had her world of facts and figures, a world where problems could be quantified and solved. I was living in a world of instinct and threat. It was a war being fought in my blood and my bones, and she couldn’t see it. She would never see it.
“You wouldn’t get it,” I spat. “How could you? You’re just a Beta. You don’t know what it’s like. You’ll never understand.”
The silence that followed was absolute, a vacuum that sucked all the warmth and history from our small booth. Danae physically recoiled, her shoulders hunching as if she’d been struck.
For Danae, her Beta nature had always been a sore spot. In our world, it was only ever the Alphas and the Omegas that truly stood out. The Betas were… useful. But they weren’t supposed to be beautiful or loved. Or something to be truly passionate about.
“Will I ever find a mate, Andie?”she’d asked me once.“Someone who doesn’t want an Omega?”
I’d assured her no one could ever be better than her. But if she’d believed me then, she certainly didn’t anymore.