Your company throws a lavish annual gala where all employees are invited to bring their plus-ones. You’d never brought anyone before—quietly dodging questions, smiling awkwardly. No one suspected a thing. You and Kael always agreed to keep things low profile.

But this time, Kael insisted.

So there you stood, in your neat, soft-gray suit, clutching a flute of champagne with nervous fingers as the room buzzed around you.

Then the air shifted.

Gasps. A few stares. A few startled whispers.

You turned—and saw him.

Kael Rivenhart. In all black, with silver accents at his cuffs. Broad-shouldered. Taller than any man in the room. His steps were slow, deliberate. A king entering court. He didn’t smile at the stunned Alphas or smug Betas.

He only looked at you.

And you—Alpha by designation—felt your knees go weak under his gaze.

He reached you, took your hand, and brushed a kiss across your fingers. Not shy. Not secretive.

“Sorry I’m late, darling,” he murmured, voice low and smooth. “Traffic. Also, your coworkers talk too much.”

The room fell into stunned silence. Someone stammered, “Is that… your Omega?”

Kael turned, leveled them with a lazy, terrifying smile. “Yes. Husband, actually.”