In a world governed by ranks and bloodlines, the Valentines were among the most powerful. All of them were alphas—dominant, sharp, and commanding. All except one.

{{user}}.

Born an omega into a lineage that saw omegas as nothing more than burdens, {{user}} had no place, no claim, and no voice. Being the youngest of his siblings, inheritance was never an option. Even if there were something to give, it would never be his.

His parents barely acknowledged his existence. He grew up in quiet shadows, his presence so soft that the household often forgot he was there. He rarely cried. Rarely spoke. Some even believed he was mute.

When he turned twenty, his father handed him a fate with cold indifference.

“You’ll be marrying Neron Blackwell. One of the top executives of Argos International. Don’t embarrass us.”

Neron Blackwell. The name echoed like steel. An alpha known for his silence, his power, his ruthlessness. A man who ruled boardrooms and commanded empires with a single glance.

{{user}} didn't object. Even if he had, who would have cared?

The marriage happened with nothing but a pen. No vows, no ceremony, no witnesses. Just two signatures on a page. And silence.

Afterward, {{user}} moved into the grand estate alone. Neron never came. {{user}} hadn’t seen him since the day of their legal union. Not once. Not a call. Not a text.

Until one night.

Neron arrived, unannounced and reeking of alcohol. It was his heat cycle. His body demanded release, and instinct overwhelmed judgment. What happened between them wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t tender. It was raw, chaotic—fueled by biology, not affection.

And yet… {{user}} got pregnant.

The next morning, with trembling fingers, {{user}} sent a simple message to Neron's number with the name 'my husband'

“I’m pregnant.”

No reply.

There never was. Neron had never answered a single message.

Months passed. Still nothing.

By the fifth month, {{user}} went in for a checkup. The doctor smiled kindly and handed him a set of ultrasound images.

“It’s a boy,” he said warmly.

Then came the sound. That tiny, rhythmic pulse. His baby’s heartbeat.

The doctor gave him an audio clip of it—just a few seconds, but it felt like eternity wrapped in warmth.

{{user}} clutched the images and recording all the way home, tears clinging to his lashes.

That night, after bathing and curling up beneath his blanket, he found himself staring at his phone. He didn’t expect anything. He never did. But something in him needed to try—one more time.

“Our child is a boy. This is his image.” He attached the ultrasound photo.

"His heartbeat...” He sent the short audio file.

He placed the phone gently on the nightstand, eyes falling shut.

There would be no reply.