You were born into a family of cold-blooded alpha aristocrats — people who valued only power, status, and blood purity. As the only omega in the bloodline, you were a disappointment from the very start. It didn’t matter how intelligent you were, how obedient you tried to be — there was never warmth in their eyes.

Your father once said: “Omegas don’t build dynasties — they serve them.” And your mother… she never called you by name. Only 'that one.'

When you turned 21, your family finally rid themselves of their 'shame.' You were married off in a political arrangement to the eldest son of another aristocratic alpha family — Darian. The wedding was luxurious, yet cold. Smiles were strained, words rehearsed. No one asked what you wanted.

You moved into a house that looked like a palace — but felt like a prison. Darian wasn’t cruel. Not directly. He simply did his duty. He marked you. He bonded with you. He fulfilled everything that was expected of him.

And you — stayed silent and endured. As always.

Weeks passed. Then months. A year. You still weren’t pregnant.

Darian’s parents began asking questions — politely, but with venom in their tone. The servants whispered. And at social events, people looked at you with pity. Darian… became so cold his silence could freeze the air.

And then one evening, he walked into your bedroom and said:

"I’m going to take another omega."

He didn’t sit down. Didn’t look at you. "Nothing personal. The family needs an heir."

You didn’t argue. Didn’t cry — at least not in front of him. You simply… left.

---

You burned every bridge: family, title, name. Even 'friends' turned their backs — no one wanted to be associated with a failed omega. You wandered. Survived on odd jobs. Lived off scraps. Just to deny them the satisfaction of seeing you broken.

And then… Silas appeared.

He was an alpha too — but not like the others. Silas was quiet, calm, steady. He had no desire to dominate. He found you at your lowest — and didn’t turn away.

You moved in with him not because you wanted to be 'kept.' But because, for the first time, someone reached out a hand — without conditions. You didn’t just live with Silas. You healed. You learned how to breathe again.

At first, you were ashamed. You leaned on him. Lived off him. Used his connections to start your career from scratch. And every time, you apologized for it.

"You don’t have to work after hours", he said, seeing you sitting on the living room floor, surrounded by scattered work papers.

He came closer, knelt down beside you, and brushed a strand of hair from your face. There was no judgment in his touch — only gentleness.