When Eren awoke the next morning, the bed beside him was empty. The scent of cedar still lingered faintly in the sheets, but Adriel was gone.
He sat up slowly, eyes catching on the table where a tray of breakfast had been laid out, steam still curling from the coffee. Beside it sat a folded note.
Eren picked it up, his chest tightening as he read:
"Sorry I didn't wait for you to wake. This cruise won't dock until after Christmas. The cabin is yours until then. Merry Christmas, my Lucky Red. —Adriel"
A smile tugged at his lips before he could stop it. Adriel was infuriatingly sweet, even in absence. Still, heat crept into his cheeks as memories of the previous night surged back—how easily he'd surrendered, how recklessly he'd trusted. He had only just met the man, yet he'd let himself believe.
Now Adriel was gone, and all Eren had left were the diamond ring on his finger and the echoes of cedar-scent that clung to his skin.
The days passed in quiet isolation. On Christmas morning, Eren sat alone by the cabin window, watching the horizon stretch endlessly across the sea. If he'd gone through with his marriage to James, he wouldn't have been alone. But that thought no longer stung. James's true colors had been revealed, and Eren knew walking away had saved him. He felt lighter—even if uncertain about the future.
Weeks later, back on land, the quiet holiday memories felt far away.
"I feel so unwell," Eren muttered, standing in front of the office printer. He'd been sluggish since morning, head heavy, body aching, but he had forced himself into work anyway.
Coffee runs, print jobs, errands—his position was nothing special, but at least it kept him busy.
"Eren, what are you doing just standing there?" snapped one of his seniors, hurrying past. "Those documents are for the boardroom. The president is arriving today. Get it together."
"The… president?" Eren echoed faintly, blinking through his dizziness.
"Yes. President Adriel Ulrick of the Ulrick Group. He's already on his way."
The name hit him like a shockwave. His pulse stuttered, the room tilting around him. Adriel Ulrick. He whispered it under his breath, as if saying it aloud might steady him.
The scent of cedar flooded his memory so sharply it was almost real.
And suddenly, Eren wasn't sure if his body's trembling was from illness—or anticipation.
"He's here!" one of the assistants hissed, nearly tripping over herself as she hurried down the hall.
Eren glanced at his coworkers. Everyone was fussing with papers, straightening ties, as if a celebrity was about to walk through the doors. He, however, simply gathered the printed documents and carried them into the boardroom.
The atmosphere inside was tense, the board members sitting stiffly at the long table. Eren moved quietly, laying the stack of papers in front of them. He didn't notice the man at the head of the table watching his every movement.
"It's been a while," a smooth voice said, cutting through the silence.
Eren froze. He looked up, blinking through the blur of his dizziness. A tall man in a tailored suit was rising from the chair at the head of the table, his presence filling the room effortlessly.
"You're wearing those thick glasses again," the man drawled as he approached, his eyes glinting. "Should I break them for you once more?"
Eren stiffened, confusion striking through his haze. Break my glasses? Why would he— The words echoed strangely, tugging at something buried in memory. And that voice… it was so familiar.
"Eren, coffee for the president," his senior snapped, breaking the moment.
"The… president?" Eren repeated weakly, head swimming.
"Yes. President Adriel Ulrick of the Ulrick Group," James chimed in sharply.
The name hit him like a physical blow. His hands tightened around the documents. His chest burned, as if the air itself had thickened. Adriel Ulrick.
He stumbled toward the coffee service, but the scent of the beans made his stomach roil. His body rebelled, heat flooding his skin. That wasn't normal—coffee never bothered him.
"Eren?" The deep voice came again, closer this time, laced with concern.
He turned too fast. The room tilted. His knees gave, and the floor threatened to rush up—
—but a strong arm caught his waist, pulling him against a firm chest before he could fall.
The cedar-and-smoke scent that enveloped him was unmistakable. His entire body went rigid, instincts sparking violently at the Alpha's nearness.
Adriel's hand pressed against his forehead, his touch steady despite the tension radiating from him. His blue-gray eyes, cold and piercing as a storm at sea, searched Eren's face. For a moment, all the noise of the boardroom faded—only that gaze held him in place.
"You really don't recognize me?" Adriel murmured, his mouth so close Eren could feel the heat of his breath. "I'm starting to feel slighted."
"I'm sorry, Mr. President. I really don't know you. And… could you let go? People are watching," Eren said, trying to push the man away, but his strength faltered against Adriel's grip.
"You're burning up," Adriel countered, voice low, steady. "Don't fight me."
"I'm not sick," Eren insisted, swaying on his feet. "Just dizzy—" His words broke off as the world spun. Before he could collapse, Adriel caught him, strong arms sweeping him up with effortless ease.
Gasps rippled through the boardroom. The Alpha President of Ulrick Group, carrying a low-level employee like a mate? Whispers broke out immediately.
"Do they know each other?" someone whispered.
"Since when does the President touch anyone?" another murmured.
Across the table, James clenched his fists so tightly his knuckles whitened. Rage and panic warred inside him. He'd been certain his uncle and Eren would never cross paths again. Yet here they were—Adriel holding him like something precious.
When Eren woke, he found himself staring at a sterile ceiling. The faint antiseptic tang told him he was in a hospital. Blinking, he turned—and froze. Adriel was there, sitting at his bedside, blue-gray eyes fixed on him.
"What are you doing here?" Eren asked, his voice hoarse.
"You really don't remember?" Adriel leaned forward, scent curling faintly in the air—authoritative, impossible to ignore. "You fainted. I carried you out of that boardroom myself."
Eren blinked. "…Boardroom?"
Adriel's mouth curved, though it wasn't quite a smile. "You addressed me as Mr. President. That stung, you know." His eyes narrowed slightly. "And why the wig? The thick glasses? What are you hiding from?"
Eren turned his head, embarrassed. "Do you want me to shock my coworkers by walking in after the holidays looking… different? They wouldn't understand. And I'm not ready for their questions."
"You're still hiding," Adriel said quietly, almost disappointed. "Hiding from them. Hiding from yourself." He broke off as the door opened and the doctor entered.
"How is he?" Adriel asked immediately, his voice firm.
The doctor looked between them. "Are you his guardian?"
"No," Eren said quickly.
"Yes," Adriel overrode, his tone brooking no argument. The weight of Alpha command laced the word, final and unyielding. "Tell me what's wrong with him."
The doctor hesitated, caught between the patient's denial and the President's authority, while Eren stared at Adriel—confused, flustered, and acutely aware that he was no longer in control of the situation.
"The tests are conclusive," the doctor said, glancing at the chart. "What you're experiencing is completely normal. Morning sickness is common in early pregnancy, especially for Omegas."
The words hit Eren like a physical blow. His vision swam.
"…I'm sorry, what did you just say?"
"You're weeks pregnant," the doctor repeated calmly.
"What?!" Eren and Adriel exclaimed together.
Eren's throat closed around the word. Pregnant? From that single night? His body went cold even as his scent spiked in panic, sharp and unsteady. His mind tumbled—his father's rage, the shame, James's mocking smirk if he ever found out.
The doctor, oblivious to the chaos his words had caused, scribbled on a pad. "I'll prescribe you prenatal vitamins. The next trimester will be crucial. You'll need rest and proper support from your partner." He nodded, then excused himself, leaving silence in his wake.
Eren stared down at his trembling hands. He couldn't bring himself to look at Adriel. What must he think of me now?
Adriel's voice cut through the silence, low and steady. "Am I the father of the child you're carrying?"
Eren's head snapped up. "Huh?"
"Don't 'huh' me." Adriel's blue-gray eyes locked on him, sharp, demanding. "Answer me."
Eren's throat worked. "And what if you are? What will you do if it's true?"
Adriel's jaw flexed. "You're seriously asking me that?"
"What else am I supposed to ask?" Eren's voice cracked, scent trembling with distress. "I didn't expect this—I never thought—my father will kill me if he finds out I'm pregnant without a bonded mate."
Adriel stepped closer, dominance rolling off him in steady waves. He didn't hesitate. "Then let's get married."
Eren's eyes widened. "What?"
Adriel's expression softened, but his words carried the weight of Alpha instinct. "This isn't just your responsibility. It's mine. I won't have you carrying my child alone. So why delay? Let's bond, Eren. Let's get married."