Eren froze when the office door opened. James stepped out first, his smirk sharp as a blade when he found Eren standing there.
"How long have you been skulking here?" James sneered. "Were you listening in? Who gave you the right? Just because my uncle made the mistake of marrying you doesn't mean you get to hover at his door like some desperate pet. Have some decency."
Eren's lips parted, but no words came. His stomach twisted.
James leaned closer, his scent rolling sharp and bitter in the air—an Alpha's deliberate taunt. "Maybe you tricked him. Or maybe Uncle felt sorry for you. Either way, don't think it makes you family. You'll never be one of us. No Ulrick ever will accept a good for nothing Omega like you."
As he brushed past, his shoulder struck Eren hard, a deliberate shove. Eren staggered but stayed upright, his chest tight with shame.
"Come in," Adriel's voice cut across the space—low, commanding, impossible to disobey.
Eren stepped into the office, shutting the door behind him with shaking hands. He kept his gaze down. "Manager Irene asked me to deliver these," he murmured, placing the documents on the table.
"Sit." Adriel gestured toward the sofa. His tone left no room for argument.
Eren obeyed, lowering himself onto the edge of the chair. Adriel remained standing for a moment, watching him in silence, then moved to the table. A sheet of paper slid across the polished surface toward him.
"Read."
Eren hesitated before picking it up. His eyes traced the lines once, then again, but the words still struck like steel: temporary marriage… annulment upon birth… custody to Adriel Ulrick… compensation in exchange.
His breath caught. His fingers trembled, the page rattling softly in the silence.
When he finally looked up, Adriel's gaze was steady, unreadable.
"Don't look at me like that," Adriel said, voice clipped. "We didn't marry out of affection. What happened was an accident—but a useful one. I need an heir. This way, I'll have one. You won't walk away empty-handed; the compensation is more than fair."
Eren's throat tightened. Every word they'd shared until now—the faint glimpses of warmth, the moments that almost felt sincere—collapsed beneath the cold weight of the contract.
Adriel pushed a pen toward him. The metallic click as it touched the table sounded louder than thunder.
"If you agree, sign."
Eren stared at the paper. His body stayed still, but inside, something splintered so sharply it almost stole his breath.
Eren's fingers shook as he unfolded the crisp sheets of paper Adriel had slid across the table. The scent of ink and expensive leather clung to them, but beneath it, he could still smell him—the quiet dominance radiating from the Alpha seated across from him.
He forced his eyes to focus. Each line was worse than the last.
Remain married until the child is born.
Custody of the child will belong to Adriel Ulrick.
Omega will receive financial compensation. Marriage to be annulled thereafter.
His gaze snagged on the final bullet point. The words blurred, but he read them aloud anyway, his voice cracking.
"You can't fall in love?"
Adriel's reply was immediate, sharp. "Correct." He didn't flinch, didn't soften. His baritone filled the room like a command. "I have no interest in being tied down. My priority is the Ulrick name and the business. I won't let sentiment—or an Omega—distract me."
The words struck harder than Eren expected, even after everything. His throat tightened, and before he could stop himself, a bitter laugh escaped. "Don't worry, President. That won't be a problem."
He reached for the pen. His hand trembled, but his signature flowed in quick strokes, binding himself to chains he hadn't chosen. Then, without hesitation, he slashed through the line promising him money.
Adriel's eyes narrowed. "You're naive. That money could protect you. You could build a life with it. Use it to—"
"I don't need your money." Eren's words came low and steady, though every muscle in his body screamed. His pride, fragile as it was, refused to let him look like a beggar in front of this Alpha.
For a long moment, Adriel said nothing. His eyes burned into Eren, the weight of his presence pressing like a hand against the back of his neck. Most Omegas would bow under that weight. But this one… he sat straight-backed, refusing to lower his gaze.
Adriel leaned forward, voice dropping, deliberate and commanding. "Fine. But one more thing."
Eren stilled.
Adriel's gaze flicked to the dark wig covering his head, the false shield that hid the hair that had made him a pariah. "Don't wear that again. Not in my office. Not anywhere."
Eren blinked, startled. "Why?" His fingers instinctively brushed the wig, a barrier he'd clung to since childhood. Without it, he felt exposed, vulnerable.
"Because you're mine now," Adriel said, his voice calm but absolute. "And I won't have my Omega cowering in front of others. You carry my child. You carry my name. You don't get to hide."
The words weren't tender. They weren't kind. But they carried the weight of ownership, a claim impossible to ignore. Eren's chest tightened. His instincts—Omega instincts—quivered at the Alpha's dominance, but his pride burned hot against it.
He wanted to scream, to tell Adriel he wasn't some possession to be displayed. But his throat betrayed him. He stayed silent, staring at the signed contract lying between them, the ink still wet.
He had thought, foolishly, that Adriel might be different. That beneath the coldness, there might have been sincerity in the way he shielded him from others, in the way he stood against James.
But now, staring at the document, Eren realized what he truly was to this Alpha: a means to an heir, nothing more.
And yet—despite himself—his body still reacted to Adriel's nearness. His pulse raced, his scent wavered in the air, betraying the storm inside him.
"Have some faith in yourself. People walk over you because you lack confidence. Don't hide the real you."
Eren froze, the words striking deeper than he wanted them to. His Omega instincts responded before his mind could—his pulse quickened, chest tightening, as if Adriel's command had settled directly into his bloodstream. Don't hide the real you. No one had ever told him that. No one had looked at him and demanded he stand as himself.
For a flicker of a second, it felt good—dangerously good. Like being seen. Like being claimed.
But reality crashed down just as quickly. The contract. The overheard conversation with James. The reminder that Adriel didn't want the world to know about them. That he wanted their marriage tucked away in secrecy.
The flutter in Eren's chest soured into something heavier. If anyone found out, he knew what they would say. Opportunist. Gold-digger. Shameless Omega. Their whispers would stick like thorns, branding him forever.
Better to stay invisible. Better to keep quiet. Even if Adriel's voice made every part of him ache to obey.