The moment Eren stepped into the restaurant, he faltered. His phone had buzzed earlier in the day with a last-minute update from the batch group chat: the reunion venue had changed. Instead of the cozy bistro they'd planned, it was now being held at a five-star hotel restaurant—one owned by the Ulrick Group.
Eren's stomach knotted. Of course it would be here.
"Alright, everyone," the organizer called out, smiling brightly from the center of the room. "Tell me, who among us has ties to the Ulrick Group?"
Before anyone could answer, the restaurant doors opened. James strode in, Alpha scent rolling across the room like polished steel, with Tyler walking confidently at his side.
"There's your answer," someone whispered.
The organizer beamed. "Ah, no wonder."
Almost instantly, the crowd swarmed James and Tyler. Old classmates laughed, shook their hands, and called out their names as if greeting celebrities. Eren stayed at his table, untouched, watching the attention gather around them while the space around him felt emptier by the second.
"Mr. Ulrick," the organizer said warmly.
James's practiced smile never wavered. "Please—call me James. 'Mr. Ulrick' is too formal."
The man chuckled nervously. "James, then. Thank you for what you did for us tonight. Especially reserving the entire restaurant."
Eren blinked, a cold weight settling in his chest. So it really was James who had sponsored all of this. He had that kind of power, after all.
"Tyler is lucky," the organizer added with a grin, "to have such a thoughtful boyfriend."
A ripple of murmurs passed through the group. James only smiled again, but the pride in Tyler's posture said enough. His Beta scent was sharp with satisfaction, filling the air as he basked in the attention.
The surprise deepened when several chefs in pristine whites appeared, bowing slightly as they introduced themselves. "Per Mr. Ulrick's instructions," one said, "we'll be serving each of you whatever you'd like tonight. The kitchen is at your disposal."
Gasps and exclamations filled the room. Classmates turned, mouths open, staring at James and Tyler as if they'd performed a miracle. Eren, meanwhile, sank a little lower in his chair. His chest tightened, the faint thread of his Omega scent curling anxious and subdued, though he tried to keep it under control.
"Tyler really made it," a woman at the table beside him said, half in awe, half in envy. "And now he's dating an Ulrick. Can you imagine?" Her gaze shifted suddenly, landing on Eren. "Oh—Eren? I didn't recognize you at first with your new hair color."
Her voice was polite enough, but the slight tilt of her head made the words sting like an afterthought.
Eren forced a small smile. He had been expecting that reaction all evening.
"Wow," one of Eren's former classmates murmured, leaning across the table. "I knew the Ulricks were rich, but reserving the entire restaurant for his boyfriend? James is unbelievable." His eyes flicked toward James and Tyler, who stood surrounded by a chattering circle of batchmates.
The Alpha's scent rolled through the room—sharp, commanding, impossible to ignore—while Tyler's Beta pride radiated like cologne, basking in reflected glory.
A chef in crisp white approached their table with a polite bow. "Sirs, Mr. Ulrick instructed us to prepare anything you'd like. Please, order freely."
"What's the signature dish here?" Eren's tablemate asked eagerly.
The chef smiled. "Our seared wagyu and saffron risotto are favorites."
"Then I'll have that," the woman said, glancing at Eren. "Don't be shy. Tonight's on them, after all."
Eren forced a small nod and gave his order, though his chest tightened. The scent of spices and oils already drifted from the kitchen, rich and enticing to everyone else—but to him, it stirred nothing but unease.
When the first course arrived, gasps of delight rippled through the tables. Each plate was a work of art, the aromas so potent they practically shimmered in the air. His companions dug in immediately, savoring each bite.
"This is incredible," one said between mouthfuls, eyes wide with delight.
"Best meal of the year," another added.
Eren's fork hovered above his untouched plate. His stomach clenched, rebelling before he even took a bite. No matter how beautiful the dish looked, the food seemed unwelcoming. Lately, it had been the same—unless Adriel cooked, his body rejected almost everything. The thought made his chest burn. What Omega trained himself to crave only one man's meals? It was ridiculous. Dangerous.
"Eren," a smooth voice cut through his thoughts.
He looked up to see James and Tyler standing at their table, both watching him. James's Alpha presence pressed down like an invisible weight, his smile practiced, polite.
"How is everything?" James asked.
"It's phenomenal," Eren's classmate gushed before he could answer. "You really went all out, James."
Tyler smirked, clearly pleased. "I'm glad. We wanted tonight to be special for everyone." His Beta scent pulsed with pride as he glanced at Eren.
Then his smile shifted. "But Eren—why haven't you touched your food?"
Dozens of eyes turned toward him, the weight of their stares hotter than the candlelight. Eren's throat tightened. It wasn't that he disliked the food; his body simply refused it. Yet how could he explain that here, under their scrutiny? That the child inside him recognized only one man's cooking?
He forced his hands to stay flat on the table, though his nails bit into his palms.
"Can't your stomach handle five-star cuisine?" James asked smoothly, voice carrying just enough edge for everyone to hear.
Laughter rippled faintly around the table. Eren's chest burned, his Omega scent spiking with bitter embarrassment before he forced it back under control. He clenched his fist beneath the linen cloth, swallowing hard against the knot rising in his throat.
I wonder why I ever liked someone like him. It's a good thing I didn't end up marrying him, Eren thought bitterly, forcing his gaze away from James and Tyler.
"Eren, why?" the organizer suddenly asked, stepping closer to his table. "Don't you like the food? I think everything the chefs prepared is delicious. Honestly, this is the first time I've eaten anything like this in my life. I should thank James and Tyler for making this happen."
The organizer glanced between Eren and the couple. James only smiled smoothly, his Alpha scent rolling in steady waves of confidence that made others lean in subconsciously.
Before Eren could reply, a chef hurried over with a fresh tray in hand. "Excuse me, Mr. Eren," he said respectfully, setting down the dish. All eyes turned toward him. "I apologize for the earlier meal. Our special chef prepared this one just for you."
"Special chef?" the classmates around Eren echoed in surprise.
"I'm fine, really—" Eren began, uncomfortable under so many eyes.
"No!" the chef blurted, his voice cracking under urgency. A bead of sweat slipped down his temple. "Please, you must. He said he'd fire us all if you didn't eat tonight."
The room fell quiet. A ripple of whispers ran through the batchmates. Who could order something like that?
Eren's chest tightened. There was only one man he knew who would go that far. But he hadn't seen Adriel anywhere tonight.
James's gaze sharpened. "And who exactly is this special chef?" His Alpha tone cut through the silence like a blade.
The chef swallowed. "I'm sorry, Master James. I can't say." He bowed his head quickly, then turned back to Eren with pleading eyes. "Please, sir. Just taste it. Tell me if it's acceptable."
Eren hesitated, his eyes were stirring uneasily. He picked up his fork and took a small bite.
The moment the food touched his tongue, warmth spread through his chest. His stomach, tense all night, finally eased. For the first time that evening, the food didn't revolt against him. His body accepted it.
"…This one…" He blinked, setting down his fork, surprised. "This one I can eat."
Relief flooded the chef's face. "Thank you."
Eren exhaled slowly, masking the flicker of emotion tightening his throat. He could taste it—just faintly, beneath the rich seasoning. A whisper of a scent only his instincts would catch. Steady. Familiar. Safe.
Adriel.
The chatter around the room rose again, curious and envious. A special chef? Just for him? Who could command that?
James's smile didn't falter, but his Alpha scent sharpened, darker, edged with irritation. Tyler shifted beside him, pride dimming under the weight of the new attention.
Eren kept his eyes down, chewing slowly, willing the heat in his chest to settle. He didn't need to look toward the kitchen to know. Adriel was here. And, once again, he'd made sure Eren wouldn't go hungry.