Page 104 of Omega's Formula

The doctor clears her throat gently. “We need to clean him up, do some tests. You’ll have him back in just a few minutes.”

It feels wrong to let him go, even for a few minutes. But the nurses are efficient and kind, and soon they’re placing him back in Nolan’s arms, now cleaned and swaddled in a soft blue blanket.

“Have you decided on a name?” one of the nurses asks.

Nolan looks at me. We’ve discussed this—debated, really, going back and forth for months—but we never quite settled on anything. It felt like bad luck, somehow, to decide before he was here.

But now, looking at our son’s face, the answer seems obvious.

“Christian,” I say. “After Nolan’s middle name.”

“Christian David,” Nolan adds, his voice soft. “After your father.”

I stare at him. “You never said—”

“I wanted it to be a surprise.” He smiles, tired but sure. “I know things weren’t perfect between you and your dad. But he was still your family. And this little guy—” He adjusts the blanket, revealing a tiny fist. “He’s the start of a new family. Our family. It feels right to honor where we came from.”

I can’t speak. I lean down and kiss him instead, trying to pour everything I’m feeling into the press of my lips against his.

When I pull back, Nolan is looking at me with those green eyes I fell in love with despite every reason not to.

Christian makes a small sound—not quite a cry, more of a sigh—and nestles deeper into Nolan’s arms. The monitor beeps softly.

Six months ago, I was alone in my penthouse, convinced I’d lost everything that mattered. Convinced I’d destroyed any chance of happiness with my own arrogance and blindness.

Now I’m standing in a hospital room, looking down at my husband and our newborn son, with Ellie crying happy tears in the corner, and I understand something I never did before.

This is what it means to have everything.

Epilogue

One year ago today, I became a father.

It’s still strange to think about: me, a father. The broke omega who used to pour coffee for minimum wage, who lived in a twelve-by-twelve room and counted every penny, who was so certain he’d never have a family of his own. Now I’m standing in a penthouse decorated with blue balloons and streamers, watching my son smash his fists into a cake shaped like a teddy bear while a room full of people cheers him on.

Christian has frosting in his hair and on his nose. He’s laughing that belly laugh that makes everyone around him smile, completely delighted by the chaos he’s creating.

He gets that from me, I think. The chaos part, at least.

“He’s going to need a bath after this,” Erik says, appearing at my elbow with a plate of cake. “Possibly two.”

“Three, minimum.” I lean into him automatically, and his free arm wraps around my waist.

Erik laughs—that real, warm laugh I didn’t even know he was capable of when we first met. A year of fatherhood has changed him in ways I’m still discovering. He’s softer now. Quicker to smile, slower to anger. He leaves work early to make bath time. He knows all the words to Christian’s favorite lullaby.

He’s nothing like the cold, controlling alpha I expected to marry. He’s nothing like what I feared.

Mrs Kay wipes my son’s face and he grins up at her.

“It’s good to see you, honey,” Mrs Kay tells me as she straightens, her eyes dropping meaningfully to my midsection. “Though I notice you’re not having any champagne.”

I glance at Erik. He glances at me. We haven’t announced it yet—wanted to wait until after Christian’s party, make sure theday stayed focused on him—but Mrs Kay has always been too perceptive for her own good.

“We’re, um.” I rest my hand on the slight curve of my stomach, still small enough to hide under a loose shirt. “Expecting again. Found out about six weeks ago.”

Mrs Kay’s face lights up. “Oh, sweetheart. Congratulations!”

“Shh, we haven’t told everyone yet—”