Page 70 of Omega's Formula

Of course, I’m nauseated. I’m going through a serious alpha withdrawal. It’d be weird if I wasn’t throwing up.

The fluorescent lights are too bright. I grab the first test I see and pay at the self-checkout without making eye contact with anyone. The box goes into my jacket pocket, hidden like contraband.

The hospital is quiet at this hour. The emergency entrance is still lit up, still busy, but the rest of the building has settled into that particular late-night hush of reduced staff and sleeping patients. I badge into the family waiting area near Ellie’s wing and make my way to the public bathroom, locking myself in a stall before I can lose my nerve.

The instructions are simple. Pee on the stick, wait three minutes, read the results. I’ve done this before, years ago, during a brief relationship that ended badly. That test was negative. That test let me breathe again. If I’m lucky, this will be the same.

This test shows a plus sign before the three minutes are even up.

I sit on the toilet and stare at the little digital window with its irrefutable verdict, willing it to change.

Pregnant.

I’m pregnant with Erik Nilsson’s baby.

The thoughts come in no particular order, jumbled and frantic: How am I supposed to hide this? How long before I start showing? Can I get through the Bureau meeting without him noticing? What happens when Ellie finds out? What happens whenhefinds out?

The last question is the one that makes my blood run cold.

If Erik discovers I’m carrying his child, he’ll want custody. Wealthy alphas always win custody battles—they can afford the best lawyers, the most persuasive experts, the kind of relentless legal pressure that grinds down anyone without matching resources. And I have nothing. A part-time barista job, a room above a shop if Mrs. Kay comes through, a sister still recovering from a chronic illness.

And even if it weren’t for that, I already signed my rights away. I signed that damned contract. He’s rich enough to wiggle out of whatever he wants. I am not.

He’ll take the baby and there’s nothing I’ll be able to do to stop him.

Unless he doesn’t know.

The thought crystallizes slowly, taking shape from the panic. Erik doesn’t have to find out. The cohabitation is over. Our next required contact isn’t for another few weeks, and even then it’s just a brief meeting at the Bureau. I can wear loose clothes. I can make excuses. I can disappear into the vast anonymity of this city and raise this baby alone.

He says he doesn’t want anything to do with me. That works for me. He never needs to know. He’ll try keep tabs on me somehow. I knew he was doing that from the moment that Sara called me at the coffee shop to ask why I was still working after the marriage.

So some things are going to have to change. I’ll need a new job. Maybe I won’t go back to Mrs Kay. I’ll find somewhere else to live, somewhere that he can’t find me.

The only complication is Ellie.

If I run, I leave her behind. Her treatment is being paid for by Erik’s money, channeled through his company, dependent on his continued willingness to honor the agreement.

I could take her with me, maybe, once she’s strong enough to travel—but where would we go? The treatment that’s saving her life isn’t something I can replicate in a motel room.

Somehow I need to stay in the city and also run. I’m trapped.

The bathroom is cold. I’ve been sitting here for over an hour, I realize, the pregnancy test still clutched in my hand. My legs have gone numb from the position, and my back aches from hunching over.

I force myself to stand. I wrap the test in toilet paper and bury it at the bottom of the trash can, under layers of paper towels then I wash my hands and splash water on my face and look at myself in the mirror.

I don’t look pregnant. I look exhausted and hollow and slightly green around the edges, but not pregnant. Not yet. I’ve probably got another few months before it becomes visible. That’s enough time to figure something out. To make a plan. To find a way through this that doesn’t end with Erik Nilsson taking everything I have left.

I’m keeping the baby. That much I know with absolute certainty.

And Erik will never know anything about it.

18. Erik

I’m early. Fifteen minutes before our scheduled Bureau appointment, which gives me time to compose myself in the lobby before—

He’s already here.

Nolan is standing near the water cooler, his back to me, and the sight of him hits me somewhere between the ribs. My whole body responds before my brain can catch up: heart rate spiking, muscles tensing, some primal part of me wants to strain towards him.