Page 2 of Red River (Eden’s Omegaverse #4)

"We’re really sorry—there was nothing more we could do. It was a massive heart attack, and his body was just too weak," said Dr. Martin, looking at me with genuine sympathy.

Pain and fear twisted inside me, even though I’d known this day was coming. I’d been expecting this moment for years. And now, here I was—alone with five kids while my husband lay in the next room, gone. The doctors had tried everything, but eventually gave up.

Dr. Martin tilted his head lightly. "His heart was in bad shape. Especially with his weight, it just couldn't go on."

I wasn’t really listening. It felt like the ground was crumbling beneath me, like I was being crushed. Helplessness and frustration swirled inside me because I didn’t need to hear it—I already knew all of this too well. For the past few years, I had been grinding through life, barely making it, dragging our family behind me—exhausted and desperate.

Thomas had been in poor health for years. He never took care of himself—wouldn’t quit smoking, and even though he ate the healthy meals I cooked, he still ordered fast food every day. No matter how much I tried, not even two heart attacks and a serious gout diagnosis could make him change.

I doubled over, tears streaming, as Riley wrapped his arm around me. I could hear his quiet sobs. Lake hugged me from the other side, while Aiden and Van sat stiff and pale, sniffling. Only Igor stood still next to the doctor, his eyebrows furrowed and jaw clenched, as if he had just made some kind of decision.

Shaking slightly, I wiped my cheeks, trying to rein in the tears. Thomas and I had been High Mates (though on the lower spectrum) and our marriage had started out harmonious. But as his health declined, everything crumbled.

He was still a good man—he never raised a hand against me and tried his best to provide for us—but he was no longer the same person I had married. The constant pain isolated him, draining his energy. The relentless gout flares robbed him of his will to live, and his obesity made everything harder, including working.

When the doctor left, Igor lifted his head and locked eyes with me.

"I'm going to be the alpha of this family now," he said in a decisive tone.

Riley’s head snapped up.

Through his tears, he glared at Igor. "What?! What are you even babbling about? You’re fifteen! Not an adult alpha! You’re still in school, so don’t—"

"Shut up, Riley!" Igor’s voice cut through the hallway. "You don’t get a say. You’re an omega, and you’ll be back at college after the break. You won’t even be here!"

Riley blinked, stunned, and I squeezed his hand, desperate to stop the fight before it spiraled out of control.

"Igor, this isn’t the time for arguing. Your father just died. Please, show some respect. We’ve got so much to handle—Father’s business, the debts, figuring out our finances—"

Igor straightened. "I’ll decide when and how we handle those things, Dad. Tomorrow, I’m filing for early legal adulthood so I can act on behalf of Father."

My heart skipped a beat. What did he just say?

"That’s just crazy talk, Igor. You don’t understand how complicated this stuff is—"

He clenched his fists. "I’m the alpha now! Father warned me this day would come, he told me to be ready. Now it’s my job to take care of everything."

"You’re insane!" Riley muttered, shaking his head in disgust. "You’re still a child!"

And then Igor did something I never thought I’d see—he raised his hand and slapped Riley across the face.

Immediately, I grabbed Igor’s arm, but it was too late. The damage was done.

"What are you doing?!" My voice came out too loud for the hospital hallway. "What’s gotten into you, Igor?!"

He had never hit any of his brothers before. This sudden, aggressive change terrified me. I knew what this could mean, what it could lead to…

Riley pressed against me, hiding his face in my shoulder. He looked just as shocked as I felt, a quiet sob escaping his lungs.

"I’m the alpha now," Igor repeated in a tone that was supposed to sound firm, but the slight quiver in his lips gave him away. "I make all the decisions."

And with that, he turned and marched toward the reception desk, where a nurse was waiting with paperwork. The rest of the family trailed behind him, sniffling and wiping their tears.

I walked too, shaking, grief-stricken over Thomas—and scared out of my mind for what was coming next.

***

Two hours later, we were back home. My mind was a mess, and I couldn’t stop crying. It felt like my whole world had been annihilated. My husband was gone, and this strange change had come over my son.

On top of that, another worry kept creeping in—the reality of how bad Thomas’s business situation was.

He used to mumble under his breath that things weren’t great, but he’d manage, and we’d get back on track. When he said it, I wanted to believe him—for the sake of my own mental health. But now, that he was gone, it was starting to hit me that his words might’ve been just the tip of the iceberg.

As Thomas’s obesity increasingly limited his mobility, he began managing the company remotely. Employee morale declined, and with it, the quality of services suffered.

For all those years, I put in enormous effort to help him by managing the entire customer service office alone, but it was an exhausting grind. The business was struggling more and more, and angry clients called every day. After a while, I started to hate the job.

My stress levels were through the roof, and the thought of taking over the entire operation felt unbearable. Something inside me resisted. I already had to raise the kids on my own, care for an almost immobile Thomas, and now I was supposed to be a businessman on top of it all? And what about him? This was Thomas’s responsibility—he was the one who started the business.

I never had a knack for it: dealing with sassy employees, closing deals with difficult clients, arguing with suppliers, and fighting through endless paperwork. I despised it with everything I had, I was a musician at heart. Sadly, working for Thomas’s company had kept me from following my passion, forcing me to do all the things I hated.

Now, I had no choice. The dreaded call to our accountant was about to happen—to hear his detailed report on just how bad things really were.

After putting the younger kids to bed, while avoiding checking what Igor was doing, I stepped onto the balcony with my phone to call Sam.

Sam was my best friend—practically my only friend—the one person who stuck around despite everything. He tolerated the situation with Thomas when everyone else was disgusted by him and drifted away.

I’d heard it a million times: " River, this man will drag you down. He’s a loser. He says he adores you, but does he do things to make sure you are safe? Is this supposed to be love or just empty words? You have five kids, you’re killing yourself working overtime for him, and he’s just not a good businessman!" They all tried to reason with me.

But they didn’t get it. Or maybe it was me who chose to be deaf. To me, Thomas was a good, gentle husband who loved me and treated me like his fulfilled dream. I loved him too and wanted to be with him despite everything. So, eventually, all my friends gave up on my hopeless case and left.

Not Sam. He respected my choices, no matter how stupid they seemed to him, and was always there—offering support and a shoulder to cry on from time to time.

He already knew about Thomas’s death; I’d texted him earlier. But I needed to talk to him about Igor because I still couldn’t wrap my head around it.

"How are you feeling, River?" Sam’s tone was soft—just like always.

My voice cracked. "Terrible, Sam. I feel like I can’t breathe, like the ground’s falling out from under me."

There was a pause, just long enough for me to feel his sympathy through the silence. "My condolences. Oh my God, River, I’m so sorry."

I sighed, trying to shake off the crushing weight of… well, everything.

"I’m not fooling myself, Sam. I saw this day coming. Even though Thomas kept insisting he wasn’t in that bad of a condition. He got even more adamant about it after Andrew died. He told me back then that he had to hold on for three more years until Igor came of age. But he was deluding himself… A third heart attack! And the doctors warned me—it was only a matter of months."

Sam listened to me without interrupting, then said slowly, "I get that you’re trying to be sensible about it, but even when we know it’s coming, it’s impossible to be truly ready for something like this."

Silence hung between us, and as always, Sam was right. I’d spent years repeating in my head that it was imminent, trying to numb myself. And yet, it hit me hard.

After Thomas’s brother, Andrew, unexpectedly died two months earlier, I started having anxiety attacks—feeling trapped and terrified about our future. He was supposed to be Igor’s guardian in case anything happened to my husband. I pleaded with Thomas to address the situation, to find a new guardian, but he kept insisting we still had time.

Since Andrew's funeral, the only thing I’d managed to do was secure college funds for the kids—my intuition nagged me to get it done. But I hadn’t had a chance to resolve the guardianship issue.

Over the past two months, my frustration with Thomas grew, pushing the patience and love I still had for him into the background. Week after week, I was consumed by anger, bitterness, and resentment. To the point, I even noticed his fearful reaction—the way Thomas tensed whenever I entered the room—his eyes darting away, his whole body shrinking. But I was scared too… terrified of exactly what has happened now.

Yes, I still loved him, but I’d been so disappointed in him—watching how he had completely given up. Seeing him sleep with an apnea mask, only to wake up and smoke in the middle of the night—it made me feel betrayed, like he didn’t care about us. Like his words of love were just empty.

One week before his death, I confronted him.

"Are you running away from me? From us? Have you given up? Our kids are counting on you! As their protector and provider…"

He looked at me with those sad, tired eyes—once bright blue, now pale and distant. "I’m weak, River. I’m ashamed I’m leaving you with all this mess. I couldn’t make the business work, and I was too proud to admit it."

A chill of realization ran down my spine. "My God, Thomas… So what now? You’re just checking out of life?" I snapped.

He didn’t answer.

"With Andrew gone, if anything happens, Igor won’t have a legal guardian. What are we going to do, Thomas? They’ll take him or send someone here! We have to think about our options!"

"River, please, don’t talk like I’m already gone. There’s still time. I intend to live—I can do it…"

I stared at his face—swollen, a bit bluish. Completely changed, nothing like the man I had married.

He had been very attractive when we met, with striking azure eyes, thick dark blond hair, and manly, handsome features. His smile could make me swoon. But as the years passed—along with his declining health—his looks had faded.

A week after that conversation, he was gone.

"Oh, Sam." My voice wavered. "I think I’m mad at him. He didn’t have to die, you know? He could’ve fought for us, for the kids. I begged him—pleaded with him—to try harder, to take his meds, to eat better. But no. He gave up."

Sam stayed quiet. He’d been there, watching it all play out for years, seeing how Thomas slowly withdrew from life.

"But there’s more. Something weird happened at the hospital with Igor. He went… crazy."

I heard Sam make a small, hoarse grunt, probably relieved for a shift away from the heaviness of Thomas’s death.

"What exactly happened?"

"He said he’s the alpha now. That Thomas gave him that role, and he’s going to make all the decisions. And when Riley disagreed… Igor slapped him."

There was a raspy sound on the other end. "What?! Are you serious?"

A heavy silence fell, and I didn’t know what to say. I felt stupid because Sam had always said I didn’t involve myself enough in the relationship between Igor and Thomas—that I hadn’t worked on shaping Igor’s character as much as I should have. But on the day Thomas died, Sam spared me from hearing that.

"Riley already left, took the train to campus. He’ll only be back for the funeral. He said he couldn't deal with Igor."

Sam spoke slowly, carefully choosing his words. "River, maybe it’s time to call your parents."

"Sam!" I gasped in shock.

"Or… if you’re not ready for that, it’s time to choose somebody as a legal guardian for Igor and file for approval with the Department of Family Affairs. You know what happens when the authorities receive Thomas’s death certificate. They’ll come. The fucking safety enforcers! They won’t let an omega raise a teenage alpha alone. If you don’t choose a candidate yourself, they could impose someone… bad—or take him away if you don’t agree."

Oh, I knew all too well what could happen. Not once after Andrew's death had Thomas wanted to discuss the guardianship issue. The decision remained frozen, our future unclear.

Had leaving Igor in charge been his secret plan all along?

I refused to believe it. Igor was too young. It seemed like a crazy idea—destined to fail.

In our society, omegas couldn’t raise alpha children alone. It wasn’t out of cruelty or because omegas had fewer rights—nothing like that. It was purely a matter of necessity. Young alphas, especially those between the ages of fifteen and seventeen, had incredibly unstable energy that required the regulating presence of an older, stable alpha. Without it, they could enter a state known as Musth , similar to the phenomenon seen in male elephants.

In this condition, young alphas matured at an accelerated pace, quickly developing strong dominant traits. There were countless cases of young alphas without proper guardians overpowering their omega parents—sometimes resorting to physical or even sexual violence. No matter how well-raised or how perfect a boy seemed before, the primal instincts in maturing alphas were nearly impossible to suppress. Their nature surged, taking control, and the massive spike in testosterone essentially eliminated most rational behavior.

Omegas without legal guardians could have their alpha children taken away and placed in special boot camps, where teachers—exceptionally strong, dominant alphas—regulated their energy and helped shape their personalities.

Besides Igor, I also had three younger sons… and they were still a mystery. They could turn out to be alphas too. If that happened, they’d be taken next. Only the youngest, Lake, seemed destined to be an omega. My middle sons—Van and Aiden—could go either way.

"I know, Sam," I muttered. "I need to decide quickly. On top of that, there’s Thomas’s business. I have a feeling it’s worse than Thomas let on. We might have to give up the company to pay off debts."

"Are you talking about bankruptcy? Let’s hope you’re not left with some horrible debts to pay off because that would be an impossible situation. And like I said, you could try contacting your parents. It’s been twenty years, River, since you last saw them. Now that Thomas is gone, maybe it’s time to fix things?"

Feeling shaky and emotional, I sighed heavily.

"Stop with this, Sam! Call them?! So they can say—or think— look who came crawling back? After twenty years of silence, of ignoring them?"

There was a long silence on the line, and I sighed.

The truth was, my parents had made so many attempts to reach out to me through Uncle Van, but I refused every time. And now I would suddenly be asking for help? I knew all too well how much I had broken their hearts, how horribly I had treated them—yelling and cursing at them.

"Should I just show up, casually asking for money to fix my own mess? Money! Not out of love or guilt, Sam—just because of fucking cash. What a prodigal son I would be!"

"River, calm down. That’s just your pride talking. You know how much your dad loved you. He would forgive you. They would help you."

The second he mentioned my dad, I felt my heart ache. I loved him so much, but when I met Thomas, nothing could stop me. I didn’t care about my parents’ feelings when their seventeen-year-old son disappeared with a man twice his age.

I couldn’t bring myself to ask for help. Calling casually?

Hi, it’s me, River. Would you mind giving me some money because the guy I ran away with turned out to be a loser? Yes, yes, the one you warned me about. The same!

It felt like pure insolence.

Just like Thomas, I had failed too—in my judgment. I didn’t have the courage to face my parents and admit I was wrong. Sometimes, I suspected that’s why Thomas and I were High Mates—we had the same fucking flaws. We ran from everything, especially from taking responsibility for our mistakes.

Sighing, I finally muttered, "Thomas was adamantly against me contacting my parents. He held a grudge. But maybe… if the safety enforcers start knocking on our door, I might have to. It would be like a gun to my head. I won’t let them take Igor."

"Dad?"

I froze. I hadn’t even noticed Igor coming into the room. When I turned to look at him, his pale face was set like stone, his narrowed eyes sharp with fury.

"Are you talking to Sam?"

"Igor, don’t interrupt me. That’s—"

Before I could finish, Igor jumped forward and grabbed the phone right out of my hand. My stomach twisted like I’d been punched, ice shooting through my veins.

"I heard you," he hissed. "You want to mock Father’s memory? He didn’t want you talking to your parents. He’s not even in the ground yet, and you’re already going behind his back?"

My hands shook as I stared at my son, unable to recognize him. His voice vibrated with anger and hurt.

"Igor," I said, trying to keep myself calm, "what is happening to you? I didn't say it was the first thing we should do. It’s just one of many options. We need to do what’s best for the family—"

"You’re willing to even consider it?" he snapped, jabbing the air with the phone. "Ignoring what Father wanted? Throwing away everything he stood for?"

"That’s not what I’m doing, Igor! I’m trying to keep you safe—"

"Safe?!" His laugh was bitter. "And you think calling your parents is the answer to our problems? The people who hated Father so much, who despised him?"

"They’re not bad people, Igor," I whispered. "They didn’t hate Thomas—they just… they were worried about his past. His previous business failed, and the age difference—"

"Stop lying to yourself!" he shouted, his voice breaking. "They hated him! Father told me everything! They did everything to separate you!"

"Igor, no. They just asked me to go to college and wait a little. I wanted to major in Music Education—"

"Exactly! They wanted to keep you apart! Father told me how they treated him like some crook trying to steal their perfect gem of a son! With suspicion and distrust! And now you… want to crawl back to them? To beg? You’re not even waiting a week after he’s gone before dissing Father like this!"

"Stop!" I snapped, spreading my arms wide. "Enough, Igor! That’s silly! I loved your father, but the fact is: he cut me off from my own family. They haven’t seen me in twenty years, Igor! You don’t know them. Your own grandparents. They deserve a chance to—"

"They deserve nothing," he growled through gritted teeth. "They pushed Father away, not the other way around. He tried to talk, to plead with them! If they’d just accepted him, none of this would’ve happened!"

I took a shaky breath. "Igor, you don’t understand. They had valid reasons—"

"You were High Mates, Dad! That’s the next best thing to True Mates. Your parents were spitting on Fate. If it were up to them, we wouldn’t even be born."

"Igor, they may take you! The enforcers! Don’t you—"

"No! I’ll be a legal adult soon! I’m not letting you ruin everything Father established. I’m taking this." He raised the phone in his hand, his jaw set like stone. "You’re not gonna call anyone."

In deep shock, I stared up at him, my heart pounding. Igor was already towering over me, even at fifteen. I had no chance of getting the phone back.

He rushed away. A second later, the door slammed shut. Then came the sound of something heavy being dragged across the floor, followed by a loud thud.

I spun toward the balcony. The room was on the second floor, and below was nothing but the concrete driveway. I wanted to scream, to call for help—to the people walking their dog fifty yards away on the other side of the street—but my voice died in my throat.

They would contact the cops… and the cops would notify Family Services, the enforcers. That would be the end of our family. What Igor had done to me would be undeniable proof of his Musth .

So now, I was a prisoner in my own house.

My legs buckled, and I stumbled onto the floor. My God, I just wanted somebody to fix it all. To save us.

Because I hated my fucking life.