Page 3

Since it was Sunday, by the time I got home around 11:30 am, my parents were just sitting down to lunch, so I gave up on showering. My dad was big on family traditions, he believed that shared meals kept us together.

Our house was in the city’s most luxurious district, sandwiched between my Uncle Sebastien’s place on one side and my Uncle Victor’s on the other.

It was close to downtown. My father could get to work in seven minutes by car.

Our home was somewhat similar to Blue’s penthouse, but larger and with fewer security features. As the CEO of a software company, my father kept his distance from politics, social programs, ideologies, and anything controversial. He didn’t need bulletproof windows. A surveillance system and one long-time bodyguard were enough.

Our estate was part of a long stretch of high-end residences lining a scenic canal. Every inch of the neighborhood was meticulously designed, and our house had been crafted by the best architects in the city.

I had lived there since birth, gone to an elite private high school nearby, and commuted to campus from home, never needing to stay in a dorm. This certainly set me apart from other students. I was the outsider, the rich kid with the weird mint-colored hair.

When I stepped into the dining room, my parents and brother were already at the table.

"Did you dance? You stink!" My brother’s voice was like the creaking of a door, drilling into my brain.

I grimaced and extended my middle finger to him. Vren rolled his eyes.

My father’s expression was intense, his brows furrowed. Immediately, I could feel it. That heavy, almost combative energy in the air, like he was gearing up for something. I glanced at him tentatively and sank into my seat.

A bit of my backstory.

I was the result of one of the rarest possible genetic combinations in our world—the son of two omegas.

99.99% of the time, omega sperm was infertile. But in about one in ten thousand cases, an omega could have viable sperm. Some scientific literature referred to them as ‘gammas’ instead of omegas, since they could also form a knot, making them even more distinct from regular omegas. However, the term wasn’t widely known due to the rarity of such cases.

My sire was one of them. Technically, I shouldn’t have called him ‘Father’. In our world, ‘Fathers’ were alphas—the sires. Omegas who gave birth were ‘Dads’.

But in our house, I’d always called my sire ‘Father’, or ‘Fa’ for short, even though the people around him considered him a regular omega. He had heats like an omega, smelled like one, and looked like one too.

But he'd never been interested in alphas, only ever dating omegas. When he met my Dad, he had no idea how things would end up. When Dad went into heat, neither of them had any reason to think it would lead to anything. But a month later, when Dad started throwing up nonstop… it turned out he was pregnant.

It caused a rough patch in their relationship. Fa accused Dad of cheating; he just couldn’t believe he was actually the sire. But a genetic test on the amniotic fluid confirmed he was, no room for doubt.

Nine months later, the twins were born: me and my brother Vren.

My parents got married and stayed together all these years, making a pretty solid couple. Their marriage was also strongly supported by my grandfather, since my dad came from a wealthy family of bankers and brought a sizable fortune with him, one that helped DevApp grow.

They never had any more kids, though. Their intense careers didn’t leave much room for a big family. For the most part, we were raised by nannies because our parents were at work pretty much from morning till night.

But that didn’t mean they had low expectations for us. So far, only my brother had met them; he’d finished college two years ahead of schedule and was now a manager at one of my grandfather’s banks.

As I buried my face in my teacup, Father gave me a look. It didn't say much, but it was in the air—something was coming.

Our longtime butler, Avi, served our food while my father exchanged a few words with him. Avi had been with us for years, and Father respected him a lot. He valued hard work, any kind of work. He treated all his employees with reverence, without even a trace of the superiority complex that some rich people had. As long as someone worked to the best of their ability, Fa approved.

What he couldn’t stand were slackers. That meant me, in his opinion.

As soon as Avi left, Fa turned his gaze to me. What was it this time? The same old lecture? Either scolding or pressure to ‘finally do something’ with my life. I heard it from every direction: loser, failure, lazy!

"How’s Blue?"

No, no, no. I wasn’t falling for it. I knew damn well this was just a setup for the real deal.

"The FBI finally raided Anzo Ferro. They got him. Maybe Blue will have some peace for a while," I muttered.

Fa sighed. "He really shouldn’t be messing with those people. They’re dangerous."

Against my better judgment, I felt the need to defend my uncle.

"He’s not ‘messing’ with anyone. The government asked him to cooperate. Why would he refuse, as a businessman? It made him millions." I found myself surprised by my own argument.

Normally, I’d have said exactly what Fa was saying. But today, I automatically took the opposite stance, already bracing for where this conversation was heading.

Fa looked at me over his glasses and said in a firm tone, "If you start talking about social issues, expect backlash. Everyone has their own opinion ." He really emphasized that last word.

"Blue loves what he does—"

"It’s better to stay out of dangerous business! Blue has no family, so he does whatever he wants, but we’ll see how long that lasts." Fa shrugged.

I slumped a bit lower in my seat. Fa usually respected Blue, his youngest brother, but they had completely different outlooks on life.

"I heard some of his bodyguards died in the last attack. Soon, no security company is gonna want to work with him, he’s just too high-risk," my brother said unexpectedly, casually picking up a piece of seaweed salad with his fork.

Vren never liked Blue, constantly calling him a midget or a monk behind his back, and he never missed a chance to take a jab at him.

Then my brother added with an unsettling smirk. "On the bright side, if he dies, his fortune gets split among his brothers, so we’ll get a cut too."

He said it with a greedy gleam in his eye. He’d definitely inherited that hunger for money from my dad’s side of the family.

"Seriously, asshole? That was low," I hissed.

"Enough, you two!" Dad said in a tired voice, looking like he really didn’t want to interfere but felt he had to.

He hated when we argued, always said it gave him a headache. He had some neurotic traits that made him prone to stress. He held a very demanding position at his father’s bank, and the job drained every ounce of his energy.

"Blue is not what I wanted to talk about," Fa said, his brows furrowed.

And I didn’t even flinch. Obviously, that was just the warm-up, the little prelude. Now came the real thing.

"I think your vacation has lasted long enough. It’s September now. Everyone else is getting jobs. It’s time for you to do the same. DevApp is hiring. Graphic designers are needed."

There it was. But I was kinda ready. I put on the most hostile, defiant look I could muster.

"Then give me Werner’s job."

Oh, I knew how outrageous that was. And yet, I couldn't help but say it, hoping it would convince him I was a lost cause.

Fa let out a sharp, angry scoff. "Stop trolling, Sariel. I’m not about to put you in charge of something that determines the success of our entire company."

Unbothered, I went on with a sly smirk on my lips. "But it's you who always complains about how smug and patronizing he is!"

"Werner is an exceptional UX designer. And you’re not someone who could ever replace him."

Dad gave him a slightly disapproving look. "Jacob, don’t put him down like that. He just needs to focus more, and he’ll be all right."

Fa snorted. "He’s not getting Werner’s job anytime soon." He shot Dad a glare, and Dad lowered his gaze.

"Gee, Fa, why do you even bother answering? He’s just playing you," Vren muttered, rolling his eyes.

"Because there’s a point here he needs to understand." Only then did Fa turn his gaze on me. "You have to work your way up, just like everyone else. Have some decency, Sariel. People already think you’re a spoiled rich kid. Don’t prove them right."

My innocent joke was backfiring, and my pulse spiked.

"Decency, Fa? There are fifty more talented guys from my major who would kill to be a designer at DevApp! And you want to hand a job to a kid with no experience just because we share the same blood?"

"Stop this childishness, Sariel! Even in a car workshop, a father trains his son to take over the trade. It’s a normal situation in many families, and I’m offering you just a junior designer position, not a managerial one."

Feeling cornered, I pressed my hands to my eyelids.

"I just don’t want to work at your company, Fa! Don’t you get it?" My voice rose a bit higher than I meant, and his sharp eyes almost pierced right through me.

"Can you enlighten me why?"

My emotions were boiling. I needed to find some convincing arguments, quickly, and this one came first.

"Where to start, let’s see. DevApp hires only omegas and betas! They don’t want me there anyway—"

"That won’t be an issue anymore, because—"

"Maybe what you said before was right?" I cut him off as another argument popped into my head. "That I’m just not good enough, Father! Maybe I’ll never be good enough to take over! Then what?"

"Then you’ll stay a junior designer for the rest of your life," Fa replied, voice completely controlled. "I believe in meritocracy. You work hard, you move up. Period. And I expect you to do the proper grind to reach the top."

Father’s eyes bore into me while I tried to compose myself.

"I just don’t want it," I muttered through clenched teeth.

"Okay, tell me then… What would you prefer to do, Sariel?"

"Pole dancing at a nightclub…" Vren muttered with a chuckle.

Dad shot him a killer glance, and I felt my blood pressure spike off the charts now.

"It’s breakdancing, you idiot!"

"More like breaking than dancing, if you ask me…"

"Shut it," Fa broke in on our typical brotherly jab contest. "Answer me. How do you see your future, son?"

Our eyes met again.

Why did he even ask? He didn’t want an honest answer. He’d already planned my entire future, and for what?

Right after graduation, I refused to work in his beloved company for the first time. He didn’t force it then.

I had a degree in graphic design, it was what he insisted I study. Sure, I was decent at drawing, but I never wanted to make a serious career out of it; it was just a hobby. Doodling landscapes and anime characters, then pressing them as T-shirt prints for fun, was one thing. Turning that into a daily grind? I wasn’t sure it would ever work out.

Personally, I was way more into user experience design and information architecture. I loved figuring out how the human mind navigates complex interfaces—games, apps, whatever. It pissed me off how badly designed most applications were, how hard it was to find basic settings or features. It was like the designers were making things for themselves instead of actual users, often first-timers. I was always thinking about how I would do it better.

But… that career path was competitive.

At DevApp, only a handful of people worked in UX/UI design, including their lead designer, a self-absorbed omega named Werner. It was a highly valued job that took years of experience to break into. You had to start as a programmer or a graphic designer, then specialize after years of grinding.

Years.

The thought of spending a decade in a hostile environment as an isolated, looked-down-upon alpha, making countless icons and avatars before finally getting a shot at UI design? Hated as the boss’s son, a precious ‘golden boy’. Someone who just… didn’t deserve it. That was not appealing.

"You’d better spit it out. If not, I’ve got some news for you," Father went on, jaw clenched.

"Sure you do," I mumbled, shoving a piece of salmon into my mouth.

"As I already mentioned, before you interrupted, one issue is no longer an obstacle. I had an interesting talk with Winter Nolan. He told me he’s open to hiring you in his department."

Swallowing, I stared at him, eyes wide.

"What? The albino again?"

Fa let out an impatient sigh. "He’s not an albino. Educate yourself."

"He sure looks like one. But what’s changed…? He hates alphas! He’s the company’s leading alpha-basher. He’s fought you every step of the way to keep that company policy against hiring us. What the hell happened?"

All I said were facts. This dude was even more anti-alpha than my father. After my graduation, he actually had the balls to protest to the CEO about hiring… the CEO’s own son. Gotta respect the guts, but it also showed just how deep his hatred for alphas ran.

And now he was going to be my new boss?

Father let out a sharp huff and spread his hands. "Funny thing happened. His own brother wants a job at our company. And his brother’s an alpha."

I blinked, not getting it. "And what does that have to do with me?"

"Well, nothing directly. But since he’s asking me to lift the alpha hiring ban for his own family, he probably figured it’d look bad if he kept refusing to hire you."

"That’s crazy!" I rubbed my eyes dramatically.

Vren chuckled, continuing to stuff his face.

"Looks like the albino’s got a knife to his throat. Doubt he’s happy. I bet asking you for this, Fa, gave him serious constipation." He burst into uncontrollable giggles. "He’s only gonna shit it out once Sariel walks into his office, and it’s gonna blow the fuck up."

My brother was now chortling and muttering barely audible nonsense, something like ‘brown explosion’,

‘gonna be epic’, ‘poo-shower’, and other dumbass ramblings.

Sometimes I really pitied my brother’s subordinates. He was even more immature than me. The difference was, he actually went along with our father’s plan and started a career in banking, which gave him this fucking immunity I didn’t have. I’d have to prove my worth with a steady stream of cash flowing into my account.

Fa didn’t seem bothered by Vren’s gibberish. Of course, he didn’t.

"Two months ago, Winter’s aversion could be a problem. I was a bit worried he’d single you out back then, but now he kind of owes me. He’ll have to treat you fairly, give you the same shot as any other employee."

"I don’t buy it," I mumbled, my stomach twisting with nerves. It was one of those rare cases where I agreed with Vren. "That guy is gonna make my life hell. There’s no way he’s suddenly gonna play nice just because you let his brother in. His contempt for alphas is legendary at DevApp!"

Fa took off his glasses, and set them aside. Oh, great. That was a bad sign.

Dad stared at his plate.

When it came to us, my dad’s parenting style was soft, bordering on passive. He could be quite overwhelmed by our personalities at times. But he never punished us or raised his voice. That role belonged to Father.

Vren continued to smirk in the corner of my vision, he obviously enjoyed it in a sadistic kind of way.

"I see what you’re doing, Sariel." Father’s dark blue eyes poked me like a steel lance. "Making excuses! You won’t even be working under him directly. Winter’s the head of the whole department. He’s got seven managers under him. Your manager will be Lorens, the leader of the graphic design team. And he has no problem with alphas at all. In fact, he was the one who supported that intern program where we had a few alphas."

My hands were shaking.

It wasn’t a silly trolling, I really didn’t want the cozy job granted by ‘Daddy CEO’—to enter a company where every employee thought I was ‘destined’ to inherit the whole thing. They knew nothing about my father’s stance on nepotism. They’d naturally assume I was about to be handed DevApp on a silver plate to ‘rule’ over them.

The company I didn’t build.

The people I didn’t hire.

The achievements I didn’t participate in.

I would forever be the fucking ‘undeserving heir’ in their eyes, watched by hundreds, gossiped about behind closed doors—every mistake, every flaw, every ounce of privilege under a microscope.

There was one thing Father managed to instill in me, one value we actually shared: I believed the top job should go only to those who worked hard enough to earn it.

And was I good enough to ‘do the grind’? To reach the highest position? What if I wasn’t talented enough? Just mediocre?

A wave of stress and gloomy predictions washed over me.

"Fa, I really don’t want to work there," I choked out, sounding like a little kid. Every part of me resisted the idea of taking a place that wasn’t mine. "All the employees will see me as your golden boy—"

"More excuses. Give me something new!" Father snorted.

Dad also looked up and watched me like he wanted to hear what I’d come up with too. Vren stared at me impishly, chewing on a piece of medium-rare steak.

"Maybe this life isn’t for me, Father. I’m not like you all. Maybe I don’t want to focus only on grinding to the top… Maybe I want… a simpler life. To have a family," I finished, my voice dropping to barely a whisper, like the words had slipped out before I could stop them.

But as soon as they left my mouth, Vren burst out laughing.

"Sariel wants a bunch of diaper monsters instead of your lucrative job, Fa! Who would’ve thought! Heaven help me, I’m gonna explode—"

Having had enough, I kicked him under the table.

"Fa! Dad! Help! That’s alpha violence against a poor, helpless omega!" he pouted, tossing a full scoop of seaweed into my tea.

"Stop it, Vren. You’re not helping." Father sighed. "And wanting a family is a good thing. I wouldn’t mind you having one, Sariel, but first, you need a partner, and—" He made a theatrical show of looking around and coming up empty-handed. "I see no one here! So stop the nonsense. Focus. This slacking off ends now."

"Father—"

"Enough. Just because we have money doesn’t mean we can afford to raise a freeloader."

Heavy silence filled the room. Vren was still pouting, Dad was still focused on his plate, and Fa was still stabbing me with his dagger-like glare.

Just another casual Sunday at the Lowen house.

After a good half-minute, Fa let out a breath and said, in an almost light tone, "If you behave, I’ll ask Werner to send you some smaller projects. You can design simple things for him: login screens, registration stages, that kind of thing. If that interests you, maybe you can start building some experience in design. But I won’t hand you a management position just because you’re my son."

"Don’t want that!"

"Good. Skill over nepotism. Always."

Skill over nepotism. All or nothing. Those little slogans got tossed around a lot in my family. They were their conversation-enders, favorite summarizers.

I stared at Fa’s face, searching for a way out. Sure, I could get up, walk away, and find a job somewhere else, far away from my self-important family. But one thing held me back…

Perhaps Werner would actually give me some design work?

Maybe, just maybe, there was a slim chance I’d get to do something interesting eventually.

And if Winter Nolan wouldn’t be overseeing me directly, if I never had to deal with him, maybe I could tolerate it? Lorens wasn’t that bad.

Fa studied me closely, and I think he saw the moment I gave in.

"Good," he said, sounding smug. "Looks like you came to your senses," he answered for me before I even agreed. He always thought for everyone else.

My father was the opposite of every omega stereotype out there, he had a will of steel, completely relentless when it came to getting what he wanted. That was just how all the Lowens were—of every subgender.

Except for me. The failure.

The weakling. The bad apple.

I dropped my head over my plate, shoveling food into my mouth without tasting it, feeling miserable. Some people would be thrilled to get a job with real potential, with the prospect of being at the top one day. But I guess my nature was just too damn bleak.

I always hoped I could live my life simply… fairly. To have only what I worked for. No help, just me. But could I really? Branded with the Lowen name on my back?

And if they all knew the truth about me? It would be so much worse. They’d laugh. Call me a freak. A mistake.

"You start Monday." My father’s voice snapped me out of my thoughts.

Blue was right. I overthought things too much. But I couldn’t help it. Sometimes, it felt like I only existed in my own head, like the outside world was a hostile place I just wanted to escape from.

But there was no escaping it. It always found a way to catch up with me. Like today.

My father’s eyes studied my face, trying to read my reaction. But what was there to analyze? Everyone knew I was always moody, the eternal emo, the forever-teen rebelling without a cause, convinced everyone was against him. That’s how they saw me.

Their eyes on me. Watching. Curious. I could already guess what they were thinking. Lazy fucker. Finally getting off his ass and doing something. Good. Let’s see if he proves he’s a real Lowen. Not some cheap knockoff.

***