Robbie's Father's POV
I never thought my son would turn out to be so goddamn defiant. After all the effort, all the grooming, and all the rules I put in place for him to inherit the legacy, he chose to burn it down over a filthy omega and an illegitimate child.
It's been four days since he stormed out of the house, and not a single word since. No chauffeur, no car, he fired every bodyguard, canceled his cards, ditched his phone, and wiped out his presence like he'd never existed. Roger couldn't even track him to Ashley's place. The boy is gone... except for showing up for his damned duties at the resort.
For what? A bloody omega?
I slammed my fist down on the armrest of the car, teeth grinding. I thought threatening the omega would bring Robbie back to his senses, but instead, it made him snap. I underestimated how deep he'd sunk into this little delusion of "love" and "family." I thought I could bend him like I bent Ashley, my wife. But apparently, I made him too comfortable.
Now he thinks he can choose for himself.
Let's see how long that fantasy lasts.
"What's wrong with you? You look like you just swallowed poison," came a brash voice.
I turned to see Stephen Olsen stepping into the car. He looked the same as ever: tanned skin, thick dark hair brushed back with surgical precision, those sharp brown eyes that rarely missed anything. Fit, confident, and annoyingly smug for a man in his late forties. He had the face of a man who aged like a tailored suit: expensive, calculated, and cold.
"I'm fine," I said, forcing a chuckle. "Pleasant surprise that you could make time out of your very full schedule."
"All thanks to my daughter's obsession with your son. Can't say no to her when she's wailing about heartbreak." He smirked.
"You've spoiled her too much."
"She's all I've got. No wife, no siblings, and no extended family. What do you expect me to do? She's my only anchor."
Stephen Olsen— Congressman, businessman, and a long-time associate.
Once, a broken kid from a powerful house who got royally screwed over. He and I have known each other since high school. Back then, he was of Emmaulsen blood, heir to a legacy that could buy countries. Then his parents died in that plane crash, and everything changed. His aunt took custody. A vile woman with a taste for control and cruelty. The kind that raised wolves by starving them. Stephan came to school bruised and stitched more often than not.
And then came that incident: Charlotte, I, and a plan that spiraled out of control. His aunt framed him, threw him to the wolves, and he ended up in juvenile prison. I didn't know better at the time... but I still played a part. Guilt was a familiar flavor after that.
Years later, he reappeared like a ghost with a new name and a new empire: Import-export kingpin. And then, of all people, he married Charlotte. The woman at the center of that old mess. I knew it had to be revenge. He wanted to spit in the face of everything that had happened. But when I confronted him about it, he claimed otherwise.
"I thought you married Charlotte out of vengeance," I said, eyeing him carefully. "Funny how much you care for her daughter now."
"She's my daughter too," he said tightly. "And I didn't marry Charlotte for revenge."
"No?" I snorted. "Then for what: love?"
He gave me a look of thinly veiled disgust. "Are you projecting?"
I smiled bitterly. "You've really learned how to talk, haven't you?"
Stephen didn't reply. He just looked out the window, like the conversation bored him.
For a second, I saw the boy he used to be. The one who walked into school bleeding, bruised, but somehow still upright. Back then, he had nothing but rage and a cracked pride holding him together. His aunt's cruelty had forged him into something sharp and broken. Now, years later, he'd learned to wield the system like a scalpel. His business skirts legal lines so thin they're practically invisible. He knows how to pretend he cares. The country buys his tragic "widower" story, the grieving single father turned altruistic politician.
Bullshit.
He doesn't give a damn about Charlotte. She was an omega, and he's hated omegas since the moment they became part of his downfall. I've lost count of the number of omegas he's used: his employees, assistants, interns. Some were the same age as his daughter. He preys on their desperation, fucks them, discards them, and then walks away clean. Robbie calls me biased for keeping omegas at arm's length? At least I don't use them. I don't drag them into my bed under the guise of kindness.
Stephen is something else entirely. A monster in a tailored suit. And right now, I need him on my side.
"Why didn't you just fire the omega from the resort?" he asked casually.
"Because the project isn't under my control. It's Robbie's. Hiring and firing is his jurisdiction," I said curtly.
"Shame," he mused. "I wanted to see what kind of magic that boy's got in bed. Omegas... they do have those filthy little bodies built for fucking, don't they?"
I shot him a look, jaw tight. "Robbie's bonded to him. They have a son, Twen. Once a bond forms, especially with a child involved, it's not easy to break."
"Bonded?" His brows lifted. "No wonder he's obsessed. Bet it's driving him wild."
I didn't respond. The resort was coming into view, its silhouette striking even in the fading sunlight, sleek and elegant. Robbie had done a damn good job. All that training, all the hours spent molding him into my heir— it hadn't gone to waste. Even now, my anger couldn't completely drown out the pride I felt watching his vision come to life.
As the car pulled into the valet area and parked, Stephen leaned back with a lewd grin and ran a finger across his lips.
"I wonder what bonded omegas taste like," he murmured.
I didn't answer, but in my gut, something twisted.