The pristine white of the penthouse bathroom was a stark contrast to the dark, coppery stain on Kaelen's handkerchief. She leaned heavily against the cool marble sink, the throbbing in her skull a dull, persistent echo of the System's wrath. Her reflection was a mess pale, with smudges of blood under her nose, her usually sharp grey eyes shadowed with pain and fear.
She cleaned herself up mechanically, the motions rote. The physical evidence was gone, but the memory of the pain was seared into her nerves. The message was clear: deviate too far, too publicly, and the consequences would be more than just emotional discomfort. The System could and would break her, piece by piece.
When she finally emerged, the penthouse was silent. Sera was gone, likely retreated to her own room. The -30% approval was steady, but it felt brittle now, like glass that had been struck and was waiting for the next impact to shatter.
Kaelen didn't seek her out. She went straight to her own suite, the weight of the tuxedo suddenly unbearable. She changed into soft sleep clothes, her body aching with a deep exhaustion that had nothing to do with physical fatigue.
Sleep was a futile hope. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw the flicker of the gavel, heard her own voice saying "twenty million," and felt the searing white-hot agony that followed. She was trapped in a gilded cage with invisible electric wires for bars. The smallest step towards freedom resulted in a shock. A leap of defiance resulted in electrocution.
The next morning, the routine felt fragile. Kaelen approached the dining table with a sense of trepidation. Would there be a note? Would Sera even acknowledge her?
There was. A single plate, again. Scrambled eggs, toast. Simpler than before. Next to it, a new note, the handwriting less precise, almost hurried.
Iris is with me today. We're leaving early. -S
No 'thanks for last night'. No mention of the necklace or the nosebleed. Just a statement of fact. A boundary drawn. The -30% held, but it was a cautious, distant fifty percent. The door that had been flung open was now closed, leaving only a crack.
Kaelen ate the food alone in the silent, sunlit room. The victory of the gala felt like a distant, expensive dream. She had won a battle against Valeria only to be immediately reminded that the real war was against an enemy she couldn't see or fight.
She went to the office, moving through the day like a ghost. The news feeds were ablaze with coverage of the "Blackwood Bid." She was hailed as a ruthless titan of industry, a woman so powerful she could drop twenty million on a bauble without blinking. Others whispered about obsessive possessiveness, a dangerous fixation on the Vesper Omega. Valeria Ironwood was quoted in one society column, her words dripping with faux concern: "Such grand gestures can often mask deep insecurities. True strength doesn't need to be purchased."
Kaelen shut off the feeds. She couldn't bear it.
The day dragged on. Her comms device remained silent. No messages from Sera. No updates on Iris. The silence from the penthouse was louder than any noise.
That evening, she returned home to an empty apartment. The silence was absolute. No note on the table. No sounds from Iris's room. Sera had taken the girl and left, just as her note had said.
The loneliness was a physical weight. She stood in the middle of the living room, the city sprawling beneath her, and felt utterly, completely alone. The -50% approval was a taunt. It represented progress, but it felt like a sentence. She was halfway out of Sera's absolute hatred, but still a universe away from anything resembling safety or acceptance.
Her own reflection in the dark window caught her eye. She looked tired. The sharp edges of the Blackwood heir were softened by a vulnerability she couldn't hide. The Dominion gel could mimic pheromones, but it couldn't fake the look in her eyes.
A sudden, desperate need for connection, for something real, seized her. She pulled out her comms device. Her thumb hovered over the contact she'd never used. Dr. Theron.
She typed a message, her fingers clumsy. "Are you available for a consult? It's not an emergency. Just… questions."
The response was almost immediate. "Of course, Miss Blackwood. My evening is clear. Shall I come to the penthouse?"
"No," she typed back quickly. The penthouse was a fishbowl. "Your offices. In an hour."
An hour later, Kaelen sat in Dr. Theron's discreet, wood-paneled medical office. It smelled of antiseptic and old books. He sat behind his desk, his kind, weary face neutral.
"What can I do for you, Miss Blackwood?" he asked, his tone professional.
Kaelen looked at her hands, clenched in her lap. How did she even begin? "The suppressants," she started, her voice quiet. "The ones for Sera. Formula X. What… what are the long-term effects?"
Dr. Theron's eyebrows rose slightly. This was not the question he had been expecting. He leaned back in his chair. "As I mentioned at the hospital, they are… severe for a Dominant Omega. Hormonal imbalances, increased risk of stroke or cardiac event during a breakthrough heat, potential damage to the reproductive system, severe psychological distress including anxiety and depression. It is essentially forcing a powerful biological engine into a permanent state of emergency shutdown."
Each word was a hammer blow. This was what the original Kaelen had been doing to her. This was the reality behind the control.
"Is there…" Kaelen swallowed. "Is there a safer alternative?"
The doctor studied her for a long moment. "For a bonded Omega, the mate's bite is the safest, most natural regulator. For an unbonded one… there are newer, experimental suppressants. Less effective, but with fewer side effects. They are difficult to acquire and very expensive."
"Get them," Kaelen said, her voice firmer now. "Whatever the cost. Discreetly. Replace her current supply with them."
Dr. Theron's expression shifted from professional curiosity to something deeper, more thoughtful. He saw the tension in her shoulders, the genuine concern that she was failing to mask. He had been the late Lilia Blackwood's doctor. He had seen kindness in this family before, however buried.
"May I speak frankly, Miss Blackwood?" he asked.
Kaelen nodded, bracing herself.
"This is a marked change in behavior. A welcome one, but a change nonetheless." He steepled his fingers. "Are you… quite alright? The pressures of your position… they can manifest in unexpected ways."
It was as close as he could come to asking if she'd lost her mind.
Kaelen looked at him, this man who had seen the worst of her family and had still shown her small kindnesses. She couldn't tell him the truth. But she could give him a piece of it.
"I'm tired, Doctor," she said, the words feeling like a confession. "I'm tired of the… the mess."
She stood up, not waiting for his response. "Just get the new suppressants. Please."
She left his office, the -30% approval feeling slightly less like a taunt and more like a reason to keep fighting. She couldn't change the past. She couldn't break the System. But maybe, just maybe, she could make the cage a little less cruel for the other prisoner trapped inside with her. It was a small thing. But in a world of twenty-million-dollar gestures, it felt like the only real one she'd made.