Eren stepped into the office, only to pause. His colleagues were buzzing with unusual energy—comparing ties, dresses, jewelry. Bags and hangers cluttered desks. It looked more like backstage at a fashion show than a workplace.
What event were they preparing for? Were they all going somewhere together? The questions tightened in his chest.
"Looks like you're the only one who hasn't heard," a familiar voice drawled.
Eren turned sharply. Tyler and James approached, side by side. Tyler's hand curled possessively around James's arm, the two of them moving in sync like a couple on display. Their scents trailed behind them—James's Alpha presence heavy, dark, almost suffocating, while Tyler's Beta sharpness laced it with mockery.
Annoyance prickled under Eren's skin. Why did he have to see them every day? Why was he always reminded of what James had done to him?
"Let me guess—no one told you?" Tyler tilted his head, smirking. "Of course. Even as the president's secretary, you still don't make the guest list. Only a chosen few attend Ulrick Corporation's anniversary."
"James," Tyler added sweetly, "didn't you send him an invitation?"
James gave a humorless laugh. "Important people will be there. Someone like him?" His eyes raked over Eren, slow and disdainful. "Even Uncle Adriel didn't bother to mention it. Why should I?"
Eren's stomach twisted, but James stepped closer, his scent pressing heavier, almost daring him to flinch.
"Just because Uncle Adriel introduced you doesn't make you family," James whispered harshly, his voice for Eren alone. "Did you ever think maybe he doesn't want you there? That he's embarrassed to be seen with you?"
The words landed like claws.
James leaned in further, his tone low and cutting. "You think you've caught a big fish? He's into charity, Eren. Don't mistake pity for kindness."
The cruelty in his voice sank deep.
James pulled back with a smile sharp as glass and walked past him, leaving Eren's knees weak.
"You should count your blessings, little Red," Tyler added as he followed, his Beta scent brushing like cold iron across Eren's senses.
Eren's vision blurred. He pressed a hand against his chest, clutching at his shirt as if that would hold him together. You can't cry. You know why you married Adriel. For responsibility. For the child. Not for yourself.
He rubbed at his eyes beneath the edge of his glasses, steadying his breath.
The office door opened again. Adriel entered with Roen, his stride brisk. For one fleeting moment, his eyes met Eren's. Cold. Or maybe it was only Eren's wounded heart painting it that way.
Before Eren could think, Adriel looked away, his expression unreadable, and disappeared into the conference room.
"Eren, why are you standing there? The President has arrived," the manager barked.
Eren blinked, startled.
"You can't keep zoning out. What will the President think? Just because he picked you as his secretary doesn't mean you get to slack off," the manager snapped, shoving a stack of folders into his arms. On top lay an embossed invitation—the Ulrick Corporation anniversary, the reason everyone had been frantically shopping for outfits all week.
"What are you waiting for? Move!"
"Y-Yes, sir," Eren muttered, hurrying toward the conference room.
As he passed, he caught the hissed gossip of his colleagues.
"I still don't get why the President chose him."
"Nothing special about him except that hair."
"At least he won't sit idle—this'll keep him out of the way."
Their words cut, sharper than they should have, but Eren forced his expression blank. He couldn't afford to falter—not here.
Inside the conference room, Roen immediately relieved him of the folders. Eren froze when his gaze collided with Adriel's. The Alpha's sharp eyes lingered, catching the faint sting of salt in Eren's scent.
"Are you alright?" Adriel asked, voice lower, more controlled than his expression.
"I'm fine." Eren forced a polite smile, wrenching his gaze away to Roen. "Do you need me here, or should I return to my desk?"
"Why are you asking him?" Adriel's tone snapped, crackling like a whip. The irritation in his scent spiked, making Eren's stomach clench. Both he and Roen stiffened.
"Go back to your desk," Adriel ordered, already lowering his eyes to the documents, as if dismissing him entirely.
Eren dipped his chin automatically, the movement small but betraying. He hated that his body wanted to yield even when his mind screamed to stand tall. With effort, he glanced at Roen and softened his expression into a smile. "If you need anything, I'll be in the office."
"It's nearly lunch. You should eat first," Roen murmured kindly.
Eren nodded, though his throat was tight. He gave Adriel one last look, hoping for something—anything—but the Alpha didn't lift his gaze.
The door clicked shut behind him.
Why is he annoyed with me? Eren wondered, pulse still hammering. He drew a slow breath, masking the faint quiver in his scent, but James and Tyler's cruel words echoed in his mind. And beneath it all was the deeper ache—that no matter what role Adriel had given him, no matter how carefully he worked—he still felt like an intruder in a world carved by Alphas, where one glance could remind him of exactly where he stood.