Adriel had no choice. Eren had asked—no, insisted—and now he was Claude's secretary. It grated on him like broken glass. Every time he saw his Omega trailing after Claude with folders stacked high, arms full like a pack mule, something twisted deep in his gut. No one at Ulrick knew about him. No one knew what Eren meant to Adriel. So he sat there, jaw locked, fists hidden beneath the table, doing nothing.
Until the boardroom door opened.
Adriel's eyes snapped up the moment Eren stepped in behind Claude, his arms burdened with a mountain of files. The weight shifted wrong. He stumbled, barely catching himself, but it was enough to make Adriel's chair scrape back. His Alpha instincts roared, body already moving—only for Roen to get there first.
Papers slipped like feathers across the floor.
"Seriously?" Claude's voice cracked like a whip. He spun, expression sharp, gaze dragging over Eren like he was an inconvenience instead of a man. "You can't even handle paperwork? Gods, no wonder—" His eyes flicked deliberately toward Adriel. "Some people were never meant for this floor."
Eren's cheeks burned crimson, the bitter tang of shame rising in his scent. "I'm sorry," he muttered, crouching quickly.
"Sorry doesn't fix clumsy. Pick it up. You're holding up the meeting," Claude snapped, already turning back as if he'd dismissed the matter entirely.
But before Eren's hands could gather the pages, Roen crouched down beside him, calm cedar-scent wrapping around the Omega like a shield. "It's fine. I got it," he said, his voice steady, patient.
Eren blinked, startled, his fingers hovering in midair. Adriel's teeth ground together. His chest was tight, lungs filled with the acrid sting of his Omega's humiliation and the unwanted steadiness of another man's presence pressed close to him.
"Thanks," Eren whispered when Roen handed the papers back. He reached for them, but Roen didn't let go. Instead, he took the rest of the stack from Eren's arms with an easy smile.
"I'll hand these out. You okay? Didn't twist anything?"
"I'm fine. Just—"
"Good." Roen's tone dipped lower, almost teasing. "Last thing we need is the President flipping out because his wife tripped in front of everyone."
Eren froze, his breath stalling in his throat. His eyes darted to Adriel. The Alpha was still standing, fists clenched, cedar scent spiking sharp and dangerous. His gaze locked on Roen with such intensity it was a wonder the papers didn't ignite in his hands.
James and Tyler smirked from the far end of the table, eating up the tension.
Claude didn't even bother turning back around. He just let the silence stretch before snapping, his voice laced with venom. "What are you still doing here? Roen already did your job. Go back to your desk."
Eren's chest tightened. The humiliation in his scent thickened, filling the air. Heads turned. Every pair of eyes weighed him down.
"You should really think about how useless you've been lately," Claude went on, deliberately loud. "Ulrick doesn't pay for dead weight. You don't belong in this room. You never did."
The words tore through him. Eren lowered his gaze, fingers curling into his palms. "If you don't need anything else, I'll return to my desk," he said softly, voice steady only by sheer will.
"Go. Before I say something I'll regret."
He turned and walked out, each step clicking against the floor like a countdown to escape. Behind him, the silence cracked with faint snickers—James, Tyler, maybe others. And Adriel—Adriel still hadn't said a word.
Outside, Eren pressed a hand to his stomach, fighting to steady his breathing. The sting in his chest was raw, unrelenting.
"Okay, baby," he whispered to himself, quiet and fierce. "Back to work. We've got this."
But as he pushed open the secretary's office door, the room was empty. Of course. Everyone was still in the meeting. Claude had sent him out alone—on purpose.
Eren stood in the quiet, shame clinging to his skin like smoke. Claude's cruelty didn't surprise him. Maybe Claude even suspected the truth—that he wasn't just a secretary, but Adriel's wife.
And Adriel… Adriel had just let it happen.
"He really thinks he owns him," Eren muttered under his breath, his hand still pressed protectively to his stomach. "And everyone else thinks he is the one wearing the ring."
Eren's desk was scattered with sketches—lines and curves spilling into shapes that could become something real. His designs. His voice on paper.
He touched the corner of the top sheet, steadying his breath.
"I'm not just someone's omega," he whispered. "I'll prove it. When the truth comes out… I want to be ready."
"Pathetic."
The word sliced across the room. Claude leaned casually against the frame of Eren's desk, lips curled into a sneer. For an Omega, his presence was razor-sharp, all elegance and poison.
"You really think those doodles will get past the prelims?" Claude's voice dripped disdain, loud enough for the other secretaries to pause in their typing. "Be honest, Eren—you're wasting paper. Wasting everyone's time. You should thank me for even letting you sit in this competition at all."
Eren's chest tightened, but he forced himself to keep his gaze down. If he rose to it, he'd only give Claude what he wanted.
Claude tilted his head, voice dropping into something softer—more venomous. "Do you know what everyone whispers about you? That the only reason you're even in this building is because Adriel felt sorry for the helpless Omega who got knocked up. That's your reputation. A charity case with a swollen belly and no real skills."
The room went painfully quiet. Even the phones seemed to stop ringing.
Eren swallowed hard, lips pressed tight, then quietly gathered his sketches and returned to his station. His fingers trembled as he sat down.
Claude didn't let up. He followed, his voice a blade wrapped in silk.
"You should thank me, really. I could tell the board the truth—that you're Adriel's pretty little secret—but I don't. Because it's funnier this way. Watching you pretend to be useful. Watching you think you belong."
Eren's pulse pounded, shame and rage warring in his chest. He didn't look up. Couldn't.
Inside the boardroom, tension crackled like a storm. Adriel hadn't moved from where he stood, but every muscle in his body screamed to. His jaw was locked tight, hands curled into fists.
Claude walked back in like he owned the room, slipping into the chair beside him with a faint smirk. As if daring him.
Adriel's breath was a growl trapped in his throat. Say the word, Eren. Just once. Let me ruin him.
But Eren had begged for secrecy.
Not yet. Don't let them know.
"Roen, start without me," Adriel said finally, voice clipped, cold.
Claude's hand darted out, wrapping around his wrist. A delicate, Omega grip—but the possessiveness in it turned heads.
"Where are you going? We're starting."
Adriel peeled him off with deliberate precision, his stare flat and cutting.
"Restroom," he said, then walked out without looking back.
But his steps were sharp. Fast. He wasn't heading for the restroom. He couldn't stay—not while his Omega was being gutted alive in whispers and he had to sit there pretending he didn't care.
The secretaries' office was quiet when he reached it. The door ajar.
And there he was.
Eren sat in the warm spill of afternoon light, hunched over his sketchpad. He didn't hear the door, didn't sense Adriel's presence. A half-eaten strawberry glistened red on the desk as his pencil moved in soft, sure strokes.
Adriel leaned closer, breath caught when he saw it wasn't jewelry at all.
It was him.
His own face in graphite—the curve of his jaw, the faint smile only Eren ever saw. Not the Alpha the world feared, but the man his Omega drew with quiet devotion.
Adriel's chest tightened. Heat twisted low, something fierce and tender all at once.
"You miss me that much?" he murmured, voice low and teasing against Eren's ear.
Eren startled, pencil nearly flying from his hand. He turned, wide-eyed and flushed—only to find Adriel smiling, gaze warm enough to burn.