Hellen flung her clutch purse onto the velvet sofa with a muffled thud as the mansion's doors sighed shut behind her, the grand foyer echoing hollow under crystal chandeliers that cast fractured light across marble floors.
Her face was a blank mask—ice-blue eyes distant, blonde ponytail dishevelled from the drive, navy blazer creased from restaurant tension—but inside, memories crashed like waves—Emily's soft folds glimpsed under that stall gap, undeniable omega truth she'd buried deep.
That woman had lied from day one, alpha facade cracking now. Did she trust Hellen at all? Why hide it—fear? Shame? The betrayal stung sharp.
'Why am I even surprised? That woman gave clear signs of an omega. There was nothing alpha about her.'
And Emily's 'dream omega'—that was haunting her? Emily must have faked it, trying to confuse her.
