Chapter 2

Margot POV

I went straight to the lab as if nothing had happened.

My schedule was flexible; research didn’t punch a clock the same way corporate did, but disappearing for half the morning still felt unprofessional.

I’d joined Vanderbilt Dominion right out of college through their competitive talent program.

My advisor ran one of the more promising rare-earth projects.

The salary was solid for someone my age.

It just wasn’t seven million dollars  solid.

Looking at the numbers too long made the whole career path feel like a slow-motion joke.

Nora Bennett was already at her station when I walked in, hair in a messy bun and safety glasses pushed up on her forehead.

College roommate, lab partner, the only person besides my advisor who knew exactly how deep the financial hole went.

“Well, look who graced us with her presence,” she said, spinning on her stool.

“We were about to send a search party. Or at least order your usual sad desk salad and eat it out of spite.”

“Had to handle something.” I pulled on my lab coat.

The familiar weight settled over my shoulders like armor.

In the narrow glass panel of the supply cabinet, I caught a quick reflection: the faint shadows under my eyes that no amount of sleep ever quite erased.

I looked exactly like what I was: a researcher who worked too many hours and smiled too little.

I poured coffee that had already gone lukewarm.

The bitter smell grounded me for a few seconds.

“Professor in today?”

“Nope. A fresh shipment from Walson Mining just landed in the clean room. Do you want to take a first look at the samples now or after we feed the biological machine?”

“After. I’m starving.”

We walked over to the main campus cafeteria instead of the smaller one in the research wing. Better variety, and occasionally the change of scenery, helped the brain reset after staring at data for too many hours.

We were halfway through mediocre pasta that tasted mostly of salt and regret when the front doors opened, and a whole procession of expensive suits walked in as if they owned the oxygen in the building.

I looked up out of pure habit and immediately locked onto the tallest figure in the center of the group.

Rhett Vanderbilt.

Even from across the massive cafeteria, I could pick out the clean, powerful lines of his shoulders and the way people unconsciously shifted to give him space.

Lisa, usually content to stay quiet and half-asleep under industrial-strength suppressants, stirred hard.

A low, interested hum rolled through my chest and settled behind my sternum.

I couldn’t smell him from this distance—too many bodies, too much recycled air—but my body reacted like it remembered exactly what he smelled like.

My pulse jumped.

The skin over my gland prickled with sudden, unwanted heat.

Lisa pushed so hard for one dangerous second that my fingers tightened on the edge of the tray.

I forced them open again, pressed my free hand flat against my thigh under the table, and made myself look down at the pasta like it was the most fascinating thing in the building.

Nora followed my gaze and nearly choked on her noodles.

“Holy shit. Is that the Crown Prince himself? What’s he doing in the employee cafeteria like a normal person?”

“Probably a working lunch with clients,” I muttered, keeping my eyes on the plate.

Most of the Omegas in the room were doing the same thing I was: tracking him without trying to look like they were tracking him.

Biology was a relentless bitch that way.

Strength and dominance called to us, whether we wanted the attention.

I got off work early, stopped at the corner store near the subway for groceries and a cheap bunch of dusty-pink roses that were already wilting, and took the long ride out to the suburbs. The little one-bedroom I’d rented for Grandma Ellen after the old house went to auction wasn’t much, but it was clean and quiet.

That mattered to her more than square footage or pleasant views.

The smell of her cooking hit me the second I opened the door: garlic, sesame oil, something savory that made my stomach unclench for the first time all day. My shoulders dropped a fraction.

“Margot.” She poked her head out of the kitchen, smiling the soft smile that still made me feel eight years old and safe.

“Perfect timing. The last dish is just about ready.”

I set the roses in a clean jar, trimmed the stems at an angle the way she’d taught me years ago, and scattered a few drops of water over the petals.

The small table suddenly looked less bare, less temporary.

For a moment the weight of the morning pressed against my ribs: ten million dollars, a stranger’s name I still didn’t know, the contracts already being drawn up somewhere in the city.

Lisa curled tight around the thought of Ellen, protective and fierce.

I crushed the feeling before it could reach my face and kept my voice light.

We ate and discussed trivial matters such as her physical therapy appointments, the neighbor's dog's incessant barking at every leaf, a documentary she had seen about bees, and the quiet collapse of the world.

The silver in her hair caught the overhead light every time she turned her head.

I kept my smile easy.

She didn’t need to know how close we still were to the edge.

She didn’t need to know I’d just sold the next few years of my life for the chance to pull us back.

If Gerald were telling the truth, I could fix it.

I could buy her a quiet, comfortable old age with one signature and a few years of my body.

Like a live coal, the thought rested in my chest, bringing both pain and a peculiar sense of comfort.

A full week passed with no word. I swung between sharp anxiety and an odd, guilty sense of relief. Maybe the entire conversation had been a fever dream brought on by too much debt and too little sleep.

It could be the other family had backed out.

Either possibility felt safer than the alternative of actually having to go through with it.

Then a woman from HR appeared at my lab bench, looking equal parts curious and nervous, tablet clutched to her chest.

“Sinclair Headquarters wants you upstairs. Now.”

I blinked, fingers stilling on my keyboard.

Lisa’s head came up fast, ears pricked.

The sudden hard jump in my pulse was sharp enough that I had to lock my jaw for a second before I could answer.

“Did they say why?”

“They never do. Someone’s already waiting for you in the main lobby.”

I told Nora I’d be back as soon as I could, ignored the restless pacing under my ribs, and headed for the glass-and-steel tower that housed the actual power in the company.

Lisa stayed awake the entire walk, claws clicking softly against the inside of my chest, as if she already knew the air was about to change.

And somewhere under the suppressants, a memory of dark wood and heat stirred, quiet and dangerous, like something that had been waiting three years for permission to wake up.