All Chapters of The S-Tier's Omega Bodyguard : Chapter 51 - Chapter 60

101 Chapters

Back to Work (Remote)

Kieran set up his workstation on the second Monday after discharge, which was when he decided that working from Maya's kitchen table was no longer cutting it.The table was fine for the lighter stuff email, reading files, taking calls. But the Sun City project was moving fast now, three active contractor streams needing security oversight, and doing that properly required two monitors, reliable wired internet, and a setup that didn't involve moving his coffee every time Maya needed to cook something.He spent Saturday sourcing the equipment. Sunday he set it up in Maya's spare bedroom, which had been functioning as a dumping ground for boxes she hadn't unpacked in two years and a treadmill she used as a clothes rack. They moved the boxes to the wardrobe and relocated the clothes to actual hooks and by Sunday evening Kieran had a workstation that would have held its own against his old office setup.Maya looked at it and said, "This is a bit much.""The alternative is me working off a

Clara

CLARAClara had thought about texting him for two weeks before she actually did it.Not because she was nervous exactly. More because she kept trying to figure out what she actually wanted from the conversation, and every time she came up with a reason it sounded either too much like something she'd rehearsed or too much like she wanted something from him she hadn't earned the right to want.In the end she sent: Hi — I don't know if you remember me. I was Elliot's girlfriend. I think we should talk if you're open to it. No pressure either way.She sent it on a Tuesday morning and went back to her day and didn't check her phone for two hours, which was the most disciplined thing she'd done all week.His reply came at two in the afternoon: I remember you. Why?Which was so completely him from what she knew of him — that she almost smiled. She typed back: Coffee? I'll come to wherever you are. And then, because she didn't want him to think she was going to make it difficult: I'm not ang

The Grandmother

ELLIOTVictoria Sinclair's estate was forty minutes outside the city, which Elliot had always suspected she'd chosen specifically to make dropping in unannounced inconvenient. She called people to her. She did not go to them.She'd called on a Tuesday, in the specific tone she used when it wasn't really an invitation. He'd rearranged three meetings and told Ryan he'd be back by five.The estate looked the same as it always looked — big, old, well-kept without being showy, the kind of house that said we have had money for a very long time and no longer feel the need to prove it. His grandmother was in the garden when he arrived, sitting in the good chair she kept near the roses even in weather that didn't quite warrant it, with a book face-down on the arm and a cup of tea on the small table beside her.She looked up when he came across the lawn and said, "You look tired.""I've been busy.""You're always busy. You look tired in a different way this time." She nodded at the other chair.

Thirteen weeks.

Thirteen weeks.Kieran had looked it up again that morning, the same way he kept looking it up not because he forgot, but because the numbers changed every week and keeping track of the changes felt like something he could actually do, in a situation where most things were out of his hands. Week thirteen. The size of lemons, according to the app Maya had put on his phone without asking, which had a fruit-based measurement system that he found either charming or insane depending on the hour.He stood sideways in the bathroom mirror and looked at himself before getting dressed. There was something there now. Not dramatic if you didn't know what you were looking for you'd probably call it bloating and move on but it was there, a low, slight curve that hadn't been there six weeks ago. He pressed his hand to it for a second. Then he pulled on a long-sleeved shirt, buttoned a flannel shirt over it, and went to make tea.Layering was fine. It was still cool enough that layering made sense. He

Marcus Moves

The notification came through on a Thursday.Marcus Sinclair had a very simple system. He paid three people in three different places to watch for specific names and flag specific events. The hospital clerk was one of the three. He got a hundred pounds a month to run two searches — Elliot's name and Kieran Hunt's name — against the patient records system every two weeks, and to send a single coded message when either name showed up in the maternity or reproductive health pathways.The message arrived on a Thursday morning, and Marcus read it at his desk in the city office he technically still had access to while the board investigation into his conduct ground slowly through its process.He read it twice. Then he sat back and thought for a while.The obvious move was to tell Elliot. That was what a concerned uncle would do. It would also be the single fastest way to make Elliot close ranks around the omega and shut Marcus out of everything that mattered. Elliot with a clear threat to f

Seventeen Weeks

The Sun City project had moved into its second phase — ground surveys, local council approvals, the early contractor management that was mostly paperwork and phone calls and the particular patience required for dealing with three different subcontractors who all believed their timeline was the only timeline that mattered. Kieran had been on twelve calls in the last two weeks. He'd also written two threat assessments, reviewed four vendor contracts, and identified a potential gap in the coastal access security plan that had saved what would have been an embarrassing oversight in the phase two review.He was good at this job. He'd always been good at it, but there was something about the remote setup that suited him in a way he hadn't expected — no peripheral noise, no hallway conversations he had to navigate, just the work and the silence and the two monitors and the whiteboard that Maya still called excessive.The whiteboard had eight things on it now. Six were Sun City. Two were Marc

The Party Problem

The invitation had been in his work email for two weeks before he opened it.He'd been avoiding it, which he was aware of, in the specific way he was aware of all the things he was currently avoiding — with a clear-eyed acknowledgment that the avoidance was finite and the thing at the end of it was still going to be there whenever he ran out of road.The Sinclair Industries annual gala. Black tie, Meridian Grand Hotel, the last Friday in October. His name was on the guest list as Head of Remote Security Consulting — present not as a bodyguard but as a member of the senior team, which was a different category entirely and meant his absence would actually be noticed.He couldn't explain why he shouldn't go without revealing the pregnancy. He couldn't go without the very real risk of someone noticing that Head of Remote Security Consulting had developed a visible bump at seventeen weeks with twins.He told Maya.She looked at the invitation. She looked at him. "Here's what we do," she sa

Clara and Kieran

CLARAShe'd noticed three weeks ago.Not at the gala she'd been at the gala and hadn't seen Kieran, hadn't known he was two floors below, had spent the evening doing the particular social work of being Elliot's former fiancée in a room full of people who were still recalibrating what that meant. But she'd seen a photo afterward. Someone had taken a picture of the security monitoring room for a building profile piece, one of those corporate filler images that ended up on the company intranet, and Kieran was at the desk in the background, side-on, and Clara had looked at it for a long moment and thought: oh.She'd known what to look for. She'd grown up with three older sisters and had been present at two of their pregnancies and knew that particular early shape, the way the silhouette changed before the person was ready for it to change.She texted him on a Monday: I'm coming your way Thursday if you want to meet. No agenda. Just tea this time, my treat.He replied: Same place?She sai

Elliot's Certainty

ELLIOTHe'd gone back to the footage the morning after the gala.Not because he needed to. He already knew what he'd seen in the security monitoring room the way Kieran had been sitting when he came in, the angle of him, the specific shape of his silhouette before he'd shifted to the other workstation. Elliot had known in the room, in the first second, the way you knew things that your body registered before your brain had finished catching up. He'd stood there for four minutes talking about camera feeds and vendor assessments and he'd known the entire time.But he went back to the footage anyway. He pulled it up on his personal laptop at six in the morning before Ryan arrived, before any calls, just him and the screen. He found the right timestamp. He paused it on the profile angle the three seconds before Kieran heard the door and shifted his weight and sat with it for a while.He didn't need it confirmed. It was confirmed. He just needed to look at it without the professional reflex

Suspicious Minds

KIERANWeek nineteen.Both twins moved every day now. Not constantly they had their own schedules, which seemed to involve being very active at eleven in the morning and again at about ten at night, which Maya said probably meant one of them was going to be a morning person and one a night owl and Kieran had said that's not how it works and Maya had said watch.The bond pain had shifted. He'd noticed it about a week ago and had spent a few days checking whether he was imagining it before concluding that he wasn't. It was still there still that constant low-level ache that had been his baseline for going on four months but the texture of it had changed. Something in the pregnancy hormones was creating a kind of competing current, like two signals running on the same line and partially cancelling each other out. Not enough to stop hurting. Enough to make it bearable in a different way than before.He mentioned it to Dr. Chen at his last check-in. She'd made a note and said that was cons

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