Chapter 1

When he first arrived at our house, the atmosphere was so tense that I couldn't breathe, forcing myself to take every next breath. I was relieved that he did not come after me. so far at that time.

I recall meeting Ranold Albert Hamilton for the first time at my house, the safest place on the planet. And I remember trembling, clutching the stair railings, watching that man pass by through the old, run-down hall, which was only decorated with one very old colorless picture, a shabby creaking table, and a faded long orange carpet that was lying on the floor to cover the moldy woods.

It was the day my life completely changed, leaving me with no choice but to accept the reality in which we were living.

But let's go back to the beginning. The first thing I want to say is that my family was poor and that we all shared a very old house in New Orleans' Gentilly neighborhood. We rented two rooms from a largish Nanny. I'm not sure what her real name was, but she was black and plump. Her hair was a complete disaster. In fact, I'm not sure how many children she had because her cousin seemed to live with us at the same house and played the piano and saxophone in the evenings. My mother used to argue with him about this quite frequently, but all he ever said in response was, "I'm an artist."

But that was only half of the problem. Nanny's cousin was the single parent of four children. They were so loud and fast that we couldn't keep up with them. They were all as dark as the darkest dark-skinned people I'd ever seen in my life. There was one girl and three boys. The girl always wore her hair in braids, so it's still a mystery to me, and I sometimes wonder, "Did she do that alone, or did someone help her?" But those questions remain unanswered in my mind, so I'd better get rid of them.

And the house itself, of course. It was very old, creaky, and moldy. But it was also incredibly cheap, so we had a place to sleep and eat. Our parents lived in the bedroom at the end of the corridor on the second floor, and we lived in the other bedroom near the toilet. So we always knew when someone went to the bathroom. And our room only had two beds. There was one large bed for the four 'cousin's' children and one couch for the three of us. We were three because I had two sisters and was the middle son. And according to the rules of the genre, I was born as an omega. All my life, I assumed it was an unfortunate coincidence and that the heavens had simply made a mistake by giving me a penis instead of a vagina.

Being an omega in the suburbs was extremely dangerous. Thank goodness, my school had enough supplies for people like me, and I had suppressants from the beginning. Of course, I was also told about other aspects of omega's life because the sexual education teacher was also an omega. So he was a big help to us. There weren't many omegas and alphas, but there were more than enough to live and be visible. In our class, for example, eleven students out of thirty-five had the derivative sex. And five of the eleven were omegas. So, omegas were not exceptions or something "beyond the rules." It was the way of life to which we had grown accustomed.

'How did you meet Ranold?' you might wonder. Well, that's a pretty long story. I was a young man back then, on the verge of adolescence, having graduated from high school and prepared to enter the wide world that lay ahead of me. But, in reality, I didn't have much of a choice because university was very expensive, and the only option I had was to apply for a college and then find a job somewhere nearby in a cafe or restaurant to make ends meet and avoid dying from overwork. As you can see, I had a variety of perspectives.

The prom was approaching, and I was preparing for my exams, enjoying the last days of my carefree life, when an unexpected problem arrived at our house. Our father got into gambling. It wasn't a big deal at first, and he started bringing home more money than usual. It was fine because there were good days and bad days, so on good days, mom and dad were happy, and on bad days, they argued a lot. That lasted three or four years, I'm not sure, but by the end of my schooling, I was pretty sure my father was deeply involved in gambling. I had no idea what was going on in my family. Only my elder sister seemed to know a lot because I noticed she was often with my father, and they usually talked about something "extra mysterious" in the backyard, sometimes even whispering as if they were ready to be caught at any time.

Not long after that, the doors to our house unexpectedly opened without any knocking, and two men did enter. I was surprised by the Nanny's cousin yelling in the corridor about who those people were and what they were doing in his house, but then his voice went silent, and no more sound was heard.

"There's someone on the stairs," my younger sister said, and I turned to face the door.

She was watching the scene attentively, as if she had never seen anything like it before. I became curious and walked to the door, opening it and freezing in shock. A man with a gun was standing in the doorway. He appeared to be frightening, but he was only shushing the cousin's children, who were sitting near the upper railings of the stairs, watching what was going on down.

My sister walked out of the room, stopping not far from the stairs, when a man looked at her and said nothing. She then walked carefully to the railings and whispered to the other kids what was going on. I was a bit confused, but at the same time I was pretty sure he wouldn't do anything bad to us, so I joined the children in observing the "view from the top".

Two more men with guns hanging from their belts were standing below. I was shocked because I supposed it was police or something, but there were no uniforms or police badges. I heard the sound of tires on the street when one of cousin's children whispered, "He's coming, he's coming." The man next to us gave us another look before "he" stepped onto the creaking threshold of our old house. He wore a white shirt, black pants, patent leather shoes, and a grey coat with hand cutouts instead of sleeves.

"Where are they?" He asked calmly, and I felt goosebumps on my back as I knelt behind the children on my knees.

The other man nodded toward the kitchen, and "he" went deeper inside the house.

"Who is that?" I asked, barely audible, when one of the cousin's children replied in the same tone. "Hamilton."

Hamilton. I didn't know the man with the surname Hamilton, but I did know the very wealthy clothing brand that bore that label. And I saw a lot of advertisements on TV and the internet for the hotel and the extremely expensive shops.

"He's said to be the richest man in all of New Orleans," the other cousin's child murmured.

"And the most dangerous," the other added.

I stared at the faded orange carpet in the hall below, and I had a question in my head that I couldn't answer just at that moment: "Why was he here? In my own home? At my house? In my safest place on the planet? What exactly is he doing here?"

I listened to the voices below. I could hear my father's, my elder sister's, and "his" voice. He didn't say much, but every time he did, my heart paused for a few seconds before resuming.

When they were done, he left our house the same way he came in, with no extra words, glances, or movements. The three men then left, leaving only the memory of uncertainty and understatement. My sister and father stayed in the kitchen until the sun came up that night. I felt the slight mattress pressure around 7:00 a.m., just before my alarm went off.

After a few days, or more precisely, at the end of the following week, our parents informed me and my younger sister that Juliette, the elder sister, would marry Ranold Hamilton in two weeks.

***

"Wow, it's stunning!" My younger sister exclaimed in awe as she took the white dress from the large white box and gazed at the sparkling jewelry it was encrusted with.

"It's really lovely, but..." I turned to Juliette after looking at my younger sister, who was fully exploring the dress. "Why?"

"Oh, Olly, you have no idea how stupid our lives are," Juliette replied. "Sometimes you have to choose between two evils, and no one can tell you which is the lesser of the two."

"But he's rich and powerful," I remarked, staring at my younger sister's white gown. "At the very least, you won't need anything."

I knew I had no chance of having a good life in the future. I had some friends in school, but we were all omegas, so we never talked about our future plans. It was obvious that one day we would meet an alpha who would simply adopt us and have us live under him in order to give birth to other living beings.Omegas were rarely anything more than househusbands. The most real benefit was the opportunity to open a small cafe or restaurant, or perhaps a floral shop. But it all depended on how wealthy the husband was. Most employers even refused to hire omegas due to the heat and other biological factors. They made excuses, claiming that omegas require special care and that they couldn't provide it unless it was the only omega's concern. Of course, there were many omegas who worked in such conditions due to a good salary or a lack of money, but that meant you were always exposed to harassment. Omegas were not welcome in this world.

And I knew that one day, it would be clear that I would either become a victim of it or, in the best-case scenario, become another househusband giving birth to a child in one of the government clinics in the suburbs. I didn't have high hopes for my future life, but my sister, Juliette, could have it all. Everything. All at once. Simply by saying a word. I realized it when I saw the white dress in a luxurious white box.

***

The ceremony was held in a small church near the park. The day before, each member of our family received an invitation and a custom-fit wedding gown. I was dressed in a white shirt with ruffles, a vest, grey pants, and black shoes. They even included socks and handkerchiefs with our costumes to demonstrate that they had thought of everything.

At 12 p.m., a black jeep arrived. I, my younger sister, my mother, and my father sat inside. Juliette sat in the car behind us. I looked in the rearview mirror and saw her, beautiful in a white gown with expensive jewelry, makeup, and hairstyle. Although our costumes were expensive, we were all poor, and if anyone saw us on the street, they might laugh at us for wearing expensive clothes like freaks who got money and spent it on the first unnecessary thing.

When we arrived at the church, there were already two men at the entrance. They seemed to be regular citizens, but we knew they were hiding something criminal beneath their clothes. It was quiet and empty inside. We took a seat on the second bench. The decorations were lavish but not showy. The owner of the wedding seemed to be a "very restrained but knowing his worth" man. Somewhere, soft music began to play, making the atmosphere more comfortable.

"I'm going to bring some water," my father said quietly as he approached one of the men standing near the altar. The priest was getting ready for the ceremony. He placed the rings and the sacred ribbon on the white tablecloth. I was so focused that I didn't notice Ranold Hamilton's arrival at first. He was dressed elegantly in a black wedding suit that fit him perfectly. When my sister shook my hand, I realized I was staring at him.

"Where is Dad?" She muttered.

"I don't know," I replied, turning to hug her by the shoulders and softly patting her head.

The men around me began to walk back and forth, and I had no idea what was going on, but one thing was obvious — something had gone wrong. Ranold Hamilton was on the phone with someone while my sister, mother, and I were sitting on the bench, hugging, and clutching each other's hands. I'm not sure how much time passed, but neither my father nor my sister ever entered that church.

When one of the men called my mother, she only shook her head and whispered something very quietly. We arrived home around six o'clock at night. Neither my father nor my sister were present. Only the cousin's children and we three. The evening was unusually quiet. Nobody said anything. Everyone found a spot and stayed until very late. My father and sister simply vanished, as if they had never existed in this world. Their phones were silent, and we had no idea why. As I suspected, my mother knew nothing, so these two carried out their dirty deeds without her knowledge.

The night was distracted. My younger sister was deafeningly quiet. My mother remained silent. Everyone was thinking about what had happened. Then the new day came. Then there was another. And yet another. There wasn't a single mention of Ranold Hamilton, our father, or Juliette. Everyone tried to go about their daily lives as if nothing had happened.

I had a week until my last exam. The wedding was canceled nearly a month ago. And nearly a month without hearing from either dad or Juliette. Everyone remained silent until that fateful evening.

I was washing the dishes in the kitchen when the door unexpectedly opened. In the same way, with no knocking. "Who's there, Mom? Mister Jerish has returned? Is Susanna back from her extra classes?" And no one responded. A strange feeling began to arise deep within me. I turned off the water and stepped back from the sink, my gaze fixed on the door, when he burst into the kitchen. I tried to back up, but he was faster and caught me before I could do anything to stop him. He shoved me in front of him up the stairs and then into my room, closing the door behind us.

"Sit. We need to talk," he said it as if I meant something to him.

I sat on the bed, and he crossed his legs on the chair in front of me. I didn't understand what was going on, but it seemed to me, he was that kind of man who preferred solving problems face to face without any witnesses. I only looked at him once, or rather at his back as he sat in the chair. I spent the rest of the time staring at the old wooden floor beneath my scuffed socks.

"He" began softly and mildly. "My name is Ranold Hamilton. We made a deal with your sister and father. My apologies for not being able to tell you all the details, but they broke the agreement. As agreed, I waited a month to try to find them, but the time limit expired. The second part of the contract is now in effect, and you are the trustee that it will be carried out properly."

"A contract?" I asked, barely understanding what he was saying.

"Let's say it's a business one. You are now the trustee of that contract, as it has been declared."

"And... what exactly does that mean?" To be honest, I'm not sure where I got the courage to even ask him a question, but maybe a month of silence about the entire situation made me like this. Perhaps Ranold Hamilton was the only clue as to where my father and sister could be, so I did my best to explain everything to myself.

Ranold Hamilton remained silent for a long time. He watched my reaction, trying to figure out if I knew something or not. However, my mind was completely blank. I was thinking about my father and sister, who were in debt, and how I was the only one who could bring peace to our family. I was thinking about my future and my past. I was thinking about where my father and sister could be. I was thinking how stupid it would be for them to agree to a deal with Ranold Hamilton. Everything but the real thing was on my mind.

"You will marry me. The wedding is only a week away. Prepare yourself," that was all he said. And then he stood up and left the room as if he had never been there, but his words echoed in my mind as if he were still there. Near. All the time.