Kaylen's Perspective

The Morrisons held an iron grip over three of the most lucrative industries in the world—real estate, entertainment, and construction. Their influence was not just extensive; it was absolute. Their entertainment empire, MNSnet, was a global titan, with affiliates spanning across three continents and every major kingdom. MNSnet was more than a company—it was a cultural force, shaping tastes, trends, and public perception with surgical precision. The Morrisons spared no expense when it came to cultivating their stars, but profit and prestige weren't the only reasons for their lavish investments. Power was the real currency, and they wielded it ruthlessly.

Behind the shimmering façade of fame and glamour, some of those celebrities served a far more dangerous purpose—they were operatives for The Cove. Of course, not just any A-list name was invited into the fold. To be considered, they had to possess more than charisma and talent; intelligence, adaptability under pressure, and an unshakable ability to control pheromones. Secrecy was also paramount. Most of the chosen had no idea they were even working for The Cove, receiving their instructions through layers of intermediaries. Only a select few knew exactly who sat at the top of the chain of command.

Amely Connrod was one of those few. A celebrated actress and singer, Amely was more than just a pretty face on a screen—she was a second-class alpha of rare and formidable power. At twenty-eight, she had already eclipsed the lifetime achievements of most of her peers. Her rise to prominence had been swift and sharp—a theatre debut at the tender age of eight, followed by an exclusive ten-year contract with MNSnet when she was scouted at thirteen. At twenty three, the contract became lifelong. Amely had manifested at eleven—exceptionally early, given that most alphas emerged between fourteen and eighteen.

She had been recruited by The Cove at seventeen, and since then, she had become one of their most valuable assets. Amely's ability to extract information was unmatched, and her mastery over pheromones made her an unparalleled weapon in the field of covert manipulation. It was no wonder Kaylen had entrusted her with a delicate task—uncovering the truth about the doctors currently treating Asahin. He needed answers, and Amely was the one who would deliver them.

Kaylen sat across from Amely in one of the Morrison penthouses, the understated luxury of the space muted by the tension hanging between them. The entire building functioned as The Cove's headquarters, though to outsiders, it was simply an exclusive residential complex for the elite. Amely was listed as a resident on paper, but her true home was elsewhere.

"So?" Kaylen prompted, reclining against the plush back of the sofa, his expression calm but his gaze sharp.

Amely leaned back lazily on the opposite couch, legs crossed and eyes half-lidded. "Just as you suspected," she began, her tone almost bored. "The supposed treatment for his damaged glands isn't helping—it's doing the opposite. It's making his body hypersensitive to other people's pheromones. Prolonged exposure could lead to severe psychological instability—paranoia, hallucinations, even self-destructive tendencies. Eventually, it would drive him to insanity and… well, suicide." Her lips curled slightly. "The kicker is, it's almost impossible to detect unless you know exactly what to look for."

Kaylen's jaw tightened. That explained so much about Asahin's erratic behavior. Even if Asahin couldn't consciously sense pheromones, his body was still registering them—and with his glands damaged, his system couldn't process the input correctly. His reactions would have been chaotic, even violent.

But then… why wasn't Asahin reacting that way to his pheromones?

"I must say," Amely began, amusement flickering beneath her steely eyes, "you seem awfully concerned about your boyfriend's half-brother, while you're completely ignoring your boyfriend's attempted assault." Her smile was razor-edged. "When you called me, I assumed you'd want me to investigate the alphas who drugged him, but instead, you sent me after the doctors."

Kaylen's head snapped toward her. "What are you talking about?"

Amely arched a brow. "Darrien was drugged and dragged into a hotel room by four alphas about… five nights ago, give or take." She stretched lazily. "He handled it pretty well—as always."

"As always?" Kaylen's eyes darkened with confusion.

"Why so surprised?" Amely's tone was dry. "Don't tell me you didn't know your precious boyfriend has been under constant attack ever since you started dating. I mean, sure, he was targeted even before he manifested and got involved with you, but after? It's like someone slapped a bullseye on his back." Her gaze sharpened. "Honestly, I don't understand how he still bothers showing up to high society events, knowing there's always someone waiting to ambush him."

Kaylen's mind reeled. Darrien had never mentioned any of this. He had never asked for help or even hinted at what he'd been enduring. And if it happened five nights ago… that was the night before Kaylen had told him they should break up.

"You have the most powerful intelligence network at your fingertips," Amely continued, snickering, "but you've been completely blind to what your boyfriend has been going through. Even if your relationship is purely transactional—"

"That's enough, Miss Connrod," Kaylen cut her off, his voice cold.

Amely's eyes narrowed, but she didn't push further. She rose from the couch, her movements fluid and controlled. With a lingering glance of disapproval, she turned and strode toward the door, her heels clicking against the polished floor.

Kaylen sat motionless for a long moment after she left. His thoughts twisted, dark and conflicted. Had his relationship with Darrien really been so shallow? Had he been so wrapped up in his resentment over Darrien and his mother's manipulations that he had overlooked everything else? He thought he had been showing some level of care toward Darrien—but compared to how he treated Asahin, the difference was undeniable.

And yet… no amount of sympathy could erase the fact that Darrien and his mother had hurt Asahin. That betrayal still stood between them. Kaylen could not simply forgive it.

He pulled out his phone and pressed a number labeled Manager Lez.

"I want you to conduct a full, in-depth investigation on Darrien Valmoor," he said coldly into the receiver.

"Understood, young master," came the crisp reply.

Kaylen ended the call, his expression hardening. He stood and strode toward the door. Next stop—the Morrison estate.

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Kaylen's grandfather was caught off guard when Kaylen appeared at the breakfast table. Kaylen almost never sat down to share a meal with the rest of the family, and when he did, it was rarely a pleasant affair. Every morning at precisely eight o'clock, his uncles, aunts, and cousins would descend upon the Morrison estate like clockwork. With twelve people gathered around the grand, polished oak table, one might expect a lively atmosphere filled with chatter and laughter—but the room was steeped in silence unless his grandfather chose to speak. His presence alone seemed to drain the warmth from the air, leaving behind a brittle tension that clung to the walls like frost.

Kaylen's grandfather, Roderik Morrison, was a second-class alpha with a legacy of ruthlessness etched into the Morrison name. He had taken three omega husbands over the course of his long life, acquiring not just partners but heirs and status. Two of those omegas had been third-class, but it was the first-class omega who had secured his ambitions, providing him with Kaylen's father, and thus with Kaylen himself…eventually. The pregnancy had taken a brutal toll on his omega grandfather's delicate body. The birth had been complicated—violent, even—and he had never truly recovered. Kaylen's omega grandfather, who shared his name, had died when Kaylen's father was only three years old. The other two husbands had met tragic ends as well. One succumbed to a wasting disease after years of promiscuity, while the other drank himself into an early grave.

But beneath these misfortunes lay a single source of rot—Roderik Morrison himself. The man had never viewed the people in his life as anything more than tools to wield and discard. Money and power were his only true companions. Kaylen's uncles, aunts, and cousins were poisoned by the same corruption, having marinated too long in his influence. Greed and ambition had warped them beyond recognition. Only Kaylen's father had managed to escape that fate—likely because he had been raised by his omega grandfather's family, a modest and respectable household untouched by the Morrison legacy.

The union between Kaylen's omega grandfather and Roderik had been anything but romantic. Roderik had wanted a first-class heir to secure the Morrison name and had convinced the king to enforce the marriage by imperial decree. The whole situation disgusted Kaylen. He was grateful that his father had been spared from growing up under the Morrison roof. When Roderik realized his youngest son would likely manifest as yet another second-class alpha, he had cast him aside like a defective product. He already had three second-class alphas; a fourth was redundant.

Kaylen's gaze drifted over the table, taking in the unnerving sameness of his relatives. His uncles and cousins all shared the Morrison trademarks—thick black hair and piercing green eyes. Their resemblance was almost uncanny, as if they were bred from the same mold. His four cousins were all third-class—either male alphas or omegas. Kaylen, on the other hand, was the first first-class alpha born into the family in six generations. There had been two first-class omegas in that time, but the Morrison family valued strength over submission. Alphas mattered more.

His grandfather sat at the head of the table, spine straight, hands resting lightly on the arms of his chair. His gaze was sharp and calculating as it settled on Kaylen, who sat at the opposite end. The two heads of the table were reserved for the patriarch and the heir. If Kaylen wasn't present, the chair remained empty. No one else was worthy of sitting there.

"So," Roderik's voice was low and cold, each word slicing through the oppressive quiet like a knife. "What brings you here, Kaylen?"

Kaylen leaned back slightly, his posture casual, almost lazy. He spread a thin layer of butter across his toast with the edge of his knife, not bothering to look up as he replied, "Oh, nothing much." He took a slow bite, chewing thoughtfully before adding, "I just dropped by to inform you that I've ended things with Darrien Valmoor."

The scrape of metal against porcelain sounded as someone's knife slipped and clattered to the table. Across from him, one of his uncles choked on a mouthful of eggs.

Kaylen's expression remained impassive as he set down his toast. He watched the growing tension with mild interest, knowing full well that the next part would be the true detonator.

"I also wanted to let you know that I intend to pursue a serious relationship with his brother, Asahin."

The room exploded.

Crystal shattered as glasses crashed to the floor. Silverware clattered to the table as hands jerked involuntarily. A chair scraped back violently, its legs screeching against the polished wood. Someone coughed, and another swore under their breath. The shock rolled across the table in visible waves.

Kaylen let his gaze sweep over the chaos with detached amusement. Yes, this was the reaction he had expected.

Initially, he had considered keeping his intentions toward Asahin a secret, at least for a while. But after learning that Tarya Valmoor was quietly, but desperately, searching for Asahin, he had reconsidered. The safest place for Asahin was at Kaylen's side, where everyone could see him. There was no safer position than next to the most powerful alpha in the kingdom.

His grandfather's eyes narrowed, the glint of calculation flashing behind them. "I see," he said evenly.

Kaylen's lips curled into a sharp smile. "Do you?"

Silence stretched between them, heavy and dangerous. Kaylen knew exactly what he was doing. His grandfather would see the strategic value in keeping the alliance with the Valmoors, but doing so through a connection with Asahin, a supposedly defective third-class omega, would definitely displease him. He could already see the gears turning in his grandfather's mind, weighing risk against reward.

The Morrison patriarch had built an empire on dominance and control. Kaylen, however, wasn't interested in maintaining that legacy. He intended to tear down the framework his grandfather had erected—brick by brick.

For now, though, he simply picked up his toast and took another bite.