HER FATED MATE IS AN OMEGA

"Please! I can fix this-"

"And make sure," she added, her gaze finally flicking back to him, "he remembers exactly where he stands."

Greene dropped fully this time to his knees. Right there in front of everyone. 

"Elara, please! I didn't know! I swear I didn't know-"

She stared at him unmoved.

"You're right," she said quietly.

"You didn't know."

Her lips curved slightly not into a smile but for something colder. 

"And that ignorance cost you everything." She turned to the guards, and then lowered her stance to meet Greene's ears, "I spent ten years scrubbing your floors, Greene. Tonight and forever, you'll scrub mine."

"Please...Elle, for the sake of the beautiful..."

A slap left her hand directly on his face, and his face shifted, "Beautiful what?" She asked narrowing her gaze at her. "Remind me, what was ever beautiful about you?" 

"Take him away." 

The guards grabbed him and dragged him back as he shouted, begged, struggled, no one stepped in and no one spoke. Because the verdict had already been delivered and the room had accepted it. 

"That served him right, he was talking too much." Someone murmured from the crowd. 

"How could he insult Alpha Elara like that?" Another asked in a low tone. 

"But more importantly, what's the relationship between Elara and that man? What of Beatrice, she was here a while ago." 

"A lot is even happening because what is our almighty Silas doing on the floor?" 

"Where's Beatrice?" Elara asked, her gaze sweeping slowly across the crowd, sharp and searching. Her eyes didn't miss a single face. "Find her."

She didn't direct the order to anyone in particular, yet it carried enough authority that several guards and attendants immediately broke away, pushing through the guests.

Moments later, the sound came-

"Leave me alone! Let me go!!"

The protests grew louder, closer, until Beatrice was dragged forward and shoved roughly to the ground at Elara's feet.

A faint scoff slipped past Elara's lips as she looked down at her.

"You said you were what again?" she asked, her voice calm but cutting as she lowered herself slightly. Beatrice trembled under her gaze, panic written all over her face. "The President's daughter?"

"I-I didn't say that," Beatrice replied quickly, too quickly. Her voice shook as her eyes darted away, only to land on Silas, still on the floor, his body subtly writhing as he struggled to keep himself together.

Elara's eyes narrowed.

"What did you say?" she pressed, her tone dropping.

Before Beatrice could respond, a sharper, commanding wave of pheromones rolled in from behind. The crowd instinctively parted, creating a clear path.

The President.

And beside him, the Prime Minister.

"What is going on here?" Her father's voice rang out, firm and authoritative.

Beatrice scrambled to her feet instantly, rushing toward her father's side like a frightened child seeking protection.

The President's gaze swept past her, landing almost immediately on Silas, who was still trying, failing to stand upright.

"What is wrong with him?"

"Sick," Elara answered quickly, almost too quickly.

Calvin's eyes snapped to her face at once, suspicion flickering in their depths.

"I'm... I'm fine," Silas managed, his voice strained as he forced himself halfway up, only for his body to falter again. It looked less like weakness and more like something was pulling him apart from the inside.

"Why are you on a rampage?" the Prime Minister asked, irritation seeping into his tone as he glanced between Elara and his daughter.

Elara straightened, her expression cooling instantly. "Why? Am I not allowed to punish citizens who make mistakes in this country?"

"On your first day back?" he shot back. "Everyone is here to celebrate you, yet you choose to turn it into a spectacle in front of distinguished guests?"

Elara let out a soft, humorless snort. "If your daughter hadn't stolen my identity, I wouldn't have had a reason to."

A brief silence followed.

"And why would she steal your identity?" her father asked, his voice measured, but probing. "Did you think to ask her?"

Elara's fist clenched at her side.

Before she could respond, Calvin stepped forward, his gaze locking onto Beatrice.

"Why did you steal the Alpha's identity?" he asked bluntly.

Beatrice hesitated, her lips parting as her eyes flickered once again toward Silas.

"Because..." she began, her voice trembling just enough to sound convincing. "Because I'm in love with Silas."

A ripple went through the crowd.

"What?" Elara's brows furrowed, disbelief clear in her tone. "You're in love with Silas... and somehow that led to Greene?"

Even Silas, in his dazed state, seemed to register his name faintly, his expression tightening as if he were trying and failing to grasp the conversation happening around him.

"Who is Greene to you?" the Prime Minister asked smoothly, redirecting the narrative with practiced ease.

Beatrice straightened slightly, clinging to her story. "I'm telling the truth. I had to disguise myself... to make Silas jealous. That was the only way."

Soft laughter broke out across the room.

Whispers followed, all romantic, dramatic, and amusing.

The tension shifted.

"Well, that settles it, doesn't it?" the Prime Minister continued, his tone light but pointed. "We are family, Elara. Matters like this should be handled privately, not turned into entertainment for a crowd."

His gaze sharpened slightly. "Or did you lose your manners during your twelve-year... absence?"

The jab landed and Elara felt it-but didn't react.

Not outwardly.

The Prime Minister turned, placing a guiding hand on Beatrice's shoulder as he began to lead her away.

As she moved, Beatrice glanced back.

And smiled.

A small, sharp, victorious smile meant only for Elara.

"Take care of this," the President said, his tone quieter now but no less firm. "And meet me in my study tomorrow morning. You will explain everything."

Then he turned, following after the Prime Minister.

The crowd slowly began to settle, though the whispers hadn't stopped.

Elara exhaled slowly, the tension in her chest coiling tighter instead of easing.

Then she turned back to Silas. He was still watching her, still breathing unevenly, still affected, and this time, she didn't hesitate. 

She started toward him.

"What's wrong with him?" Calvin's voice cut in, stopping her mid-step.

Elara paused.

"Who?" she asked, though she already knew.

Calvin lifted his hand slightly, pointing.

"Silas."