The applause comes in waves—polite at first, then louder, swelling until it fills the vaulted ceiling of the Sterling University ballroom.
I smile the way I’ve practiced for ten years. Chin lifted. Shoulders back. Alpha-perfect.
“Tonight,” I say into the microphone, “we prove that excellence is not determined by secondary sex, but by intellect, discipline, and courage.”
The donors rise to their feet. Glasses clink. Cameras flash. For a moment, I almost believe my own words enough to forget the faint heat simmering beneath my skin.
Almost.
Then the burn starts at the back of my neck.
Sharp. Electrical. Wrong.
My smile falters for half a heartbeat—just long enough for Marcus, standing near the stage, to stiffen. His eyes lock on mine, panic flaring.
No. Not now.
The implant has never failed me before. Ten years of suppression. Ten years of borrowed Alpha dominance piped through silicon and lies.
The heat spikes.
My vision blurs at the edges as something inside me snaps open, like a locked door kicked in from the inside. Scent floods the air—sweet, thick, unmistakable.
Omega.
The room shifts.
I feel it before I see it: Alphas straightening in their seats, jaws tightening, pupils dilating. Betas freezing, confused, frightened. A low murmur ripples through the crowd, curiosity curdling into something darker.
I stagger.
“Madam Chancellor?” someone whispers.
My hand flies to my collar, fingers fumbling for the emergency suppressant vial hidden beneath silk and medals.
Too late.
A wave of dizziness crashes through me, knees buckling. The microphone squeals as it slips from my grasp.
That’s when Alexander Thorne steps onto the stage.
Of course it’s him.
He moves with the calm confidence that once made me fall in love with him—and later taught me how dangerous devotion can be. His dark eyes flick briefly to my neck, to the faint glow of the failing chip beneath my skin.
Understanding dawns.
Rage follows.
He takes the vial from my trembling hand before I can inject it.
“Don’t,” I gasp.
He smiles. Slow. Satisfied.
And crushes it between his fingers.
Glass shatters. Clear liquid spills onto the stage like wasted mercy.
A collective gasp tears through the room.
Alexander leans close, close enough that only I can hear him. “You’ve been pretending to be an Alpha for ten years,” he murmurs. “I think it’s time everyone met the real you.”
My legs give out.
He catches me—of course he does—one arm iron-tight around my waist, the other lifting a document high above our heads.
“Our marriage,” he announces, voice ringing through the hall, “was declared invalid due to gender fraud. Which means, legally speaking…”
He dips his head, lips brushing my ear. “I’m still your Alpha spouse.”
Cameras explode with light. Reporters shout. Someone screams my name.
Across the room, I see Noah.
My Noah.
The man who thought he loved an Alpha woman with ambition sharp enough to cut glass. His face is pale, eyes wide—not with desire, but betrayal.
“You lied,” he mouths.
I have no breath left to answer.
Isabella Rossi’s scream cuts through the chaos like a blade. “You’re a liar!” she shrieks from the student tables, tears streaming down her face. “You said you were different! You said Alphas didn’t have to rule us—but you were just another one hiding your power!”
Her words hurt worse than the heat.
Security moves in too late. The damage is already done.
Alexander raises his voice again. “Under the Emergency Status Act, an unmarked Omega in forced estrus must be placed under the supervision of their closest legal relative.”
He looks down at me.
“That would be me.”
I try to speak. Try to stand. But the world tilts, my body betraying me in front of everyone I fought to protect.
As he carries me toward the private lounge, my mind screams through the haze.
This isn’t an accident.
I remember the strange flicker in the lights earlier. The brief pulse that made the implant hum.
EMP.
He planned this.
Inside the lounge, the doors slam shut, cutting off the noise. Alexander sets me down on the couch, eyes unreadable.
“You ruined me,” I whisper.
He kneels in front of me, hands steady, voice low. “No, Victoria. You ruined yourself when you decided you didn’t trust the world with the truth.”
There’s something else in his gaze—something old. Hurt. Want. Revenge tangled with something dangerously close to longing.
Outside, my life collapses in real time.
And inside my burning body, the lie I built my empire on finally finishes breaking me apart.