Unbreak Me (Fate’s Choice #3)

JAN

I spent that evening tossing and turning in bed, my whole body tense as if gearing up for a fight. And in a way, I was—preparing for battle. The adrenaline coursing through me made it impossible to relax or sleep.

My mind kept swirling with restless thoughts, doubting whether the plan I’d presented to Day had any real chance of success. I started obsessing over worst-case scenarios.

What if Ferguson’s company board ignored the footage? What if they dismissed it as a joke? What if the electoral committee ruled it a hoax—maybe something staged by Ferguson’s opponent at the last moment before the elections? What if Ferguson spun the same story to his husband?

By the time I was done spiraling, I’d convinced myself the plan had major flaws. I needed to prepare a fourth option, something potentially more effective than the three paths I’d already considered. But what?

The next morning, I made breakfast for Day. When he came downstairs and stood in the doorway, our eyes met. I noticed a change in him, as if some space inside him had opened up.

Wanting to do something I’d never done before, I slowly approached him. His eyes followed my every move.

"Can I hug you?" I asked.

He nodded slowly.

I gently put my arms around him and pressed him to my chest. He felt so frail—I could feel every rib under my fingers. The stark difference between us hit me like a punch. He didn’t stand a chance against Ferguson, and the thought made my anger burn hotter. Leaning in, I kissed him softly on the temple and whispered, "I promise I will never hurt you, Day."

He didn’t say anything, but his slender arms wrapped around my waist, and he pressed his face against my shoulder. Something inside me stirred, and before I realized it, my nose instinctively brushed against the gland on his neck.

Unfortunately, I also realized his closeness was affecting me in another way—one that absolutely shouldn’t happen in such a tender moment. I quickly let him go before he could notice my growing erection.

Clearing my throat, I said, "I made breakfast. Come on, eat before it gets cold."

Day gave me a shy smile and murmured his thanks.

As we sat down to eat, an idea came to me, but I wasn’t sure if it was the right time to bring it up. It was risky. It might not work, or worse, it could provoke a negative reaction from the person I needed to involve. If that happened, it would break Day’s heart. I decided I had to handle it myself, just in case things went downhill.

Now, I only needed to ease Day into the topic without tipping him off about what I really wanted to ask.

"So," I began, "did your parents have a high mateship?"

Day took a sip of his coffee before answering. "They are Half Mates. After they got married, they decided to take suppressants—to avoid complications with meeting a higher mate later. They wanted a stable family without the fear of their kids suddenly losing a parent…" He trailed off, bitterness creeping into his voice. "But now they don't take it anymore because we're all adults."

I nodded slowly. "That was a smart choice. So many relationships fall apart when one partner finds their higher mate. So many broken hearts… and tragedies."

Day’s expression shifted, and I realized he’d caught onto what I was hinting at. He tensed slightly and muttered, "Nico wanted to take it, but the side effects were terrible for him—he had a severe adverse reaction. Probably some kind of allergic response."

I felt a wave of relief. Day had brought up the exact topic I’d been planning to discuss—it made things so much easier.

"So, Nico ended up with his High Mate, right?"

Day nodded and leaned over his plate, clearly not eager to talk about it.

But I still needed more information.

"You mentioned he was from a press mogul family?" I asked cautiously.

"Yeah. The Lowens," Day muttered.

I blinked in surprise. That was a big name—famous not just in the city but across the country. I’d even crossed paths with someone from their family before: Blue Lowen, from Malden Pharmaceuticals.

"Wow. Lowen Press is massive," I said.

Day’s lips twisted into a bitter grimace. "Yeah, Nico really hit the jackpot. Coming from a family as poor as mine, marrying into the crazy-rich Lowens, and landing a cushy position at one of their companies. He’s editor-in-chief at East Times now."

Bingo. Day had handed me exactly the information I needed.

" East Times magazine? Seriously? He really climbed the ladder fast—though probably through the bedroom," I said with a grimace.

Day shrugged. "You could say that. He was completely inexperienced when he started. Normally, he’d be covering local fluff stories, like someone stealing bags of dog food from a shelter. But to be fair, Nico had talent. He earned those later promotions. It was just… easier for him than for most."

"His husband’s seven years older, right?"

"Yeah. But when they met, he looked very youthful—he had the money to keep himself in shape. He’d been married before and already had two kids, but you’d never have guessed. He and Nico had two more kids."

I noticed a flicker of jealousy in Day’s tone. He probably felt like he didn’t measure up to Nico’s new partner.

"Well, High Mates are almost as strong a bond as True Mates, just without the weird rejuvenation and healing magic—or so I’ve heard," I said, trying to comfort him. After all, the attraction between High Mates was why Day and Nico had broken up.

High Mates were often seen as even more ideal than True Mates. High compatibility—without the risks. True Mates, on the other hand, were energetically bound—separation was unbearable, and if one died, the other wouldn’t survive.

The room went quiet, and I studied Day thoughtfully. If Nico had been on suppressants, they might still be together.

Day had obviously learned a hard lesson; now, he was on strong suppressants himself and had made it a requirement for me in our marriage contract. Would I ever know what kind of mateship we had? For some reason, the thought made my chest ache.

I knew suppressants were gradually becoming the norm in society—too many families had been torn apart by one partner leaving for a higher mate. For the past two decades, the government had even started offering suppressants free of charge to married couples.

But singles typically used them only in specific situations—often while attending college or working in corporate environments where employers might expect it. Otherwise, most people were actively searching for the highest mate they could find, only starting suppressants once they entered into a committed relationship.

I’d already bought a package of blockers but kept putting off using them. For me, the suppressants would likely mean being permanently mislabeled as a beta, and I hated the idea—it would forever keep me in a dysphoric feeling. Yet, I knew I couldn’t avoid it forever.

For now, though, I had bigger problems to deal with.

When Day finished eating, he carried his plate to the dishwasher and mentioned he needed to get back to his laptop. One of the authors he worked for was launching a book today, and he had to post some promotional stuff in different Facebook groups.

As he got up, he hesitated, glancing at my hand on the table like he wanted to touch it. But then he changed his mind and, with a shy expression, muttered, "Well, see ya," before heading out of the kitchen.

Instead of going to the tree nursery, I opened my laptop and typed in the name Lowen. Within minutes, I’d figured out exactly which Lowen interested me.

The Lowen family was well-known in the country. Marcus Lowen, the man who started it all, hadn’t been rich at the beginning, but he was an incredibly hardworking and talented businessman. He’d wisely invested in various companies, buying shares and building his fortune. He had five children, all successful in their own right. His oldest son, Victor Lowen, was the famous press mogul and owner of Lowen Press. But the one who interested me was Victor’s omega son—Angelo Lowen… Nico’s husband.

It didn’t take long to find plenty of information about him and Nico. Just as Day said, Nico was the editor-in-chief at East Times , a position he’d landed by marrying into the Lowen family. By the way, Angelo was still undeniably attractive, being in his forties but looking ten years younger, thanks to what I could only assume was a rejuvenating cocktail of… a ton of money.

Feeling the need to act, I went upstairs and told Day I’d have to leave for a few hours to take care of something. He looked mildly surprised but just nodded.

I hurried to the car, knowing the drive to the city would take about an hour and a half. Sitting behind the wheel, I couldn’t shake the feeling I was about to do something crazy. The entire time, I clutched the small pendrive holding the video of what had happened to Day.

After spending two frustrating hours stuck in traffic, I finally arrived in the city and parked beneath the towering East Times skyscraper. What greeted me was the sight of a massive campaign banner standing just past the parking lot. A cold shiver ran down my spine as my gaze locked onto the smug, familiar face staring back at me.

Ferguson.

That bastard. His crimes would not go unanswered—not if I had anything to say about it. Election day was a little over a week away, and the thought of him basking in victory was unbearable. Over my dead body.

Fueled by the sight, I marched toward the skyscraper, my brows furrowed.

The lobby was packed with people milling around the reception desk, and I quickly realized getting to Nico wouldn’t be as easy as I’d hoped. Still, I got in line and waited my turn.

When I finally reached the desk, I told the receptionist, "I’d like to speak with the editor-in-chief, Nico Rovan."

The man raised an eyebrow. "Do you have an appointment?"

"Unfortunately, I don’t. I’m coming in off the street, so to speak, but this is a very important, private matter."

"I’m sorry," he said, his tone clipped. "I can only direct you to the editor-in-chief if you have a scheduled appointment."

With that, he glanced at the person behind me, clearly expecting me to move along. A wave of irritation rose in me.

"This is extremely important," I insisted. "I’m his ex-fiancé’s husband. It concerns him, it’s private, and it’s really, really urgent."

A few people in line turned to stare at me, their expressions ranging from surprise to amusement. The receptionist’s grimace deepened before he finally said, "I’ll call the editor’s assistant to see if he’ll agree to see you."

He stepped into a back room with the receiver, out of earshot. After about a minute, he returned, looking mildly surprised. "The editor-in-chief will see you now. He has a short break, so please hurry," he said, gesturing toward a nearby security guard.

The guard escorted me to an elevator, and we rode to the top floor together. The whole situation amused me slightly—it felt like I was about to meet God himself. Nico had clearly done well for himself. An office at the top of a skyscraper? It felt straight out of a high-class movie.

The guard led me to a set of wide doors and knocked. A voice from inside called us in.

Of course, this wasn’t Nico’s office yet. It was a smaller room with three people seated at desks—probably assistants. One of them, a slim beta, stood and approached me.

"The receptionist called about your matter, correct?"

"Yes," I replied.

"Come in now. Mr. Rovan has only a brief gap between meetings, so let’s keep this concise," he instructed before knocking on another set of doors.

A moment later, I stepped into Nico Rovan’s office.

Wow. The place was impressive—metal accents, leather furniture, and an abundance of space. It screamed luxury and elitism, clearly designed to make visitors feel small. Not that I cared.

Nico Rovan, an elegantly dressed alpha, rose from behind his desk.

He was taller than me—not surprising, given my condition—but he wasn’t particularly handsome or well-built. With thick glasses and a face marked by past acne, he wouldn’t outshine me in that department.

Though, what was interesting was that he had some vague similarity to me anyway—dark blond hair and even a similar eye color. There was also a hard-to-describe semblance in his features, almost as if we were cousins.

I immediately caught the scent of his Allure—he was a mated alpha and wasn’t on suppressants, sparing me the hassle of explaining I wasn’t a beta.

His gaze landed on me, his nostrils flaring slightly. A flicker of surprise crossed his face—the kind of reaction I’d seen before from people who’d never encountered a short alpha.

"Hello," I said. "My name is Jan Wilson, and I’m Day Sanderson’s new husband."

Nico approached and extended his hand, surprising me. There was no hostility in him, just a hint of understandable distrust.

"May I ask what brings you here? I hope all is well with Day."

"Of course, I’ll explain everything," I said. "But let me give you some background first. I’ll try to keep it brief."

He tilted his head slightly, studying my face. "Yes, unfortunately, I have another appointment in thirty minutes, but you have my full attention for now." His tone was formal.

So, I got straight to the point.

"I bought Day’s marital contract about a week and a half ago at the open fair. I’m here because of something he told me."

Nico's eyebrows shot up. He stepped back and moved to the large window, looking out at the city skyline. I followed, standing next to him, watching the world below—people buzzing around like ants. The view from here was truly impressive.

"I never thought Day would go for something like the open fair," Nico said quietly. "Was that really necessary? Day’s… he’s incredible. Any alpha would be lucky to have him. He shouldn’t have to go through that just to find someone."

Nico clearly had fond memories of Day, which I noted with mild amazement. But perhaps I shouldn't be surprised. After all, their breakup wasn’t over a relationship issue; Nico had simply found his High Mate.

Clearing my throat, I said, "Day hasn’t had an easy time. He worked as a surrogate for years, but then… something happened. That’s why I’m here. You might be the only one who can help us."

Nico turned to me, shock in his eyes. "Surrogacy? For years? Oh my God."

He rubbed his temples, but I didn’t explain Day’s reasons—it wasn’t the right place or time. Nico obviously came to the same conclusion because he just asked, "So… what kind of help are we talking about? Financial?"

"No," I said, grimacing. "I’ve got money. It’s about getting a certain story… out there."

Nico looked relieved—did he think I was here to beg for money?

"Alright," he said. "I’m listening. What’s going on?"

"It’s something that could get you a ton of clicks, to be honest—if you get the exclusive. It’s about a pretty big public figure. One of the candidates for state senator."

Nico’s eyebrows raised. I could see that it piqued his interest.

"When Day was in his last surrogacy, about five months into the pregnancy, he moved into the home of Mark Ferguson and his husband, Jared."

"Mark Ferguson? Don’t tell me that’s—" Nico interrupted, his eyes flickering to the window. Surely, he saw the campaign banner every day when he came to work.

"Yep. Big name. Aspiring politician. One thing is for sure—this bastard shouldn’t have any more power than he already does. Day was carrying his child, and one day Ferguson walked into his room and said Day’s body belonged to him now. Then, despite Day’s protests and screams—he raped him."

Nico froze for a second, then turned to me, raw emotions showing on his face. I could tell he hadn't expected this news—the weight of what I'd just said hit him like a train.

But I mercilessly continued, "Day managed to install a lock on the door after that, but Ferguson got to him again. The second time took place in the kitchen when Jared was in the shower. And the third time…" I hesitated, my voice tightening. "The third time was the worst. They were at City Hall to handle some surrogacy paperwork. Ferguson followed Day. It happened again, in a storage room."

Nico’s breathing picked up, his face paling.

"Yeah. Day is still… traumatized. After hearing his story, I decided I couldn’t just ignore it. I have to do something," I said sternly.

Since I could see the shock rippling through Nico's body, I paused. The strong emotions caused him to hold his breath for an unusually long time, almost as if he were about to have an asthma attack. I waited as he struggled to calm down, and only after he took a deep inhale did I decide to explain the rest.

"My uncle works at City Hall. We had luck; he managed to get the incriminating footage." I held up my hand with the flash drive. "That last assault was brutal, and Day was bleeding. He ended up in the hospital. The baby was born prematurely that same day, at just six months. It’s a miracle the boy survived."

Nico abruptly turned away from the window, slumped into a chair, and rested his trembling hands on the desk, his face twisted with pain. I realized he was crying. I felt bad for hitting him with all the terrifying news at once—it had to be an overwhelming dose. But there was no way around it, and I reminded myself that he didn’t have all day for me. I needed to make the most of my time here and get his definitive response to my request.

"Ferguson blamed Day for the early birth," I continued, my voice barely hiding my own emotions. "Said it was because of Day’s smoking and that he didn’t eat enough—but he lied and twisted it all."

Nico wiped at his face, his expression broken. Seeing his intense reaction, I felt unexpectedly moved. It seemed Nico was a good, caring guy. It suddenly made sense to me why Day had struggled so much to move on for so long after their breakup, knowing what kind of person he lost. Nico was not a typical assholish, insensitive alpha, that was obvious.

"Day was forced to pay them compensation and was left with almost no money, with trauma, and no chances to get another surrogacy contract. They basically ruined him."

Nico muttered an ugly curse. "Give me the flash drive," he said in a hoarse, low voice. "I’ll make sure this story gets out, and Ferguson pays for what he did." He closed his eyes. "Day… You don’t understand. He’s the best omega I’ve ever known. Pure-hearted, selfless, kind, gentle… He didn’t deserve any of this." His jaw clenched.

Hearing this, I felt a painful pang in my heart—this Day I saw today was an example of shattered innocence. What had happened… had crushed him, changed him.

"He’s different now," I said quietly. "Guarded. Distrustful. Bitter. He keeps everyone at arm’s length. What happened—your breakup, then this—it nearly destroyed him."

Nico flinched, as if I’d struck a nerve. He doubled over, burying his face in his hands. His voice was muffled as he replied, "Leaving him was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. He didn’t do anything wrong. We had something good—great, even. I loved him. But the pull of a High Mate…" He trailed off, looking ashamed.

"I get it," I said, softening. "I’m not here to blame you or make you feel guilty. Day doesn’t blame you either—he knows how the ABO society works. But losing you left a scar. He didn’t date anyone else. He didn’t move on. So when Ferguson did assault him, it broke him even more."

Nico took a shaky breath.

"I want justice for him," I added firmly. "My first plan," I continued, "was to send the footage to Ferguson’s company, then the electoral committee, and finally to his husband, Jared. But I’m quite worried he’ll find a way to shut it all down. That’s why I came here. Because… he can’t stop it if the press gets involved."

Nico looked up at me with determination hardening his gaze. "You’re right. He can’t stop it." He suddenly stood up. "And I can surely help with that."

We locked eyes. His were red behind his glasses.

"Why wasn’t this footage discovered earlier?"

"My uncle said the security team wouldn’t have reviewed every minute of recordings unless they were prompted about some problems."

Nico nodded and rubbed his chin, his mind clearly working. "You should also get certification from the security company verifying the footage’s authenticity."

"That can surely be done, but it means an official way of doing it and would probably involve the police. And I’m hesitant about pushing Day to report it. Would Day really have to do it?"

"Not necessarily. Anyone can report this kind of crime if they have evidence; it’s prosecuted ex officio. If Day did it himself, that would mean confronting Ferguson even more directly."

"What if Day doesn’t want to go to the police? Would that impact the footage’s credibility?"

"Theoretically, no, as long as there is a way to confirm the authenticity of the recording. Anybody with this flash drive could report it or… reveal it, even publicly, though that could be seen as obstructing justice, creating public pressure, or even defaming someone’s reputation. But we’re the press, and investigative journalism provides us with a bit more leeway."

Nico's tone changed slightly, becoming more confident. "If we gather sufficient evidence—proof that clearly points to a crime—it’s difficult to call it defamation, as these are facts, and revealing them essentially acts as an open call for a police investigation."

"Do you have to reveal your sources?"

He spread his arms as if these were obvious facts. "Investigative journalists have the right to protect their sources and carry out research, particularly when there’s a concern that law enforcement might overlook or dismiss the case. And here, we’re dealing with a very public figure—someone with the power to silence people and suppress this information to protect his career."

"So? What do you suggest?"

Nico hesitated, clearly mulling over his options.

"Hmm. I think we should combine your original plan with mine. Send the data to those three places—the board members, the electoral committee, and Ferguson’s husband. Wait two days. Then I’ll write an article saying that East Times has learned that incriminating material was sent to these parties about the senatorial candidate, and we believe an investigation should follow. If we phrase it like that, the information gets out, but we aren’t the original source. Other people had the evidence first."

"That sounds reasonable," I said, nodding.

Nico paused. "Does Day know you’re here?"

"No. I couldn’t risk hurting him if you refused to help. But he knows the rest of my plan—he knows I want to send out the footage. Day was scared to report it back then because Ferguson threatened to kill him. Without evidence, it was just his word against a powerful man."

Nico swore under his breath, rubbing his temples like his head was pounding. "What a disgusting bastard. We can’t let this go. I’ve got a lot of contacts, and so does my husband. We can ruin Ferguson’s reputation—make sure he never holds public office again."

For a moment, neither of us spoke. It was almost strange, borderline satisfying, this dark alliance we’d forged in seeking revenge for our omega. Yes, ‘our’—he was Nico’s one day. And clearly, Nico hadn’t turned his back on Day in his moment of need.

So I took the flash drive from my pocket and placed it next to Nico’s elbow.

"This is a copy of the original footage. There are two versions—one with Ferguson’s face blurred, one with Day’s, and one unedited. I warn you, it might be better if you don’t watch it yourself. Have someone else view it and tell you what’s on it. Ferguson was brutal, practically slamming Day against the wall. No wonder it ended in a premature birth. Blood was running down Day’s leg—"

Nico raised a hand and squeezed his eyes shut. "I don’t need to hear more. I’ll do as you suggest. I don’t think I have the mental strength to watch it." His voice broke slightly. "I still have warm feelings for Day," he admitted, hesitating before looking at me. "You said you’ve only known him a week or so, and that he’s bitter and keeps his distance. Is that right?"

I lowered my head, feeling awkward. "Yeah. We haven’t gotten close yet, not in that way. And I don’t want to rush anything, especially knowing what he’s been through. I want him to feel comfortable, to trust me."

Nico’s expression crumpled, tears welling in his eyes again. "You didn’t know Day back then. He was the kindest guy you could imagine—always helping people, even when it cost him. It’s hard to believe that person could disappear, swallowed by bitterness."

"He’s not completely gone," I muttered quietly. "Even after your breakup, Day did everything he could to support his family. But they drained him dry. After eight surrogacies, he’s got almost no money. He bought his parents a house, gave money to his two brothers, paid for the medical bills, and even helped some authors. That kindness is still there—it’s just buried under everything he’s been through." As I spoke, my voice trembled.

Suddenly, Nico stood up and did something unexpected—something that rarely happened between two alphas. He hugged me tightly, pressing me against his chest.

"I think his fate changed when he met you," Nico said softly. "The fact that you’re here, doing all this, even though you’ve barely known him, tells me you’re a good person."

He pushed me back slightly, holding me at arm’s length as he looked me straight in the eyes.

"I don’t have the right to ask you for anything," he added, his voice low. "But please, try to earn his trust. Show him he can be loved. He deserves to be seen for who he really is, underneath all the layers he’s built up over the years."

I furrowed my brow. "That’s exactly what I plan to do, Nico. You don’t need to ask me for it. I’m not some saint, but I see the pain he’s carrying. I know Day’s been through so much, and fate’s been unfair to him. I’m not going to add to that."

Nico sighed and stepped back, his shoulders sagging a little. "Thank you. I mean it. I don’t even have the right to say those words because I was part of the first domino that sent his life into such a bad spiral. But still, even if I’m partially the villain in his story, I want him to be happy. And I’ll do whatever I can to help."

I nodded, keeping my expression serious.

"As for practical stuff," Nico continued, his finger touching the flash drive lightly, "I can’t just walk into the editorial office holding this. You should get a burner phone and send a copy of the video to us—to the main East Times magazine email address. The more people see it, the faster it goes viral."

"Okay, I’ll send it to those three places, and after two days, to your office. The email subject will be: ‘Scandal Surrounding Senatorial Candidate Mark F. Sexual Assault Recording.’ And I’ll attach the footage."

"Good," Nico said, his lips tightening into a grim line. "Are you aware that even if other people could get easy access to the recording, the fact that Day is on it will still point to you two as the source?"

We both went quiet for a moment.

"That’s the risk we need to take," I stated, breaking the silence. "Expect the email soon."

I turned to leave, but Nico stopped me by stepping forward again.

"If you can," he said, his voice softer now, "and if the opportunity feels right… tell Day I send my regards. And that I wish him all the best, especially with you."

"I’ll let him know," I promised.

We said our goodbyes, and I left the East Times building shortly after.

Strangely, my heart felt a little lighter as I walked outside. It didn’t make much sense—this conversation had stirred up too many heavy emotions. But there was a quiet kind of joy in knowing that Nico still thought so highly of Day, enough to help.

The fact that Nico had acted honorably said a lot about his character—and indirectly, it said a lot about Day too. After all, Day had chosen him as a partner once. It was brutal that Fate had brought Nico’s High Mate into the picture.

I didn’t want to wander around the city too much, especially with all the campaign banners hanging everywhere, staring at me with fake, empty smiles. First, I bought two so-called burner phones. As soon as I connected to the network, I wrote the following email to the main address of Mark Ferguson’s election committee:

"Dear Sirs,

I am a citizen concerned about the future of our state, so I cannot imagine withholding this information from those involved in the election process of the candidate for state senator, Mark Ferguson. I have obtained materials that cast a serious shadow on Mr. Ferguson’s moral character. Attached is a video showing a crime committed by Mr. Mark Ferguson on the premises of City Hall. I will be sharing this information with others in a few days, but I wanted to warn you now so you can take appropriate action. I have not disclosed the identity of the other individual involved to protect his privacy."

I attached the blurred version of the film.

To the board of directors, I sent an email that read:

"Dear Sirs,

I am sending you this message along with a video that shows the CEO of your company committing a crime. Such a person holds a position of authority overseeing hundreds of omegas and betas, who may be at risk or may have already fallen victim to similar actions by him. Today, I sent a copy of this to the election committee as well. I leave it to your conscience how you handle this matter. Personally, I will ensure this reaches a much wider audience. This is merely a warning, giving you a chance to act before this erupts into a public scandal and harms the company."

Again, I attached the version with Day’s blurred face.

Finally, I sent the unblurred footage to Jared.

I wrote him this short email:

"It’s not easy for me to send you this footage, but you deserve to know the truth about what kind of person your husband really is. I sympathize with you, knowing this man is the father of your child. But perhaps, on the other hand, it’s better for you to find out now because there’s nothing worse than living with a criminal and a psychopath for years, allowing him to influence the development and upbringing of your son."

Sending this email was the hardest thing for me. Day had told me Jared had never done anything directly wrong to him, but he also didn’t stop Ferguson from suing for compensation over medical expenses. Even though they were wealthy, Ferguson squeezed every penny from the surrogate he had already wrongly accused. While Jared didn’t join the lawsuit, he didn’t stop it either. Could he have done it—was another good question. Day mentioned he wasn’t in charge in their relationship, but sadly, hitting Ferguson would have to involve his husband, and sending the email was one way to do it.

Returning home that day, I felt nervous all over, though you could say I’d been feeling that way for the past two days, almost nonstop.

When I walked into the house, Day was sitting on the rattan sofa on the terrace with his laptop on his lap, Fuzz and Milky on either side of him. He immediately set the computer aside and stood, heading toward me.

A shy smile appeared on his face. Was he glad I was back? The realization hit me—I didn’t have to guess. I just knew he was happy to see me. It was like being near him meant immersing myself in his energy. Out of the blue, I became fully aware of how joyful he felt. It was strange, but I didn’t comment on it.

"I have a feeling you hit traffic, right?" he asked, looking at me inquisitively.

"Yeah, but it also took me a while to take care of things downtown. I visited East Times ."

He froze mid-motion. Now we were facing each other, and his eyes widened in shock. "Why would you go there?"

"Because sending those emails might not be enough. He could try to stop it, buy people off, convince them to bury it. It wasn’t public. I went to Nico and asked for his help."

Day just stared at me, his mouth slightly open.

"Nico promised to help. He was very determined to do the right thing here. He seemed like a decent man. He feels guilty and promised that when I send the email to his office in a few days, he’ll make sure it’s handled in a way that protects you as much as possible."

Day glanced off to the side. I noticed that his eyes were moist, and I felt his energy shifting—he was getting anxious. As I walked closer, he retreated to the couch and buried his face in his hands.

Milky meowed and put his paws on Day’s thigh.

After a while, he mumbled, "Part of me feels like I should be mad at you for doing all this. It feels like it could spiral out of control… But another part of me—" he paused, his voice trembling, "—for years, I’ve been frustrated with myself for letting Ferguson scare me. And you…" He looked up at me, his eyes glistening. "You’re refusing to let him win, and I’m grateful for that. But I’m still terrified. I don’t know what he’ll do… if he’ll come here and try to kill us."

I let out a huff. "Day, once this footage is public, if he tries to come after us, that’ll be the end of him. He’s not stupid enough to do that. Besides, he has no idea who leaked the footage. I sent it from a burner phone. There’s nothing linking it directly to us. A bunch of people could’ve accessed that footage—City Hall staff, IT, even security guards. That archive wasn’t exactly secure. It could be used by many people interested in bringing him down, his political opponents, disgruntled employees—"

"In theory, he may just send someone else," Day muttered, hesitating. "He’d have to start with me; our marriage certificate was probably already sent by Fate’s Choice to the City Office. The address is there. But you're right on that point—he’s got way bigger problems now. Trying to get revenge would be pretty stupid. It would only make him look even guiltier."

After pushing Milky off, I slowly sat down beside Day on the rattan sofa and gently took his hand, resting there palm up. "Day, this has to come out. There’s no other way. He has to pay for what he’s done. Even if it doesn’t make it to court—though I think it will—there’ll still be consequences. No one’s going to seriously consider electing him as a senator after this. His reputation will be ruined."

Unexpectedly, Day’s phone chimed. He picked it up and stared at the screen, his eyes widening.

"I got a text message from the bank… there’s a notification about a transfer," he said, as he showed me the screen.

The amount was two million dollars!

"What the heck? What’s this?"

"The sender of the transfer: Jared Ferguson. The title: reimbursement of court costs and surrogacy payment," Day read, blinking like he was in a daze. I could feel the shock and disbelief radiating off him.

"Hush money?" I guessed. "About two hours ago, I sent Jared the footage. His email was publicly available. Looks like Jared put two and two together. He knew you installed the lock, remembered what happened at City Hall, and noticed that entry in the medical records. He must’ve pieced it all together and decided to make things right."

Day just stared at the display.

"But good! At least they paid back the fine you had to cover and gave you the surrogacy money that was rightfully yours! It’s a good start, but it’s far from over. The dominoes are falling."

"I think Jared did this without Ferguson’s knowledge," Day whispered. "That withdrawal is practically an admission of guilt. It could even be used as evidence in court! Don’t you get it? It’s more than I paid them, more than they owed me! He absolutely acted on impulse. Ferguson’s going to be furious! I feel for Jared—this bastard will beat him for sure."

I snorted. "One more reason to send this psycho to jail. By transferring the money, Jared just helped us. If he really had thought Ferguson was innocent, he wouldn’t have paid you a dime. He’d fight it in court to clear his name. But he knows. He knows!"

Day’s body quivered slightly. "Yes, he knows. He noticed the state I was in. I saw the confusion in his eyes; he sensed something. There, at City Hall, when I came back trailing behind Ferguson, barely able to stand, he was shocked to see me like that. He practically carried me to the car. He even asked Ferguson for help, but I screamed: ‘No!’ His face then… total confusion. I think that footage was the final piece of the puzzle."

I squeezed his fingers. "What matters to me is that Ferguson is starting to pay for what he did, and this is just the beginning. The avalanche is gaining momentum. This bastard will be punished, one way or another."

I kept holding Day’s hand, gently stroking it. He looked down at our joined hands, and there was a short silence.

Then I whispered, "Nico cried when he found out what happened. He said leaving you was the worst day of his life. He said you were the best omega he’d ever known, with the kindest heart, that you’d be a treasure for any alpha lucky enough to have you. And he made me promise—swear—that I’d be good to you, that I’d appreciate you."

Tears streamed down Day’s cheeks, and a quiet sob escaped his throat.

"Can I hug you?" I asked.

When he nodded, I pulled him into my arms, his thin body pressing against me. He leaned his head on my shoulder, trembling as he cried silently, hiding his face in my neck.

"Nico didn’t have to ask me, Day. I want to be that kind of partner for you. I want you to trust again, to be surrounded by love."

"I wish I could forget, Jan," he choked out. "I wish I could erase it all, even for a moment, just to stop thinking about it and feel happy."

Suddenly, his slim arms wrapped around me, his head turning to the side of my neck as his wet lips pressed against my skin. It was really hard to stay motionless and pretend his actions weren't sexual in nature, especially when his tongue licked over the most sensitive areas of my neck. Touching or sucking on glands was considered a very obvious sexual invitation, and it confused me, especially at a time like this when he was so distressed.

But as he continued to lick and nibble at my skin, I began to hear a faint, very subdued, yet present sound—typically made by aroused omegas, a low, slightly humming tone coming from deep within his diaphragm. It was so quiet, almost shy, but as an alpha, I found it hard to ignore, all my senses heightened.

So, I mustered my courage and whispered, "I know this is a strange moment, perhaps inappropriate. But would you like me to take you to the bedroom now, and help you forget for a while? Just like I helped you yesterday, only maybe this time with my mouth?"

I have no idea where I got the insane courage to suggest this to him. But Day breathed a sigh of relief and nodded his head! Good—I wasn't misinterpreting what he wanted.

So I got up, carrying him in my arms, and silently walked up the stairs to the second floor where the bedroom was. The light was dim because the curtains were partially drawn.

I gently placed Day on the bed and lay down beside him. His eyelids were closed, his body motionless, and he didn't look very welcoming, but I could sense that it was just a facade. Inside, he was waiting, his heart beating fast.

So I slowly pulled up his T-shirt, exposing his chest. I wanted to see his nipples again because I liked them so much the last time. They were big and swollen, shaped like mushroom caps with long nubs—very sexy. When I saw them, my control was gone. I immediately leaned over and put my lips on his right nipple, sucking it vigorously. Day let out a loud gasp; then with my other hand, I squeezed his left nipple lightly, rolling it and stretching it a little. Day arched his spine and let out a soft moan as I continued to tease and sweetly torture his nubs.

Day’s skin was hot, even though he was on suppressants, I could still smell his shower gel and another floral scent coming through the pheromone blocker. Soon, I felt something hard pressing against my side. My caresses were obviously working, so I lowered myself along his body and pulled his sweatpants down, exposing his erection.

Day made a delightful sound, something like a soft meow, as I took it deep into my mouth.

If I thought it would take a long time because of his stress, I was in for a surprise. I must have bobbed over his shaft a few times when a sweet taste filled my mouth, and Day's hips thrust high into the air as if he wanted to push even deeper into my throat.

So quickly? This confused me; either he had a problem with premature ejaculation, or something mysterious was happening. As his body relaxed a bit, I pulled his pants off his legs and moved between his thighs. I thought he would protest, but he just lay there with his eyes closed, surrendering his body to my control.

I slipped both hands under his buttocks and lifted them up so I could better see his entrance. Day immediately spread his thighs wider, submissively presenting his hole to me, and the gesture evoked a low sound from my lungs, a typical alpha version of the sound 'Appreciation'.

Day’s head was turned to the side, his eyes closed, as if embarrassed, yet strangely willing to show me his body.

My eyes landed on his intimate place hungrily. It was wet now, bright pink; the tissue was slightly swollen and smooth. I leaned down and dragged my tongue along his crease, licking his opening as well. Day moaned softly and didn't stop me. For a while, I took my time caressing that part of his body, massaging it with my tongue, and sliding into his warm insides. Day began to make quiet, sweet noises.

Very soon, his dick became hard again (it never went completely flaccid anyway), which further surprised me. I lifted myself up on my elbows and took him back into my mouth, starting to suck on his shaft. At the same time, my finger slid down to his opening and made small circling movements around it. Day started to rock his hips slightly, pushing them forward, as if encouraging me to put it in. So I paused bobbing my head for a moment and mumbled quietly, "May I?"

Day nodded, so I slowly inserted one finger, watching his face. He was breathing deeply, but calmly. Being strangely in sync with him, I knew he wasn’t scared. Only after making sure he was fine with this form of penetration, did I slide in the other finger. Simultaneously, I kept blowing him, while easing my digits into him, and rhythmically pressing my fingertips against his prostate.

If I thought it would take much longer the second time, I was very wrong! I don't know if I did it for more than a minute and a half before he moaned again and a stream of warm fluid erupted in my mouth.

Swallowing it, I felt pretty amazed. It was hard to explain, after all, neither of us knew each other that well to be so in tune sexually. The only other possibility was that Day had a naturally high sexual potency, a strong libido? What else could cause such strong arousal? I also had trouble controlling myself and involuntarily pressed my stiff dick against the sheet.

But this was not the moment to think about it too deeply. I teetered on the brink of orgasm myself, so while simultaneously nursing his dick in my mouth (it was still hard, by the way), I unzipped my pants and, in a few strokes, brought myself to the finale as well.

After I was done, I moved to the edge of the bed and lay down next to him. Day was motionless, his eyes stubbornly closed. I pulled him against me so that his head rested on my shoulder while I tightly hugged him.

We stayed there in silence, and I stroked his back gently and patiently, feeling that there was no need to talk about what had just happened. We remained in each other's calm presence, and it gave me a feeling of deep satisfaction.