GABRIEL
I sit in a glass booth inside a massive hall where desperate people put their marriage contracts up for sale.
This particular hall is for alphas only, though there are others for omegas and betas.
The upper age limit here seems to hover around twenty-seven or twenty-eight, and there are not many older than that.
I am in the section marked with a green Second Chance banner, and besides me there are five other alphas in the program, all first-time offenders, all young, around my age, some a little younger, some slightly older.
The convicts were selected by the agency because they believed these alphas had the best chances at so-called rehabilitation through domestic life.
I have to admit, our section draws a lot of attention.
Plenty of omegas and betas, all at least thirty-five and usually closer to fifty, keep stopping to look us over, their curious expressions and little smiles following us since the moment Fate’s Choice opened its doors this morning.
The most popular booth belongs to a twenty-four-year-old, fresh out of college, convicted of financial fraud, and he's the first among us to find a buyer.
The buyer is an omega who looks about forty-five, with a streak of gray at his temple and a bit of extra weight.
Apparently, according to my handler, Mr. Gessler, the buyer owns a company that provides financial services, which is… interesting. You could almost say he's not just looking for a thick cock at night, but also someone to help him get creative with his company’s finances.
The omegas browsing the alpha contracts all look serious and accomplished, like people with careers and life experience behind them who are now looking for a chance to start a family later in life.
Omegas can get pregnant well into their sixties, sometimes even longer, so being forty-five or fifty doesn't disqualify them.
A lot of them seem to operate on the same logic. They buy the contract of a young alpha in his twenties, have a child and raise it with him, and once that is done, the guy takes the money from the contract and uses it to buy a younger omega’s contract. The cycle just keeps going.
Then that younger omega, after raising kids with his new husband, takes the money and buys a young alpha’s contract.
Apparently, this has been going on for years, and people more or less accept it.
Yes, marriage contracts are controversial, but no one denies how effective they are. They function like business agreements, protecting both sides from abuse and violations the same way any formal contract would.
That structure makes people more disciplined than in regular marriages, which explains why there are so many interested buyers here.
The hall is packed, with people moving from booth to booth, reading the Second Chance profiles while deals happen constantly. There is real business being done here.
My booth, on the other hand, is not exactly drawing a crowd.
I have a good body, but when it comes to my looks, people have always told me the same things.
Smile more.
Why do you always look so down?
You would be more attractive if you believed in yourself.
It is about the energy you put out.
What you think about yourself becomes a filter that shapes how others see you.
Apparently I am good-looking, but I don't project it, and that is my problem. I have always lived in the background, never had an outgoing personality, never believed I deserved anything special.
That is something I got from home. My brother Marlow ended up with something similar. Maybe it is because we were raised differently from most people here.
Our dad is from Russia, and in his culture, confidence is not something people show off. Modesty and staying in your lane are considered virtues.
In many Slavic countries, you don't see a lot of openly cheerful people on the streets. Everyone seems a little muted.
I am the same way.
I never had much confidence. I never pushed myself onto others, avoided confrontation, and people were always telling me not to be so reclusive because I was sabotaging my own chances.
Now I can see where that got me. Because of that lack, that extra spark, that presence, the charisma, my booth is one of the least visited among the six of us. Still, it’s only the first hour. Who knows what will happen later?
People keep flowing past like a river, reading the Second Chance boards.
Within the first forty minutes, two contracts are sold.
Another one goes within the next half hour.
Eventually, only me and one other alpha are left, this guy with tattoos covering half his face, which probably makes buyers hesitate.
I scan the passing omegas myself, and I can feel the anxiety building in my chest.
Not a single one of them is even remotely attractive to me, and it just makes me shut down even more, shrinking further into myself.
I probably look like this tight little ball of stress, tense and panicked, definitely not projecting strong alpha vibes.
They pass by, glance at me, and move on. Good? Kinda. None of them are my type.
What if I have to say no? Apparently, I am allowed to.
That situation comes up soon enough.
An omega approaches who must be well past fifty, maybe fifty-five, with short gray hair, thick glasses, and a complexion so dull it looks like he smokes two packs a day. No. Absolutely not.
When Mr. Gessler opens the booth and asks if I want to speak with him, I shake my head, feeling like shit, desperately avoiding the guy’s gaze.
Over the next hour, it happens three more times. Different people come by, but none of them attract me even a little. None of them come close to Marcel, duh, obviously.
A lot of them look worn out and overworked, their age clearly showing, and I would be signing at least a ten-year contract with someone like that. It’s crushing. I’m not ageist at all, I just prefer people who look healthy and take care of themselves.
In many cases, I doubt I would even be able to get it up.
The third hour rolls around, and I have already turned down four candidates.
Mr. Gessler watches me with visible irritation, muttering something under his breath about me being picky.
When I turn away a fifth person, he steps into the booth.
"Mr. Nolan, I understand not everyone will be ideal, but you have to deal with what is available. Do not be too selective."
I press my lips together. I want to tell him this is a decision that will shape the next decade of my life and I don't want to make it under pressure, but I stay quiet. That is just not how I operate.
So I just nod.
As soon as he leaves, another candidate shows up, this time a beta with teeth so crooked they look like an abstract art exhibit. I have to refuse again, earning one more irritated snort from Gessler.
Right before the lunch break, my cousin Storm arrives.
He’s my official case guardian from Fate’s Choice, and on top of that, a purple alpha. He is supposed to oversee everything related to my contract.
"How’s it going, Gabe? I hear from Gessler you’ve been pretty picky," he says with a grin.
I roll my eyes.
"I wonder how happy you’d be if someone forty years older showed up wanting to buy your contract. I’m not a masochist. I don't mind an age gap, but that is way too much. What would I even talk to someone like that about?"
Storm tilts his head with an ironic smile. Easy for him to say. He already has his True Mate.
"Hey, I’m not judging, and I’m not here to criticize you. Honestly, it might be a good thing, because I think someone might show up who you should seriously consider as a husband."
"Why do you think that? Did you invite someone you know?"
"Yeah. I have a good eye for matches. But this one is… very controversial. So I’m not saying anything. Let’s just let things play out."
"Wow, very mysterious. You’re clearly having fun with this," I mutter, feeling a mix of embarrassment and irritation.
Storm has always been the family troublemaker, the kind who caused chaos with his volatile purple alpha nature, never afraid to say exactly what he thought, even if it offended people. I have always envied that a little.
"So when is he showing up, this special pick of yours?" I raise an eyebrow, trying to sound casual, but I’m clinging to the idea more than I want to admit. If Storm really thinks he has a good match, then he better make it happen.
Storm suddenly flashes a strange expression.
"You know, I’m serious. You wouldn’t believe me if I told you who I sensed as your ideal match, so I decided to make an exception this time and not interfere at all, not push, not convince either side.
Usually I push hard with the people under my care during these marriage fairs, but this time I’m letting go.
This time it has to be a real ‘Fate’s Choice’… "
I start laughing awkwardly, more like a quiet, nervous giggle, not even sure why, but when I get tense I tend to get… weird like that.
Storm watches me for a moment and then says, "Gabriel, I hope that… what happened will help you grow up a little. Get your shit together. Because right now you seem… lost."
I go still and shrink into myself even more.
I want to respond, but the words get stuck in my throat.
Storm turns and walks out of my booth without saying anything else. His boyfriend, Damien, waits for him outside and just sends me an encouraging smile.
I stay there, wondering what Storm meant about always pushing the other candidates so hard, the ones he’d handled before. So what changed here? Why did he suddenly back off?
I sit there, dazed, and over the next hour two more people show up, but I turn them all away, spiking Gessler’s irritation hard.
In the meantime, the tattooed guy finds his contract husband, and that leaves just me. Out of the five guys sent here by Second Chance, I’m the leftover.
Maybe it’s because the other alphas weren’t picky?
I am, though, and that year and a half I spent being in love with Marcel raised my standards whether I like it or not, because he was so beautiful.