Chapter 55
Rowan
I feel Xavier, before I see him. His presence rolls through the house like gravity. Heavy. Centering. Controlled. I turn toward the front entry just as he steps inside, and my chest tightens.
Gods, he looks good. All in black. Buttoned up. Shoulders squared. His eyes sweep the room like he’s scanning for threats, like he can’t help himself. And when they land on me, he pauses .
Just a second. Just enough. My heart thuds. Because he’s here. All week, he’s been everywhere working, shielding, handling the media, the legal fallout, my family. A wall between me and the noise. A calm, brutal force moving behind the scenes to keep me steady.
And not once... not once ... has he run. Progress. I offer him a small smile. Not too much. Just enough to say I see you. He doesn’t say anything for a second, just looks at me like I’m made of something rare.
Then, finally, he says, “You look... ready.”
I nod, but my stomach flips anyway. Because the cameras are already in place. The lights are on. Nora Devane’s soft voice is floating through the prep room. And it’s almost time.
Massimo adjusts the hem of my blouse like he’s straightening armor. “You look stunning, dolcezza,” he says gently, brushing a stray curl back into place. “And you’re not alone.”
Sébastien nods, his hand finding mine. “We are right here, ma chérie. Every breath, every word, we are with you.”
Laurent smirks from the armrest beside me. “If anyone tries to trip you up, just flash that sweet smile and let Cole handle the rest.”
Cole leans forward from the chair opposite, his gaze calm and steady. “Don’t worry about them. Just speak your truth. We’ll handle the rest.”
I inhale slowly, letting their presence settle over me. The warmth of their scents, the comfort of their closeness is everything. I glance toward the doorway leading into the main sitting room, where Nora Devane’s crew is making final adjustments. The soft buzz of conversation, the shuffle of equipment, the occasional whisper of “She’s ready?”
Yeah, I’m ready. Not because I want this. Because I need to do this. For all of us. I rise, smoothing the front of my blouse. My pack rises with me. Xavier steps just slightly ahead, not leading, but clearing the path. Cole takes one side, Massimo the other. Sébastien threads his fingers through mine, and Laurent falls into step behind us. And together, we walk toward the lights.
I sit in the center of the couch, Sébastien on one side, Cole on the other. Massimo, Laurent, and Xavier anchor the ends. We’re all dressed simply but intentionally in classic tones, and clean lines. No flash, no distractions. Just us.
The cameras are already rolling. The lights are warm. The room is quiet. Even the air feels still, like it knows this moment matters. Across from us, Nora Devane sits in a high-backed armchair upholstered in dove gray, legs crossed, tablet resting in her lap. She’s as polished in person as she is on-screen, poised, elegant, and sharp enough to make you forget she’s not a queen in some velvet-draped court.
She turns to the camera and begins. “This week, a photo went viral. One that sparked questions, commentary, and controversy. Who is Rowan Hart? And why did her name appear in headlines across the country after a private moment was captured outside a hotel in Chicago, Illinois?”
She looks directly into the lens. “Today, she joins us, not to explain herself, but to tell her story.”
Nora shifts her gaze to me. “Rowan, thank you for being here.”
My fingers tighten slightly around Sébastien’s. Cole’s hand rests lightly against the small of my back. Xavier’s still, but I can feel his presence humming behind me like a steady engine.
“Thank you for having me,” I say softly.
I’m nervous, yes. But I’m also steady. Because they’re here. And I know who I am. Nora smiles gently, just enough to soften the room without losing that steady focus.
“Rowan,” she begins, “this has been quite a week for you. For your pack. You’ve gone from designing peaceful nesting spaces online to being at the center of an International conversation. How are you holding up?”
I exhale slowly, then meet her eyes.
“It’s been... intense,” I say. “I never expected any of this. I’ve always been pretty open with my audience, but this wasn’t a reveal, it was a realization .”
Nora tilts her head slightly, intrigued. “Can you explain what you mean by that?”
I nod, my fingers brushing Sébastien’s where they rest on the cushion between us.
“I didn’t know I was an Omega. I grew up thinking I was a Beta. That’s what my tests said, that’s what I believed. I lived twenty-four years without presenting, and then suddenly... it hit. All at once.”
I pause. “And I didn’t fake anything. I wasn’t hiding. I just didn’t know.”
Nora nods, calm and compassionate. “That moment outside the hotel in Chicago, when those photos were taken, you were in Heat?”
I glance at Cole, then at Sébastien. “We both were.”
Her eyes flicker with understanding. “And yet, some people claimed it was staged. That it was for attention, or part of a branding stunt.”
The words land like a chill breeze across my skin. But I don’t flinch.
“I design nests,” I say clearly. “I teach comfort. I talk about creating safe spaces for Omegas, Betas, everyone. That’s never been a stunt. And when my Heat hit, it wasn’t glamorous or controlled. It was terrifying. It was real. And I was lucky enough to have people around me who kept me safe.”
My voice catches for half a second. Cole’s hand presses slightly into my back. I don’t look at him, I don’t need to.
“They didn’t just protect me,” I add. “They saw me. For who I really was, even when I couldn’t see it myself.”
Nora is quiet for a moment. Then: “That’s powerful.”