52. Ashlyn
CHAPTER 52
Ashlyn
New York doesn’t feel the same without the guys. The city hums with life, but without their presence—without their scent, their laughter, the press of their bodies against mine—it feels emptier. It’s been two weeks of stolen moments on FaceTime, catching glimpses of them between rehearsals, shows, and long hours on the road.
Meanwhile, I’ve been thrown into the chaos of TV appearances, doing damage control, trying to fix the image of a flaky omega —because god forbid I actually embrace my biology, fall in love, and go into heat with the men I belong to.
Such a stupid double standard.
Still, I straighten in the plush interview chair, adjusting the tiny mic clipped to my blouse as the host, Kelly Grayson, slides into the seat across from me. Kelly, an actress turned television host, not so different from me. She smiles, perfectly put together in her tailored blazer and sleek blonde waves, but there’s something in her gaze, something unreadable beneath the warmth.
“Ready?” she asks, her tone casual, but the glint in her eye suggests there’s more to this than just a routine interview.
“As I’ll ever be.” I force a small laugh, hoping she can’t hear the slight nervousness in my voice.
The countdown begins. The stage lights brighten, and the murmur of the studio audience fades to silence as the show kicks off.
“Welcome back to The Kelly Grayson Show ! We have a very special guest with us today,” Kelly announces, turning to me with a practiced smile. “You know her as the face of Omega’s Top Model , a talented actress, and recently, the center of a lot of media attention—Ashlyn Robinson!”
Applause fills the studio. I cross my legs and offer a poised smile, trained for the cameras.
“It’s great to have you here, Ashlyn,” Kelly continues, her voice dripping with enthusiasm. “There’s been so much talk about you lately—your career, your love life, and of course, that little viral moment with Primal Pulse.”
The crowd murmurs in excitement, and I grip the arm of my chair tighter.
“I’d love to set the record straight on a few things,” I say smoothly, tilting my chin up.
Kelly leans forward, elbows on the desk. “Of course, of course! But first, I thought we could start off with a fun little surprise. A blast from the past , if you will.”
My stomach dips.
That glint in her eye sharpens, and before I can even ask what she means, the audience erupts in cheers. I whip my head toward the stage entrance just in time to see a familiar figure stepping into the lights.
Owen.
A camera flashes to capture my reaction, but I barely manage to keep my face neutral. He strides toward me with that same cocky confidence he’s always had, dressed in an expensive suit that screams look at me . The tabloids have had a field day with our past relationship, spinning stories about our amicable breakup, conveniently leaving out the part where he was more invested in the publicity of our relationship than in me .
I don’t move as he leans down and presses a kiss to my cheek, his lips lingering just long enough for the cameras. My stomach twists, my instincts screaming wrong, wrong, wrong . The scent of him—familiar but not right —clashes against everything in me. I resist the urge to jerk away, schooling my expression into something neutral as the audience eats it up.
Kelly grins like she’s orchestrated the moment of the century. “What a surprise! We all remember the it couple you two were back in the day. And I think I speak for everyone when I say we’ve missed seeing you together.”
The audience claps. My heart pounds.
I barely have time to react before Owen straightens, reaching into his pocket. The air shifts, a collective gasp rolling through the studio as he pulls out a small velvet box.
No.
My stomach drops.
He wouldn’t .
But he does.
Owen lowers himself onto one knee, flipping open the box to reveal a diamond so obnoxiously large it practically glows under the stage lights.
“Ashlyn,” he says, his voice smooth and full of false sincerity. “I’ve never stopped loving you. We had something amazing once, and I know we can have it again.” He flashes that perfect, media-trained smile, his grip on my hand tightening like a vice. “Marry me.”
The crowd erupts. Camera shutters click furiously.
And I can do nothing but sit there, frozen, caught in the headlights of a disaster I never saw coming.
The audience erupts into cheers, their applause filling the studio like a deafening wave. I feel like I’m underwater, drowning in the moment Kelly has orchestrated. Owen’s hand is still gripping mine, the weight of his stupid, glimmering engagement ring sitting between us like a loaded gun. My face is frozen in a practiced smile, my body rigid with the effort of keeping my emotions in check.
I can’t lose it. Not here. Not now.
Kelly leans toward the camera, her own grin wide and gleaming. “Well, folks, I think we just witnessed the most romantic moment of the year!” She turns to me, her eyes glinting with manufactured excitement. “Ashlyn, I have to ask—what do you say?”
I swallow down the bile rising in my throat. I feel every eye in the room on me—the audience, the cameras, Owen, who is squeezing my hand just a little too tight. I picture Shelley backstage, already tallying up the press coverage this moment is about to get.
The words won’t come.
I don’t nod. I don’t shake my head. I do the only thing I can do—I laugh. A soft, breathless sound that could be interpreted as shock, joy, maybe even overwhelmed excitement if you weren’t paying close enough attention. “Wow, Owen,” I say, my voice steady, though my pulse is anything but. “That’s… unexpected.”
A calculated answer. One that keeps the headlines in check without making a single promise. I can feel the cameras eating it up, the audience leaning forward, desperate for my response.
Owen beams, playing his part perfectly. He brings my hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to my knuckles. My stomach twists, revulsion curling low in my gut. “I meant every word,” he says smoothly. “We were always meant to be, Ash. I think we lost our way, but fate brought us back together.”
I don’t believe in fate. If I did, I would be in a hotel room tangled up with four men who actually love me instead of sitting here, pretending like this isn’t a nightmare come to life.
Kelly claps her hands. “Well, that is just… wow. This might just be the TV moment of the year, folks!” She throws a dazzling smile toward the camera. “We’ll be right back after this break, but let’s give it up for Ashlyn Robinson and Owen Hale!”
The applause is deafening as the cameras cut. Kelly is immediately whisked away by her team, leaving me alone with Owen in the center of the stage. He doesn’t let go of my hand.
I don’t rip it away. Not yet.
I let the handlers usher me toward the green room, my head held high, my smile still firmly in place. The second the door closes behind us, sealing us off from prying eyes, I yank my hand away so hard Owen stumbles back a step.
“Omega, what the hell?—”
“No.” My voice is ice, and I can feel the crack in my perfect exterior spreading. “You don’t get to call me that. And you sure as hell don’t get to pull some stunt like this.”
Owen chuckles, shaking his head as he rolls his shoulders back. “Come on, Ash. That was perfect. The press is already eating it up. I’m willing to bet that by the time we walk out of this room, we’ll be trending worldwide.”
I stare at him, something sick settling in my stomach. “Is that what this is? Some PR stunt?”
His gaze flickers, but he recovers fast. “I’m just helping you, baby. Your reputation has been slipping since that little incident with your pack .” He sneers the word like it’s dirty. Like they aren’t four of the best men I’ve ever known. “People love us together. You saw the crowd out there. They want this. We’d be unstoppable.”
I shake my head, stepping closer, my anger burning through my veins. “You think they want this. But let me make something very, very clear to you, Owen.” I tilt my chin up, forcing him to meet my eyes. “I do not want this. ”
His smirk falters.
I press forward. “I don’t know what game you think you’re playing, but you don’t get to use me. Not for PR. Not for some sad attempt to relive your glory days.” I gesture to the ring still sitting in the velvet box in his hand. “And you sure as hell don’t get to propose to me on live TV without ever having a conversation with me first.”
He scoffs, crossing his arms. “Ash, be reasonable. You and I have history. It makes sense. It’s what people expect. It’s what Shelley expects. You know she loves the drama I add to the tabloids.”
“I don’t give a fuck what people expect. Especially Shelley, if she’s behind this.” My voice drops, deadly quiet, and for the first time, I see a flicker of uncertainty cross his face. Good. He should be scared.
I lean in, my voice razor-sharp. “What I do care about is the four men I just spent the last two weeks with. The ones who don’t need a stage or an audience to prove they love me. The ones I actually belong to.” I inhale, letting the words hit their mark. “You never had me, Owen. And you never will.”
His jaw tightens, and I see the moment he realizes he’s lost. That I won’t play his game. His face darkens, his charm slipping like a mask with a crack too wide to hide.
“You just made a big mistake,” he says, his voice low.
I smile sweetly. “No, Owen. You did.”
And with that, I turn on my heel and walk out, leaving him—and whatever fantasy he’d built—behind.