The Omega Switch, Part 1

1. Chapter 1

Ivy

The first thing I smelled this morning was the scent of burning toast. The second was Arabella’s perfume replica drifting down the hallway, making my stomach tighten.

I closed my eyes as the manufactured scent drifted into the kitchen - cotton candy and syrup, engineered to mimic the notes in her actual omega pheromones. We weren’t allowed to use our scents around others, so the only time she was able to show off was inside the house.

The fragrance line was a hit back when I’d discovered a way to mimic an omega’s perfume without the pheromones.

It was also currently making my family millions while my stepsister smiled through interviews, talking about her “creative vision.” Funny how everyone believed she was the one behind it all.

Between all the work I was doing in the kitchen, I realized I had messed up. I’d spend too much time working on the omelets and didn’t notice I had left the toaster on a high setting. The burnt toast smell was quickly filling the room.

“Damn it!”

I yanked the pan off the burner before I messed the eggs up too.

I reached for the toaster, trying desperately to throw the burnt bread in the sink and run water over it before the smell wafted throughout the house.

I opened the kitchen windows, letting in some fresh air.

Upstairs, footsteps thundered across the marble floors.

I quickly glanced around, grabbing new bread to toast.

Breakfast was going to be late, again. I glanced at the clock.

It was barely after seven, but there was a business meeting starting at eight.

Which meant Arabella would come downstairs in a few minutes and ask why nothing was ready yet.

I pushed down the anxiety in my stomach and felt a cramp as beads of sweat prickled across my back.

My suppressants were wearing off again. I could feel it in the constant ache behind my eyes and the warm heat deep in my stomach.

I’d been on the prescription for too long without a scheduled heat, and this was the usual sign that I was messing with my bodily functions too much.

But I didn’t dare have a heat now - not when so much was riding on the newest collaboration.

I’d never hear the end of it. I pressed my hands hard against the edge of the counter until the nausea passed.

“Hungry?” Mara asked quietly beside me. I jumped slightly at her voice.

“I’m okay.” I said, the temporary dizziness gone now.

Mara shot me a look. She had worked in this house since before my father and his pack remarried.

She knew exactly how often “I’m okay” actually meant I hadn’t eaten yet.

She slid a pastry onto a napkin near my elbow before going back to her cleaning duties.

I felt a wave of guilt. She wanted to help - but I also knew that if she were caught helping me in any way, my family would take it out on her. And she needed this job.

“Thank you,” I whispered. I reached for it, but heard the kitchen doors swing open before I could take a bite.

“There you are. Ugh! What is that awful smell?” Arabella’s voice floated across the room, her tone sharp enough that I knew she was going to say something worse soon. I straightened automatically.

My stepsister looked flawless already, wearing a sweater dress that hugged her curves, her pale gold hair curled perfectly over her shoulder, and her makeup was already done.

Even at seven in the morning, she looked like a model.

I, on the other hand, looked like I only had three hours of sleep - because I had.

Her gaze swept over the kitchen, then finally landed on me. “You burned breakfast, didn’t you?” Her voice immediately became shrill, and I quickly went into a subservient mode, trying to stop her from escalating.

“Just the toast! I have more ready to go in a moment. Everything else is done!” I said, pushing down the growing panic. Her face soured, and she flipped her hair.

“It better be ready! I don’t have time to waste!

I swear, if you mess this up, you’ll regret it!

” She pointed her finger at me, then turned on her heel.

“Get it on the table already!” She shouted, then stomped to the dining room, her heels clicking on the tile.

I let out a sigh of relief, happy that she hadn’t gone nuclear yet.

Mara quickly helped me to plate the food and rush it out to the table, just in time for my father, his pack mates, and my stepmother to come down the stairs, already talking about the upcoming release.

My father, Phillip, didn’t even glance at me as I set down the food, his attention solely on my stepmother.

He and his pack had barely grieved my mother before immediately bonding with a new omega - who happened to have been rejected by her former pack.

I honestly couldn't blame them. My stepmother, Clara, was beautiful - but her personality was horrible. And she came here with my stepsister, Arabella. Since they arrived to live in our house all those years ago, I’d been brushed aside, relegated to kitchen duty and behind-the-scenes work at the family business.

It didn’t even sting that much anymore that he and the other two pack members, who I had once considered fathers, no longer noticed me. George and Aaron, who had once cared for me, didn’t notice me. It did sting when Arabella walked in, and the adoring gazes of everyone in the room noticed her.

“Arabella! You look wonderful today. Are you ready for the launch?” My father asked, his attention completely on his replacement family. I felt another knot in my stomach as I finally sat down at the end of the table.

Arabella sighed dramatically. “I’m ready, as long as we aren’t running late. Ivy took her time this morning with breakfast.” She shot a look in my direction. The others didn't even bother to look at me, save for my stepmother. She gave me a look up and down, before her face soured.

“You’re going to wear that?” She asked. I glanced down automatically at my plain black dress. Heat crawled up my neck.

“I thought it was alright,” I said meekly. I didn’t have as many clothes as Arabella. They all knew that. A soft sigh escaped from Clara.

“Well, you should probably avoid being downstairs when the photographers arrive. This is a huge deal for the company, and we need everything to be perfect.” She tilted her head sympathetically. “People already mistake you for staff.”

The room went silent at her insult, but my father and his packmates didn’t interfere. They just kept eating, oblivious. I swallowed.

“That’s fine,” I said. Because it was fine.

It didn’t hurt anymore. It was easier to blend in and stay in the background - that’s how it was for the last seven years.

Arabella and I were both omegas, and having two unbonded omegas in the same household was already a recipe for disaster.

One of us had to be the star, and it would always be her.

Arabella smiled brighter, reassured by my compliance.

“That’s a good girl,” Arabella said with a sweet smile. My appetite, usually famished at this time, suddenly dried up. I stood, taking my plate.

“I should probably head upstairs. I have a lot of work to catch up on.” I mumbled and quickly walked out.

They didn’t wait for me to even leave the room before picking up their conversation again, excitedly talking about the new collaboration the company was doing with Vale Labs.

The whole business meeting this morning was a press conference on an upcoming collaboration, with Arabella promoting their new product.

Vale Labs was a revolutionary company that was going to change how packs found an omega, making it much easier to see who was compatible before courtship.

At least, that’s what I heard. All I knew was that the founder and his pack were rich, influential, unbonded, and likely just as insufferable as Arabella.

There was no question as to why she was so eager to work with them.

I slipped into my room, a small spot on the second floor, far away from Arabella’s room.

Her room used to be mine - close to my mother and my father’s pack.

It was my mother who started the cosmetics company, though you wouldn’t know it now, the way my stepmother and Arabella basically took it over once they came into the picture.

But I’d grown up watching my mom play with makeup and scents, starting off with her own little lab in an extra room, and growing it into the multi-million dollar company it became.

She used to have me watch her, and we’d play together, mixing colors and scents.

I loved it. Now, the lab was my sanctuary, my way of escaping to where I wasn’t bothering anyone.

My family liked it that way, too. I spent my time creating more product lines, churning out new ideas all the time.

But Arabella was the face of the company.

It happened so quickly and naturally that it seemed destined to happen.

She was the more beautiful of the two of us - she was stunningly gorgeous.

Her figure was better than mine; her fashion was top-notch, and she had that star quality that I lacked.

My father and his pack knew they had a gold mine on their hands when she started marketing the products.

She was an influencer for God’s sake - of course my family would want someone with millions of followers to be the face of Nestwell Aesthetics.

But that didn’t mean they needed to pretend I didn’t exist anymore.

I heard the doorbell ring and knew that the journalists were here to talk to my stepsister about the upcoming collaboration. I drifted outside my room, closer to the staircase to eavesdrop.

“And the new line of heat calming lotion - walk us through the process of how you were able to come up with such an idea?” The journalist asked, and Arabella answered with a perfect PR response.

“Well, I’ve always believed omegas deserve products that make them feel comforted instead of ashamed.” I tightened my grip on the banister as I heard the words.

“So many heat-management products on the market feel clinical, as if there’s something wrong with us for needing support during vulnerable hormonal periods.

” Her voice drifted up the stairwell beautifully.

“I wanted to create something luxurious. Something that felt like being cared for.” The journalist responded to her words with praise.

My stomach twisted. Those were my words.

I’d created the lotion, an upscale product for omegas’ sensitive skin after an intense heat.

There was a whole separate line for intimate parts as well, and it had become a bestseller.

But as always, I wasn’t allowed to take credit.

Arabella was the face of the company, not some bland, nerdy basket case like me. The journalist spoke again.

“Oh, and the Vale pack’s assistant confirmed your attendance at the upcoming gala.

Is that correct?” The entire city had been losing its mind over the Vale announcement for weeks.

One of the most powerful unbonded alpha packs in the country was publicly searching for an omega ambassador for their bond matchmaking campaign - and of course, Arabella had been conveniently pitching herself as the best option.

Our company had reached out to them to pitch her as the ambassador, and with Arabella’s fame and looks, it was almost a given that they would choose her.

Still, it was a huge win for the company.

My stepmother’s voice echoed up the marble stairs. “Of course! The whole family will be in attendance.” She said proudly. Then, something unexpected happened.

“And your other daughter? Will we get a glimpse of the reclusive Ivy, daughter of the original founder?” Shit.

They were talking about me! As much as my family tried to pretend I didn’t exist, I was part of the family, and people did know about me - although I’d disappeared from the public eye the past few years.

The pause lasted almost a moment too long before my father stepped in.

“Of course she’ll be there. We all will.

” He said. So that was it, then. I was going to a gala held by the famous Pack Vale, and I was sure Arabella would make it miserable for me the whole time.

I quickly moved back into my room, certain that Arabella’s mood would be tainted by the knowledge that I’d be attending the big announcement gala that she’d been so looking forward to.

Sure enough, an hour later, I was called down to the living room.

The whole pack, George, Aaron, and Philip, my biological father, stood there.

But also Clara, my stepmother, and of course Arabella, who looked uncomfortable if not downright irritated.

There was no trace of Arabella’s smile, a constant on her social media accounts.

My father stepped forward, clearing his throat.

“There’s been a change of plans. You’re to attend the Pack Vale’s gala.” He said in a cordial tone. I nodded, acting like I hadn’t heard it earlier. Arabella’s eyes narrowed as she searched my face, looking for hope, excitement, or any sign of happiness. Finding none, she relaxed.

“You’ll stay out of the way tonight, right?

” She asked lightly. “Father says Hunter Vale hates unkempt omegas.” Hunter Vale was the CEO of Vale Labs, the highly successful start-up that introduced genetic matchmaking.

I had no interest in getting in his way.

I knew from the media that he was terrifyingly attractive, but every business magazine in the country called him ruthless.

I personally didn’t care for him and had no problem avoiding the whole pack if I was forced to be there.

“I always stay out of the way,” I said, and satisfaction spread across Arabella’s face. Clara relaxed as well, then shooed me away.

“Well, we have a lot to do before then. Remember that just because you’re going to the ball, it doesn’t mean you get to neglect your duties.” She chastised me, as if I hadn't been taking care of most things in this house without fail for years.

“Yes, Clara,” I said before turning away, happy to be free from them for a moment. A gala. I was going to a gala. And I was sure that it was going to be the cherry on top of a shit week.