Upstairs, Thomas froze mid-sentence while reading to Leo.

Leo squirmed in his lap, fear tainting his milk-sweet cub scent. Thomas quickly released calming pheromones while processing what the servant had just reported.


An "honored guest"?

Who would dare?

Carrying Leo to the stairs, he looked down into the living room and his entire body went rigid.


Grant.

Why was he here?


In that moment, Thomas felt like the universe's punchline. The fragile trust he'd allowed himself was already shattering.

Grant, sprawled on the sofa, had spotted them. He didn't bother standing, just leaned back and examined the Omega pair on the stairs like merchandise at auction. The corner of his mouth curled in smug victory.

As Thomas's blood ran cold and he prepared to retreat upstairs, familiar footsteps sounded behind him.

Grant clearly recognized those footsteps too. His expression instantly transformed from arrogance to warm welcome. He stood and approached Phoebe as she emerged from her study.

"Phoebe, it's been ages! I've missed you terribly," he opened his arms for an embrace. "I figured you wouldn't mind my dropping by."

The moment Phoebe stepped from her study, her brows furrowed deeply.

She registered not Grant's cloying tequila scent first, but the fear-laced pheromones of Thomas and Leo.

Phoebe's gaze shot past Grant to the staircase. Thomas stood pale as death, Leo trembling in his arms.

Primal rage—ancient and savage—surged through her Alpha core.

She unleashed her ice-cold cedar pheromone like a shield wall, instantly blocking Grant's invasive scent from reaching her family. With deadly Alpha calm, she enunciated each word: "Grant. Who invited you here? Uninvited guests are thieves. Take your stink and get off my territory."

Grant's smile crystallized into shock. "What the hell, Phoebe? You've never spoken to me like this before."

A storm brewed behind his eyes. What had changed? Did she know something? His shock quickly morphed into indignant anger.

He snatched his coat and turned to leave, though his steps slowed deliberately, clearly waiting for her to call him back.

Phoebe watched him with glacial eyes. "What are you waiting for? An escort to the door?"

The humiliation shattered his composure. Ashen-faced, he yanked the door open and slammed it behind him with wall-shaking force.

After Grant's exit, the room's atmosphere crystallized.

Thomas descended the stairs with measured steps. His face remained blank except for a soft, bitter laugh as he passed Phoebe.

"Finished with your performance?" he asked, his voice feather-light yet crushing.

His words were a double-edged blade—cutting her before twisting deeper into his own heart.

He couldn't—wouldn't—believe. In his mind, he remained just an unfortunate accident in her perfect love story with Grant—an embarrassing stain on her reputation.

Phoebe's face drained of color, the pain of his misunderstanding cutting deep.

How can you still think this? Can't you see I've changed? The words crowded her throat but remained unspoken.

Because she knew Thomas's pain ran deeper than her own right now.

She silently adjusted her pheromone to its gentlest frequency, releasing it slowly to wrap around his wounded spirit.

Thomas faltered briefly but said nothing, just clutched Leo tighter and stiffly continued upstairs.

He caught the genuine sadness in her scent but found it darkly ironic.

Was she upset at being called out?

Or was she just regretting that her biological duty to her cub meant dismissing her true "beloved"?

He dared not explore further.

Hope was a luxury he could no longer afford—a game with stakes too high.

He buried his face in Leo's soft hair, channeling all his energy into one purpose: comforting the innocent child in his arms.

Deep night.

Phoebe didn't return to her master bedroom.

She curled up on the hallway sofa outside Leo's room with just a pillow and thin blanket.

That night, Phoebe wrapped the entire room in her purest Alpha pheromone, like a mother wolf standing guard outside the den.

Behind the door, Thomas leaned against the headboard, sleepless.

He couldn't ignore the gentle yet steadfast cedar scent seeping under the door. It wrapped the room in forgotten safety that nearly brought tears to his eyes.

But he dared not trust it.

He feared this warm sanctuary would become a cruel trap by morning.