A cruel whisper rose from the corners of the manor’s hallways.

"Did you hear? That Omega… Sarit, she’s pregnant. By who? Who?"

The same guard who once kindly suggested a doctor now walked straight to Duke Varak, eyes full of betrayal.

“Your Grace… there’s something you should know. That Omega… she’s expecting. And the child is most likely…”

Varak stood up before the sentence could end, his face cold.

"Where is Kael?"

At the same time, the news spread like poison through Alina’s veins.

Kael’s legal fiancée, always calm on the outside, but eyes sharp like blades.

That very day, she confronted Sarit. In the northern corridor, she blocked her path with a fake smile.

"How fascinating. A stray Omega… in a noble estate… with a growing belly.

Do you even realize how unwanted you are?"

Sarit bit her lip, saying nothing. Alina leaned in, whispering:

"Don’t think one fevered night makes you part of this house. We have no place for your kind."

That same night – A Silent Pain

Kael pleaded with everyone he could find.

“She’s a victim! I’m the one at fault!”

But no one listened.

The verdict:

“She cannot leave. She must remain in the manor, under supervision.”

The staff's behavior changed. Their gazes grew heavier. The food, colder. The silence, more violent.

Sarit became a prisoner behind high, cold walls — without trial.

Until one night…

She collapsed in the quiet courtyard, breathless, unconscious.

The Next Morning – Silent Fury

Kael stormed into the inner quarters.

"Where is she?!"

A frightened maid whispered:

"Back room… she’s feverish, unconscious… hasn’t eaten in days..."

Kael entered in silence. One look at Sarit's pale face was enough.

He turned to his father:

"If she stays here, she’ll die. Either her… or the child. I won’t let that happen."

Varak hesitated. Past the stubbornness, past the pride — he saw Kael’s exhaustion.

"Fine. Take her. But far. Out of sight."

The Departure – A Distant Journey

Kael personally chose two kind, trained servants:

Lana — calm and patient, and Siren — a Beta boy who’d grown up in Kael’s household.

Sarit boarded the carriage silently. Still weak. Still wounded.

Kael rested his hand on the window frame.

"I promise you — it’s better there. For you… and the baby."

Sarit said only one thing, quietly:

"I didn’t want this… but thank you."

The carriage disappeared into mist and night — a new journey for them both had begun.

Months Later...

The old estate deep in the forest had become their home — no nobility, no luxury, but safe.

But that night…

A scream of pain tore through the quiet.

Lana’s hands trembled as she brought towels. Siren held the bowl of water.

And Sarit — endured a pain that tore through her very bones.

In that dark, warm room, just as her breaths neared their end, a powerful, soft cry echoed.

A child with dark hair and ash-gray eyes… with a scent unlike any other.

The doctor muttered in shock:

"This… this is an Arka."

Across the continent, only a hundred existed. Rare. Unique. Dangerous? Maybe.

They named him: Ivar.

Years Later...

The sun was still lazy to rise, but in one of the manor’s mountain rooms, a sharp voice rang louder than any dawn.

"Mom! Who said these pants are mine? You bought them in your sleep again, didn’t you?!"

Sarit, now a woman with calm resolve, shouted from behind the door:

"You don’t even wear pants! You stopped at age five!"

Ivar, throwing his clothes on the bed, grumbled:

"Maybe back then you didn’t see me as a person!"

Sarit shot back:

"Back then you looked more like a bell pepper than a person, Ivar!"

He whispered to himself:

"At least bell peppers don’t talk back..."

But he chuckled under his breath.

Ivar was now 23.

Tall, with a balanced frame and stormy gray-blue eyes that always seemed to hold an unspoken thought.

Sharp-tongued, observant, deeply witty.

He resembled neither Omega nor Alpha. Neither overly kind nor heartless.

And Sarit? Still a mother. Still worried.

Still locked in daily debates with a son who could turn eating soup into a philosophical argument.