The first light of dawn had yet to brush the Seoul skyline, but Jeon Minho was already on his second cup of espresso, his sharp eyes scanning a quarterly financial report. The penthouse office was a testament to his success—all cool marble, sleek glass, and minimalist art. It was a sanctuary of control, a kingdom he'd built with his own two hands. Yet, this morning, a tiny, chaotic force threatened its pristine order.

"Appa, look! I'm a dinosaur! RAWR!"

Minho's stern expression melted as he watched his five-year-old nephew, Junho, stomp around the leather sofa, a stuffed triceratops held high. The loss of his brother and sister-in-law was a cold, permanent stone in his gut, but Junho was the warmth that kept the chill at bay.

"A very fearsome dinosaur," Minho said, his voice softening into a tone reserved only for this child. He set his tablet down. "But even dinosaurs have to eat their breakfast. Ms. Kang will be here any minute."

As if on cue, his phone buzzed. It was his live-in nanny. Her voice was frantic on the other end. "Mr. Jeon, I am so sorry! My son has a high fever, I have to take him to the hospital—I can't come in today—"

Minho's spine straightened. "Of course, take care of your family. Don't worry." He ended the call, a rare feeling of panic fluttering in his chest. A day of back-to-back meetings, the most important one being the initial collaboration meeting with Kim Enterprises, and no one to watch Junho.

"Appa? Is Ms. Kang sick?" Junho asked, his big, doe eyes wide with concern.

"She is, buddy. Which means..." Minho took a deep breath, making a decision that went against every one of his rigid rules. "You're coming to the office with me today."

Junho's cheer was deafening, and for the first time that morning, a genuine smile touched Minho's lips.

The ride to the Jeon Enterprises tower was a spectacle. Employees bowed deeply as the "Golden Tiger" CEO strode past, his aura of Alpha authority commanding silence and respect. But today, the whispers followed him. Their formidable, untouchable leader was holding the small, delicate hand of a child, who was swinging their clasped arms and chattering about the shiny walls.

Lee Taejoon, Minho's ever-effervescent secretary and friend, met them at the elevator bank on the top floor, his eyebrows nearly disappearing into his hairline.

"Sir? Good morning! And... good morning, little sir!" Taejoon recovered quickly, flashing Junho a bright grin.

"Taejoon, Junho will be with you today. He has his sketchbook and colors," Minho instructed, his voice all business again. He knelt, his expensive suit trousers pressing against the polished floor. "Junho-ah, you remember the deal? You be very good for Taejoon. Appa has a very important meeting, but I'll be right in that room." He pointed towards the large oak doors of his main conference room.

"I will, Appa! I'll draw you the best picture!" Junho promised, his attention already captured by the array of colorful pens on Taejoon's desk.

Minho gave a curt nod to Taejoon, a silent communication passing between them—Protect him with your life—before he turned and disappeared into his office, the door clicking shut like a seal.

Across the city, in an airy loft filled with natural light and racks of haute couture, Kim Siwoo was in his element. Dressed in a bold, artistic ensemble that looked more like a fashion statement than business attire, he was adjusting the collar on his best friend, Park Jaeho.

"Stop fidgeting. You look perfect. You're going to blind the jeweler with your beauty," Siwoo said, his deep voice laced with affection.

"I still can't believe we're collaborating with Jeon Minho," Jaeho mused, smoothing down the fabric. "The man is a ghost. No one knows anything about him, except that he's ruthless and his company makes rocks that cost more than my apartment."

"A mutually beneficial business decision, Jaeho-ah," Siwoo said, though his curiosity was piqued. "His jewels need our models to come to life. Our models need his jewels to shine. It's simple." He checked his vintage wristwatch. "Speaking of which, I should go. I don't want to be late and have the 'Golden Tiger' think I'm unprofessional."

He gave Jaeho a final once-over. "You'll be magnificent. See you at the shoot."

Back at Jeon Enterprises, the clock was ticking towards the 10 a.m. meeting. Minho was in his office with his CFO and closest friend, Choi Daehyun, who was reviewing numbers with a bored expression.

"The profit margins on the 'Celestial' line are obscene, Minho-ah. Even for you," Daehyun drawled, not looking up from his tablet.

Before Minho could reply, a commotion outside his door made his head snap up. He heard Taejoon's voice, strained and apologetic, followed by the insistent ring of his phone. A low, primal part of him, the Alpha part that was always attuned to his son, stirred.

Then, he heard it. A high-pitched, frantic cry that sliced through the professional calm of the executive floor.

Junho.

Minho was on his feet in an instant, his chair flying back. He yanked the door open, his heart hammering against his ribs.

The scene in the hallway unfolded in heartbreaking slow motion.

Taejoon was desperately trying to finish a call, one hand outstretched. "Junho-ah, come back here!"

But Junho, having seized his chance during the distraction, was already halfway down the corridor, his little legs pumping as he ran towards the conference room where he believed his Appa was. He didn't see the tall, elegantly dressed man who had just stepped out of the elevator lobby, a portfolio in his hand.

There was a collision, soft and small, followed by a heavier thud as Junho fell to the hard marble floor. A heart-wrenching sob echoed through the hall.

The man moved with an innate, graceful speed. He dropped his portfolio and knelt, his voice a soothing, melodic baritone that seemed to calm the very air. "Hey, little one, are you okay? That was a nasty fall."

He gently gathered the crying child into his arms, turning him around. "Shhh, it's alright. Let me see you."

Junho, sniffling and with tears streaming down his plump cheeks, looked up at the man holding him. He saw a face of ethereal beauty—expressive eyes filled with warm concern, sharp yet soft features, and a scent of sandalwood and fresh cotton that was strangely, deeply comforting. It was a face that, in his five-year-old mind, perfectly matched the hidden, cherished photo of his mother he'd once found.

The word burst from his lips, a product of confusion, pain, and a profound, latent longing.

"Mama!"

At that exact moment, Minho's frantic gaze found them. His world screeched to a halt. He saw his son, crying in the arms of the most stunning Omega he had ever seen. And he heard the word that shattered his carefully constructed world into a million irreparable pieces.

Kim Siwoo, CEO of Kim Enterprises, looked up, his beautiful eyes wide with shock and confusion, meeting the stormy, horrified gaze of Jeon Minho.

The hallway fell into a deafening silence, the air thick with unspoken questions and a single, life-altering word hanging between them.

Mama.

---

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