Those who say omegas are meant to watch and stay silent when people speak… those who say we're meant to lower our heads and bow…

I'll show them how dangerous a silent omega can be.

Lying on the bed, I let out a soft sigh.

Just a little more before I achieve my goal completely…

Everything will fall into place next week.

A new phase of my life will begin next week.

Yeah… I needed to call my mom. She needs to send me my clothes soon, or maybe I should just go over to pick them up myself. I don't have any clothes to change into, and I can't wear this nightwear anymore.

I searched for my mom's name in my contacts and tapped it.

It rang four times before she picked up.

"Hello, darling," she said—her voice irritating me instantly. "How's your new house treating you? Oh, what am I even asking? However it treats you, you're meant to accept it."

My stomach twisted.

Is she for real?

Even if they kill me, I should accept it like that?

Wow. Just… wow.

"How's your husband? Has he bred you yet? You see those clothes I packed for you? You're meant to wear them for a whole week and not leave his room, you get what I mean?" she giggled—like a damn freak.

"Mom, you expect me to be in the room with him for a week?!! Are you serious? And why would I even do that?"

This time I couldn't keep calm anymore.

"Manners, Mikael. Manners," she said calmly, but I could hear the anger under her voice. And you know what? I don't give a fuck.

"I didn't pack any of your clothes because I know you too well. Your right as a married omega is to be in the room with your husband for a week until he breeds you. It's said you'll be more fertile in the first week of your marriage, so you have to be with him and bond until you get pregnant!"

Right now, I feel like throwing up.

What the fuck is she on about?

Locked in a room with him for a week?

Someone I barely even know?

God.

"Are you listening to me, Mikael?"

"Yes, ma," I said, and ended the call immediately.

I was so fucking angry.

Too angry to breathe properly.

When will all this bullshit end?

When the fuck will it end?

Stripping off my nightwear, I went into the bathroom.

I needed to cool down.

I needed to clear my head of the bullshit she just spewed.

After my bath, I wrapped a towel around myself, dried my hair, and there was no way I was wearing that nightwear again.

Checking the time—12 p.m.

I could still go shopping, since my mom said she wouldn't bring my clothes until after a week.

Heading to the closet, I opened the bag and checked again.

Nothing.

Just ropes she called "clothes."

But then… a shirt.

A shirt.

A white one.

Picking it up, I slipped it on and buttoned it.

The length didn't even reach above my knee.

Wow.

Just her style.

Well, better than nothing.

I took it off, rubbed my body oils like usual, then put it back on.

I grabbed my phone, slipped on my slippers, and headed out of my room.

Going downstairs, I saw some maids—they bowed immediately.

"Where's Lucian?" I asked.

One pointed toward the garden rest area and led me there.

It was tucked at the edge of the garden.

Nestled behind knife-clean marble paths sat an open crescent-shaped pavilion built from white stone.

Soft lights glowed under the cushions, outlining everything in a golden whisper that never dared to be loud.

Of course this was where he relaxed.

Clean.

Curved.

Controlled.

Everything is perfectly symmetrical, gold-lined, whispering silence.

It didn't invite rest—it commanded it.

I stopped at the edge, slippers brushing marble as I took in the view.

Lucian's head snapped up the moment I arrived, his eyes locking onto me like he'd recognized my scent the second I stepped in.

The maid bowed and slipped away.

I walked toward him, his gaze never leaving me.

He was seated, dressed in a dark blue shirt and black pants that clung to him perfectly—sharp, neat, outlining every muscle without effort.

He had his laptop open—working, I guess—and the way he stared at me was…

I can't even describe it.

It felt like he was seeing everything.