Walter Pov

"I thought the gala was grand, but this... this is on a whole other level. It’s like a wedding, not an engagement party," Augi says in awe, his eyes wide as he takes in the hall. He’s right. This place is a masterpiece. The entire hall gleams in an all‑white theme, an ice fountain at the center shimmering under the lights. Above it hangs a chandelier, its crystals catching the glow, suspended over a cupid ice sculpture draped with flowing white cloth. The effect is breathtaking, almost surreal.

Multiple tables line the room, each overflowing with food and snacks–every indulgence imaginable. We’re standing beside one of them now, the scent of roasted meats and sugared pastries mingling in the air. It hasn’t been long since we entered and the chaos of paparazzi outside still lingers in my mind. I think we’re all just trying to recover, to find someone familiar in this sea of strangers. Well, not all of us. Torin, Oracle, and surprisingly Augi, seem to know plenty of people here. Still, Torin and Oracle refuse to leave Lorali’s side, and Augi refuses to leave mine.

I feel guilty. I should be out there interacting. I’m a celebrity, for godsakes, it’s supposed to be easy for me to mingle at events. But this is different. This isn’t the usual crowd. This is nobility. S‑class socialites. Members of the omega council. Diplomats. Very, very important people.

"Lorali!" A voice, sweet as honey, cuts through the noise. I barely register it before I’m assaulted by the scent of cherry blossoms. It’s unmistakable, this scent belongs to the angelic omega with pink hair walking to us, hand in hand with another omega, this one with caramel skin and loose brown curls and visibly pregnant, perhaps four months along if I had to guess.

"I haven’t seen you in such a long time!" the pink‑haired girl cries, suddenly pulling Lorali away from Torin and into her arms. The three of them collapse into a group hug, shrieking with joy, spinning in a small circle as if the rest of the hall doesn’t exist.

"Why weren’t you answering your phone? I thought those people were ostracizing you from society," the curly‑haired omega says sharply, her head twisting toward us with sudden precision. Her eyes lock on me and my pack before she delivers the nastiest scowl,rolls her eyes dismissively and turns back to Lorali.

I’m stunned by the sheer attitude in that look. What did we do to deserve it? She doesn’t even know me, and already I hate her for it just for that attitude.

"Guys, I’m happy to receive your concern, but I wasn’t being ostracized. In fact, I was quite happy," Lorali says, her voice soft, her smile gentle.

I roll my eyes. Happy? I wouldn’t exactly call her a happy individual after the events of the past months. But of course she thinks she was happy. Torin has manipulated her so thoroughly in just two weeks that she’s forgotten half a year’s worth of torment. Honestly, I can’t believe she fell for his plan. I’d never be that naïve. I’d never be that dumb.

"Oh, and I see you’re pregnant, just like Mr. Spade said you were" the pink‑haired girl says, her gaze dropping to Lorali’s stomach, just as surprised as we all were when we saw it this morning. So this is why Lorali is wearing that fake belly, Torin probably told her to wear it to fool this pink‑haired omega. Now that I think about it, why is her hair pink? Must be some Alma’s Omega bulishit.

"Why are you surprised, Mrs. Masintosh? Did you think I was lying?" Torin asks, his voice smug, his expression dripping with arrogance.

The pink‑haired girl meets his eyes, her lips curling into an amused smile. "No, I didn’t think you were lying. I just thought you were lost, the same way you were lost with her scent."

Torin’s smug expression falters, the tension between them thickening like smoke. It’s almost amusing, watching his buttons get pushed by a tiny thing with pink hair. And before he can say something that will undoubtedly make the situation worse, Lorali spoke.

"Arabella, I promise I am happy and pregnant. I see that you are also expecting, Cleo–when did that happen?" Lorali asks, her eyes shifting to the girl with loose curly hair who I now know as Cleo.

"Right after my engagement. The one you didn’t show up for, even though I sent a thousand invitations," Cleo replies, her tone sharp, clearly sour about the fact.

The exchange feels almost comical, like we’re all watching some kind of high school reunion unfold in the corner of this grand hall.

"Lorali!" Another voice calls, low but urgent, almost a whisper. I turn, and my breath catches. It’s her, my literal idol. Vanya Waterfront. She’s walking toward us with a girl trailing behind her, but that detail barely registers. All I can focus on is Vanya herself. She’s moving in my direction, and my nerves spike. This is my chance. I need to be presentable. I need to introduce myself.

Keion, standing beside me and devouring a lemon tart, must feel the waves of nervous energy rolling off me. I step forward, directly into her path, just as she approaches.

"Hi—I’m—"

She walks around me without hesitation, not even waiting for me to finish. It’s as if I’m invisible. I stand frozen in disbelief. No way. I, the top Omega model, was just... ignored. This is a first.

"I’m sorry, can you please move? You cannot stand in the pathway," the girl who was following Vanya from says, snapping me out of my thoughts. At least she acknowledges me, even if it’s only because I’m in her way. I step aside quickly, moving out of the way, and she passes with a polite, thankful smile.

"Lori, I missed you," I hear Vanya say as she squeezes past Cleo and Arabella to embrace Lorali. They greet each other like old friends, their reunion warm and effortless. I had no idea they even knew each other.

"They all went to Alma together and graduated at the same time" Kei whispers suddenly in my ear.

That explains it. Of course Vanya would greet Lorali, her friend, someone she hasn’t seen in a long time, over me, a stranger.

"Alright, we Alma omegas are going to catch up now, bye" Arabella announces, grabbing Lorali’s wrist.

"I’m sure Lorali wants to sta—" Torin begins, but he’s cut off.

"No, she doesn’t. She wants to see the stars outside with me, her best friend who has known her eleven years longer than you." Arabella doesn’t even wait for Torin’s response. She turns and bolts with Lorali stumbling to keep up behind her, the rest of the girls following behind.

Torin looks like he is ready to chase after them, but he’s forced to stop as a blond‑haired man appears out of nowhere, offering with the kindest smile I have ever seen.

"Mr. Spade, pleasure to see you actually attending."

"No, Mr. Masintosh, the pleasure is all mine," Torin replies instantly, his composure snapping back into place. In a heartbeat, he’s no longer the man who was pressed by an omega two seconds ago, he’s the businessman again, polished and untouchable.