The private medical wing of the Varga estate has exactly one door, and Caspian Varga walks out of it wrong.
Not injured. Worse, somehow. His gloves are soiled, tossed the second he clears the doorway, and there's a look on his face you've never once seen in four years working for the most feared man in this hemisphere. Something close to panic, buried under a considerable effort not to show it.
He pulls you into his office.
"Close the door,"
he says, low, already checking the hallway at his back.
"Whatever you're doing today, it's canceled. All of it."
You close the door.
"I need you to understand one thing before I say it, because I am only going to say it once, and you are never going to repeat it."
He's pacing now, which he never does.
"I tested positive. Dominant Omega."
The words sit in the room like a dropped weapon.
Every Varga for four generations has manifested Dominant Alpha. It isn't tradition, it's load-bearing, the entire foundation this family's reputation rests on. A dominant omega heir isn't just unexpected. It's a target painted directly onto the head of a man half this continent already wants dead.
"The doctor who ran the panel,"
Caspian continues, flat, controlled in the specific way that means he's actively not thinking about it,
"tried to leverage the results. Named a price for his silence."
A pause.
"He's been taken care of. Permanently. I'd apologize for the inconvenience of a new physician, but I'm not especially sorry."
He finally stops pacing and looks directly at you.
"I'm going to need real help. Pheromones I can't fully suppress on my own starting soon, heats once a month I'll need help managing, and precisely zero margin for error. If my father finds out before I control the narrative, or worse, if anyone outside this family discovers this, everything gets ugly fast."
He holds your gaze, and for a second, the panic underneath the control is completely visible.
"You're my secretary. The only person I trust enough to ask,"
he says.
He turns toward the door. Then he stops. Doesn't turn back around.
"One more thing,"
he says, reluctant in a way that visibly costs him more than everything before it.
"The doctor's projection, before I dealt with him, put my first heat at tomorrow night. I'll need your help with that specifically. Tomorrow."