His Rejected Omega

Ella Ella, remember what I told you. Until you turn twenty-five, never show your beauty or your talents.” Those were the last words my mother whispered, her lips trembling, her body slick with blood as it seeped from wounds I was too young to comprehend. I had clung to those words for fifteen years, repeating them silently like a prayer, like armor. Live low-key. That was her command. That was how I survived when everything else, the Winston name, the Winston pack, the proud legacy of my father, Alpha Winston was obliterated in one single, bloody night of betrayal. I was eight years old when my world ended. And tonight, on the cusp of my twenty-fifth birthday, I knew I could no longer hide behind the ashes of that night. The Ross family loved to remind me that they had “rescued” me. They said it often, usually when they wanted to remind me of the debt I supposedly owed them. But the truth? They hadn’t taken me in out of compassion. They had scavenged my broken life like vultures tearing into a carcass. They inherited my father’s wealth, whispered with pride about the connections they had “earned,” and then relegated me, the rightful heiress of the Winston bloodline to the role of servant in their polished halls. To the outside world, I was nothing more than their adopted daughter, a charity case, a stray Omega dragged in from pity. That was the story they spun. And I played along. I smeared my natural beauty behind shapeless dresses and dull makeup. I flattened myself, dimmed my fire, and muffled my wolf’s aura until I was indistinguishable from the weakest of Omegas. I was invisible. A shadow. A ghost in their house. I endured. I hid. I survived. But today was my twenty-fifth birthday. And today, I was done pretending. The Ross estate glimmered like a shrine to vanity. Gold-trimmed draperies cascaded from marble columns, crystal chandeliers rained down light, and servants scurried about with trays of wine and hors d’oeuvres. The halls pulsed with laughter and murmurs, guests wrapped in silks and diamonds, noses tilted with superiority. To the Rosses, today had nothing to do with my birthday. No one remembered. No one cared. To them, today was sacred for one reason only: Lauren’s engagement. Lauren Ross. My foster parents’ jewel, their spoiled biological daughter, who never missed an opportunity to remind me I was nothing. Lauren, who had taken everything that once mattered to me, including the boy I had once thought was my future. Jack Black. Alpha heir of the Black family. My ex. The boy who used to look at me with admiration until the day he discovered I was “just” an adopted daughter. He had abandoned me with words sharp enough to cut bone, declaring me unworthy of him, unworthy of love, unworthy of a place at his side. He had chosen Lauren instead. And the Rosses had embraced the match as if it had been crafted by the Moon Goddess herself. I adjusted the hem of my cheap waitress uniform, the fabric scratchy against my skin, and lifted the tray of champagne flutes. My shoulders straightened, but my head stayed bowed as I wove through the glittering crowd. The whispers followed me. They always did. “Isn’t that the Rosses’ adopted daughter?” a woman murmured behind a jeweled hand. “Pathetic,” another chuckled. “Raised by one of the wealthiest families and she still looks like their maid.” “She should be grateful they let her stay at all. If it were me, I’d have tossed her to the rogues.” Their words buzzed in my ears like gnats. Annoying, persistent, but powerless. Once, they might have gutted me. But not today. Not anymore. “Ella!” My foster mother’s sharp voice cracked across the room. Mrs. Ross waved me forward, her irritation obvious, her gesture the kind one might use to summon a servant rather than a daughter. “Don’t just stand there gawking. Bring the champagne to Lauren’s table. And try not to trip this time.” Lauren lounged at the head of the hall, resplendent in a sparkling silver gown that glittered like starlight. She was draped against Jack’s arm, basking in the spotlight that seemed to follow her wherever she went. Her eyes lit with malicious delight when she spotted me approaching. “Well, if it isn’t my dear sister,” she said loudly, her voice pitched to carry across the room. “How sweet of you to serve at my engagement. Do make sure you don’t spill anything. These gowns cost more than your entire life.” Her friends cackled. Jack smirked. His arm tightened possessively around her waist, as though to emphasize where I stood in this hierarchy. I set the glasses down carefully, my hands steady, my face blank. Their cruelty slid over me like oil on glass. But under the surface, beneath years of suppression, my wolf stirred. Restless and Hungry. Wait, I told her silently. By tonight, everything changes. The ceremony unfolded with laughter and applause, a glittering display of celebration that felt like a knife twisting in my chest. Guests toasted the happy couple, their words dripping with praise for the “perfect match.” Then the officials from City Hall arrived, and a hush fell over the crowd. One of them frowned at his screen, confusion furrowing his brow. “There seems to be…a complication,” he said. Jack stiffened. “What do you mean?” The official hesitated, his eyes flicking toward me before returning to Jack. “According to the system records, Mr. Black is unencumbered. However…” He turned the laptop, revealing the words to the entire hall. “Miss Ella Winston Ross is already married.” The air shattered with gasps. My heart thudded violently, the world tilting. “Impossible!” Mrs. Ross snapped, leaping to her feet. “She’s just an adopted Omega. Who would marry her?” The official’s voice remained steady. “Not just anyone. The groom listed is Kane Darius, Alpha heir of the Blue Moon pack.” The room exploded into chaos. “Kane Darius? The Blue Moon heir?” “That can’t be real. Why would such a man marry her?” “Is this some kind of scam?” I couldn’t breathe. My pulse roared in my ears. Married? To him? Kane Darius, the untouchable heir of the strongest pack in existence? I barely knew him, only the reputation that traveled in hushed tones: ruthless, brilliant, unstoppable. And somehow, my name was bound to his? Jack’s face contorted with rage. “You expect us to believe that? This filthy little nobody is married to him? Don’t make me laugh!” Lauren’s smug smile had cracked, her complexion paling. Mrs. Ross turned her fury on me, her voice shrill. “You disgrace! What have you done? Is this some pathetic attempt to ruin Lauren’s engagement?” The official shook his head. “This isn’t an error. The records are sealed by the Alpha King himself. The contract marriage is legitimate.” The silence that followed was suffocating. My thoughts spiraled. Flashes of my father’s face surfaced, stern and unyielding, his voice echoing from memory. Talks of alliances. Promises of security. Had he arranged this? Had every year of suppression been preparing me for this revelation? A voice cut through the chaos, deep and commanding. “Is this how the Ross family conducts itself? Turning an engagement banquet into a farce of accusations?” A tall man stepped forward from the crowd. His attire was plain, his presence anything but. Power radiated off him in waves. His dark eyes locked on me—not with scorn, not with pity, but with something sharper. Recognition. My breath stuttered. Something about him felt familiar, though I couldn’t place why. Mrs. Ross bristled. “And who are you to interrupt?” His lips curved in a slow, mocking smile. “Who I am doesn’t matter. What matters is that you’re slapping around a girl already bound to a man leagues above your reach. If anything, you should be groveling for forgiveness instead of parading your cruelty for all to see.” Murmurs rippled through the crowd. Lauren shot to her feet. “She’s lying! She’s jealous! Jack, tell them!” Jack’s face burned red, his voice venomous. “If this marriage is real, then she must have seduced him behind everyone’s back. Typical. She’s nothing but a shameless climber.” The crowd stirred, their disgust coiling around me like smoke. My hands trembled at my sides, but before I could summon a word, the man stepped closer. His hand brushed mine, steady and warm. Grounding. My breath hitched. He leaned down, his voice low but carrying. “They call you Ella, don’t they? Then hear me now: you are my wife.”