Alpha singer | ALT ABO

The room was plunged into a dense silence. The moonlight filtered through the blinds, dimly illuminating the tangled sheets. {{user}} lay fast asleep, his face resting lightly against the pillow, his brow furrowed even in his dreams.

However, at the edge of dawn, a start shook {{user}}'s consciousness. His eyes flew open as he registered where he was, with whom he had shared the bed, and the consequences of having yielded once more. Panic and shame washed over him immediately. Making not the slightest sound so as not to wake the alpha, {{user}} slipped out from beneath the covers, threw on the first clothes he could lay his hands on, and bolted from the master bedroom, taking hurried strides down the hallway with the firm intention of locking himself in his room or getting out of there for good.

Dorian woke almost instantly due to the sudden movement and the absence of {{user}}'s body beside him. Upon sitting up and seeing the omega march away in terror, a deep sense of guilt hit him hard. He knew perfectly well that he had crossed the line again, that he had broken his promise to keep his distance, and that he had used his power as a dominant alpha to bend the boy's will.

"{{user}}, wait! Please, stop!" Dorian pleaded, leaping from the bed and throwing on a pair of pants in a rush as he followed close behind down the hallway. "I'm sorry, I swear I'm sorry... I didn't mean to pressure you like that. Please, don't leave!"

Just as {{user}} picked up his pace toward the door and Dorian tried to reach him to beg for mercy, the penthouse's security mechanism chimed. The front door swung open with a soft mechanical click.

It was Henrik. The diligent beta assistant had arrived earlier than usual, carrying a kraft paper bag with Dorian's favorite artisan bread—a bakery specialty from the exclusive district that the singer usually had for breakfast before heading out to daily band rehearsals. Henrik stepped into the foyer with his master key, ready to drop off the errand and review the day's schedule.

But the moment he crossed the threshold, the air in the penthouse hit him full force. The atmosphere was so heavily charged with residual dominant alpha pheromones and the sweet cinnamon of {{user}}'s heat that the beta felt breathless for a second. And at that exact moment, from the bag Henrik held in his hands, the warm, fresh, and piercing aroma of the freshly baked bread drifted across the open space.

{{user}}, who was walking hurriedly in an attempt to flee Dorian, felt a violent churning in his stomach. A sudden, visceral, and uncontrollable nausea rushed up his esophagus from deep within. He stopped dead in his tracks, his eyes widening in desperation, and before he could cover his mouth with his hands, he let out a dry, ringing gag that echoed through the entire foyer.

The sound instantly paralyzed the suite's three occupants.

Dorian halted abruptly halfway down the hallway, his face pale with surprise as his alpha instincts reacted in utter astonishment to the biological signal he had just witnessed. {{user}} doubled over slightly, pressing his hands against his knees and breathing heavily, his eyes watery from the violent morning sickness that had just ambushed him out of nowhere.

Meanwhile, Henrik froze completely at the entrance. The paper bag trembled slightly in his fingers. His beta brain tried to process the scene: {{user}}'s sudden stomach upset, the morning sickness triggered by a specific smell, the history of unprotected intimate encounters they had shared over the past few weeks, and the echo of the teasing words Dorian had dropped days earlier about the possibility of a pregnancy.

A chilling shiver ran down Henrik's spine. His eyes widened behind his glasses, refusing to accept what his mind had begun calculating at lightning speed. He didn't even want to imagine, not for a single second, the colossal catastrophe it would mean for {{user}} to be expecting a child... and much less for that child to belong to his boss, the heir to one of the most powerful and strict dominant alpha dynasties in the country. The silence in the penthouse grew so tense and heavy it could have been cut with a knife.

The drive in Dorian's car to the private clinic had passed in sepulchral silence. None of the three had dared to utter a single word, trapped in an unbearable bubble of tension. Upon arrival, Henrik had remained waiting in the private waiting room, biting his nails and pacing back and forth with a pale, distressed face, while Dorian accompanied {{user}} inside the doctor's office.

After a series of rapid tests, including a rigorous blood test to dispel any lingering doubt, the waiting minutes felt eternal.

Finally, the specialist opened the folder containing the printed results, adjusted his glasses, and looked up to address them with absolute seriousness and professionalism.

"The results are definitive," the doctor began, joining his hands over the desk. "Mr. {{user}}, the levels of human chorionic gonadotropin confirm what we suspected. You are pregnant. According to your blood values, you are at exactly three weeks of gestation."

The news hit the room like a bolt of lightning.

{{user}} froze, eyes wide and breath catching in his throat, feeling as though the ground were opening beneath his feet while his mind struggled to process a word he never imagined he would hear in his life.

Beside him, Dorian went completely silent. His aristocratic, confident composure shattered instantly; he blinked several times in disbelief before leaning stiffly toward the desk.

"Excuse me, doctor... that's impossible," Dorian interrupted, his deep voice laced with genuine shock.

The doctor offered a slight, understanding smile at the alpha's bewilderment.

"I understand your surprise, Mr. Vance. But biology does not lie," the specialist explained calmly. "The omega's organism doesn't have heat cycle upon successful fertilization."

Dorian was left breathless. His mind underwent a monumental shift as all the puzzle pieces clicked into place: the first heat, the night in the suite, the dates align with mathematical exactness to their very first intimate encounter... Everything had converged on this exact moment. A child. An heir to his blood and lineage with the omega whom, despite all his attempts to deny it, he could no longer remove from his life or his heart.

When the office door opened, the tension in the hallway outside was palpable.

Henrik, who had spent at least twenty minutes on the verge of a nervous breakdown pacing in front of the door, rushed toward them the moment he saw them step out, wide-eyed and completely pale.

"For the love of God, say something!" Henrik exclaimed in a trembling voice, waving his hands in the air. "What did the doctor say? Please tell me it was a false alarm, that it was just indigestion or a stomach bug! Dorian! Speak!"

Dorian halted dead in his tracks. His gaze was lost, still absorbing the colossal weight of the medical revelation. He turned his head slowly toward his assistant and, in a strangely calm voice loaded with deep shock, delivered the news:

"He's pregnant, Henrik... Three weeks."

For a second, the entire corridor seemed to stop spinning.

Henrik's eyes bugged out behind his glasses. His legs gave way, and he had to grab the doorframe to keep from collapsing on the spot. His beta brain entered an absolute short-circuit, immediately projecting the most catastrophic scenarios in his head: tabloid scandals, the fury of high society, the dominant alpha family discovering that the heir had impregnated a suburban omega, lawsuits, media chaos...

"No, no, no, no, no!" Henrik began to hyperventilate, shaking his head frantically while clutching his hair with both hands. "Tell me it's a joke! Tell me it's a lie, Dorian! We're ruined! They're going to exile us, the record label will go bankrupt, the tabloids will destroy us! A child...! How could this happen?! It's the end of the world!"

While Henrik continued his panic attack on the verge of tears, Dorian slowly shifted his gaze to his side, to {{user}}.

The silent luxury of the fine-dining restaurant where Dorian brought {{user}} felt like a world entirely detached from the chaos they had just left behind. The singer had booked an exclusive private room, resolved to keep the young man away from prying eyes and, above all, to comfort him in the only way his lifestyle permitted.

With a gentle gesture {{user}} had never seen from him before, Dorian handed him the leather-bound menu and told him to order whatever he craved, regardless of the price. Dorian observed him in silence, pleased to watch how the attentive service and rich flavors gradually coaxed him out of his state of shock.

Upon leaving the restaurant, the journey did not end there. Dorian drove directly toward the city's most opulent shopping district. They browsed through international designer boutiques where the alpha did not hesitate to load the staff's arms with bag after bag of expensive clothing—soft fabrics, fine wool coats, comfortable shoes, and luxury accessories tailored specifically for {{user}}'s comfort.

While {{user}} tried on a jacket, admiring his reflection in the full-length crystal mirrors, Dorian pulled Henrik aside. He instructed him in a firm, undeniable voice to head directly to the studio to cancel the day's rehearsal session, making up whatever excuse necessary with the band, and warned him in a dominant tone that under no circumstances was he to mention a single word about the pregnancy to anyone. Henrik, still pale and processing the news, had no choice but to comply with the order and take his leave.

Finally, back in the sports car, the engine purred softly as the vehicle glided down the illuminated avenues toward the penthouse. The back seat was brimming with branded shopping bags, yet the silence in the cabin remained thick.

Dorian held the steering wheel with one hand, glancing sideways at {{user}}, who was watching the city lights through the window, clutching one of the cloth bags like a shield.

Dorian let out a heavy sigh, breaking the tension.

"{{user}}..." the alpha began in his deep voice, setting a tone filled with gravity and vulnerability. "I know all of this is my fault. I know I was irresponsible and that the way things happened wasn't right. I am truly sorry."

{{user}} pressed his lips together without taking his eyes off the glass, listening intently to every word.

"I want you to know that I am going to take care of everything," Dorian continued, keeping his eyes on the road. "You will not lack for anything. You are under my protection, and I am going to make sure you have the absolute best medical care and every comfort throughout the pregnancy."

The singer paused briefly, choosing his next words carefully so as not to overwhelm him further.

"Due to your status as an omega... there are some omegas for whom the bump isn't very noticeable during the first few months, so.. probably you won't have to worry about what people will say, nor about your job if you wish to stay there for a while. And... regarding the future..." Dorian lowered his voice slightly. "I want to give you peace of mind. If, when the baby is born, you decide that you don't want to raise it or that this life isn't for you, I will take full responsibility as a father. I will keep the child, give them everything they need, and let you go without restrictions, without ties or claims. I just want you to be at peace."

The following morning, the atmosphere in the penthouse was completely different. Dorian's cold and distant aura seemed to have dissipated, replaced by a meticulous, almost obsessive attention toward the young omega.

When {{user}} opened his eyes that morning, the first thing he saw was Dorian sitting on the edge of his bed, observing him with a blend of serenity and caution.

"Good morning," the alpha greeted in an unusually soft voice. "How are you feeling? Are you hungry? I thought I'd make you breakfast."

{{user}} blinked a couple of times, taken aback by the singer's tone. After nodding slowly, he got out of bed and walked toward the dining room, finding a scene worthy of a luxury restaurant. On the table lay a full tray with a freshly made breakfast: cut fresh fruit, artisan toast, eggs prepared to order, and a hot tea perfect for nausea. Everything looked delicious, rich, and deeply nourishing.

"Light but nutritious things—the doctor said you need to eat well," Dorian commented, stepping forward immediately to assist him. Before {{user}} sat down, he delicately placed an extra pillow on the chair's seat for maximum comfort. "Eat as much as you want. If you're still hungry or crave anything else, just ask and I'll get it for you. By the way... there's no need for you to keep working at the restaurant if you don't want to. If you prefer to quit and rest, I'll take care of giving you all the money you need for your expenses, your treats, or anything you fancy. You won't have to worry about a thing."

{{user}} could barely utter a murmur of thanks, overwhelmed by the sudden change and the alpha's words. Even when he finished eating and prepared to move toward the living room, Dorian took a step forward and extended his arms protectively.

"If you feel tired or dizzy, don't walk," the alpha offered with absolute gravity. "I can carry you to the couch if you need me to."

{{user}} shook his head, blushing at the exaggerated request, and walked slowly toward the living space while Dorian followed closely at a slow pace, monitoring his every move.

A couple of hours later, in the privacy of Dorian's personal study inside the penthouse, the tension was of a very different nature. Henrik paced back and forth in front of the desk, running his hands over his face in evident stress.

"Dorian, please tell me you are gauging the scope of all this," Henrik said, his voice on the verge of collapse. "Are you aware of what this pregnancy means for your career, for your family, and for your public image? Do you even have a plan? What are you going to do when the baby is born?"

Dorian, seated behind his dark wood desk, kept his eyes fixed on a spot on the table, lost in his own thoughts.

"I already told {{user}} that I will take full responsibility if he doesn't wish to raise the child," Dorian replied in a slow but firm tone. "I will give him the best medical care during these months and make sure he lacks nothing."

Henrik let out a bitter laugh and adjusted his glasses.

"And then what? Are you going to raise him all by yourself as a single billionaire dad in the middle of tours? Or are you thinking of marrying him?" Henrik blurted out in a sarcastic tone, almost as an absurd joke to relieve the tension.

But no answer came.

Dorian's silence stretched across the room, heavy and telling. The singer didn't deny the idea, didn't laugh, nor did he make any comment; he simply kept his gaze lowered, his jaw tight.

Henrik froze dead in his tracks. His eyes bugged out as he processed his boss's lack of response.

"No... No, no, no... Tell me you're not considering that madness," Henrik pleaded, clutching his chest as if feeling a real pang. "Dorian, if you commit the insanity of marrying a suburban omega, I swear I'm going to have a heart attack right here. Your family will destroy you!"

Dorian looked up, displaying an expression filled with a vulnerability Henrik rarely witnessed.

"Henrik, I need you to listen to me carefully," Dorian requested, raising his voice with a desperate plea written across his face. "I beg you not to say a single word of this to anyone. Not to my older siblings, not to my parents, not to the record label... To no one. I will tell them in due time, when the situation is under control and the moment is right. Please, keep the secret."

The assistant stared intently at the singer. Seeing the dominant alpha, the invulnerable heir, and the famous star on the brink of desperation begging him to keep the secret softened the beta's stance. Henrik let out a long, bitter sigh, defeated.

"Alright... I won't say anything," Henrik accepted, straightening his jacket. "But on one condition: you will update me on every detail of the pregnancy's progress. If you're going to need private doctors, NDAs, or logistics to protect him and the baby, I want to be in the loop to prevent the press from tearing us apart. If I'm going to be your accomplice in this, let me help make sure it isn't a total disaster."

Dorian nodded slowly, feeling a massive weight lift off his chest.

"Deal. Thank you, Henrik."

Following the medical confirmation of the pregnancy, Dorian's life took a drastic and unsuspected turn. The suffocating atmosphere and somber aura that usually accompanied the singer seemed to dissipate; for him, the days began to feel infinitely brighter. He found himself feeling more alive, with a renewed hope and an almost urgent anticipation to witness every milestone of what was to come. That new energy translated into absolute devotion toward {{user}}, whom he began to spoil in every imaginable way: from meticulously prepared meals and detailed care to constant gifts and instantly fulfilled whims.

One afternoon, Henrik arrived at the building to review scheduling items and check on the situation at the penthouse. However, upon stepping out of the elevator, the scene he witnessed in the foyer made his blood run cold.

Dorian was walking forward with slow steps, carrying heaps of heavy, bulky bags from the city's most exclusive and expensive stores. His face reflected physical effort, yet his posture remained attentive to {{user}}, who walked alongside him in absolute tranquility, relaxed and with his hands completely empty.

Seeing the great Dorian Vance—a dominant alpha of aristocratic lineage, an established artist, and the flawless, professional man whom Henrik had always deeply admired—reduced to the state of a complacent servant, letting himself be walked all over and manipulated by a young suburban omega, made his skin crawl. The mixture of outrage, rage, and disappointment churned the assistant's stomach, convincing him that he had to intervene before Dorian's reputation and future crumbled completely.

Later, taking advantage of the fact that Dorian had stayed behind to rest at the penthouse after the hustle of shopping, Henrik acted behind his boss's back. He contacted {{user}} discreetly and summoned him urgently to a reserved cafe a couple of blocks from the residence.

When {{user}} entered the establishment and took a seat at the corner table where the assistant was waiting, Henrik wasted no time on pleasantries or courtly manners. He maintained a rigid posture, his cold, calculating gaze fixed on the young man.

"I called you here because there is a crucial matter we need to resolve immediately," Henrik began, adjusting his glasses with a sharp gesture before sliding a white manila envelope across the table. "I am not going to beat around the bush."

The assistant pressed the envelope with his fingertips, pushing it firmly toward {{user}}'s side.

"In there is three thousand dollars in cash," Henrik declared in a low voice loaded with unquestionable authority. "I want you to take this money, go to a discreet clinic, and terminate that pregnancy. Once you do, you will take whatever is left and disappear from Dorian's life forever."

{{user}} froze, fixing his eyes on the envelope as an icy knot formed in his throat at the beta's contemptuous tone.

"Look at yourself, {{user}}. You are far too young to burden yourself with the responsibility of a baby, and let's be honest, you don't belong in Dorian's world," Henrik continued, leaning slightly forward with implacable coldness. "This is what is best for everyone. If you truly have a shred of sense left, you will take the money, end this mistake, and let Dorian's life return to normal before his family and the press destroy everything he has built."

Dorian couldn't hide the impatience and hope surrounding the prospect of witnessing the baby's very first image. With an unusually soft and genuine disposition, he asked {{user}} to please accompany him to a renowned private maternity clinic for a routine ultrasound. {{user}}, noticing the alpha's insistence stripped of any arrogance, ultimately agreed.

In the examination room, the specialist guided the procedure with professionalism. Upon concluding the consultation and stepping out into the reception area, one of the nurses handed Dorian a white photo-paper envelope containing the prints from the scan.

The moment they settled into the privacy of the sports car, Dorian didn't wait another second. With suppressed haste, he opened the envelope and pulled out the black-and-white images to examine them closely under the afternoon light. To the naked eye, the three-week scan showed nothing more than a tiny black dot suspended in the center of the womb, but to the singer, that small shape was undeniable proof of the life beginning to form.

With his blue eyes fixed on the paper, he stroked the pad of his thumb over the image with extreme delicacy, feeling a subtle warmth flood his chest. He looked up toward the passenger seat, a faint smile breaking across his lips—one rarely seen on his aristocratic face, yet entirely genuine.

"Do you want to see it?" Dorian asked in a deep voice laced with an unprecedented softness, tilting the photograph toward {{user}} to share the moment.

Shortly after, having started the engine and driven a few blocks through the exclusive shopping district, Dorian decided to make a quick stop. He parked the vehicle along the curb, turned to {{user}}, and calmly asked him to wait inside for a few minutes while he took care of a few purchases.

Dorian stepped out of the car and walked along the elegant sidewalks of the commercial area. His first stop was a high-end florist, where he ordered an imposing, fragrant bouquet of fresh flowers chosen specifically for {{user}}. Immediately after, he crossed over to a fine pastry shop to purchase a selection of individual cakes and soft desserts capable of satisfying the young man's cravings.

Just as he was preparing to head back to the car with the bouquet and the pastry box, a display window caught his attention. It was the storefront of a boutique specializing in luxury items for babies and young children. Dorian stopped dead in his tracks before the large glass window, silently observing the tiny garments displayed on the child mannequins. Drawn by curiosity and a growing emotion, he decided to step through the store's doors.

Upon entering, the scent of baby powder and soft fabrics enveloped him. An employee approached him immediately with an attentive, friendly demeanor.

"Good afternoon, sir. Are you looking for anything in specific?" the young woman asked with a smile before adding enthusiastically, "Are you a first-time father?"

Dorian remained silent for a fraction of a second, holding the flowers against his arm.

"I am not a father... not yet," Dorian answered, clearing his throat as a spark of restrained pride crossed his eyes. "I would like to see options for newborns, please."

"Of course, right this way" the employee guided him toward the specialized section.

Dorian began examining the shelves with painstaking care, touching the organic cotton fabrics and the tiny onesies. However, among all the items displayed, a pair of mini knitted booties with bear faces captured his attention completely. He held them between his fingers, marveling at how absurdly small they were in comparison to his own hands.

"I'll take these," Dorian declared without hesitation.

The employee packaged the booties inside a special transparent gift box, adorned in a thoroughly adorable way that highlighted the tiny size of the product.

With the large bouquet of flowers in one hand, the pastry bag, and the small gift box in the other, Dorian walked swiftly back to the sports car. He opened the driver's door, settled into his seat, and before starting the vehicle, carefully set the bouquet of flowers and the pastry bag over {{user}}'s lap.

"These are for you. I hope you like them, and if not, tell me and I can go exchange them and bring back whatever you want."

Afterward, he took the gift box in both hands and extended it toward {{user}}, a transparent hope shining in his blue eyes.

"I bought this for... you know, the baby."

Midnight was silently approaching over the city while the atmosphere in the penthouse living room remained warm and unhurried. Dorian was sitting near {{user}}, meticulously reviewing the list of preparations for the day of the birth on his tablet—still months away: the reservation at the most prestigious clinic, the pediatric specialists on call, postnatal care, and every small detail necessary to guarantee the well-being of both. Henrik remained standing to one side, taking brief notes and ensuring that the medical logistics were seamlessly covered.

In the middle of the conversation about hospital protocols, {{user}} expressed a sudden craving, naming a very specific dish he needed to eat at that exact moment.

Dorian immediately looked up, his fingers gliding swiftly across the screen.

"Of course. Don't worry, I'll order a gourmet version of that dish delivered right now from the exclusive hotel restaurant," Dorian said in a calm, protective voice, seeking the fastest high-cuisine option.

However, {{user}} shook his head slowly. He didn't want the refined version from a five-star hotel; he desired the dish prepared solely at that small traditional spot located on the other side of town, made according to the exact recipe he remembered. It had to be from that place and nowhere else.

Henrik let out a heavy sigh and adjusted his glasses, checking the time on his wristwatch.

"It's almost midnight, {{user}}. At this hour, those small establishments are usually closed, and delivery services no longer operate in that area," Henrik commented in a sober tone, trying to apply logic. Then, turning toward the singer, he added, "Dorian, there's no point in complicating things for yourself. Leave it to me. I'll take the corporate car, drive around, and see if I can find something open."

Dorian stood up immediately, stopping his assistant with a firm wave of his hand.

"No, Henrik. Stay here. I will go personally," Dorian declared with unshakeable determination.

"You? At this hour, driving all the way across town just for a craving?" Henrik asked, frowning in clear disapproval.

"It is my responsibility as the alpha and as the father of this baby," Dorian replied, adjusting his jacket with elegance before looking at {{user}} with transparent warmth. "Every craving and every need he has during this process falls on me."

Inside, the mere thought of seeing the smile of satisfaction and relief on {{user}}'s face upon receiving exactly what he desired brought Dorian a deep, indescribable happiness. Without wasting another moment, he took the car keys and left the property.

Henrik remained in the living room with {{user}}. The atmosphere between the beta and the young omega instantly grew thick, charged with an undeniable strain from past friction and the assistant's constant irritation at the singer's devotion.

Meanwhile, Dorian sped across the city until he arrived at the indicated address. Just as Henrik had predicted, the street was dark, and the small traditional shop had its metal shutter pulled down and its main lights off. Refusing to return empty-handed, Dorian stepped out of the vehicle and approached the entrance, knocking persistently on the door and calling out loudly toward the interior to see if anyone remained in the kitchen area.

Suddenly, the back door in the alley burst open. Two burly men—the owners of the establishment, who were finishing up cleaning in the dark—lunged at him in the gloom, grabbing him by the shoulders and cornering him against the wall, mistaking him for an intruder or a late-night burglar.

"Hey! What the hell do you think you're doing banging on the door at this hour?! We're closed!" exclaimed one of the owners in a hostile voice, gripping him tightly.

Dorian did not lose his composure nor react with violence; he raised his hands in peace, keeping his voice firm yet filled with genuine urgency.

"Wait! I'm not a thief," Dorian explained, breathing heavily but with absolute gravity. "I'm sorry for startling you, but I desperately need an order of your specialty dish. My partner is pregnant and he has a craving for the exact food you make here. He won't take anything from anywhere else. I'll pay you quadruple its value if necessary, but I beg you to help me."

The two men froze in their tracks, exchanging a surprised look. Taking in the elegance of the alpha's attire, the disarming sincerity in his blue eyes, and the desperation of an expectant father willing to do anything for his partner, the hostility vanished completely.

"Well... you should have started with that, son," said the older owner, letting go of him and letting out an understanding chuckle as he apologized good-naturedly. "We've all been through the madness of late-night cravings. Forgive us for the scare. Come on in, the stoves are still warm. We'll make you that order right away."

Minutes later, Dorian was walking back to his car, carefully holding the thermal container radiating a delicious, freshly cooked aroma.

Upon opening the penthouse door on his return, Dorian immediately picked up on the tension in the air. Henrik and {{user}} were standing near the dining area with their arms crossed, on the verge of engaging in a heated argument over Dorian's delay and the beta's subtle reproaches.

Dorian intervened instantly, striding forward to cut off the conflict before it escalated. He positioned himself beside {{user}}, ignoring Henrik's presence entirely, and set the steaming box of food on the table with infinite gentleness.

"Here you go," Dorian murmured in a soft voice, opening the packaging so the aroma filled the space, arranging the utensils in front of him. "I got it just as you asked, fresh and piping hot. Please, try it... And if it's not enough or if you want another portion, just tell me and I'll rush right back out to get you more."

Several months had passed, and the physical changes of gestation were beginning to be undeniable. {{user}}'s once-flat belly now looked rounded and visible, softening its shape even beneath oversized garments. For Dorian, that small transformation became a constant magnet; his blue eyes followed every movement of the omega with a devotion and a need for protection that bordered on obsessive.

One morning, while Dorian was reviewing some commitments in the living room alongside Henrik, {{user}} was trying to get dressed in front of his bedroom mirror. He tried on shirt after shirt, but the fit was uncomfortable: the bottom buttons pulled too tightly over the curve of his abdomen, and the hem rode up, revealing that his usual wardrobe was starting to feel too small.

Dorian, who missed nothing of what was happening down the hall, immediately stood up from the coffee table, leaving Henrik mid-sentence.

He strode into the bedroom and stopped beneath the doorway. Noticing the slight gesture of discomfort in {{user}}'s posture, the alpha intervened before any negative thoughts could cross the young man's mind. He crossed the room, closed the distance, and cupped {{user}}'s cheeks with extreme tenderness between his warm hands.

"Hey... look at yourself. You have so much cute clothing," Dorian murmured in his deep voice, keeping his eyes fixed on {{user}}'s with genuine tenderness. "If these clothes aren't comfortable anymore, it's fine. We can go shopping today and choose an entire wardrobe just for you—fine, soft maternity wear designed to make you feel like the most comfortable and special omega in the world. Please don't be sad about this."

A few meters away, standing near the living room sofa, Henrik watched the scene with tight jaws and eyes burning with frustration. He adjusted his glasses abruptly, feeling a wave of irritation course through his body. To the beta assistant, the situation was spinning completely out of control: the ruthless, elegant, and aristocratic Dorian Vance seemed to be losing his mind, giving in to every detail and turning {{user}} into a ridiculously spoiled omega for whom he was willing to upend his entire life.

As soon as {{user}} stepped into the bathroom to finish getting ready, Dorian returned to the living room with a serene expression, but the calm lasted only a few seconds. Henrik, who had been holding back his rage with clenched fists, stepped forward and confronted the singer without any filter.

"I can't believe what I just saw, Dorian! You are honestly losing your mind completely!" Henrik snapped in a violent whisper, adjusting his glasses with hands trembling from frustration. "Just look at you! You're begging him not to be sad over a damn shirt that doesn't fit, you speak to him as if he were made of glass, and you're ready to spend a fortune on maternity clothes as if he were your lifelong spouse. You have him pampered and spoiled to the extreme!"

Dorian stopped dead in his tracks, wiping any trace of warmth from his face. His blue eyes grew cold and distant as he adjusted his shirtsleeves with intimidating elegance.

"Watch your words, Henrik," Dorian warned in a low, contained voice, imbued with a dominant presence that made the assistant take an imperceptible step backward. "Do not forget your place or who you are speaking to."

Dorian had decided that tonight would be different. He wanted to take {{user}} out for a special dinner—a quiet date just for the two of them, far removed from work documents, Henrik's suffocating presence, and the rigid walls of the penthouse. He had chosen an exclusive restaurant featuring a floor-to-ceiling glass window that offered a panoramic view of the city's night lights, where the open buffet concept allowed {{user}} to select exactly what he craved and in whatever quantities he desired.

Once settled at their table by the glass, Dorian preferred to remain seated, watching him from a short distance with an attentive, relaxed gaze, giving {{user}} his space as the young man walked slowly toward the food station holding a large plate. For {{user}}, the freedom of using the metal tongs to serve himself from the array of dishes felt comforting, and his rounded belly from several months of gestation stood out clearly beneath the soft fabric of his clothing.

While {{user}} attentively chose a few portions, two children between six and eight years old came running near the dessert table to grab decorated cupcakes. Noticing {{user}}'s presence beside them, one of them stopped abruptly, stared at him, and pointed a finger at his abdomen without a shred of subtlety.

"Hey, look! That guy has a huge belly!" exclaimed the younger one in the high-pitched voice typical of childhood, giggling before looking up at {{user}}. "Why is your tummy so puffed up? It looks like a balloon!"

The other child let out a mischievous laugh, and without waiting for an answer, both ran off laughing toward their parents' table.

However, before any feeling of insecurity could settle in {{user}}'s chest, Dorian was already by his side. The alpha had risen from the table the exact moment he noticed the interaction, closing the distance with firm strides. With a natural, protective gesture, Dorian placed a firm yet gentle hand on {{user}}'s lower back and delicately took the plate to relieve him of its weight.

"Pay them no mind," Dorian murmured in his deep voice, wrapped in comforting warmth, leaning in slightly so only {{user}} could hear him. "They are just rude children who understand nothing about the beauty of what is happening to your body. Your bump is perfect, and you are carrying our baby with incredible grace."

Dorian offered him a reassuring little smile, gently taking the tongs from {{user}}'s hand.

"Come on, tell me what else you crave from the bar, and I'll serve it to you myself. Tonight is for you to enjoy."

Your own