By the time the assistant fled muttering something about an updated floor plan and looking like he might dissolve into stress-dust I was already knee-deep in quarterly projections and contractual doom.
Apparently, being a CEO wasn't just power suits and ominous stares across boardroom tables. It also meant wading through an alphabet soup of NDAs, acquisition reports, and enough performance review jargon to bore a supercomputer to tears. The words on the tablet began to blur into one long legal chant sacrificial rites to the gods of liability.
I rubbed my temple and exhaled.
"This is your fault," I muttered to the empty room.
[You're welcome.]
"Oh, you're still here."
[Always.]
I set the tablet down. "So. Are there missions or something? Like… evil CEO redemption tasks? Relationship flags to unlock? Mini-games?"
[No.]
I blinked. "No?"
[There are no forced objectives. My role is to assist you in living a sustainable, successful life in this world. That's all.]
I leaned back slowly in my chair, suspicious. "Wait… you're telling me you're not here to torment me with death timers or bad-end countdowns?"
[Correct.]
"...You're just here to help?"
[Correct again.]
"Just like that?"
[Just like that.]
"That feels fake."
[And yet, it is not.]
I narrowed my eyes at the floating translucent interface. "So, you're my… I don't know, administrative life coach with an attitude?"
[Let's call it 'Support with mildly superior processing.']
"Wow. Humility's dead."
[Buried under centuries of inefficiency.]
Despite myself, I chuckled. A little.
Then sobered.
"Why me?" I asked quietly. "Why did I end up here? Why Alessia? Why this story?"
[Unknown. I do not possess that information.]
"Convenient."
[You're not the first person to say that.]
My fingers drummed against the desk. There were no scars on these hands. Just long, graceful fingers and neatly kept nails painted a severe steel grey. Not mine but they moved like they were.
"So this world is like mine?"
[Essentially identical. Same tech, same geography, same cultural patterns. The only major divergence is the existence of secondary genders and their biological implications.]
I hummed. "So ABO is the only change."
[Correct. Alphas, Betas, and Omegas. And corresponding behavioral, hormonal, and sociopolitical dynamics.]
I nodded faintly. "Good to know."
I didn't get the chance to say anything else.
Because the office door opened.
No knock. No announcement. Just the quiet click of expensive heels and the scent of wildflowers dipped in smoke and sugar.
She walked in like she owned the floor.
The omega from last night.
She wasn't blushing this time. No coy smiles. No faux submissive tilt to her head. Her expression was hard. Eyes sharp. She looked like someone who had worked herself up into a very specific kind of righteous fury. Behind her, my assistant looked like he was about to vomit.
"Miss Ryvenhart!" he yelped. "I told her you weren't seeing anyone but she insisted and she said you'd want to "
"Out," I said coldly. "Both of you. Now."
"But Miss !"
"I said out."
The assistant froze, then turned pale, then bowed so fast his glasses almost flew off before scuttling out like a kicked crab.
The omega, however, stayed exactly where she was.
"I'm not leaving," she said, voice flat and defiant. "Not until we finish what we started."
My head tilted slowly. "What you started, you mean?"
Her jaw clenched. "Don't pretend like you didn't ask for this. You called me. Set it up. I'm not some desperate intern you can brush off."
"You're standing in my office, uninvited, during work hours."
"Funny. That didn't bother you yesterday when—"
"Yesterday," I cut in, voice sharp as glass, "I was sick. Involuntarily. Something I didn't arrange, request, or desire. And unless this is about a legal contract or a professional collaboration, get out."
She blinked.
Just for a moment. The rage faltered. But it didn't vanish.
"You think you can play the good alpha now?" she spat. "Pretend like you're not the one who uses omegas like toys?"
I stared at her evenly. "I'm not playing anything. But if you don't walk out of this office in the next five seconds, I'll have you escorted out."
She hesitated.
Then crossed her arms. "You're bluffing."
[Shall I call security?]
"Do it," I said aloud.
[Security en route. Estimated arrival: 47 seconds.]
The omega's eyes widened.
"I don't care who you thought you were dealing with," I said, standing slowly. "But this version of Alessia Ryvenhart doesn't sleep with employees. I don't toy with subordinates. And I definitely don't tolerate threats."
Her mouth parted like she wanted to say something clever.
Then shut.
Smart girl.
Seconds later, the door opened again. Two members of the internal security team stepped in Beta males, polite but unmistakably firm.
"Escort her off the premises," I said. "And put a note on her file. If she tries this again, she's banned."
The omega stared at me one last time expression caught between confused, furious, and maybe just a little stunned before turning on her heel and leaving with stiff dignity.
The door closed behind her with a satisfying click.
A beat passed.
Then another.
The assistant peeked back in, hunched and trembling like a sitcom intern waiting for a flying stapler.
"I—I'm so sorry," he whispered.
I didn't look up. "New company policy," I said flatly. "No unapproved visits. No non-work-related meetings. No unauthorized personnel in my office."
"Yes, Miss Ryvenhart."
"And if anyone brings another 'surprise companion' into this building, they're fired. I don't care if it's your birthday or a heat emergency or divine omega intervention. Is that clear?"
"C-cry…crystal."
"Good. Bring me the performance files for Sera Lin."
That made him pause.
"Miss Lin? The omega from the "
"Yes. I want her portfolio. Unedited. Today."
"Yes, ma'am."
He scurried out again.
I sank back into the chair, breathing out through my nose.
[Well handled.]
"Was it?"
[Yes. You protected your boundaries and enforced professional standards. And you didn't scream or throw anything.]
"Tempting though it was."
[Progress.]
I drummed my fingers on the armrest. The adrenaline was fading, replaced by an odd calm. Not quite satisfaction, but something like resolve.
Alessia's reputation would take time to shift. Her legacy was a mess, and I was the poor soul inheriting the emotional debris.