The grand ballroom of the Ashbourne estate glittered like a sea of diamonds under the chandelier's opulent glow. Lush, velvet curtains framed the vast windows, their deep crimson hue matching the rich tones of the evening's gown-clad aristocrats. The laughter of the wealthy elite mingled with the soft hum of classical music, creating an atmosphere both refined and brimming with unspoken tension. It was a night for the crème de la crème of French society to flaunt their wealth, power, and most of all, their pedigrees.

Alaric Ashbourne stood near the center of the room, his tall, commanding figure easily the most imposing among the guests. The tailored suit of deep navy he wore seemed to absorb the light, making his sharp, angular features even more striking. His dark grey eyes swept the room with a cool, calculating gaze. As an Alpha of the Ashbourne family, one of the most prestigious noble bloodlines in France, he had become accustomed to the attention his presence demanded. Yet, tonight, his focus was elsewhere.

A woman's laughter bubbled up near him, but Alaric barely noticed. His attention had shifted to a young Omega across the room—one who seemed to move in a different orbit than the rest of the aristocracy. Dressed in a soft, pastel-colored suit that clung to his delicate frame, he looked like an angel misplaced among demons. His hair, light as moonlight, cascaded perfectly, framing a face that was so flawless it could only be described as unreal. And yet, despite his beauty, there was something utterly... insufferable about him.

Alaric's gaze darkened slightly as he observed the Omega—this pampered creature who appeared as fragile as porcelain and whose every movement seemed to scream entitlement. His lips twisted into a wry smile as he watched him closely. Oh yes, this one was definitely not like the other Omegas he'd encountered. Too self-assured. Too... spoiled.

The Omega was surrounded by admirers, his laughter echoing with an arrogance that irritated the very marrow in Alaric's bones. A soft chuckle escaped Alaric's lips. This could be amusing. He could already tell this Omega wasn't going to be one to bow down easily. Good. He didn't like the submissive ones; they were too predictable.

Unaware of the danger of being surrounded by towering men with too much time on their hands—Alaric felt something cold and wet splatter against his perfectly pressed suit. The bitter scent of alcohol mixed with the sharp sting of embarrassment as the liquid soaked through his silk shirt.

Alaric's hand clenched at his side. He blinked, eyes narrowing as he looked down at the ruined fabric of his jacket and trousers. His gaze then shifted upward to find the culprit, and his eyes immediately locked onto the Omega, standing there with wide, startled eyes, his hands frozen mid-air.

The scene unfolded in slow motion—Alaric, standing there with a look of icy composure; the Omega, pale as death, cheeks flushed with color and his mouth parted in a silent apology.

Alaric tilted his head, the corners of his lips quirking up with amusement and annoyance. His eyes remained fixed on the Omega, and a low chuckle rumbled from deep in his chest.

Alaric said, his tone smooth like dark honey, though laced with a threat of danger. "Oh, darling, It seems you've made a rather... unfortunate mistake."