Page 1 of The Omega Switch: Part 1
Chapter 1
Ivy
The first thing I smelled this morning was the scent of burning toast. The second was Arabella’s perfume replica drifting down the hallway, making my stomach tighten.
I closed my eyes as the manufactured scent drifted into the kitchen - cotton candy and syrup, engineered to mimic the notes in her actual omega pheromones. We weren’t allowed to use our scents around others, so the only time she was able to show off was inside the house.
The fragrance line was a hit back when I’d discovered a way to mimic an omega’s perfume without the pheromones. It was also currently making my family millions while my stepsister smiled through interviews, talking about her “creative vision.” Funny how everyone believed she was the one behind it all.
Between all the work I was doing in the kitchen, I realized I had messed up. I’d spend too much time working on the omelets and didn’t notice I had left the toaster on a high setting. The burnt toast smell was quickly filling the room.
“Damn it!”
I yanked the pan off the burner before I messed the eggs up too. I reached for the toaster, trying desperately to throw the burnt bread in the sink and run water over it before the smell wafted throughout the house. I opened the kitchen windows, letting in some fresh air. Upstairs, footsteps thundered across the marble floors. I quickly glanced around, grabbing new bread to toast.
Breakfast was going to be late, again. I glanced at the clock. It was barely after seven, but there was a business meeting starting at eight. Which meant Arabella would come downstairs in a few minutes and ask why nothing was ready yet. I pushed down the anxiety in my stomach and felt a cramp as beads of sweat prickled across my back.
My suppressants were wearing off again. I could feel it in the constant ache behind my eyes and the warm heat deep in my stomach. I’d been on the prescription for too long without a scheduled heat, and this was the usual sign that I was messing with my bodily functions too much. But I didn’t dare have a heat now - not when so much was riding on the newest collaboration. I’d never hear the end of it. I pressed my hands hard against the edge of the counter until the nausea passed.
“Hungry?” Mara asked quietly beside me. I jumped slightly at her voice.
“I’m okay.” I said, the temporary dizziness gone now. Mara shot me a look. She had worked in this house since before my father and his pack remarried. She knew exactly how often “I’m okay” actually meant I hadn’t eaten yet. She slid a pastry onto a napkin near my elbow before going back to her cleaning duties. I felt a wave of guilt. She wanted to help - but I also knew that if she were caught helping me in any way, my family would take it out on her. And she needed this job.
“Thank you,” I whispered. I reached for it, but heard the kitchen doors swing open before I could take a bite.
“There you are. Ugh! What is that awful smell?” Arabella’s voice floated across the room, her tone sharp enough that I knew she was going to say something worse soon. I straightened automatically.
My stepsister looked flawless already, wearing a sweater dress that hugged her curves, her pale gold hair curled perfectly over her shoulder, and her makeup was already done. Even at seven in the morning, she looked like a model. I, on the other hand, looked like I only had three hours of sleep - because I had.
Her gaze swept over the kitchen, then finally landed on me. “You burned breakfast, didn’t you?” Her voice immediately became shrill, and I quickly went into a subservient mode, trying to stop her from escalating.
“Just the toast! I have more ready to go in a moment. Everything else is done!” I said, pushing down the growing panic. Her face soured, and she flipped her hair.
“It better be ready! I don’t have time to waste! I swear, if you mess this up, you’ll regret it!” She pointed her finger at me, then turned on her heel. “Get it on the table already!” She shouted, then stomped to the dining room, her heels clicking on the tile. I let out a sigh of relief, happy that she hadn’t gone nuclear yet. Mara quickly helped me to plate the food and rush it out to the table, just in time for my father, his pack mates, and my stepmother to come down the stairs, already talking about the upcoming release.
My father, Phillip, didn’t even glance at me as I set down the food, his attention solely on my stepmother. He and his pack had barely grieved my mother before immediately bonding with a new omega - who happened to have been rejected by her former pack. I honestly couldn't blame them. My stepmother, Clara, was beautiful - but her personality was horrible. And she came here with my stepsister, Arabella. Since they arrived to live in our house all those years ago, I’d been brushed aside, relegated to kitchen duty and behind-the-scenes work at the family business.
It didn’t even sting that much anymore that he and the other two pack members, who I had once considered fathers, no longer noticed me. George and Aaron, who had once cared for me, didn’t notice me. It did sting when Arabella walked in, and the adoring gazes of everyone in the room noticed her.
“Arabella! You look wonderful today. Are you ready for the launch?” My father asked, his attention completely on hisreplacement family. I felt another knot in my stomach as I finally sat down at the end of the table.
Arabella sighed dramatically. “I’m ready, as long as we aren’t running late. Ivy took her time this morning with breakfast.” She shot a look in my direction. The others didn't even bother to look at me, save for my stepmother. She gave me a look up and down, before her face soured.
“You’re going to wear that?” She asked. I glanced down automatically at my plain black dress. Heat crawled up my neck.
“I thought it was alright,” I said meekly. I didn’t have as many clothes as Arabella. They all knew that. A soft sigh escaped from Clara.
“Well, you should probably avoid being downstairs when the photographers arrive. This is a huge deal for the company, and we need everything to be perfect.” She tilted her head sympathetically. “People already mistake you for staff.”
The room went silent at her insult, but my father and his packmates didn’t interfere. They just kept eating, oblivious. I swallowed.
“That’s fine,” I said. Because it was fine. It didn’t hurt anymore. It was easier to blend in and stay in the background - that’s how it was for the last seven years. Arabella and I were both omegas, and having two unbonded omegas in the same household was already a recipe for disaster. One of us had to be the star, and itwould always be her. Arabella smiled brighter, reassured by my compliance.
“That’s a good girl,” Arabella said with a sweet smile. My appetite, usually famished at this time, suddenly dried up. I stood, taking my plate.
“I should probably head upstairs. I have a lot of work to catch up on.” I mumbled and quickly walked out. They didn’t wait for me to even leave the room before picking up their conversation again, excitedly talking about the new collaboration the company was doing with Vale Labs. The whole business meeting this morning was a press conference on an upcoming collaboration, with Arabella promoting their new product.
Vale Labs was a revolutionary company that was going to change how packs found an omega, making it much easier to see who was compatible before courtship. At least, that’s what I heard. All I knew was that the founder and his pack were rich, influential, unbonded, and likely just as insufferable as Arabella. There was no question as to why she was so eager to work with them.
