Page 2 of The Omega Switch: Part 1
I slipped into my room, a small spot on the second floor, far away from Arabella’s room. Her room used to be mine - close to my mother and my father’s pack. It was my mother who started the cosmetics company, though you wouldn’t know it now, the way my stepmother and Arabella basically took it over once they came into the picture. But I’d grown up watching my mom play with makeup and scents, starting off with her own little lab in an extra room, and growing it into the multi-million dollar company it became. She used to have me watch her, andwe’d play together, mixing colors and scents. I loved it. Now, the lab was my sanctuary, my way of escaping to where I wasn’t bothering anyone. My family liked it that way, too. I spent my time creating more product lines, churning out new ideas all the time.
But Arabella was the face of the company. It happened so quickly and naturally that it seemed destined to happen. She was the more beautiful of the two of us - she was stunningly gorgeous. Her figure was better than mine; her fashion was top-notch, and she had that star quality that I lacked. My father and his pack knew they had a gold mine on their hands when she started marketing the products. She was an influencer for God’s sake - of course my family would want someone with millions of followers to be the face of Nestwell Aesthetics. But that didn’t mean they needed to pretend I didn’t exist anymore.
I heard the doorbell ring and knew that the journalists were here to talk to my stepsister about the upcoming collaboration. I drifted outside my room, closer to the staircase to eavesdrop.
“And the new line of heat calming lotion - walk us through the process of how you were able to come up with such an idea?” The journalist asked, and Arabella answered with a perfect PR response.
“Well, I’ve always believed omegas deserve products that make them feel comforted instead of ashamed.” I tightened my grip on the banister as I heard the words.
“So many heat-management products on the market feel clinical, as if there’s something wrong with us for needing support during vulnerable hormonal periods.” Her voice drifted up the stairwell beautifully. “I wanted to create something luxurious. Something that felt like being cared for.” The journalist responded to her words with praise.
My stomach twisted. Those weremywords. I’d created the lotion, an upscale product for omegas’ sensitive skin after an intense heat. There was a whole separate line for intimate parts as well, and it had become a bestseller. But as always, I wasn’t allowed to take credit. Arabella was the face of the company, not some bland, nerdy basket case like me. The journalist spoke again.
“Oh, and the Vale pack’s assistant confirmed your attendance at the upcoming gala. Is that correct?” The entire city had been losing its mind over the Vale announcement for weeks. One of the most powerful unbonded alpha packs in the country was publicly searching for an omega ambassador for their bond matchmaking campaign - and of course, Arabella had been conveniently pitching herself as the best option. Our company had reached out to them to pitch her as the ambassador, and with Arabella’s fame and looks, it was almost a given that they would choose her. Still, it was a huge win for the company.
My stepmother’s voice echoed up the marble stairs. “Of course! The whole family will be in attendance.” She said proudly. Then, something unexpected happened.
“And your other daughter? Will we get a glimpse of the reclusive Ivy, daughter of the original founder?” Shit. They were talkingabout me! As much as my family tried to pretend I didn’t exist, I was part of the family, and people did know about me - although I’d disappeared from the public eye the past few years. The pause lasted almost a moment too long before my father stepped in.
“Of course she’ll be there. We all will.” He said. So that was it, then. I was going to a gala held by the famous Pack Vale, and I was sure Arabella would make it miserable for me the whole time. I quickly moved back into my room, certain that Arabella’s mood would be tainted by the knowledge that I’d be attending the big announcement gala that she’d been so looking forward to.
Sure enough, an hour later, I was called down to the living room. The whole pack, George, Aaron, and Philip, my biological father, stood there. But also Clara, my stepmother, and of course Arabella, who looked uncomfortable if not downright irritated. There was no trace of Arabella’s smile, a constant on her social media accounts. My father stepped forward, clearing his throat.
“There’s been a change of plans. You’re to attend the Pack Vale’s gala.” He said in a cordial tone. I nodded, acting like I hadn’t heard it earlier. Arabella’s eyes narrowed as she searched my face, looking for hope, excitement, or any sign of happiness. Finding none, she relaxed.
“You’ll stay out of the way tonight, right?” She asked lightly. “Father says Hunter Vale hates unkempt omegas.” Hunter Vale was the CEO of Vale Labs, the highly successful start-up that introduced genetic matchmaking. I had no interest in getting in his way. I knew from the media that he was terrifyinglyattractive, but every business magazine in the country called him ruthless. I personally didn’t care for him and had no problem avoiding the whole pack if I was forced to be there.
“I always stay out of the way,” I said, and satisfaction spread across Arabella’s face. Clara relaxed as well, then shooed me away.
“Well, we have a lot to do before then. Remember that just because you’re going to the ball, it doesn’t mean you get to neglect your duties.” She chastised me, as if I hadn't been taking care of most things in this house without fail for years.
“Yes, Clara,” I said before turning away, happy to be free from them for a moment. A gala. I was going to a gala. And I was sure that it was going to be the cherry on top of a shit week.
Chapter 2
Ivy
The dress didn’t fit properly. I stared at myself in the mirror while Mara pinned the back for the third time, the silver fabric hanging awkwardly around my waist. The gown had originally belonged to Arabella and was over four years old. She’d given it to me this morning with a look of disdain.
“You can probably make it work.” She said before tossing it at me.
I smoothed trembling fingers over the material. It was still beautiful, and better than anything in my closet. But it wasn’t meant for me. My family had to dress me up now. They couldn't have me showing up in simple clothes that might embarrass them on a public stage with all eyes on them. I let Mara try one more time to make the dress work before just accepting that itwould look a little off on me. That was alright - all eyes would be on Arabella anyway. I grabbed a can of descenter, spraying a third layer all over my skin. One thing that my family found unforgivable was if I let out any scent anywhere around Arabella. It caused her to go into a complete omega fit, and one thing no one wanted was dealing with a furious Arabella. In public though, both of us were forbidden to allow any perfuming. Our fathers found it tacky.
My scent glands were defective, anyway. My scent manifested unusually - it only really bloomed strongly during emotional intimacy, when I really liked and trusted someone. It never normally came out during introductions, and when it did, it was weak and defective. Between the extra suppressants I took and my defective glands, I wasn’t too worried anyone could smell anything regarding me. That was partly why I was so interested in scents and fragrances as products - they could do for me what I couldn’t do for myself.
Downstairs, I could hear the excited voices of my family as they made final preparations for the gala. I was waiting until the last possible moment to go down, knowing that this would be an awkward parade of supposed family unity when, in reality, it was just another celebration of Arabella.
Mara fixed my hair, pushing a few strands in place before stepping back. “There,” she said. “You look beautiful.” I knew Marta thought so, but the objective reality was that I wasn’t. I paled in comparison to most omegas, but especially next to my stepsister. Still, Mara’s kindness made something inside me ache. She had been loyal to my mother, who hired her long ago. That loyalty passed to me, and though Mara didn’t say it outloud, I could see in her eyes that she didn’t care for the newest members of our family.
“Thank you,” I whispered, and stepped back to look in the mirror. The dress was ill-fitting, and my dark hair was plain and in its normal style. I had enough makeup to try, but not enough to actually look like I would stand out. Good enough, I suppose.
“Ivy!” A voice called down from below. “Come down! Don’t make us late!” I sighed and picked up my purse. I just had to get through this.
I followed the sound of voices down toward the main foyer, fingers tightening around the skirt of my dress with every step. Downstairs, our house had been opened for guests of Arabella - mostly socialites and influencers. They gathered around as they took photos, and several photographers were there to take pre-event photos before we were transported to the gala itself.
And in the center of everything stood Arabella. She wore gold silk tonight, the color wrapped around her body perfectly like she was royalty. A diamond necklace glittered at her throat, emphasizing her unbonded status. Her pale hair cascaded down behind her in perfect waves while cameras flashed around her. I could understand why no one ever looked beyond her. She was stunning.
“Can you believe it? A collaboration with Pack Vale!” Arabella sighed, and the other girls fawned around her. “I mean, they aren’t just super rich, they are also so damn dreamy!” She said, lifting her hand to her forehead.
