* * *
Hayward’s brows furrowed sharply at the accusation.
His expression darkened as he fixed Ashton with a chilling glare.
“Do you even hear yourself?”
“You can’t deny it. There are two dominant alphas in this room besides you. Surely, you don’t think you can deceive us.”
The guards, who had been standing silently, exchanged uneasy glances, clearing their throats awkwardly.
No matter how powerful a prince might be, laying hands on the heir of a noble family was beyond excusable.
This wasn’t some brothel worker but a scion of a prestigious count’s house—an act that couldn’t be overlooked.
“I will not let this matter slide. Your Highness must take responsibility for today’s actions.”
“Who says so?”
“You already know, don’t you, Your Highness? You know how grave this misstep is and what consequences it holds.”
Ashton’s composed yet insolent tone made Hayward grit his teeth in rage.
Leaning in, his expression menacing, Hayward whispered coldly, his malice undisguised.
“Are you threatening me?”
“Release Remy.”
“Damn it, Ashton.”
“If you do, I won’t make this incident public.”
Ashton spoke with calculated calm, knowing it was the only way to protect Remy’s privacy while extracting him from the situation.
It was the best course of action for now.
“What will it be, Your Highness?”
As furious as Ashton was, he kept his focus sharp.
Getting Remy out of this room took precedence. Settling matters with Hayward could wait.
“Ha.”
Hayward finally seemed to regain his composure, though his frustration was palpable.
Wiping the blood from his split lip—courtesy of his scuffle with Rex—he gestured sharply to the guards.
“Yes, Your Highness,” they acknowledged, stepping aside.
They were following Hayward’s silent order to let them leave.
“Thank you… Your Highness.”
Adjusting Remy’s disheveled clothes, Ashton carried him out of the room.
While Ashton succeeded in escorting Remy to safety, Rex wasn’t so fortunate.
Having struck the prince, he could hardly avoid the consequences and went quietly as the guards took him into custody.
“I won’t forget this,” Rex said as he was dragged out.
His parting words were a warning directed squarely at Hayward.
Though Hayward ground his teeth in suppressed anger, he tore his gaze away.
Any further escalation would only worsen the situation, and even he could sense he had already gone too far.
“Let’s go, Count,” the guards urged.
Once Rex was gone, the room fell eerily silent, leaving Hayward alone.
He slammed his fist into the wall, his frustration boiling over.
“Damn it! Ashton, you bastard!”
His rage was uncontrollable. He had come so close to claiming Remy.
That delicate omega had willingly walked into the lion’s den, and yet the opportunity had slipped through his fingers.
He could have knotted him right then and there.
The thought of his lost chance drove him to madness.
‘Wait. And Rex? What was with him?’
The memory of Rex’s sudden outburst replayed in his mind.
Rex, who had always acted indifferent—if not disdainful—toward Remy, had lashed out at him for attempting to take the omega.
Rex, who had once seemed disgusted by Remy, had thrown punches in a blind fury.
‘First Ashton, and now Rex? Are they all after him?’
It wasn’t entirely surprising.
Even Hayward himself had fallen so deeply.
If even Rex had succumbed, it made a certain twisted sense.
No alpha could resist someone like Remy—so exquisite, so unattainable.
“Damn it. This is driving me insane.”
The situation had spiraled out of control.
Handling Ashton was already complicated, but now with Rex involved, Hayward felt as if his head might split.
‘This won’t do. Leaving Remy like this is too dangerous.’
Hayward’s earlier plan to force himself on Remy seemed pathetically shortsighted.
Now, his desire to have Remy burned beyond lust—it had become a war.
A war for the heart of a rare, unparalleled omega.
“Right. There is that.”
In this battlefield of alphas, Hayward held one advantage: the throne.
No matter how powerful the Four Great Houses were, the Federica dynasty still reigned supreme.
“Remy. If I can’t have you… then I’ll make you mine another way.”
Determination hardened in Hayward’s gaze. He resolved to make Remy his queen, no matter the cost.
“Ugh…”
For days, Remy lay in bed, feverish and restless.
He had inhaled far too much of the pheromones released by Hayward, Ashton, and Rex in the confined space, leaving him debilitated.
As the days stretched on and his pained cries echoed through the estate, Chandler’s concern deepened.
According to Ashton, at least Remy had been spared the prince’s defilement.
But while things hadn’t gone to their worst, they had been bad enough.
Chandler couldn’t help but pity Remy, wondering if being born so beautiful was a curse.
What had his young master done to deserve this?
“Young master!”
More than a week had passed when Chandler entered Remy’s room to check on him, only to find him sitting upright on the bed.
“Are you feeling better?” Chandler rushed to his side.
Remy slowly turned to look at him, his dark circles stark against his pale face, his hollow gaze unfocused.
In a faint, lifeless voice, he murmured,
“Where… am I?”
Chandler’s eyes filled with quiet anguish.
“Young Master, what exactly do you mean by that?”
Chandler watched Remy nervously, fearing the worst.
After awakening, Remy always seemed to lose all his memories.
Chandler worried this might be another one of those times.
But then—
“Oh. This is my room. Yeah, it’s my room. Right…”
Hearing those words brought a small measure of relief.
Though Remy still looked pale and weak, at least it didn’t seem like another bout of amnesia.
“Do you feel any better now, Young Master?”
It was still too early to be entirely reassured.
From where Chandler stood, Remy—just risen from his bed—looked as fragile as a person on death’s door.
“Yeah. I’m fine. Sorry for worrying you, Chandler.”
“Not at all, sir. I’ll have your meal prepared here in your room.”
“Would you?”
Seated on the bed, Remy turned his gaze toward the window.
He looked so lonely that even Chandler, who rarely showed emotions, couldn’t help but let out a quiet sigh.
After finishing his meal in the room, Remy followed Chandler’s suggestion and stepped outside into the garden.
The chill in the air hinted at the changing seasons, but Remy barely noticed as he stood in front of the achillea flowers.
The clusters of tiny blossoms, packed together to form a larger bloom, somehow made the garden feel emptier.
Despite their beauty, they couldn’t ease the cold weight in his chest.
“How long are you going to sit there?”
Remy didn’t know how much time had passed, lost in his trance.
Only the sudden voice behind him jolted him out of it.
“The wind’s getting colder. If you stay like this, you’ll catch a cold.”
A heavy coat fell gently over his shoulders.
The fabric carried Ashton’s scent, faint but distinct, wrapping around him like a cocoon.
“You’re freezing. How long have you been out here?”
Ashton’s large hand brushed against Remy’s cold cheek.
The sight of Remy, sitting lifelessly and staring at the flowers, made his heart ache.
“Should we go back inside? Or maybe walk around for a bit?”
Remy, who had been silent all this time, finally turned his head to look at Ashton.
His gaze held no spark of life, but Ashton smiled at him anyway—a smile as warm as the autumn sun.
“Let’s take a walk. The sunlight’s nice today.”
Ashton held Remy’s hand and gently pulled him up.
Though his steps were heavy, Remy allowed himself to be led, trudging along the garden path.
The two walked shoulder-to-shoulder, sunlight spilling warmly over them despite the biting wind.
Remy still wore a blank expression, but gradually, a faint blush returned to his cheeks as they walked.
Ashton never took his eyes off Remy, even as they strolled.
His mind raced, wondering how to heal the wounds etched so deeply in Remy’s heart.
“By the way, Remy. There’s something I want to ask you.”
Remy didn’t answer, his focus seemingly fixed on the well-tended grass beneath his feet.
“What kind of place did you live in before?”
At those words, Remy stopped in his tracks.
* * *
