Chapter Text
"You're pregnant," the doctor announced.
"Huh?"
"About two months along. The fetus is stable. For now, you don't need heavy supplements; just maintain a balanced diet," the doctor added. "However, there are certain foods you must avoid, they’re listed in your medical book and also-"
"Wait, wait, wait! Hold on!" Illuga interrupted. "I’m a Beta. How is it even possible for me to be pregnant?"
The room fell silent - a deafening, heavy silence.
Illuga had come in for a check-up because he’d been feeling fatigued and had frequent headaches. He had expected the usual advice: eat better, get more sleep... or at worst, some illness. He certainly hadn't expected this. For a Beta like Illuga, this was the most improbable news imaginable.
Late onset differentiation? No, I’m twenty-six. Although, I guess those cases exist? Or maybe the ultrasound results were swapped? Right, that must be it. At my age, it’s supposed to be gastric ulcers, not... a baby? Is the hospital running some kind of prank show? A thousand frantic theories raced through Illuga’s mind the moment the doctor spoke.
"This is a case of 'Recessive Omega Type 3' - a rare physiological defect," the doctor explained calmly. "Your pheromones are faint, almost undetectable. You likely won't sense others' pheromones, and you’ll rarely, if ever, experience a heat cycle. While fertile, the chances of conception are extremely low, regardless of whether the partner is a Dominant Alpha or not."
Illuga was speechless. Truly. To find out on a perfectly normal day that he could conceive, but only with an infinitesimally low probability, and then to realize he had somehow hit that exact jackpot?
Perhaps he should have bought a lottery ticket instead...
"Essentially, your physiology leans closer to a Beta's, so you can continue your life as usual," the doctor continued, snapping Illuga back to reality. "Alright then. Remember to come back for a follow-up next month. Read your medical book carefully. Goodbye."
...
The faint, sharp scent of rubbing alcohol hung in the air, the signature smell of a hospital.
Clatter, clatter - the noisy rumble of gurneys echoed through the corridors. Everyone around him was either consumed by worry over their health or rushing to their next task.
"Ding! Patient number 163, please proceed to-"
Amidst the hospital's chaotic hum, Illuga sat on a cold stainless steel bench, lost in thought. The blurry black-and-white ultrasound image showed a tiny life. In truth, he couldn't see anything but a grainy smudge, but he took the doctor's word for it.
Illuga couldn’t help but feel a wave of emotion wash over him.
"A tiny life is growing inside me."
He instinctively reached down, touching his still-flat stomach. Right now, there was absolutely no physical sensation to speak of; without that piece of paper in his hand, the whole thing would have felt like a hallucination.
"Huh? Illuga?"
A familiar female voice rang out. A young lady with pink hair approached him, her face lighting up with excitement at spotting a familiar face.
"Linnea? What are you doing here?" Illuga asked, his surprise quickly shifting to concern. After all, they were at a hospital...
The young lady slumped onto the bench beside him with a heavy sigh.
"Ugh, taking witness statements. Emilie spotted a blind spot in the case, so she dispatched me here," Linnea explained. "You weren't assigned to that one, so you probably don't know the details. Long story short, a patient's relative was using a drug suspected to be the murder weapon, and then that relative passed away... anyway, I’m exhausted. Give me a hug!"
Linnea leaned in, pulling Illuga into a weary embrace. She's a core member of the Crime Scene Investigation (CSI) unit, has a high level of expertise, and not just Illuga's colleague, but one of his closest friends.
"Anyway, what brings you here? Feeling under the weather?" Linnea asked.
The atmosphere suddenly grew heavy. She had walked right into the one question he wasn't ready to answer. Without a word, Illuga handed her the stack of papers in his hand.
...
"Damn... Recessive Omega Type 3? So the textbook theories are actually real?" Linnea couldn't hide her shock, though she quickly clamped a hand over her mouth. "Well, I guess that just means you're a male Beta who can conceive. Haha! Hey, you should find a husband, Illuga. Let me be the godmother!"
Linnea joked lightheartedly as she flipped to the next page of the medical report. And as it turned out, her "wish" had already come true.
"HOLY-! Oops." Linnea muffled her own shout before she could disturb the entire hallway. "You’re actually pregnant?!?!"
"Yeah..." Illuga replied sheepishly.
Linnea didn’t know whether to be happy or sad. Well, congratulations should probably come first, right? But then she realized, according to the report, her friend belonged to a category that should find it nearly impossible to conceive. How did he end up pregnant already?
Right. First thing's first: who’s the father?
"So... who’s the guy?" Linnea asked.
"..."
Good grief, the silence was loud.
Please don't tell me it's one of those guys from SWAT, Linnea thought. She couldn't stand any of them - a bunch of loud, intimidating meatheads. Word on the street was they had a terrifying Omega over there who even made the Alphas shake in their boots. Honestly, dating within the department was never a good idea.
Why is he so quiet... is the guy that bad? Linnea’s concern grew. Or is it a complicated family background? Well, the agency doesn't usually press too hard on family history... unless he’s a criminal, which would be a headache. But at least the baby would be fine...
"He’s... a bartender at the pub I usually go to," Illuga finally spoke up.
"Ahhh, see? That’s not so hard to say. You had me worried you were seeing a colleague," Linnea let out a sigh of relief.
"The thing is, he quit over a month ago. I haven't been able to get in touch since."
"W-what??? Wait, with that timing... did he just hit it and quit it? A literal run-away?"
"..."
"..."
Okay, Q&A session end here.
So, here it was: a Recessive Omega Type 3, pregnant after a single one-night stand. Illuga, upright and wholesome, had probably gone on his very first "date", only to cross paths with a playboy who jumped the fence and bolted. How did he keep hitting these low-probability streaks?
Linnea couldn't believe her friend was this unlucky. Seriously. The whole day had been one shock after another. First thing in the morning, her boss told her the clues were compromised, forcing her to rush out for statements without even touching breakfast. Then she finds out her best friend is actually an Omega, recessive, sure, but still. Then it turns out he’s pregnant? And to top it off, the father is some jerk who ate and ran? Did he think he didn't have to worry about consequences just because he was playing with a Beta?
Good heavens...
Growl... gurgle...
...
..
.
"Illuga," Linnea said.
"Yeah...?"
"I'm hungry."
The Blue Lantern, a small, secluded pub tucked away in a quiet alley. Illuga had stumbled upon it while investigating a case, it was a frequent haunt of the victim. He had gone there to personally question the man behind the bar: Kyryll Chudomirovich Flins, a man who appeared quite a few years his senior.
Before he knew it, Illuga had been a regular for months, even long after the case was closed.
Flins was tall, with striking features and sharp golden eyes that screamed "Alpha," or so Illuga guessed. He was gentle, friendly, and spoke with a refined elegance that was easy on the ears (at least in Illuga’s professional opinion). To put it simply, everyone from the young to the old adored him. And his mixology? Pure artistry.
The Blue Lantern had no fixed menu. Customers would make a request, and Flins would craft it, no matter how obscure. And, well... Illuga had fallen hard for the handsome owner.
...
About a month ago, on a clear, beautiful night, Illuga stopped by the pub as usual to grab a drink, and also, to see the man he liked. Having just wrapped up a particularly grueling case, he asked Flins for an impromptu concoction.
"Champagne, apple juice, sugar, and Bourbon?" Flins chuckled. "What exactly are you looking for today, my dear regular?"
"Well... I just wanted something fresh, something different from what you usually make," Illuga explained. "Is my request that bad?"
Truth be told, Illuga didn't know much about spirits. He just wanted a unique drink to celebrate his latest closed file.
"It's not bad, provided it’s tweaked a little," Flins said. "Actually, I have a new recipe I’ve been researching. I wonder if you’d like to try it? It might be perfect for a special occasion like tonight."
"Oh, that sounds great! I’ll leave it to you then!"
Under Flins's skillful hands, the glassware seemed to dance. Vodka, a splash of specially crafted fruit juice, lime, mint, and a secret ingredient retrieved from a small black box.
Clink, clink - the sound of ice cubes hitting the glass. Then came the pour, finished off with a single cherry.
"The Northern Dawn. Enjoy, my dear regular," Flins said.
True to its name, 'The Northern Dawn', the cocktail was a vibrant gradient of orange and gold, with the clear Vodka settled quietly at the bottom. Inside that translucent liquid, tiny white flakes drifted down like slow-falling snow; a gentle swirl sent them dancing in every direction. Does the sun really rise over falling snow in the far north? Or perhaps the 'snow' in this glass was nothing more than a poetic gesture.
Illuga took a sip, and he had to admit, the man’s legendary mixology was as flawless as ever. The fruit juices and spirits blended in perfect harmony; the sharp, biting edge of the Vodka was mellowed by the tartness of the lime, yet the liquor’s original character remained intact.
With just one small gulp, Illuga’s head began to swim. His tolerance had never been particularly high, and given the nature of his job, which required constant alertness, he usually stuck to lighter drinks. The cool, refreshing mint helped the young detective cling to what little sobriety he had left to keep the conversation going.
"Whoa... this is incredible," Illuga remarked. "Is there a secret to it, Mr. Flins?"
"You caught me. Aside from my own specially crafted fruit blend, there is indeed one more thing," Flins chuckled, looking quite pleased with himself.
"Hmm, is that so?"
Illuga seemed trapped in an inescapable haze; it was the first time he’d ever felt this way. Beyond the current floating sensation in his mind, there was something else, an urge, an unspoken voice coaxing him to pour his heart out.
"Ah... I think I know what that secret ingredient is." Even in his drunken stupor, Illuga’s professional instincts hadn't completely vanished. After all, it was something his own colleagues used quite often... but how did a bartender get his hands on it?
"Truth serum, isn't it?" Illuga exposed Flins’s little secret. "Hmm... where exactly did you find something like that, my dear Flins?"
"Oh my, you’re as sharp as they say. I thought the alcohol would have clouded your judgment by now, my beloved regular," Flins laughed, completely unfazed by the interrogation from the drunken man before him.
Flins was a mysterious man; he rarely spoke about himself. Their conversations at the bar usually revolved around spirits, recent news, or ancient folklore he had heard. Regardless, for an ordinary person to possess truth serum... that was a massive red flag. Unfortunately, while Illuga was sober enough to identify what was in his glass, he lacked the situational awareness to realize that such a substance wasn't exactly easy to come by.
Having seemingly achieved his goal, Flins let out a satisfied, knowing smile.
"A good friend gave this to me, though..." he mused, "I’m still not quite sure if it’s the real deal."
Step by step, Flins was luring Illuga into a carefully laid trap.
"Why don't we play a game, my dear regular?" he suggested. "Truth or Drink! As the name implies, we ask each other a question. If you can't answer, you take a sip. How does that sound?"
Flins swiftly prepared two fresh glasses with ice, retrieving an unlabeled bottle from the back of the shelf.
"Hey, that’s not fair!" Illuga protested. "I’ve already taken the truth serum. You have to take it too!"
"Ah, I see. In that case..."
Flins leaned in low, gently tilting Illuga’s chin up. He pressed his lips against the other’s, his tongue deftly sweeping away the lingering traces of the cocktail. The young detective sat frozen, unable to react or resist.
The faint scent of alcohol, a sweet aftertaste, and... the subtle, spicy sting of the truth serum. Such a small dose wouldn't do much to Flins, but his companion was likely too far gone to realize that.
"W-w-what... what do you think you’re doing?!" Illuga’s face flushed a deep red as he recoiled, frantically wiping his lips with his sleeve.
"Hm? Didn't you say I should take it too? Isn't it fair now?" Flins chuckled.
"W-well, yes, but you could have at least said something first!"
"Oh? Well then, my dear Illuga, may I kiss you?" Flins continued to tease his guest.
Good grief, the young detective’s face was now as red as a ripe tomato. In all his life, this was the first time anyone had spoken to him like that. Not to mention, that had been his very first kiss.
Illuga had a sinking feeling that if this continued, Flins would do something more dangerous...
...
"Fine, I’ll go first. What... what is your type?" Illuga started the game, cutting straight to the chase.
"Oh, diving right in, are we?" Flins smiled. "Let’s see... sandy hair, an adorable face, younger than me, and... someone with a very low alcohol tolerance."
Oh.
Oh my god.
That was practically an indirect confession.
Was it mutual after all? Or was this just another practiced line Flins used on everyone? A guy like him probably had a line of people he'd teased this way stretching all the way back to the police station. But for some reason, Illuga’s expression slumped. Flins looked genuinely puzzled.
"So you already have someone you like... hic," Illuga asked dejectedly.
Wait. Did the alcohol completely wipe out his common sense? Your crush is literally confessing to you, Illuga! Flins’s reaction shifted from surprise to suppressed amusement. He really couldn't stop himself from teasing this detective.
"Now, I believe it's my turn to ask," Flins said playfully. "What about you, Illuga? What is your type?"
"I like you, Flins," Illuga blurted out instantly.
As if he had used up a lifetime’s worth of courage to say those words, the drunken Illuga immediately plunged into regret. The detective shielded his face with his hands, desperate to hide the crimson flush creeping across his skin. Unfortunately, his companion saw right through him.
How adorable.
"B-but... you already have someone you like," Illuga said, his voice trailing off into a dejected mumble. "Let me know when you stop liking them, okay?"
Good grief... sandy hair, younger, low alcohol tolerance, Flins had practically spelled out Illuga's name. Perhaps the detective thought there was another "Illuga" out there somewhere?
"Oh, that’s going to be difficult for me," Flins said softly, tilting Illuga’s chin up and gently pinching his cheek. "I’m crazy about that person, and I don't think I'll ever stop."
Tears began to well up in the detective’s eyes. He tried to swat the bartender’s hand away but failed. He avoided Flins’s tender gaze, even though it was the thing he loved most. Illuga had principles; he didn't want to be the one to wreck someone else's happiness. If Flins was taken, he had to let go.
"Please, excuse me..."
Flins pulled Illuga back into his seat, capturing him in another deep kiss. This one was profound and lingering gentle, yet far more urgent and persistent than before. He had to hold on; otherwise, he feared the young detective might bolt for the door.
Such a small mouth... so lovely.
Illuga was pinned within Flins's broad embrace, his arms pressed against his chest so he had no leverage to break free. And yet, he didn't hate this warmth. The spots where he was being touched, his nape, his waist felt like they were catching fire. Before he knew it, he was curled completely into the handsome bartender's lap.
The kisses moved from his lips to his cheeks, then down to his neck and shoulders. But Flins’s hunger went far beyond that. Naturally. He wanted much, much more.
"Illuga," Flins whispered against his ear, the warm breath making him flinch. "Aren't you curious about who that adorable person with the sandy hair is?"
"I don't know. How should I know who your friends are, Mr. Flins?" Illuga replied innocently.
"Oh? Have you never looked in a mirror?" Flins ran his fingers through the detective’s light strands, playing with them. "Their name is Illuga."
"..." Illuga froze, a look of pure bewilderment on his face. "You... you like me?"
"I do."
"Oh..."
Illuga’s mind whirred, unable to process it. He felt like something was fundamentally wrong here. He reached for the remaining "Northern Dawn" on the table and downed it in one go, perhaps a futile attempt to sober up. Or perhaps not.
Holding the liquid in his mouth, Illuga lunged for Flins’s lips. He had realized earlier that this man hadn't consumed nearly enough of the truth serum. Flins, though caught off guard, silently leaned into the kiss, savoring it.
"Hmm... were you afraid I wasn't being honest?" Flins chuckled. "I love you, Illuga. Do you believe me now?"
A flicker of satisfaction crossed the young detective's face. And what followed... in the dim backroom of the pub, they shared an intimate encounter that lasted for hours. As their hearts officially intertwined, Illuga felt a profound sense of security, completely unaware that the Alpha lying with him would vanish without a trace by morning.
[Great job on the last case. Your bonus will be sent by the weekend. The next one is about the 'Red Fang' gang, a tough one, but I can't think of anyone better suited for it than you. The file is on your desk. Meeting this afternoon.] _ Sigurd (2 hours ago).
[Understood.] _ Illuga (Just sent).
Illuga and Linnea stopped by a café to grab some "breakfast."
"Alright, one strawberry latte, extra sugar, light ice... and one black coffee, no sugar, extra ice, milk on the side..." Linnea muttered to herself as she tapped the order into the self-service kiosk. "And you usually go for the signature milk tea, right? Let’s see... 50mg of caffeine. Okay, that’s safe."
"Linnea... are you really having coffee as a meal replacement again?" Illuga asked tentatively.
"What else can I do? Emilie just called with a job. Word is an officer was shot and two people are dead," Linnea said wearily. "I can already guess who’s behind it. Red Fang. Those bastards..."
Beep - The kiosk signaled a successful order.
...
"The doors are closing. Please stand clear."
The commute from Illuga’s place to the agency took thirty minutes by train, followed by a five-minute walk. Today, having Linnea along made the trip feel a lot less lonely.
"Aha! So you can actually sit here now, can't you?" Linnea said, pointing toward the priority seating area. She gently nudged Illuga to try it out, the padded seats were definitely more comfortable. Linnea took a regular seat right next to him.
"It really is... softer," Illuga said shyly.
"Lucky you, you’ve been upgraded to first class now! Haha!" Linnea teased. "Don't forget to stop by the clinic to get your priority pass! I heard it comes with all sorts of perks, hehe."
It was true that no matter what happened, having a reliable friend by your side made everything feel manageable. And even though Flins had walked out, Illuga still had the baby, a new member of his little future family. Besides, the little one would have a very capable grandfather! Money wasn't an issue either; Illuga’s current salary was more than enough to raise a child, and the workplace benefits for expectant mothers were excellent.
Maybe things weren't so bad after all.
Linnea was already diving headfirst into her work, seizing the moment to review case files on her phone. It seemed she was working on something closely linked to Illuga’s assignment.
"Sigh... two more kids kidnapped. How many cases is this for the year already?" Linnea sighed, scrolling through her screen.
Red Fang - a syndicate specializing in human trafficking, primarily targeting children, Omegas, or weak Betas. Their rap sheet was endless: kidnapping, prostitution, murder, narcotics, illegal arms possession, and the list went on. The police had cracked down on them a decade ago, but the remnants had fled abroad. Now, they were back, causing a public outcry. This time, the department wanted to wipe them out for good.
Linnea skimmed past the endless list of charges; she didn't need to read them to know the horrors they contained, doing so only drained her mentally. Her finger stopped at the [Members] section, and she began to scroll more slowly. These were notorious criminals, men who went in and out of prison like it was a revolving door. There were many new faces compared to ten years ago, ranging from seasoned convicts to those with clean records. Word was, they were experts at psychological manipulation to recruit new blood.
Lobster Yujio
Panana Ritous
Dann Kuu
...
Kyryll-
"Wait, Linnea! Stop!" Illuga suddenly interjected. He reached out, scrolling the screen back to a familiar name that had just flashed before his eyes.
[Kyryll Chudomirovich Flins]. The profile picture showed a handsome, somewhat roguish face. Joined two years ago; currently a core member of Red Fang. Charges: Murder of a police officer. High-risk, special priority warrant. Note: Expert proficiency in advanced weaponry.
"Two years..."
In an instant, Illuga’s breathing became erratic. His head spun like a top, and a wave of nausea crashed over him. He clung to Linnea, desperate to stay grounded.
"W-what’s wrong, Illuga? Breathe, just breathe," Linnea said, rubbing his back. "Calm down, Illuga! I-I have a motion sickness bag right here!"
Linnea frantically dug through her bag and pulled out a paper sack along with a small transparent glass vial - a special scent formulated by her boss to calm trauma victims.
Retch.
...
"What is it, Illuga?" Linnea asked, her voice laced with worry. "Have you encountered this man before?"
"..."
Silence again, but this time, the atmosphere was significantly heavier. This wasn't the kind of silence that preceded a confession. Sensing the gravity of the situation, Linnea turned back to scrutinize Flins’s profile. That was when a specific line of text made her blood run cold.
[Formerly owned a pub, serving as a hub for the exchange of goods, intelligence, and narcotics. By operating during midday when regular customers were absent and acting as a 'kindly owner' at night, he avoided suspicion... The establishment is currently closed due to internal conflicts; investigation is ongoing.]
"..."
Oh, this was bad. This was beyond bad. Why did Linnea’s wild, paranoid theories keep coming true? But this wasn’t just any criminal, he was a high-priority fugitive. Gang affiliation, murdering a police officer... that’s a one-way ticket to the death penalty. This was a nightmare!
What if that man sees Illuga during the operation? What if he says something incriminating in front of the cameras? Oh god... and the baby? Linnea’s mind was racing at a hundred miles an hour. The worst-case scenario isn't just losing his job... it's the public outcry, the media circus... aaaaaah!!
Why? Why did it have to be like this?
Linnea grabbed Illuga’s shoulders, trying to steady him.
"Listen to me, Illuga! That night, you got blackout drunk and accidentally ended up with some random lowlife, but it definitely wasn't Flins!" Linnea said with deadly seriousness. "And now, the baby has no father. That’s it. End of story!"
This was the only solution Linnea could come up with: a complete severing of ties with that dangerous criminal. Single Omegas were less common than they used to be, but they weren't rare; the worst he’d face is some office gossip. But being linked to a wanted felon? That’s professional suicide. The goal was simple: they must never meet again, and they’d need to find evidence, any evidence, to prove Flins was mentally unstable so his testimony would be deemed useless.
But... what if the child grows up looking exactly like his father?
"..."
An abortion? Right, it was still very early; it could be handled safely. But even though it was the most "logical" solution, Linnea couldn't bring herself to say it. Not after seeing how tenderly he had held that medical report, or the flickering spark of hope in his eyes... how could she be that cruel? Even now, Illuga was instinctively resting his hand on his stomach.
Please, she prayed silently, let the baby take after Illuga. Or at least... just don't let him look too much like that man.
Illuga took the case. Throughout the entire meeting, he remained almost entirely silent. When his colleagues in the office asked how he was, he simply claimed he was exhausted from staying up late recently, then quietly buried himself in his work. Linnea was solely responsible for the homicide caused by Red Fang, a task the CSI team wrapped up quickly. After that, she would be assigned to a separate investigation.
The moment her shift ended, Linnea bolted to find Illuga. He wasn't at his desk or in the cafeteria, and his colleagues hadn't seen him. Of course, Linnea knew exactly where her friend would be.
...
[The Garden behind the building]
Illuga sat absent-mindedly on a long bench, flanked by a thick stack of files covered in scribbled notes. His bag sat beside him; he must have been ready to head home. Linnea sat down quietly next to him, proffering a bag of snacks.
"I didn't see you eat lunch," she said.
"Mm," Illuga replied tonelessly. He didn't reach for the snacks, so she placed them atop his pile of documents. A single, separate sheet of paper caught her eye.
[Maternity Leave Application.]
"I have two months to settle the backlog and hand over my responsibilities," Illuga began. "Sigurd didn't ask any questions, which was a relief. And since I’m in the investigation unit, not on the front lines where my life is at risk, I’m going to see this case through to the end."
Technically, the two-month window was just a standard; he could work longer if needed. But according to regulations, his leave wouldn't officially start until after that period.
"Linnea," Illuga said softly. "I’m going to take that syndicate down with my own hands. I’m bringing Flins to justice."
"It sounds like you've made up your mind," Linnea replied. "I'll support you."
"...Thank you, Linnea," Illuga breathed a sigh of relief.
As night began to fall, it was time to leave. Illuga stood up and stretched before gathering his files. Hopefully, he won't stay up all night investigating, Linnea thought.
"Oh, right," Illuga pulled out a small Tiramisu in a transparent container. "This was a gift from 'that person,' but I can't eat this now, it has a bit of alcohol in it, doesn't it? Do you want it?"
"I’ll take it!" Linnea happily accepted the cake.
Over the past month or so, small gifts from an anonymous source had been appearing regularly on Illuga’s desk. They usually came with notes wishing him luck or offering encouragement. Surveillance cameras never seemed to catch the culprit, and Illuga had even tested the food samples, they were perfectly safe. Some items even featured high-end ingredients.
Illuga couldn't bring himself to reject these gifts from an anonymous fan. Besides, since they made it onto his desk, he assumed it was a colleague and stopped worrying about it.
"Ah, there was a coffee too... but I left it on my desk..." Illuga suddenly remembered.
"Eh, forget it. The ice has probably melted by now anyway. Just clean it up tomorrow," Linnea said.
The two friends left work together, heading out to find some dinner.
[The Office] – 7:00 PM...
Two small, identical figures walked straight toward Illuga’s desk. Their eyes landed on the untouched coffee.
"Ah, he didn't drink a single drop..." one of them remarked. "Is the brew not good enough? Stella, I think we should change the recipe."
The other twin was busy scouring Illuga’s desk, offering no reply. After a moment of rummaging, she pulled out a hospital folder. Clipped right to the front was the ultrasound image.
"Goodness..." Stella sighed. "Layla, starting tomorrow, let’s research some nutritious, easy-to-digest recipes instead."
"Huh?" The younger sister turned toward her twin, her eyes falling on the medical report. "Woa! Hold on... does this mean I'm going to be an aunt?"
"Yeah... while the man responsible for this mess has completely cut off all contact with us," Stella sighed heavily.
Stella and Layla were twins working in the Information Technology department, specializing in cybersecurity and data forensics. Lately, they were the ones who had been leaving small treats on Illuga’s desk. And they knew Flins?
"I hope it’s a girl," Layla whispered.
"I just hope the baby is born safely, Layla," Stella said wearily. "Let’s go."
After meticulously restoring the desk to its original state, they picked up the cold coffee and headed out.