When his hand touched my shoulder, I stared up at his face, wide-eyed and dumbstruck. He wore a composed expression and the most polite smile as he brushed something off.“A strand of hair.”The movement to remove the hair from my shoulder was so simple it barely missed brushing my suit. Yet I keenly felt the air—as if swept by his fingers—mingle and swirl around me for an instant. His signature scent followed the motion and ghosted along my nose.Then he left my office.Click.It only registered after I heard the soft click of the door. My knees went weak, and I sank to the floor where I’d stood. I drew ragged breaths, but each one felt as though his lingering pheromones clogged my airway, threatening to suffocate me.Good Lord, if I were an Omega, mere proximity to this man would have left me pregnant.I vowed I’d fling open the window and purge the blasted scent—if only I had the strength. Cursing him, I remained collapsed on the floor, helplessly enveloped in that fragrance until it finally dissipated, shivering as though he’d embedded himself in my skin.“Did you meet Nathaniel?”When the Prosecutor General greeted me at the snack bar, I answered by biting into a hot dog. I couldn’t look him in the eye—I’d barely gotten any work done this morning. After pulling myself together so many times, I was too drained to read a single line. I’d decided on an early lunch, only to run into him here, recalling our spat from the day before, and I couldn’t raise my head. Misreading my reluctance, he said:“He said to give him my regards. I was surprised he didn’t sneer at you. I thought he’d at least taunt you a bit.”His tone was wry. I forced myself to ask,“He confident he’ll win, huh? That’s all he meant?”The thought that he’d ruined my morning, then gone off to laugh about me with the P.G., made my brow crease. He loaded his hot dog with mustard and replied,“He said you look better in person than in pictures.”I paused, napkin in hand, and lifted my head. He tucked more mustard-drizzled bite into his mouth and continued,“So I told him you’re the best-looking on our team. Just stating facts.”“…What exactly did he say?”Damn curiosity—couldn’t help asking. He shrugged and said,“He said you’re the most handsome among the prosecutors in our district.”Embarrassment, irritation, confusion—all bubbled up at once. Why on earth had Nathaniel told the P.G. that? And why had he come all the way to my office? Just passing through? He’d barged into my space and drenched it in pheromones like it was his territory. He was insufferable.The P.G. moved on to gossip about a junior prosecutor’s new skill, but all I could think about was Nathaniel Miller.Busy is good. After just one day, the memory of meeting an Extreme Alpha had vanished—more precisely, it was drowned out by work. Facing a titan of a law firm with an unblemished record, I had to scrutinize every document and piece of evidence repeatedly. I had to prepare for witnesses who might back out or disappear mid-trial. Over and over, I confirmed the same facts.But even in my frenzy, one obligation remained sacred: dinner with my adoptive parents, once a month.The Starry Night.Named after the painting by a genius who famously died “mad,” the restaurant’s owner was Vincent. I couldn’t guess why my parents chose that name, but Vincent had fully leaned into the theme: one wall was covered with a reproduction of Van Gogh’s painting, the website incorporated his motifs, and the outdoor tables riffed on “Café Terrace at Night,” all to charming effect.“Rest assured, I have no plans to cut off your ear.”His hearty laugh and joke had charmed me, and I’d briefly considered a one-night dalliance—until I noticed the ring on his finger. A man I couldn’t have wasn’t worth pursuing, so I stopped coming here, despite the excellent food.When my stepmother picked this place for our dinner, I felt both anticipation for the meal and aversion to its owner. My stepmother loved the restaurant because Vincent seemed so family-focused—he and his wife had four kids, the quintessential middle-class white couple. I agreed without protest, reasoning that no matter where I went, the people I met remained the same.“Long time no see,” Vincent greeted when he spotted me. I gave a brief wave and shook his hand. In a flash, I confirmed anew that he was my type—and I tore my eyes away to look for familiar faces.“Chrissy!”My stepmother waved excitedly as soon as I entered. Naturally, my stepfather was there too. I forced a polite /N_o_v_e_l_i_g_h_t/ smile and walked straight to the table, though a chill ran down my spine. Only I knew how strongly I felt right then—and I’d stake my entire fortune on that.“Mother.”I rose to return her warm hug and kissed her cheek. My stepfather remained seated.“Father.”I offered a brief greeting. He nodded and extended his hand—an invitation to shake, but I pretended not to notice and took my seat, immediately opening the thick menu before me.“Hungry? Have you ordered?”“Ah…not yet. Tom, what will you have?”My stepmother flipped open her menu as casually as if we were at home. My stepfather, awkward, withdrew his hand and feigned reading. I avoided his gaze and skimmed the menu’s meaningless text. Once we’d placed our orders, the ritual of a mundane family meal began.

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