Page 34 of His Problem Alpha
I fight the urge to preen at the praise. Richard Shaw is a legend, and his approval is more than just a paycheck. It’s legitimacy. It’s a real step toward the career I’ve been fighting tooth and nail for.
"Thank you," I say, my voice steady despite the excitement bubbling in my chest. "I'm particularly proud of the logo evolution. It maintains brand recognition while pushing toward a more modern aesthetic."
Richard nods, his eyes scanning the design again. "It's bold without being alienating. Exactly what we need." He looks up at me. "I'd like to bring you on for the full rebrand. Not just the initial concepts, but the complete implementation across all platforms."
My heart skips a beat. This is it. The big one. The contract that could set me up for months, maybe even a year. No more scraping by. No more taking on shitty little projects just to make rent.
"I'd be honored," I say, my voice miraculously calm.
"Excellent." Richard stands, extending his hand. "My assistant will send over the contract details this afternoon. We'll need a comprehensive timeline, of course, but I trust you can handle that."
I shake his hand, my mind reeling. "Absolutely. Thank you for this opportunity."
"No need to thank me. Your work speaks for itself." He walks me toward the door, then pauses. "You know, I was skeptical when Lawson first mentioned you. But seeing what you've done for my son and Kole's website, and now this... well, I'm impressed."
I feel a warm rush hearing about my friends. "How are they? And little Noah?"
Richard's face completely transforms, softening in a way I wouldn't have thought possible. "Thriving. Noah's sitting up on his own now, babbling up a storm. It's... extraordinary, watching your child become a parent." His eyes get a distant, wistful look. "It changes your whole world, seeing your son become a father."
His words hit me hard. This sudden longing comes out of nowhere, so intense I have to grab the back of a chair to steady myself. The room spins for a second, and I suck in a sharp breath.
"Devon?" Richard's voice sounds far away. "Are you alright?"
I blink hard, trying to focus. "Yes, sorry. Just a little lightheaded. Probably low blood sugar—I skipped breakfast."
Richard frowns. "You should take better care of yourself. Can't have my new design lead collapsing on me."
"I'll grab something on the way home," I promise, desperate to get out of there before I do something else weird. "Thank you again for this opportunity."
Outside, the bright morning sun feels like needles in my eyes. I lean against the cool brick of the building, trying to get my bearings. What the hell was that? Why did a simple comment about Lawson’s baby make me feel like I’d been punched in the gut?
I pull out my phone and text Alex, my thumbs moving on autopilot:
Got the contract. Full rebrand. Coming home now.
His reply is almost immediate:
Knew you would. Proud of you. I'll be waiting.
My throat tightens reading those simple words.Proud of you.When was the last time anyone said that to me?
I head for the subway when the nausea hits again—worse this time. Shit. I barely make it to a coffee shop bathroom before everything comes up. When I emerge, pale and shaky, the barista gives me a sympathetic look as she slides a glass of water across the counter.
"Rough morning?" she asks.
"You could say that," I mutter, taking the water with a grateful nod.
"You look like my sister did when she was pregnant," she says casually, wiping down the counter. "Same green tinge."
I choke on the water, sputtering. "I'm not—that's not—" I stammer, but the words die in my throat as the pieces start clicking into place with horrifying clarity.
Morning sickness. Exhaustion. A sense of smell so sharp it’s a liability. The weird mini-cycle. My missed period, which I’d so conveniently blamed on stress.
No. No fucking way.
My hands are trembling as I pull out my phone and type "early omega pregnancy symptoms" into the search bar. The list that appears makes my gut clench like I’ve been punched.
- Nausea (especially in the morning)
