Chapter 120: Conan.
Twenty-three years ago; Winslow.
Conan’s POV
"Why didn’t you dye his hair a different color?" Mrs. Goldsmith asks with a snarl.
She hates me as much as I hate her and her obsession with keeping a good figure, but I can never say that out loud.
She walks over to me and examines my face.
"Whore" she spits out before walking out of the nursery with two maids behind her, and even when she’s gone, I stand there frozen.
I’ve been stripped half-naked, and my legs are hurting. After five minutes of silence, the door opens behind me and Governor Goldsmith walks in.
His greedy eyes examine my body and he nods.
"Beautiful as always" the old man mutters as he circles me and licks his lips like a hungry dog.
"You male omegas fascinate me" he says and pokes a finger at my swollen and sensitive nipple.
I swallow my whimper of pain and he does it again.
"These perky breasts weren’t here a few months ago..." he mutters and pokes at me again like I’m a toy. It hurts, but I dare not move. As far as I’m aware, Governor Goldsmith is kinder to his side chicks than other men.
"How long do you have till they go away?" he asks.
"A year" I say with dry throat.
The A cups usually return to normal flatness for male omegas after a year of breastfeeding. But I have no child to breastfeed, they already took my baby away from me.
They ripped my son away from between my legs and...I didn’t even get to see if he has my hair color or my eyes.
"A year..." he says and just as he reaches up to squeeze, the door opens. A servant breezes in with baby Goldsmith in her arms.
"Here he is, sir" she says, and Governor Goldsmith moves away from me.
"Sit" he says, and I take my seat in the old wooden chair.
It’s old, it smells like Mrs. Goldsmith, and it feels like an insult. I was the one who made this chair from start to finish.
"My son hasn’t fed in the past week" Governor Goldsmith says.
He takes the little baby from the woman and smiles down at him.
My chest hurts at the sight of Goldsmith rocking the baby boy. How can he steal my own baby from me and still smile with the baby in his arms in front of me?
"He’s not taking the formulas, he’s rejecting other source of milk, and he’s refusing his mother’s tits" he says and places the baby in my arm.
As I hold on to little Noah; the cloud of darkness over my head bursts open.
The baby is underweight and clearly malnourished. If they didn’t bring me in time, I’m sure he would have died before the weekend.
I feel so sorry for him.
My hands are unsteady, but as I position the boy to feed him, he wastes no time to latch on to my sore nipple.
I wince, but it’s from the emotional pain and not the physical one.
"He’s supposed to make an appearance in public next week, Conan. Do well to improve his health, do you understand?" Governor Goldsmith asks and I look up.
"Yes, sir" I say in a dry voice.
I feed the boy well all through the week and by the second week, Noah Goldsmith is sleeping better and physically improving.
The Goldsmiths argue with each other on whether to keep me or throw me out. And eventually, they let me stay as a manny and as a wetnurse for their son.
Twenty-two years ago (one year later)
It’s election season and as always, Goldsmith will take the win.
Winslow pretends to operate under a democracy when it is truly an absolute monarchy without the titles and crowns.
"Noah, no" I say to the little boy.
He’s starting to toddle now and it’s a disaster. I’m glad the boy is nothing like his mother and father. He’s quick to smile and shines brighter than the sun.
"No no!" he repeats my words and I smile at him.
"You’re so silly, my little sunshine boy" I coo to him, scooping him off the floor and rubbing my nose to his.
"Silly! Mama silly!" he says.
"What did he just say?" Mrs. Goldsmith asks as she looks up from her magazine.
Oh no. Oh no. Oh no.
"He was- he said- he--" I stutter and Mrs. Goldsmith gets off the chair, stalking towards me with slow, calculated steps.
"Did my son just call you...mama?" she asks and I drop my head. I can’t lie. If I do, she’ll separate me from Noah.
"He doesn’t mean it" I say in a small voice.
"Oh you overfed pig" she hisses and snatches the boy from me.
Noah cries out in protest, but Mrs. Goldsmith doesn’t stop. She takes him away from me and returns with a baseball bat.
"Noah is my son! You are not his mother you unsanctified lowlife!" she roars and attacks me with the baseball bat.
She hits me with it again, again, and again till everything goes black.
I can’t fight against her, if I do. They’ll take Noah from me, and he’ll grow up not remembering me.
Eleven years ago (twelve years later)
I smuggled a strawberry shortcake into Noah’s room and I’m waiting for him to finish it up.
For some reason; they’ve been forcing him to diet. He’s not even close to presentation and they’re already guessing his secondary gender.
I don’t like the way they’ve been forcing him to learn Winslow omega conducts...he’s still a child.
Winslow is deteriorating and lots of omega children are going missing. We have thousands of tourists visiting each year, and with each thousand visitors, at least fifty teenagers go missing.
I know I’m only privileged to live in the Goldsmith mansion because Noah is attached to me, but I’ve never seen the Governor worry about the missing teenager. Instead, he’d give money to the family of the missing youngsters and make them into city heroes.
Oh, the things people do for money and fame...if Noah ever goes missing, I will burn down this city and make sure I get my answers.
"Daddy doesn’t like that I like pink" Noah says and takes the last bite of the dessert.
"Your dad doesn’t know anything about beauty and life, pinky" I say and bop his nose.
Lots of people complain that Noah acts mentally younger than his age, some people call him dumb, but he’s not dumb. My Noah is just a kid who is bursting with life.
"One day I’ll be Governor, right?" he asks.
"Hmm" I hum instead of lying. With the way he’s being treated, I don’t think he will ever be Governor.
"I’ll be cool like my daddy, right?" he asks.
"Yes, yes, and you’ll paint the city pink" I respond, tucking him in as he continues to vibrate with energy.
"Pink is like cherry blossom" he yawns and I switch off the lights.
"Good night, Noah" I whisper and leave the room. On my way back to my room, I overhear the governor and his wife talking.
"It’s a boy, honey. This is a chance to raise a kid in the right way" Mrs. Goldsmith says and her husband grunts.
"There’s nothing wrong with Noah" he says.
"There is a lot wrong. I’m in my early stage of pregnancy...and the earlier you fix this the better. I don’t want my son competing with that weakling for Governorship" Mrs. Goldsmith says.
"He’s twelve, give him a break."
"He’s twelve years too old. Fine, if you don’t want him to be gotten rid of, then let him continue in his mother’s path" Mrs. Goldsmith says.
"For the love of the Goddess, what is wrong with you Samantha? I can’t turn my first son into a whore" Governor Goldsmith exclaims.
"You can get money off it. Your son could be another Governor’s omega or even a president’s broodmare. It can be a win for me and a gain for you" she continues to persuade him.
"Fine, I’ll contact my business partners and see who gets him. But I’ll only give him out when he’s eighteen. I think Governor Stiles has a son around Noah’s age" the governor says.
The Stiles are a popular political family...but the father is a known abuser.
"Do whatever, just don’t let him get in the way of my son" Mrs. Goldsmith says.
"And I was getting fond of the boy" Governor Goldsmith complains.
"You can get fond of my boy" she snaps, wrapping her arms around her husband’s neck and pulling him down for a kiss.
They kiss while my heart falls apart.
How can they do something this inhumane?
They forced me away from my safe space, force bred me, made me give birth to a son, stole him away from me and now they’re...giving him away?