My Father Sold Me to a bunch of Crazy Alphas

My mother was an omega. My father was beta.

Their marriage was peculiar to say the least. Pitiful. My poor mother was in love with the deeply unremarkable man.

And this utterly ordinary idiot used her love at the best extent his tiny mind could think about— entertainment for his boss.

And so, my mother was the actual provider for our family: money, food, branded clothes and connections.

That was how I, the same despicable species as my father, ended up in a top school— the same school Luther attended.

But I was not going to be like my father, I’ve earned my place and got as many scholarships as I could. I grabbed the chance my poor mother sacrificed herself for and held it with my teeth until my gums bled out.

I disliked Luther profusely.

At least when I first met him.

I learned early that being myself didn’t work.

Being the gloomy child got me ignored, yelled at, or worse.

So I studied someone who never got stepped on—my father’s boss.

He was sharp, confident, always in control. People leaned in when he spoke. They laughed when he wanted them to. I decided that was the way out.