He Hates Me, He Loves Me Not

Damon leaves with a shot, some supplements, and a long list of people he suspects.

Dr. Medina says that he can't do anything more for Damon unless he checks himself into the hospital. Of course, Damon says no. His time is precious and the company won't run itself.

Naturally, his doctor knows not to disclose his condition—unless Dr. Medina wants his license revoked—but Damon reiterates how important it is not to inform anyone.

No, not even the police need to know. He doesn't want to be added to their catalog of 'victims,' much less give the media a trail to sniff after. He can proceed with the investigation himself. The fewer problems there are, the better for him.

Except, there is a problem. A big one, at that. He doesn't even know where to begin looking. There's too many to accuse—even though there's not a lot with the means, many have the motive. Are they after him or are they after something more?

Damon doesn't want to think; his head hurts.

--

Damon doesn't know if it's because of the withdrawal symptoms, but he feels on edge by the time he arrives at the Lin Manor. A hundred ants crawling on his skin, he itches everywhere. Even a single gust of wind is enough to make him pounce, almost attacking no one.

For his peace of mind, he does what he usually doesn't: he explores his house.

Damon tells himself that he's not being paranoid. After all, he met a lot of people over the past year—not only in the company but also during his several business trips. There's the annual banquet as well. For all he knows, any of them could have done it. It's only natural that he checks around the one place he's most vulnerable.

He walks around the first floor. Unsurprisingly, nothing stands out.

The sofa remains at the center, the paintings hang on the wall, and the decorations are spick and span. With Uriel back, Damon has nothing to worry about in terms of tidiness. The Beta butler's meticulousness means that the area is well-maintained, almost as if the place is eternally frozen.

However, as Damon stands near the fireplace, he can't help but recall a certain person who spent almost a year in this house. That's right, he was here too. Perhaps… no.

He shakes his head, trying to dispel the thought. It's no use to suspect someone who isn't here anymore. Even if it was the Omega who did it, what will Damon do? Will he meet him and ask for compensation? Will he sue him and let the world know that he, Damon Lin, was bested by a mere Omega?

Damon can't have that. It's not only his pride on the line but also the company and his family name. He won't ever hear the end of it if the Lins make it to the news with something negative. His stepmother won't say anything, but his father will never shut up about it.

To avoid the old man's nagging, he heads to the kitchen. Like the living room, the kitchen is orderly. Walking into the kitchen is familiar, an action he has done many times before. However, unlike the past, something feels missing. A point off tangent, or perhaps an anomaly from the routine, but Damon frowns upon seeing the empty space.

He gives himself a moment to ponder. What's different? Why does it feel … wrong?

It isn't until his eyes wander to the stove that he realizes what's missing. There's no enticing aroma that greets him, no food prepared to his tastes. The area is lifeless. There's no pink-haired Omega busying himself to make the most delicious meal.

Sure, Uriel is not lacking in that field and Damon has nothing to complain about but it's not the same. It's good but— He shakes his head again. He has more important matters to think about than the Omega.

Not bothering with the rest of the first floor, he moves upstairs. It takes longer to go through every room, albeit empty. After 30 minutes of going in and out, he starts thinking that maybe it's time to install security cameras in the house. If not inside the rooms, then maybe in the hallway and around the staircase.

He's always been averse to the idea since there's no need to monitor the place when he limits the number of people who can enter. It's his home, one of the places, if not the only one, where he feels safe inside. Maybe it's his inner alpha talking, but he doesn't like the thought of another pair of eyes around his territory, even if those said eyes are nothing but cold lenses.

He skips going through his room. Only an idiot will hide anything there.

When he reaches a particular bedroom, he hesitates in front of the closed door. He doesn't know why. A part of him despairs at the possibility of what's behind the wooden barrier.

A scowl forms on his face when he catches himself dilly-dallying. What is he doing? This isn't like him.

Gritting his teeth, he opens the door and is shocked to find … nothing.

The room is empty, devoid of the previous occupant's belongings. The bed is bare, the closet is empty—exactly how it should be, but there's a boulder that lands heavily in Damon's chest upon seeing that. It only gets worse when he realizes that not even a hint of the Omega's pheromones linger in the room.

He's been trying to ignore it since earlier, but how can someone live in this house for almost a year yet leave not a single trace of his presence? There's no sign that Kaiden lived in the Lin Manor. It's too clean, too perfect, to say that a human being walked around these same floors before.

Even Heath, who has been sporadically staying over, has more of his personal items sprawled here and there.

This can't be right.

Trying to get to the bottom of things, Damon calls for Uriel. When he poses the question, asking if the Omega left anything behind, the butler gives him a sad face.

"Kaiden lived"—Uriel's voice breaks off—"lived like he was ready to disappear at any moment."

Confused, Damon doesn't say anything. There's something odd about the way Uriel phrased it, but he can't figure it out.

The old butler continues, "He always cleaned up after himself, no matter where he stayed, and he made sure to use scent-neutralizing detergent with his laundry. I tried to tell him it's okay but he won't listen to me."

The more Uriel talks, the more Damon is confused. The old man seems so sad, eyes dull, as he recalls how Kaiden lived on eggshells.

"He was careful not to let anything touch his wrist, afraid of leaving his pheromones behind."

Damon may be mistaken, but he sees Uriel tearing up a little.

After taking a deep breath, the old butler says, "It's why… that's why there's nothing left."

A sharp pang of pain zaps through Damon but he ignores it. It must be that damn chest pain acting up again.