Between Pasts and Promises

Chapter 1

William Hart stared at the text message on his phone for a full twenty minutes. From the first word “home” to the last number “1,” he felt like it was glaring at him with two glaring truths he didn’t want to confront.
Next to him sat a cup of calming rose, rosemary, and lemongrass tea, courtesy of his thoughtful assistant, along with a plate of freshly baked cookies that he had no appetite for.
He continued to glare at the phone as if it were a beast that could bite, picking it up twice but ultimately putting it back down again. After poking the screen a couple of times, and failing to muster the courage to respond, he swept it aside to ignore its existence.
His desk was enormous, his phone inching dangerously close to the edge, teetering with every passing moment, as if contemplating a jump.
Reluctantly, William reached out to pull it back.
The sender had treated the text like an official memo, using stiff, straightforward language, and even included a sign-off. Henry.
Of course, he didn’t need a signature to know who it was—his new husband. Just three hours earlier, his assistant had brought in a mountain of documents for his signature.
Among them were a marriage contract, a pre-nuptial agreement, and a lengthy list of mutual expectations and obligations—all framed in legal jargon that made his head spin.
This was not how William had envisioned his life, especially after a whirlwind marriage; he still couldn’t wrap his mind around how everything culminated in this way. Sleeping with an ex-boyfriend should have been a simple affair—not a path to the altar.
He thought no one could resist an ex, but jumping into marriage felt extreme.
Just then, a knock on the door interrupted his thoughts.
“Come in.”
“William, our CEO, Sophia is here,” said Clara Whitmore, his assistant. Just as she reported this, a man poked his head around the door, adding, “Hey, what’s up with our social butterfly? She lost her spark?”
William glanced up and scoffed, “Clara, get him a jug of bleach; someone needs to clean out that mouth.”
“…”
Sophia stepped in with a unimpressed look, clearly amused. “Simon, I heard Henry Vanderhall is in town; is it true?”
Sophia had grown up with William, and even after a name change, she still fondly used his old one.
“Yep,” William replied, his tone flat.
“So he really is here. You two didn’t end up in a brawl, did you?” she teased.
“We did.”
Not only did they get into a fight, but it was one for the books—clothes flew and blood was drawn.
Those in his company wouldn’t believe that their usually frosty and suave Henry had claw marks across his back and bite marks on his shoulder; William had left his mark on his ex.
“Oh wow. You actually got into it? Are you hurt?” Sophia reached out, touching William’s shoulder, which caused a tear in his deep blue silk shirt, turning it into a shoulder-baring top.
The love bites and claw marks across his delicate skin told a vivid story, and his collarbone was a bit swollen, revealing the aftermath of a turbulent encounter.
William quickly pulled his shirt down, hiding the marks as he shot her an icy glare, “What do you want? Unless you have something important, get lost.”
It was rare for him to show anger; he usually kept his emotions under wraps—stoic and indifferent, as if the world could come crumbling down and he’d be fine.
But this was the second time she’d seen him unravel.
The first had been when he vanished for three days, only to return bruised and battered, Henry at his side. Since then, the proud man had softened, relinquishing his defenses completely.
Sophia felt a flicker of worry.
“You and Henry... you hooked up, didn’t you?”
William gave a subdued “mm-hmm.” His expression muted, like withered flower petals, revealing a vulnerability that tugged at her heart.
Seeing his demeanor, she slid her chair closer, lowering her voice. “Hey man, I never asked, but why did you break up with him back then?”

Chapter 2

Back then, you two were inseparable. You, a Beta, would have done anything to bask in his glow. Henry Vanderhall treated you well, even if he often wore a frosty expression. There was something genuine in the way he cared for you. So how did things fall apart?
William Hart's expression shifted slightly, but he quickly masked it. "There's no real reason. We just didn’t fit, that's all."
Sophia Bellamy raised an eyebrow, disbelief etched on her face. She thought for a moment and then nodded. "True, remember that time we all went for health check-ups? A bunch of Alphas teasing his pheromones, and Zhiou was crazy enough to peek at his size. He nearly hit the floor! And when we used the bathroom together, I caught a glimpse. Wow, that is impressive. You must have some serious stamina to handle him."
William Hart flicked at the ring box, a smirk dancing on his lips. "Less of the raunchy talk, okay? You don’t need to come here and sing his praises. You’re an Alpha yourself; don’t forget about your heat cycle."
Sophia pouted, retreating slightly. "No way, I can't handle that. Let’s drop it. Hey, have you heard? It looks like he’s getting close with that prince from the Crimson Leaf Consortium. People say he’s already marked Daniel Grey. Is it true?"
"No way."
Sophia shot him a questioning glance. "How can you be so sure?"
William Hart held out his palm, revealing a red velvet box that appeared to make his skin look even paler.
Sophia reached out and snatched it from him, eyes widening as she examined it. "Whoa, are you really planning to propose? You’ve even bought a ring! Who's the lucky one? Beta or Omega? Don’t worry, I’ll throw you a party."
William Hart replied, "Vanderhall's, Alpha."
The ring box clattered to the floor just as Clara Whitmore entered, having just brewed tea. Hearing the noise, she rushed in, exclaiming, "Mr. Bellamy! What happened?"
"It's nothing," Sophia hastily replied as she picked herself off the floor, shaking William’s shoulders. "Wait, what are you thinking? Proposing to him?"
"It's not me proposing; it's him sending his secretary with the marriage license for me to sign." William glanced at the antique wall clock. "Considering his secretary's speed, we’re probably legally bound spouses now."
Sophia held the box tightly, about to ask why the secretary was delivering it, when she realized that if Henry had come himself, William would have never agreed to marry him—he would have kicked him out without hesitation. Having the secretary deliver it was a calculated move, knowing William couldn’t embarrass himself in front of others.
Sophia sighed deeply. "Honestly, whether it was eight years ago or now, Henry Vanderhall is impossible."
William recalled the man from last night, those blood-red eyes filled with ferocity, as if he had lost his sanity, and nodded slowly. "You’re right."
"Simon Hastings, what were you thinking? Just letting him have control over you like this?" Although Sophia didn’t know much about their breakup, she couldn’t help but feel a twinge of loyalty to him.
William lowered his gaze. What could he possibly think?
Last night, he had felt the long-forgotten sensations of fullness and pain, as if it had ripped through his sealed memories and the buried resentment within.
Every image of Henry Vanderhall flooded his mind—holding someone else like that, sweat trailing down into someone else's eyes, those austere, indifferent eyes now clouded with lust, a ravenous beast.
He didn’t want this, biting Henry's shoulder as if he wanted to tear it off, at that final thrust he looked up, whispering seductively, “Call off the wedding, okay? Marry me instead.”
…
William Hart closed the ring box. "I’m not even thinking about it; this marriage is bound to end sooner or later."
The clock struck eight, a soft glow illuminating the evening.
Henry Vanderhall wearily removed his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose to relieve the tension, his personal phone eerily silent—no notifications at all.
He tugged at his tie, loosening two buttons to breathe easier, and then picked up his phone, scrolling through it again with a frown deepening on his face.
Why hasn’t he replied yet? Is he lost?
Henry stood up from the Hart Manor Study, stepping out. His assistant, Fang Mu, and several female Omegas from the marketing department were chatting away, completely unaware of his presence as he walked by.

Chapter 3

“Wow, look at that Alpha! He's so handsome, and that pheromone, it smells like vodka—it's seriously intense. Just look at those abs and that waist; I’m already feeling tipsy.”
“And this Omega? So soft and sweet! Oh my god, when he smiles, I’m totally done for! I’m an Omega myself and I’m feeling the urge to mark ten of them right now!”
“Hey, who do you think is more attractive, this Alpha or Henry? I still think Henry looks better; those eyebrows, those eyes, and that body! Plus, his charisma is totally on par with those movie stars. Clara, you've been with Henry for a while—what kind of Omega do you think he likes?”
“Why? Are you getting a little crush?”
“Is it even possible not to be swooning over someone as awesome as Henry? You don’t know how I almost lost it when I walked in with coffee and saw him casually adjusting his tie—I nearly melted on the spot, thank goodness I took a suppressor beforehand.”
At this point, Henry Vanderhall cleared his throat.
All the Omegas jumped out of their seats, pale as ghosts. “H-Henry.”
Henry Vanderhall glanced at the table and noticed the frantic attempts of the female employees to shut off the multitude of photos featuring muscular Alphas and delicate Omegas. One of them was shaking, almost in tears. “Um, Henry, we didn’t mean to look at this during work hours… I’m sorry, it won’t happen again.”
Clara, nervously glancing at his expression, was about to offer a plausible excuse when Henry Vanderhall spoke.
“Is that wonton shop you mentioned earlier really as good as you say?”
Clara hesitated, unsure. “Uh, yeah, it’s... it’s pretty good. It’s a hundred-year-old establishment, but you have to wait in line for a while. If you want to try it, I can grab some for you next time.”
“Address.”
Clara quickly sent the address to his phone. Henry Vanderhall glanced at it, nodded, and remarked, “No need to work late today; get some rest.”
“Thank you, Henry.”
As he gave a nod and started to walk away, he suddenly stopped. A few female employees stood up again, awaiting his further remarks, breathless and apprehensive.
“I’m married,” Henry Vanderhall stated, extending his hand under the harsh white light, where the ring on his fourth finger sparkled.
The collective awareness of the women sharpened; they must have been overhearing their earlier chatter about him and Sophia being a couple. Now, they braced themselves for the inevitable fallout, but he simply stayed quiet.
Clara cautiously lifted her gaze, noticing his demeanor seemed to invite some form of comment. She ventured gently, “Congratulations on your marriage. Wishing you both a lifetime of happiness.”
Henry Vanderhall lowered his gaze and smiled, “Thank you.”
With that, he opened the door and walked out, leaving the Omegas exchanging bewildered looks until one finally broke the silence.
“Was that seriously Henry?”
---
William Hart had long been accustomed to a nocturnal lifestyle. After leaving the office, he usually found himself at the Moonshadow Tavern. Today, while driving, his phone lit up with an unread message.
“The code for the house is 993401.”
He tossed the ring box aside and glanced at it before throwing it to the backseat.
Damn it, who wants to go to your house? William Hart pressed the accelerator, and his high-performance car surged forward.
Brightdale was unusually quiet. The community here didn’t match the elegance of his hillside villa, but at least it was peaceful without any loud dance mobs.
As he rolled up to the gate, the guard took one look and raised the barrier letting him through. William was surprised and rolled down his window. “Hey, you guys don’t check license plates here?”
The young guard peered curiously from the booth, “You’re driving Mr. Vanderhall’s car, and he mentioned this morning it’s fine for you to come in. May I ask who you are in relation to Mr. Vanderhall?”
Oh, this morning.
That was before his assistant even came by to get him to sign the marriage agreement—not that he was ever going to sign it.
William Hart let out a soft, incredulous chuckle. “I’m his father.”

Chapter 4

William Hart parked his car in the garage of his Cottage Grove home, the sound of the engine fading as he stepped outside. He fished out the keys, his mind still tangled in thoughts from the workday, and headed toward the front door.
After entering the code, he heard a soft beep, and the door clicked open. Stepping inside, he was surprised by how spacious the house was. A pair of new slippers sat on the shoe rack alongside a worn pair, one black and one white.
He slipped into the white slipper, looking around at the stylish, but somewhat cold, décor. The color scheme was a stark contrast of cold silver and black, and the study was cluttered with files, making it clear that the owner prioritized work above all else.
“Total workaholic,” he muttered to himself as he wandered toward the bathroom. There, he noticed duplicate items—black and white aligned side by side, as if they were meant for two people sharing a life together.
On the sink, the dental kit stood side by side. He reached out to touch it, and an image of Henry Vanderhall brushing his teeth flashed in his mind, recalling the days back in their senior year of high school when they shared a dorm.
Henry was notoriously punctual, always rising early. William remembered how he would drag himself out of bed to wash up alongside Henry and, on lazy days, he would lay back against him, waiting for Henry to wash his face. Despite Henry's stern demeanor, he would always wrap an arm around William’s waist, gently wiping his face with the towel, all while maintaining that cool exterior. Afterward, William would teasingly lean in to kiss him, leaving them both with toothpaste on their lips.
Grinning at the memory, William pulled his hand away from the towel, realizing they both had lived together during such a simpler time. But here and now, he couldn't imagine them living in such close quarters—at least not the way they used to.
The master bedroom also had files stacked on the bedside table. The black sheets and duvet cover were strikingly intense. As he rifled through the closet, he noticed that the clothes were also strictly monochrome.
Perfectly pressed black suits and neatly hung white and black shirts stood orderly in the closet, all devoid of a wrinkle.
“Ugh,” William sighed, shaking his head at the neatness that bordered on obsessive.
A soft click interrupted his thoughts. He turned to see Henry, slightly hunched over, exchanging his shoes at the entryway. The fitted black pants hugged his form in a way that was both professional and subtly alluring.
Their eyes met.
For a moment, William was caught off guard; Henry Vanderhall was undeniably good-looking, with sharp eyebrows and striking features. Even the pair of glasses he wore added an air of intellectual restraint.
Nothing about him was less than meticulously polished—his suit crisply pressed, though lacking a tie, every button on his shirt done up just right. The cold glint in his eyes made William's heart race, a sensation spurred by the very tension that made him want to look away.
In his mind, Henry was everything—a strong, attractive Alpha, the kind that would draw eyes at every corner, a man everyone would want to marry. If only he didn’t have the unfortunate qualifier of being William's ex-boyfriend.
The silence stretched on until William finally broke it. “Working late again, huh?”
“Yeah,” Henry replied, straightening up as he stepped in. As stoic as ever, he set two takeout boxes on the dining table, then casually added, “I passed by a dumpling shop on the way home and thought I’d pick some up.”
William watched as Henry took off his suit jacket and hung it up, his crisp white shirt rolled up to the elbows. The appetizing aroma wafted through the air, pulling William closer.
“Are you going to eat?” Henry asked, noticing William staring.
He hadn’t anticipated how long and inconvenient the wait had been. After driving through a good part of Peace Haven and standing in line for two hours, he’d finally snagged these dumplings from a well-known, century-old establishment. Would William understand just how hard it had been to get them?
“Sure, I’ll have a little,” William replied, feigning casualness.
There was a hint of relief in Henry's expression as he nodded, “Great, glad you’re in the mood.”
“Are you jealous?” William teased, gesturing toward the kitchen.
“Jealous? Of what?” Henry paused, clearly caught off guard.
“That you didn’t bring any vinegar,” William smirked, looking at the bag. “It really brings out the flavor of the dumplings. Do you want me to grab some?”
“Uh… sure,” Henry replied reluctantly, his breath hitching at the mention of the word.
William couldn’t help but chuckle at Henry’s stiff demeanor; it was still the same as it had been in high school. If he could avoid saying anything, he would, despite his deep and melodic voice, which always seemed to resonate like a cello, especially in private settings.
The two stood in the kitchen, the lingering tension thickening the air around them as the familiar scents of home and the freshly brought dumplings melded together. Just like old times, but different—they were now two distinct lives quietly woven together by the past.

Chapter 5

William Hart had never needed glasses before, but now the sheen of his lenses only added to the cold, aloof aura that surrounded him. It made others want to shred that facade and reveal the beast lurking beneath.
As he rummaged through the cabinet, William finally unearthed a bottle of vinegar that appeared untouched. It was no surprise that Henry Vanderhall, the CEO, would attempt to cook for himself—likely with the help of his proficient assistant.
"Just a splash for flavor—too much and it'll turn sour," William said, pouring a modest amount into two bowls. After a quick stir, he took a dumpling and bit into it, his brow furrowing slightly.
“Not to your liking?” Henry asked, his voice steady.
“It’s fine,” William replied, poking at his dumpling, watching the cilantro leaves dance in the steaming broth. The aroma was enticing, and the delicate skins melted in his mouth. He’d enjoyed this century-old restaurant in the past, but the effort of waiting in line had begun to feel like a hassle.
They lapsed into silence, each finishing their bowls. After a moment, Henry stood to clean up, carefully carrying the bowls toward the kitchen, eyes downcast as he meticulously washed them.
William cast a glance toward the kitchen. All he could see was Henry’s shoulder, his profile obscured by the glasses he wore, which only deepened the sense of restraint. The way Henry’s lips were pursed ignited a low, breathy sound in the back of William’s mind.
He distracted himself by tapping his fingers on the table.
Suddenly, his phone buzzed, and he glanced down to see it was Sophia Bellamy. “... Did you miss me already? I can’t believe you’ll want to see me every day after this,” he answered playfully.
Henry re-emerged from the kitchen, holding a glass of milk, his brow furrowed in annoyance as he crossed his arms, knuckles pale.
The scent of Alpha pheromones surged from Henry, filling the spacious room with an overwhelming musk. His initially calm, brooding gaze transformed into something more piercing and predatory.
It stirred an instinctual urge in William, something feral.
A tickle prickled at the back of William’s neck, so he scratched it absentmindedly, turning to find Henry standing at the threshold like a sentinel. “What’s the matter? You’re scaring me into silence.”
Henry narrowed his eyes slightly, suppressing the jealousy that simmered beneath. When he finally looked up again, his demeanor was colder, more composed.
“I saw you were on a call,” he remarked, as if casually dropping a weighty inquiry. “A friend?”
“Yeah, Sophia Bellamy,” William replied.
A memory flashed through Henry’s mind—Sophia was the one who used to provoke him and his friends back at Riverstone Academy, even going so far as to set up confrontations.
“Your face says you remember those days when she made life difficult for you,” William teased lightly, softening as he did so. It was a warmth Henry hadn’t seen for eight years.
“No,” he responded dismissively, though in his mind, he was already plotting how to get Sophia out of Peace Haven for good.
“Well then, thanks for the meal. I should get going.” William stood, grabbing his car keys. He passed up the fragrant glass of milk, something in him just didn’t want to indulge.
Henry reached out, gripping William’s wrist firmly. “It’s getting late.”
William raised an eyebrow, a smile curling up at the corner of his lips as he looked down at where Henry held him, then met his gaze. “What’s this, a romantic advance? Or something more?”
Henry opened his mouth but hesitated, uncertain how to respond.
William gently pulled his hand free, chuckling softly, “Nah, I’ve already experienced being in a relationship with you. Not fun. I’ll pass on round two.”
Henry glanced down at his fingers, almost as if trying to make sense of the moment.
Stepping out the door, William's phone buzzed again as he entered the garage. Connecting to Bluetooth, he noticed an elegant ring box that had slipped beneath the passenger seat and quickly retrieved it.
“You’re almost due for your pheromone replenishment this month, right? You can’t ignore your body signals. Come over tomorrow; it’s the perfect time,” Oliver Pritchard said, his laughter bubbling through the speakers.
William smirked, “Sure, I’ll make a trip, or else I’ll just experiment at home and have people thinking I’m up to something shady. Not really a great scene to breathe heavily to, anyway.”
Oliver's laughter rang out. “Honestly, I suggested you find someone to settle down with for good. You don’t enjoy this monthly torture, do you? The one your grandpa picked out for you is pretty good—yet you refuse.”
William shook his head, amusement dancing like sunlight in his eyes.

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