The Shadow's Inheritance

Chapter1- Memory from the Past

The Catalyst of Betrayal

The apartment was a sanctuary of mediocrity: small, cold, and utterly quiet—the antithesis of the Deluca mansion, where even silence felt weighted with inherited gold and crushing expectations. Taehyung Rossi ran a fingertip over the cheap veneer of the coffee table, a stark, rough texture compared to the smooth marble he was accustomed to. Two weeks. Two weeks since the decree was finalized, stripping him of the name, the access, and the gilded cage he had once called a marriage.

He picked up a heavy object—not his ring, he'd mailed that back immediately—but a crystal paperweight Jungkook had gifted him five years ago, before the distance started, before the cold truly set in. The weight of it, smooth and flawless, was a terrifying reminder that some wounds, though invisible, could be infinitely heavier than physical scars.

It wasn't the signature on the divorce papers that brought the memories surging back; it was the faint, phantom scent of jasmine and leather—a cologne that had never been his own—catching him off guard in the stale air of his new living room.

The memory hit with the force of a shattered window, immediate and sharp. It was late, almost three in the morning, and the Deluca penthouse was dark save for the emergency lights casting sterile rectangles near the floor. He hadn't been able to sleep, a familiar restlessness keeping him glued to the living room window, watching the city lights blink with indifferent constancy.

The floorboards in the hall, polished to a fault, usually didn't creak. But they did that night. A slow, tentative scrape, followed by a hushed, melodic laugh that certainly wasn't Jungkook's, and definitely not his own.

He didn't need to follow the sound. The scent was enough: the heavy, floral sweetness of an expensive, foreign jasmine, now inextricably mixed with Jungkook's signature woodsy leather scent. It was a suffocating, sickening fragrance that painted the entire scene before he even turned the corner.

He found them in Jungkook's study. The sprawling oak desk, where billion-dollar decisions were made daily, was now just a surface for infidelity. The man—a young, sharp-featured Beta model whose face was plastered on billboards across the city—was perched on the desk, his clothes carelessly pooled at his feet. Jungkook Alessio Deluca, the Alpha, the stoic billionaire who ran three continents and rarely showed emotion, was leaning in, his expression one of rapt, casual enjoyment.

Jungkook looked up first, his eyes locking onto his wife's. There was no panic, no shame, only an instant shift to a chilling indifference that felt far worse than any rage.

"You're awake," Jungkook said, his voice flat, professional, as if commenting on the weather. He made no move to cover himself or dismiss the other man.

The model just smiled—a wide, venomous smile that clearly announced his victory.

But it was the words, the casual cruelty wielded by Jungkook, that became the true instrument of torture.

"Don't make a scene, Taehyung," Jungkook said, adjusting his cufflink—a gesture that screamed boredom. "I told you this wouldn't change anything. You've had five years to fulfill your role, and the problem still stands. I need an heir. Deluca needs an heir. And you, clearly, can't perform that Omega duty."

The model giggled, resting his chin on his knees. "I'm proven fertile, Mr. Deluca says. I'm just... efficient."

The accusation, delivered so casually in front of a stranger, tore through him. You can't provide one. That single, sharp phrase had been the foundation of their slow, agonizing dissolution. Jungkook, the man who valued utility and function above all else, had wasted no time in searching for a replacement.

"Go back to bed," Jungkook commanded, the psychological blow landing perfectly. "This is a business discussion. It doesn't concern you anymore."

Taehyung didn't cry then. He simply stood, absorbing the brutal truth that his life, his worth, and his love had been reduced to a failed transaction. He was disposable, a sterile ornament, replaced by a cheap scent and a functional body. He turned and walked away, the sickening realization that he was a secret Omega who could carry an Alpha's child—a secret he had guarded all his life—ironically becoming the very reason he was being destroyed.

The final confrontation occurred a week later in the Deluca's silent, cavernous dining room. Jungkook sat across the polished mahogany, flanked by two thick packets of documents—divorce papers and a generous but insulting settlement offer.

"Sign them, Taehyung," Jungkook said, his tone low and utterly devoid of warmth. "The lawyers have reviewed everything. It's clean. You get a comfortable living; I get the freedom to secure my family's future."

Taehyung clutched the edge of the table, his knuckles white. "I won't. I swore vows to you. I love you, Jungkook. We can fix this, we can try new doctors, new methods—"

Jungkook cut him off with a chilling finality. His Alpha pheromones spiked, not violently, but with crushing certainty, designed to enforce compliance. "There is no 'us,' only Deluca. And Deluca demands stability and strength. Your sentimental resistance is a waste of time." Jungkook leaned forward, his eyes sharp and dark. "You know what my family is capable of, Taehyung. We do not tolerate complications. Sign the papers, or I will ensure your future, and the future of anyone you care about, becomes significantly more difficult. You will leave the country, quietly, and never speak the name Deluca again. Consider this my final counsel."

Taehyung's body ached with the biological urge to submit to the command of the dominant Alpha, but his resolve held. He recognized the threat of the ombra, the shadow influence the Deluca name carried across the continent. He stared at the man he had loved, recognizing for the first time that his husband was capable of utter destruction. He signed, his hand trembling, not in defeat, but in desperate self-preservation.

Two weeks after leaving Italy, safe in a small coastal town far away, Taehyung realized two things: he was free, and he was pregnant. The irony was exquisite, a secret weapon only he possessed.

The crystal paperweight clattered softly onto the veneer. Taehyung stood, tossing the small, cheap table aside without ceremony. The past was a memory now, a foundation of fire and betrayal.

Five years had passed. Five years of anonymity, five years raising his child, and five years spent perfecting the art of quiet, ruthless strategy. The weak Omega who signed those papers was gone.

A young boy, barely five, with Jungkook's piercing eyes and the strong, intoxicating scent of an undeniable Alpha, ran into the room, holding a brightly colored toy.

"Papa!" the boy chirped.

Taehyung smiled, a sharp, cold expression that never touched his eyes. He knelt, kissing the crown of his son's head. "Luca. Are you ready?"

The boy nodded enthusiastically.

Taehyung stood, his gaze hardening as he looked out at the city skyline. "It's time to go home and introduce your father to the consequences of his actions."

Jungkook Alessio Deluca had divorced him because he couldn't provide an heir. Taehyung was back to prove him wrong, and to ensure that the heir who would bring the Deluca empire to its knees was the one he had cast aside.