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Han Yoojin adjusted the scarf around his neck for the third time that morning, the crisp winter air biting at his cheeks as he stood at the towering glass entrance of Sungen Corporation's headquarters. Christmas Eve lights twinkled faintly from the lobby windows, but the festive cheer felt miles away from the frustration bubbling in his chest. He had planned a quiet day at home. Hot chocolate, a stack of holiday movies, and his two sons curled up with him on the couch. Luka could read his mystery novels in peace, and little Gyeol could build those block towers he loved so much. But no, Sung Hyunjae had insisted. "Come to the office, darling," his husband's voice had purred over the phone earlier, smooth as silk. "We'll wrap up early and head to that restaurant you like. The boys will love the lights downtown."
Yoojin sighed, glancing back at his sons trailing a few steps behind. Luka, at eleven years old, had his father's sharp golden eyes and a mop of dark blond hair that fell just so over his forehead. He was dressed in a neat wool coat, hands shoved in his pockets, his expression one of practiced boredom as he scanned the surroundings. Beside him toddled Gyeol. Five years old, with Yoojin's softer features, wide doe eyes, and a tuft of fluffy black hair peeking from under his beanie. The little omega clutched a plush reindeer toy, his cheeks rosy from the cold. Both boys mirrored their parents in subtle ways: Luka's poised demeanor screamed Hyunjae, while Gyeol's pouty insistence on being called "Han Gyeol" was all Yoojin.
They approached the revolving doors, Yoojin's polished boots clicking against the pavement. He was the picture of understated elegance. A slim omega in a fitted cream coat that hugged his frame, his long dark hair tied back loosely, a faint floral omega scent clinging to him despite the suppressants he took religiously. As Sung Hyunjae's wife, he knew he turned heads, but today he just wanted this over with.
The guards at the entrance. Two burly betas in crisp uniforms. Stepped forward immediately, blocking the way with practiced efficiency. One raised a hand, his face stern under the brim of his cap. "Sir, this is a private corporate building. No visitors without clearance today."
Yoojin blinked, then straightened his spine. "I'm not a visitor. I'm Han Yoojin, Sung Hyunjae's husband. Let me through."
The guards exchanged a glance, their postures unchanging. The taller one shook his head slowly. "We've had people like you before. Trying to get in with wild stories. Chairman Sung isn't seeing anyone unscheduled, especially not on a holiday. Please step aside."
Yoojin's temper flared, his omega instincts prickling at the dismissal. He could feel eyes from passing pedestrians turning their way, the city bustle slowing just a fraction. "What do you mean, 'people like me'? Call him right now. Tell him his wife and sons are here. Sung Luka and Han Gyeol. His children. Do it!"
Luka rolled his eyes from behind, crossing his arms as he glared daggers at the guards. His small frame tensed, alpha heritage already showing in the subtle growl edging his voice when he muttered under his breath. Gyeol mimicked him perfectly, puffing out his cheeks and fixing the men with a fierce stare, his tiny fists clenched around his toy.
The shorter guard smirked faintly, unfazed. "Look, buddy, we've got protocols. No ID matching our records, no entry. Go home and stop wasting our time."
Yoojin's voice rose, sharp and insistent. "Protocols? I'm telling you, I'm his omega. Married for over a decade. These are his heirs! If you don't let us in, he'll have your jobs!" He stepped closer, jabbing a finger toward the intercom panel. The argument dragged on, minutes ticking by in the cold. Yoojin pacing back and forth, gesturing wildly, his scent spiking with agitation despite his efforts to control it. The guards stood firm, one radioing security while the other repeated denials, their voices overlapping in a tedious loop.
Luka's glare intensified, his foot tapping impatiently against the ground. Gyeol fidgeted beside him, lower lip wobbling as the standoff stretched.
Then, without warning, Gyeol's face crumpled. He dropped his reindeer plush with a soft thud and let out a wail that pierced the air like a siren. "Let my mama in! You're mean! Papa! PAAAAAPA!" The five-year-old's cries escalated into full-throated screams, tears streaming down his flushed cheeks, his little body shaking with the force of it. His voice echoed off the building's facade, carrying down the street loud enough that a few cars slowed, and pedestrians paused to stare. It was a tantrum of epic proportions. Raw, unfiltered omega distress mixed with sheer childish volume. Audible blocks away.
Yoojin froze mid-sentence, mouth agape, his own anger momentarily derailed. The guards flinched, eyes widening in surprise as they stared at the howling child. Luka, however, smirked. Just a quick, proud curl of his lips, golden eyes gleaming with approval at his little brother's chaos. "That's my brother." he murmured, almost to himself.
The lobby doors slid open then, and Sung Hyunjae emerged like a force of nature. The world's richest man. Tall, impeccably suited in a tailored black overcoat that accentuated his broad shoulders and lean, powerful build. Strode out without a care for the gathering stares. His golden hair caught the winter light, sharp amber eyes locking immediately onto the scene. Alpha pheromones rolled off him in a subtle wave, dominant and reassuring, cutting through the tension like a blade. He didn't break stride, ignoring the whispers from onlookers, his polished shoes carrying him straight to Gyeol.
The boy flung himself forward the moment he saw his father, and Hyunjae scooped him up effortlessly, one strong arm cradling the sobbing child against his chest. Gyeol buried his face in Hyunjae's neck, cries muffling into hiccups. "Papa. They won't let Mama in."
The guards snapped to attention, bowing deeply, their faces paling. The taller one stammered first. "Chairman Sung, sir! We apologize. This man. He was causing a disturbance, claiming to be your. Your wife. Said these kids were yours. We thought he was deranged, some holiday prankster."
Hyunjae tilted his head, a lazy, devastating smile spreading across his lips as he bounced Gyeol gently. His free hand reached out, fingers brushing Yoojin's cheek in a possessive caress before pulling him close. "I know he's crazy," Hyunjae said, voice warm with amusement, eyes glinting as they met his omega's indignant gaze. "But forgive my wife, will you? And my sons, of course."
The guards froze, jaws slack, color draining from their faces as realization hit. One swallowed hard, bowing lower. "S-sir. Of course. We had no idea."
Hyunjae waved it off with a chuckle, already turning toward the doors, Gyeol now beaming through drying tears in his arms. "No harm done. Luka, lead the way for your mother." Luka straightened with a nod, smirking openly now as he took Yoojin's hand. Yoojin huffed, cheeks still pink from the ordeal, but he fell into step beside his husband, the family slipping past the stunned guards into the warmly lit lobby.
The marble floors gleamed under festive wreaths, and Hyunjae's private elevator waited at the far end. As the doors closed behind them, sealing out the winter chill, Hyunjae leaned down to press a lingering kiss to Yoojin's temple. "See? Told you it'd be worth it. Restaurant reservations are set. Your favorite seafood spread, private room overlooking the city lights."
Yoojin grumbled, but a small smile tugged at his lips as Gyeol giggled, reaching out to pat his cheek. Luka leaned against the wall, arms crossed, looking every bit the mini-alpha in satisfaction. The day was far from ruined, and with Hyunjae's arm around his waist, Yoojin could almost admit it might turn out perfect after all.