Oddity's Charm ( Omegaverse BL)

Dorian's POV

I watch as Ivan transforms before the world's eyes—once an abandoned, discarded plaything, now the most sought-after Omega in the industry.

It irks me.

No—it enrages me.

It's not just the rise to stardom, not just the fact that his name is now whispered in every high-society event and business meeting.

It's that I can't even reach him.

Every attempt I've made to contact him, to remind him of who he really is, has been met with dead ends.

My calls? Blocked.

My emails? Ignored.

My connections? Cut off, undoubtedly by Vale.

I grind my teeth, my fingers digging into the arms of my chair as I stare at the latest tabloid article spread across my desk.

"The Battle for Ivan Orlov – The Most Coveted Omega in High Society!"

I sneer. Coveted? By whom? These pathetic, lovesick Alphas, desperate for a taste of something that was once mine?

Fools.

They don't know the real Ivan.

They don't know that he once begged for my attention.

They don't know how he writhed beneath me, pleading for more, more, more.

They don't know that I've already had him.

And they certainly don't know how worthless he truly is.

Yet they chase after him as if he's something priceless.

I let out a sharp exhale, my fingers tapping rhythmically against the edge of the desk. My doctor says I have trauma—from him? From that damn Omega?

I scoff.

Me? Traumatized?

Absurd.

Trauma is what happened to me in the past—not from some insignificant whore who thought he could hurt me.

And yet.

I press a hand to the scar on my forehead, a thin, jagged reminder of his betrayal.

A reminder of that night.

The way the bottle shattered in his hands, the way he turned on me with wild, fearless eyes, striking me hard enough to draw blood.

The memory makes my vision burn with rage.

I've endured pain before. But not from an Omega.

Not from him.

He made me bleed. He left me scarred.

And I won't rest until he's dealt with.

---

Harry's POV

The tension in the room is suffocating.

Dorian is fuming again—his mood dark, his jaw tight, his fingers drumming impatiently against the polished wood of his desk.

Probably because of Ivan.

Again.

The name that haunts him, taunts him, consumes him.

I shift uncomfortably in my chair, careful not to make a sound. When Dorian is like this, when his temper simmers just beneath the surface, the last thing anyone wants to do is draw attention to themselves.

I glance at the tabloid on his desk, my eyes scanning the headlines. Ivan Orlov, the Omega the world can't get enough of.

He's everywhere.

And Dorian hates it.

Hates that Ivan has thrived without him.

Hates that he is wanted by men with far more power, far more influence than Dorian himself.

Most of all, he hates that he no longer owns him.

I sigh internally, keeping my face carefully neutral.

I don't understand Dorian's deal.

Does he regret letting him go?

Does he resent losing control?

Or is this just another case of Dorian's pride being wounded, his ego refusing to accept that something he once threw away has become something precious to the world?

Either way, it doesn't matter to me.

What matters is my brother's medical bills.

What matters is my dream of becoming an actor.

And right now, my best chance of getting what I need is sitting in front of me—raging over an Omega he can't have.

So I stay silent. I endure.

Because that's wh

at I've always done.

And in a world like this, survival means knowing when to speak and when to stay invisible.