Entering the mall, Moe peeled the damp, clinging linen cloth from his body, feeling a shiver run through him. The abrupt transition from the sweltering heat outside to the cool interior was quite noticeable, and he struggled to get used to it. Purposefully marching towards the toilets, he rummaged through his bag along the way. Inside a stall, he happily shed his sweaty tunic, replacing it with a fresh T-shirt and a lightweight cotton hoodie. Reveling in the air-conditioned coolness, he leisurely proceeded to search for a suitable restaurant for himself and Miny. Moe looked regretfully at the Japanese restaurant, he was dying for some sushi and rolls, but the danger of toxoplasmosis and listeriosis made him walk past it. So, Moe opted for a safer option- a Chinese restaurant.
He ordered a generous serving of noodle soup, stir-fried lettuce, cabbage and pork dumplings, along with a pot of chrysanthemum tea. As he waited, he checked movie theater showtimes on his phone and bought a ticket. Miny, nestled comfortably in his abdomen, subtly signaled his hunger, prompting Moe to lovingly caress the growing bump.
“Your meal will be here soon, my little one.”
The waiter arrived with a tray holding a teapot, and Moe thanked him as he eagerly lifted the lid. He poured the first cup without giving it time to steep, recognizing that even if the aromatic liquid wasn't perfectly infused with a delightful taste or entirely golden in color yet, it was essential to provide something for Miny, otherwise, he would start kicking and demanding. Moe sipped the tea contentedly, occasionally blowing on the steaming surface, confident that the ordered food would arrive promptly – one of the things he loved about Singapore.
He enjoyed everything about Singapore, even the occasionally exhausting heat, the unhurried pace of both locals and visitors, the distinctive blend of business and tourism, the convenient proximity to key locations, the exceptionally well-developed transportation system—there was no need for a car in Singapore—and the vibrant cultural scene.
Madrid, where he had spent only a month, failed to captivate him—a beautiful city, undoubtedly, but not quite his thing. He paid homage to his father and brother by exploring the museums they frequented during breaks from work, drove to the science center where their laboratory was rented, shed silent tears in the chilly park nearby, and, sensing the completion of this part of his pilgrimage, left for Singapore.
From the moment Moe inhaled the tropical fragrance, he fell in love wholeheartedly and without reservation. A smile graced his face as he traveled in a cab to the serviced apartment he rented for a month, fully aware that he would soon need to search for a more permanent place. This was his city, his little piece of happiness, his fresh start.
After catching up on sleep after a long flight, he joined various expat groups on social networks, consulted the expat guide he had purchased, tried Malay cuisine—squinting at the spiciness while sipping on ice-cold, tangy lemonade. He then headed to the lab to pay homage to his father. Tears welled up quietly, but this time they felt liberating, weightless, releasing the memory of his father. With a sense of serene peace, he delved into pleasant tasks- visiting an international medical clinic for necessary tests and a meeting with the doctor, exploring several condominiums with a real estate agent on the first day, settling on one while instructing the agent to find additional options in the same building.
Two days later, after canceling the serviced apartment reservation, he briskly strolled through Ikea, picking essential items with Swedish-sounding names for a complete life. The shopping process was more joyful than ever. Moe, who generally disliked shopping, found himself grabbing one thing after another with enthusiasm, tossing everything into the cart, envisioning how he would use them in his beautifully arranged two-bedroom apartment. After leaving Ikea, he eagerly visited baby stores as a newly devoted parent, desiring to purchase only the best, highest-quality, and endearing items for Miny. A visit to an upscale brand store prompted joyful groans as everything, absolutely everything, pleased his eyes.
After a week and a half of thorough and meticulous shopping, guided by Omegas’ recommendations on the best baby products, Moe sat proudly sipping his decaf in an apartment fully equipped for the life of a single omega with a child. He looked around with satisfaction at his possessions, finding comfort no longer intimidating but genuinely soothing to his soul. Moe felt a deep sense of gratitude towards his parents, who had ensured every family member for a substantial sum of money. The things that once overwhelmed him to the point of distress now supported him in his new life.
Entering the seventh month of pregnancy, Moe conscientiously prepared for the significant role of a father. He attended parenting classes, practiced paternity yoga, and swam to the point of exhaustion at the condo pool. Proudly embracing his ideal lifestyle, he ensured Miny had everything he needed, including a balanced diet, moderate exercise, and a cultural program.
The waiter skillfully arranged plates of fried lettuce and dumplings on the table. He then placed a deep bowl of noodles in front of Moe, with a neat island of dried seaweed gradually sinking and melting in the soup. Moe eagerly started eating, devouring everything at once, following the local practice rather than eating each dish separately, as it was much more enjoyable. After satisfying his appetite, he paid the bill and rose heavily from his seat. Now, he would head to the movie theater, where he would cover himself with a blanket on a reclining chair and enjoy a fresh romantic comedy—just what was needed for Miny, a light and cheerful mood without any worries.
After the meal, he went to the toilet, panting with every step – in his current state, he visited the toilet almost religiously, especially after eating. Then, he regally moved to the elevator to reach the top floor. Spinning around in the elevator mirror, he caressed his belly, "You look fantastic, Moe Hayes! No swelling, no pigment spots, no stuffy nose, just a graceful, beautiful body with a wonderfully rounded large belly, his pearl in the shell."
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He showed his electronic ticket at the entrance and entered the empty cinema – no one was eager to watch a movie on busy weekdays. Climbing up, huffing into his seat, he promptly adjusted the back and leg rest. Unlocking his smartphone again, which beeped with messages while he walked, he tensed- Daniel sent a message.
"Moe, as I anticipated, Simmons has once again turned his attention to you. It appears he is ready to cooperate with the FBI. He has initiated a meeting with the closed case task force and expressed a desire to reopen the case, disclosing crucial information he had previously concealed. To say the least, he also claimed that a rival kidnapped and murdered his fiancé – I trust you understand who he was referring to, Moe. He reported that the abducted individual's watch contained a hidden geo-beacon, leaving no room for error..."
Moe nervously swallowed as he examined the new watch, identical to the one lost during the abduction. He continued reading, staring intently at the screen.
"...Reported the presence of a geo-beacon concealed in the abducted man's watch, eliminating any possibility of error – it was Moe Doe, whose remains Simmons wished to give a proper burial, that perished in the hunting lodge fire. As it was discovered that I had clean up the crime scene, Moe, I've been removed from the task force working on the case."
Moe's lips twitched, realizing that there was a weighty implication concealed beneath the carefully chosen words – Daniel likely found himself entangled in covering up his actions.
"And I won't be able to keep you informed any longer, moreover – I've disclosed the location of the burned corpse. If Simmons orders an exhumation, he'll quickly realize that the burnt body l was an alpha, not a beta or an omega - you understand. He'll initiate a search for you as his fiancé, Moe Doe, and the victim in the closed case, Moe Hayes. Be cautious. The masterminds behind the entire scheme might show interest in you once the case is reopened, but I don't believe there's much risk because they're not after you; you didn't possess the crucial information.”
“Delete these messages after reading – the online messenger doesn't retain deleted messages. Refrain from asking questions or seeking clarifications – refrain from responding to me. Do not call me – I'll reach out to you when necessary. Take care of yourself and Miny. Daniel."
“Fiancé, god damn it!” Moe angrily exclaimed, locking his smartphone. “Why the hell am I your fiancé, Einar? You're nothing but trouble, asshole! Why the hell did you frame Daniel?”
His nervous system rapidly depleted its carbohydrate reserves, prompting Moe to clumsily rise from his chair and hurriedly fetch snacks – two packs of saltine crackers and a croque-monsieur, along with a bottle of water and a can of ice coffee. The situation warranted caffeine, permissible on this occasion, but Moe typically avoided it. Returning to the now dimly lit hall, illuminated by credits on the screen, Moe settled back into his chair, snugly wrapped in a blanket, and began consuming fast carbs with nervous speed, deep in thought.
Einar could have reached out to him directly; his connections possessed the capability to track him down. However, Einar opted to involve the FBI, perhaps it is for the best- now Moe can convey his unequivocal refusal and continue living undisturbed, hoping that Einar wouldn't bother contacting him directly. In essence, who was he in this scenario? Nobody significant - just a small cog in a vast scheme, playing an inconspicuous role. His sole value lay in a delicate thread leading to the con artist Leonardo Sartori. Yet, with the latter's demise, that thread was severed. Leonardo Sartori, a stunningly charismatic man supposedly from an affluent family, turned out to be an obscure actor with a less-than-resounding name. He was discovered strangled in a budget motel shortly after the private jet crash, an incident that propelled Moe, grappling with an extended nervous breakdown, into the witness protection program.
Moe had only a basic understanding of his family's work, as he found such mundane matters uninteresting during his lively youth. His testimony reflected this lack of substantial knowledge, and he couldn't offer anything significant to the investigation. Involving him in the reopened case seemed almost futile unless there was a need for his appearance in court under the right circumstances and with the discovery of relevant evidence.
The photograph... Moe furrowed his brow, nibbling on his lip, recalling his appearance in that particular case. No, Einer couldn't have identified him from the photo. The picture on Moe's identification card bore little resemblance- he sported round cheeks, heavily lined eyes, and bleached hair resembling a clown—thank God. When renewing his card, Moe didn't bother updating the photo; it was impossible to use the photo of a face swollen from blows for an important document. Furthermore, his gender was listed as Omega, while Einer believed him to be Beta, which worked in Moe's favor too.
Moe started to relax; after all, the likelihood of Einer reaching out directly seemed slim—why bother with a seemingly insignificant omega like Moe Hayes? Unless Einer initiated an exhumation, Moe hoped he would not, the potential risks remained minimal. Perhaps Einer would respect his memory, understanding that the sarcastic Moe Doe detested interference in his private affairs, and simply allow the remains to rest peacefully without further disturbance.
Moe chuckled, recalling the bearded man—the asshole whose death had never troubled him, could now be honored in ways he never experienced during his lifetime. The other asshole could also mourn him—Moe grinned wickedly, picturing Einer shedding tears over the closed casket. No, individuals like Einer wouldn't shed tears for a pitiful beta who had fallen as an unwitting pawn in a ruthless war. Einer, once again, manipulated the situation to his advantage—appearing seemingly confounded and finally agreeing to cooperate with the FBI, acknowledging that ruthless elimination of opponents without due process wouldn’t work. The alleged murder of his fiancé and the menacing phone threats provided a strong basis for reopening the case—something one could leverage, even at the cost of a dozen betas.
"Hate him," Moe stated dryly, then patted his belly apologetically. "Don't pay attention to me, Miny. Daddy’s just rambling."
Wiping his greasy fingers on a wet napkin from the box on the table, Moe opened the lid of the coffee can and happily took a sip. Once he had reassured himself that there was nothing to worry about and that there was no need to send neural danger signals to Miny, Moe returned home in a calm, contented mood. He stored the food in the fridge and on the shelves, changed into yoga clothes, and leisurely made his way to the condo gym. A troubling thought briefly crossed his mind, but Moe dismissed it with a determined act of will, "That's it, topic closed. Let's move on."