Moe arched his eyebrows in astonishment and let out a soft hum. What an imagination the writer must have had, conjuring up a love story between him and Einar out of thin air, filled with speculation and tearful moments- an alcoholic omega on the brink of losing his primary sex due to his drinking, turned beta, who coincidentally encountered the philanthropist Simmons on the street, pleading for assistance to cure his hangover; the instantaneous strike of Cupid's arrows on both of them; a subtle hint at Simmons's jealous ex, Eddie Johnson, who could have orchestrated an attack on Moe; the omega's subsequent escape to Singapore, fearing the repercussions. However, one crucial element was missing - Miny. To Moe's relief, this important detail was absent from the media coverage. The frenzied beating outside the clinic was justified by an alleged severe miscarriage that left Moe infertile. The climax of the story was Simmons's generous forgiveness of his former partner for the brutal attack, deeming it justified given the suffering inflicted upon him. Despite their deep love, Simmons relinquished his beloved. Overall, the narrative was both tragic and ludicrous - precisely the kind that resonated with the masses. Einar had adeptly manipulated public perception, a fact that Moe couldn't dispute. However, he couldn't fathom why Einar felt the need to complicate matters further.

Moe put the phone in the bag attached to the stroller handle, took the vacuum sealed mug from the cup holder, opened it, and savored the steaming coffee amidst the frosty air, relishing each sip as he strolled leisurely along the path. He continued to admire Miny, peacefully asleep in the stroller cradle in his cozy down jumpsuit with adorable hare ears adorning the hood. The coffee provided clarity to his sleep-deprived mind, allowing Moe to methodically piece together his thoughts. Einar had successfully erased all traces of Moe Hayes in both Singapore and Madrid, leaving only the persona of Moe Doe, whose photographic evidence remained scarce. The limited imagery included the initial uproar-causing photo from months ago and still frames extracted from the memorable clinic video, where Moe's face, partially obscured by sunglasses and swollen from childbirth, was challenging to discern. There were no reports of Moe's relocation to his home country, and surveillance of the estate adjacent to the main mansion revealed no additional photographs of Moe.

Overall, the general public had scant knowledge about Moe Doe. They knew only that he had pursued remote schooling at the X school due to developmental peculiarities, followed by enrollment at X University, majoring in sociology. After some time, he had been living on sporadic earnings, adopting a candidly nihilistic lifestyle and eschewing settling down. Then, he crossed paths with his prince charming, disappearing later in the warmth of tropical locales.

Despite the staged, Einar-induced altercation that thrust Moe into the glaring spotlight, Einar had effectively shielded him and Miny during their covert period away from public scrutiny. The duration of Moe and Miny's voluntary seclusion on the estate remained uncertain—Moe suspected that Einar harbored intentions of a perpetual stay, contrary to his own plans.

Moe sighed, stealing a glance at his watch. In roughly ten minutes, he could head inside the house, undress, clean up Miny, and hand him over to Datu, whom Einar had also brought over from Singapore. He could then have a conversation with Daniel, whose demeanor was just as somber as Einar's, and settle into the monotonous routine of idleness. The prospect was dreary enough to elicit another sigh from Moe as he trudged despondently along the lengthy paved pathway.

All his plans for himself and Miny in Singapore— leading a rich cultural and sports lifestyle, mingling with other new fathers, enrolling in developmental activities, and relishing a carefree life—had been disrupted by his own impetuousness and, of course, Einar. Now, a prolonged existence confined within a fenced and guarded perimeter awaited him, accompanied by unyielding boredom.

"Sir!" Datu exclaimed breathlessly, adjusting his jacket as he hurried towards them. "Mr. Simmons is waiting to see you in the small drawing room."

"Finally!" Moe exclaimed, rousing himself from his languid state, taking a brisk step forward. Suddenly, a thought struck him- had Einar orchestrated this dull seclusion deliberately, anticipating that over time Moe, weary of both idleness and the void of social interaction, would come to eagerly anticipate seeing him?

The realization was unsettling; Moe felt like a puppet, mistakenly believing he had control over his own fate when, in truth, he was merely obediently following the invisible strings pulled by the puppeteer. Grumbling irritably, he kicked a dry branch that had fallen from a nearby tree and handed the stroller handle over to Datu.

“In five minutes, you can bring him in. There are two more bags of frozen milk in the freezer, so he should be fine.”

“Excellent, sir,” Datu chirped, his smile widening. Always in good spirits. Started working for an ordinary, well-off gentleman, ended up employed by a billionaire who spared no expense, on a vast estate where he only had to tend to the baby, not the household chores.

Moe envied his sunny disposition as he made his way slowly through the gloom towards the house - let his Highness wait, he wouldn't budge from his leisurely pace. He took his time undressing in the hallway, then meticulously washed his hands, applying cream to combat the dryness caused by frequent washing. Finally, he sauntered into the small living room, designated as a meeting space. Einar, seated in a plush armchair by the window, immediately rose at his entrance, sporting a wide smile, while Moe, his complexion dusky, offered his customary grin, balancing the overall mood.

"Hey, Moe. Good to see you," Einer scanned him quickly from head to toe before settling his gaze back on his face, maintaining a smile that seemed forced.

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"Hey. Any updates?" Moe sank into the couch and stretched out his legs, making a conscious effort not to appear inviting.

"Yes," Einar approached the adjacent couch and perched on its edge in a manner suggesting a temporary position, clearly planning to move. Moe caught a whiff of the familiar scent of sea salt, bergamot, and wood, and he breathed through his mouth to resist its allure. "I'm nearing the end of the investigation, and we've uncovered some promising leads. It looks like we'll soon be identifying and apprehending all those involved in the case, one by one."

"That’s it?" Moe sighed in frustration, automatically pulling his legs closer to wrap his arms around them. "I need specifics, Simmons."

"Einer," he corrected with a hint of sadness, then settled onto the recently vacated spot on the couch, his eyes gleaming with a sense of triumph. "I've signed a nondisclosure agreement, Moe, and you know how stringent the FBI's policies are. I can only provide you with an overview."

"I'm sure you can do more than that," Moe grumbled, shifting onto the couch and suppressing a wry grin as Einer cast him a rueful glance while getting up from the couch. "You may not want to, but I'm tired of living in uncertainty, and I'm tired of being confined! When can we leave?"

"I can't provide a definite answer to that question yet," Einar remarked as he slid his hand to the knot of his stylish dark cherry-blue polka-dot tie, loosening it, and shrugged off his jacket. "Processes involving individuals of high importance and social status can often drag on for months, if not years."

"All the more reason to remain confined for that duration," Moe responded mechanically, feeling uneasy at Einar's actions. "What are you doing?"

"Just getting comfortable for what might be a lengthy conversation," Einar replied innocently, raising his eyebrows in a puzzled manner - if Moe didn't know him, he might have mistaken him for being entirely transparent. "Is something bothering you?"

"You're getting undressed right in front of me; something must be wrong," Moe tensed, his brows furrowing. "What kind of conversation is this that you need to be that relaxed?"

The warmth in his gray eyes dissipated, replaced by a chilly demeanor. "Manny's been paying you frequent visits," Einar remarked. "Why?"

"I won't dignify that question with an answer, especially not from you," Moe replied, his frown deepening as the question dredged up a past, he preferred to leave buried. "If that's all, you can leave. I need to attend to Miny."

"I apologize," Einar's tone softened, his fingers tensing as he struggled to maintain composure. "I didn't intend for my words to carry such implications. Manny is involved in the investigation, and due to his enthusiasm and tendency to speak impulsively, he might inadvertently reveal sensitive information, putting you at risk. I'm only concerned for your safety. Will you answer now?"

Moe reluctantly confessed, "He won't discuss the investigation. He's playing the role of James Bond, for fuck's sake. He just mumbles nonsensically and evades the topic. So, don’t worry. In the future, just ask him, not me."

"You're aware we haven't been speaking since the fire," Einar shifted uncomfortably, his shoulder jerking slightly. "Perhaps only at FBI-arranged meetings, when we're reconstructing the events."

"Well, you should," Moe replied, rising to pour himself a glass of water and discreetly adjusting his milk-filled breasts. With a contented sigh, he scratched his lower back, leisurely made his way to the table holding a jug of mineral water, unscrewed the crystal stopper, and filled the glass, watching the water bubble. "You're brothers, it's about time you found common ground. There's no one closer to you on this planet."

"There is," Einar whispered almost into his ear, his breath scorching hot. "You. And we both want you for ourselves. I know Manny won't back down, and he's convinced he stands a better chance now that I've made such a mess of things."

Moe shifted away along the table with his glass, feeling his body react involuntarily to Einer's proximity, and pressed his lips together unhappily. He took a sip of water, letting the cool liquid soothe his throat before responding calmly, "First off, back off, okay? I might just swing at you. And secondly, neither of you even has a shot. I see him like a pesky little brother, and you're just a major pain in the ass. Can you idiots finally get that axiom through your heads?"

"If you're resorting to swearing, this topic must mean something to you," Einer remained in place, his grip tight on the table's edges, his fingers still showing signs of irregularity from the skin grafts, a reminder of the fire's devastation. Moe swallowed hard; his gaze fixed on Einer's hands. "I'll never accept your axiom, because you mean too much to me to just dismiss you and move on," Einar pleaded softly, his eyes softening. "Moe, please, I'm begging you, open up to me, try to trust me. We had something more than just casual sex, you can't deny that."

Moe remained silent, unable to look away from Einer's fingers, which evoked memories of the horrific fire where Einer, defying his bodyguards, desperately searched through the debris for someone who might have already perished in the flames.

“Perhaps it used to,” hesitated, feeling compelled to speak honestly, especially with his burnt fingers urging him to do so. "But..." Moe paused, unable to bring himself to say the word "burned," and instead hoarsely continued, "Not anymore. The only person who matters to me is Miny

"Moe," Einer approached slowly, his fingers damp with anticipation tracing uneven streaks on the smooth surface. "There's still a chance for everything to return, just give me a chance. I won't repeat the mistakes of the past, I won't push you, I'll do my best to make you happy," Einer rustled something and placed the turquoise case on the table, gently sliding it across to the bewildered Moe. "I once called you my boyfriend without asking, so now I'm asking - can you consider giving us another chance? I won't press for more, but I'd marry you tomorrow if you'd have me."

“You're crazy,” Moe stared at the velvety case in his hand, his grip tightening around the glass. Time seemed to slow down, intensifying his senses- scents became sharper, weights heavier, sensations more vivid, more powerful. The omega essence, long suppressed, whispered with hope, pleading to trust Einar.

"There's no other way to be with you but to embrace the madness," Einar chuckled warmly. "But you bring me to life and make me happy when you're around, so I don't mind being a little crazy. Even this house," Einar continued, taking small steps so as not to startle Moe, signaling his proximity. "I bought it when you were Manny's companion, hoping we could move in together once the contract was over, just you and me."

“I can't trust you,” Moe snapped out of his daze, feeling a mix of pain and longing stirring inside him at Einar's words. "That's enough, Einer. I don't want anything..."