It took every ounce of his military discipline to swallow the liquid down without spraying it all over his mother’s clothes. His throat burned, and he had to suppress a cough as he carefully set the cup back down on its saucer.

"Don’t meddle with my employee’s relationships," he said, his voice coming out rougher than he intended.

Gloria’s silver eyes glinted but remained unreadable. "I heard that he got his first heartbreak, so I wanted to help him move on."

First heartbreak.

Grayson felt that something stabbed him deep in his chest, but he couldn’t remove it because it didn’t exist in real life.

This was the first time he was hearing about this, and he didn’t like it—not one bit of it.

The thought of his little secretary nursing a broken heart...

Who hurt him?

The question surfaced in his mind, accompanied by an unrestrained cold fury.

"You really like him, huh?" Grayson said, keeping his voice carefully neutral even as his thoughts churned with questions.

Who could have gotten close enough to Neville to break his heart?

His little secretary was always so guarded, always maintaining perfect professional distance with everyone in the office.

Always...

Always by Grayson’s side.

He pushed the thought away before it became more troublesome.

After all, he knew that Neville hadn’t been by his side all this time. He was just lying to himself because he knew every single one of the people who had been around Neville.

The question was...who was it among them?

"Of course," Gloria said, her expression softening into something almost maternal—though Grayson knew better than to be fooled. "It’s important to protect a fellow omega’s heart. After all, we’re the ones who suffer most at the hands of the wrong alpha."

The words stabbed something deep within Grayson’s chest.

His jaw tightened as memories he threatened to surface. But these memories were something he couldn’t remember clearly.

Something inside stirred at him darkly as he thought of Neville being paired with some random alpha his mother thought was suitable...

It made him want to bare his fangs on Neville’s neck and claim him.

"Still," Grayson said, his voice dropping into a low and commanding tone. "One’s marriage should be decided by oneself."

"Are you sure?" Gloria said it in an ambiguous tone.

Grayson chose to ignore it and categorize it as just the usual teasing of his mother—not realizing that labeling it as teasing made it even more ambiguous.

"Yeah."

Gloria sighed so dramatically that she could put one of the Imperial Theater’s lead actors to shame.

She pressed her hand to her chest as if she had been wounded and said, "I was even planning to match you with him, but... tsk, how sad."

Grayson’s brain short-circuited.

Match... him... with Neville?

For a moment, his calm expression cracked.

His silver eyes widened a fraction before he could restore his expression to calmness. He couldn’t believe that his heart dared to skip a beat at the mere thought of it.

"Let me think about another good one for him," Gloria continued, seemingly oblivious to her son’s changes.

But the tiny curl at the corner of her lips suggested she was anything but oblivious.

Grayson found his voice, though it came out more forced than he would have liked.

"Why are you even matching me with my own secretary?"

Gloria looked at him with eyes so wide and innocent that they absolutely had to be fake.

"Why not?"

"That’s not going to happen," Grayson said dismissively, even as something uncomfortable twisted in his gut at his own denial, forcing himself to ignore it.

"I understand, I understand," Gloria waved her hand airily. "That’s why I’m already thinking about another partner for him."

She tapped a finger against her chin, thinking in consideration. "How about Julius? He looks reliable."

Julius Seaton, his most loyal hidden guard, was now officially serving as head of Maxwell Corporation’s security. This former lieutenant colonel had followed Grayson through the bloodiest wars on the front lines without flinching.

"He has someone in mind," Grayson said flatly.

The words came out faster than he intended.

"What about Ciel?"

Ciel Erskine Marchesi, his younger cousin. He was the shota-faced colonel who had a way of making everyone underestimate him until it was far too late.

"He’s still young."

"Not that young," Gloria retorted. "He’s already in the military."

"Still, he doesn’t seem to be Neville’s type."

The words left his mouth before he could stop them. Grayson immediately wanted to retract them, but had no idea how.

How would he know what Neville’s type was? Why did he even say that?

Gloria’s eyes narrowed with the keen senses of a predator scenting blood. But before she could pounce on his slip, she restrained herself and made an exaggerated, annoyed expression.

"Then how about Helena?"

Lieutenant General Helena Popova. One of the highest-ranking female alphas in the Imperial Military, with a commanding presence that could make seasoned soldiers weep.

"She’s a female alpha."

Gloria raised both eyebrows this time.

"And how do you even know if Neville likes male or female alphas?"

Grayson’s opened and closed, unable to reach an answer.

"Just..."

He had no answer.

There was no reasonable explanation for why he knew Neville’s preferences. There was no logical reason for the relief he felt when he got Helena dismissed as a candidate.

Gloria pursed her lips, but her eyes danced with barely contained amusement.

She clapped her hands together as if struck by sudden inspiration.

"How about Chronos?"

Zero—or Chronos Godfrey, as he was known to the public—was one of the top idols of the Imperial Galaxy who had once served as Grayson’s shadow assassin. A male omega pretending to be an alpha. He had a face that launched a thousand merchandise lines and a personality that could darken any room he entered.

"Do you want to spread his gloominess even in my office?" Grayson asked, horrified at the mere thought of it.

"Isn’t that good? Their personality balanced each other!" Gloria explained cheerfully. "Neville seems like the cheerful type. They would complement each other nicely."

Grayson couldn’t refute that.

Neville was indeed sociable.

He had a way of getting along with everyone in the office, from the lowest-ranking employees to the most difficult department heads. He wouldn’t get depressed easily and immediately bounce back from setbacks with a resilience that Grayson secretly admired.

But still...

"No," Grayson shook his head firmly. "He can’t be."

Gloria’s expression flickered with barely concealed fake frustration.

"Then how about Pete?"

Pete Rowan, the dean of the Imperial Research Institute, has the calm demeanor of a gardener and the sharp mind of a genius—a man who had provided Grayson research materials that could be used during his military career.

"Haaa, Mother," Grayson finally snapped, his composure cracking under the relentless assault. "Can’t you just not list all of my best friends as potential suitors for my secretary?"