Yaojin didn't realize something was wrong until his phone wouldn't stop vibrating.
It started as a low buzz against the nightstand. Then another. Then five more in rapid succession.
He frowned and reached for it.
Missed calls. Messages. Notifications stacked so high the screen lagged when he unlocked it.
At the top of every platform, every trending list, every gossip column, one sentence repeated in different variations:
Is Shen Yaojin Pregnant?
For a moment, he didn't understand what he was reading.
Then his chest went cold.
Speculation threads were already dissecting his appearance from the press conference. Screenshots zoomed in on the moment he'd briefly rested his hand over his stomach on the balcony days ago—someone must have taken a telephoto shot. People were analyzing his posture, his clothes, even the way Zhiyuan had stood close behind him.
Some comments were congratulatory.
Some were cruel.
Some were calculating.
"If he's pregnant, that child secures his position permanently."
"Contract marriage suddenly makes sense."
"Classic omega move."
Yaojin's fingers trembled.
The door to the bedroom opened quietly.
Zhiyuan stepped inside, already dressed for the day, expression composed—but his eyes sharpened immediately when he saw Yaojin's face.
"You saw it," Zhiyuan said.
Yaojin nodded once. "I didn't even know rumors could… feel this heavy."
Zhiyuan crossed the room in three steps and took the phone from his hand. He scanned quickly, jaw tightening.
"This didn't happen naturally," he said flatly. "This was seeded."
"Does it matter?" Yaojin whispered. "It's everywhere now."
"Yes," Zhiyuan replied. "It matters."
Because rumors didn't just stain reputations. In their world, they shifted power.
Within hours, reporters gathered outside the company building. Investors were already speculating about succession, inheritance structures, potential heirs. The board demanded clarification.
In her penthouse, Lin Meiqi watched the chaos unfold with quiet satisfaction.
"See?" she murmured to her reflection. "They don't need proof. They just need possibility."
Her assistant hesitated. "What if it backfires? If there's no confirmation—"
"There doesn't need to be," Meiqi interrupted. "Doubt is enough."
But she underestimated one thing.
Mu Chenyang did not like doubt.
When Zexu forwarded him the rumor thread, Chenyang didn't react emotionally. He didn't panic. He didn't rage.
He opened his laptop.
"Don't tell me you're working," Zexu groaned over the phone. "This is about Yaojin."
"Yes," Chenyang replied calmly. "That's why I'm working."
He traced the origin of the first post. Anonymous account. Recently created. Bot amplification. Coordinated repost timing.
Amateur mistake.
"Interesting," he murmured.
Across the hospital, Qin Haoran reviewed patient charts when his phone buzzed with a message from Zhiyuan.
Rumor originated from shell accounts tied to Meiqi's PR firm. Confirming now.
Haoran's expression didn't change, but he stood immediately.
When he entered Chenyang's apartment later that evening, he found the omega surrounded by open tabs and digital trails.
"You should be resting," Haoran said automatically.
"You should stop saying that," Chenyang replied without looking up. "I found her."
Haoran stepped closer.
Chenyang turned the screen toward him. "The pregnancy rumor started from a marketing subsidiary connected to Lin Meiqi's overseas branch. She tried to mask it through layered accounts, but the timestamps overlap."
Haoran studied him instead of the screen for a second too long.
"You're impressive," he said finally.
Chenyang arched a brow. "I know."
For a brief moment, something almost like a smile tugged at Haoran's mouth.
Meanwhile, at the company headquarters, Zhiyuan stood before the board again.
"This rumor is false," he said evenly. "And it was deliberately manufactured."
A director shifted uncomfortably. "Still, the market—"
"The market will stabilize," Zhiyuan cut in. "Because by tomorrow, the source will be exposed."
His gaze was cold enough to freeze the room.
"And when it is," he added quietly, "anyone considering aligning with Lin Meiqi should reconsider their career longevity."
Silence followed.
Back at the mansion, Yaojin sat alone in the study.
He wasn't crying.
He wasn't panicking.
He was thinking.
His entire life, people had written stories about him. Weak omega. Scholarship case. Climber. Manipulator. Now potential heir-bearer.
He was tired of being a narrative.
When Zhiyuan returned home, he found Yaojin standing by the window again.
"They'll announce it tomorrow," Zhiyuan said. "The source."
Yaojin nodded.
"Are you angry?" Zhiyuan asked.
Yaojin considered it.
"No," he said softly. "I'm done being quiet."
Zhiyuan's eyes sharpened. "What are you planning?"
Yaojin turned to face him fully.
"She wants a public story?" he said. "Then let's give her one. But this time, we control it."
The next morning, the headline shifted.
Investigation Reveals Coordinated Rumor Campaign Linked to Lin Family Subsidiary
The internet erupted again—this time in a different direction.
Speculation turned into outrage. Investors began distancing themselves. Anonymous insiders leaked financial inconsistencies connected to Meiqi's accounts.
Because while she had been busy crafting gossip—
Zhiyuan had been dismantling her infrastructure.
And Chenyang had been feeding him data.
In her penthouse, Meiqi read the new headlines in silence.
Her assistant whispered, "They're connecting it back to us."
Meiqi's fingers tightened around her phone.
"So," she murmured slowly, "the omega found his claws."
Across the city, Zexu hugged Yaojin tightly.
"You're terrifying when you decide to fight," Zexu said with a grin.
Yaojin smiled faintly. "I learned from the best."
From the balcony above them, Bai Lianyi watched with narrowed eyes. Not jealous—just protective.
And in a quiet hospital office, Qin Haoran received a short message from Chenyang.
Told you I'd handle it.
Haoran looked at the screen for a long moment before replying.
I never doubted it.
The war wasn't over.
But for the first time, the omegas weren't reacting.
They were moving.
And Lin Meiqi had just realized—
She wasn't the only strategist in the city anymore.