Page 16

"You didn’t.” I told him, which was true. He didn’t make me feel uncomfortable. His directness was jarring, but not unkind, and there was something oddly comforting about having my experiences analyzed with such clinical precision. It made them feel less personal, less shameful somehow.

"Actually," I continued, surprising myself, "it's helpful to have a name for it. I always thought I was just... difficult. Too interested in food, too enthusiastic about things I should approach with restraint."

Miles reached across the table, his fingers stopping just short of mine. "May I?" When I nodded, he covered my hand with his warm palm. "You weren't difficult. You were human."

The simple statement hit me with unexpected force. Human. Not an Omega to be trained, not a daughter to be perfected, not a commodity to be prepared for market. Just human, with human desires and responses.

I took another spoonful of soup, letting the warmth settle my nerves. "What's a normal day like here?" I asked, genuinely curious. "I realize I don't know anything about your routines or schedules."

Christopher brightened at the change of subject. "We don't keep rigid schedules, but as athletes we do have training regiments. You know we are each athletes, correct?”

I nodded, “Only the bare minimum.” My parents didn’t tell me a lot, I know they’re athletes, Julian being tennis and that is only because I was forced to attend his game.I knew because of their advanced degrees and the business they all owned, they were highly sought after Alphas.

Miles gave me a small smile, “You know Julian is a tennis player. But I play soccer, Chris is a boxer and Nico is a swimmer.”

I tried to picture each of them in their respective sports, the image of Christopher boxing particularly difficult to reconcile with his gentle, nurturing demeanor. "Boxing?" I asked, unable to hide my surprise.

Christopher laughed, his gray eyes twinkling with amusement. "I know, I don't look like much of a fighter. But there's something about the discipline, the precision required. It's almost meditative."

"He's being modest," Miles interjected, tearing off another piece of bread. "Chris is ranked third nationally in his weight class."

"And Miles is too humble to mention he's one of the main reasons his team made it to the championships and won the last four years.” Christopher countered, his affection for his packmate evident.

I found myself genuinely interested, leaning forward slightly. "Do you all train together?"

"Sometimes," Julian replied, his voice warm as he watched me engage with the conversation. "We have a gym on the lower level with equipment for each of our sports. Miles and I sometimes run together in the mornings, and Christopher spars with his coach there a few times a week."

"Nicolaus prefers to swim at the university pool," Miles added. "Says our lap pool isn't long enough for his training regimen."

Nicolaus shrugged, unapologetic. "Proper training requires proper facilities."

"What about you?" Christopher asked, his eyes bright with curiosity. "Did you play any sports growing up?"

The question caught me off guard. No one had ever asked about my athletic interests before. "No," I admitted. "My mother believed physical exertion wasn't... appropriate for an Omega of my standing. I had dance lessons, but those were focused on grace and poise rather than athleticism."

"Dance is absolutely athletic," Miles countered immediately. "The control, the endurance, the strength required—it's incredibly demanding."

"What kind of dance?" Christopher asked, leaning forward with genuine interest.

"Ballet, primarily," I replied, a hint of nostalgia coloring my voice. "And ballroom, of course, for social functions. I actually... I enjoyed it, even though the purpose was just to make me more appealing at formal events."

"Do you miss it?" Julian asked quietly.

The question made me pause. Did I miss dancing? I'd never considered it before—whether I actually enjoyed the activity itself separate from its purpose in my parents' grand design.

"I think I do," I said slowly, surprising myself with the realization. "Not the structure or the criticism, but the movement itself. The feeling of... freedom, I suppose, even if it was within strict parameters."

Nicolaus nodded thoughtfully. "There's a dance studio on the second floor of the community center a few blocks away. They offer adult classes without the competitive pressure you might have experienced in your training."

The casual suggestion—as if my interests were worth accommodating—caught me off guard. "You would... let me take dance classes?"

Julian's expression shifted, something between sadness and determination crossing his features. "Lilianna, you don't need our permission to pursue activities that interest you. If dancing brings you joy, we'd encourage it."

"We could convert one of the spare rooms into a small studio," Christopher suggested, his enthusiasm building. "It wouldn't take much—some mirrors, a barre..."

"Let's not overwhelm her with options," Miles cautioned gently, though his smile was warm. "One step at a time."

I felt heat rise to my cheeks at their consideration. "I'm not sure I even remember the techniques properly. It's been years since I actually danced for pleasure rather than evaluation."

"Muscle memory is powerful," Nicolaus observed, finally setting aside his tablet to give the conversation his full attention. "And relearning something you once loved can be profoundly therapeutic."

Christopher practically bounced in his seat. "We could find you some classes! Or if you prefer privacy while you're getting back into it, we really could set up a small studio space here."

The enthusiasm in his voice made something warm unfurl in my chest. When was the last time someone had been excited about something I wanted to do?

"I..." I started, then stopped, overwhelmed by the casual way they discussed reshaping their home to accommodate my interests. "You would really do that?"

"Of course," Julian said simply, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "This is your home now too, Lilianna. We want you to be comfortable here.

I bit my lip, “Can I think about it?”

"Of course you can," Julian said immediately, his voice warm with understanding. "There's no rush to decide anything right now."

Christopher nodded eagerly. "Take all the time you need. The offer stands whenever you're ready—or not at all, if you decide you'd rather explore other things."

I finished my soup in comfortable silence, listening to the easy conversation that flowed around me.

They discussed their upcoming training schedules, a charity event Julian was committed to attending, and Christopher's plans to experiment with a new bread recipe.

Normal, domestic concerns that felt both foreign and appealing.

"What about you, Nicolaus?" I asked during a lull in conversation. "When do you train?"

He glanced up from his tablet, which he'd been consulting between bites. "Early mornings, usually. Five-thirty to seven-thirty at the university pool. I prefer to get it done before the day begins.”

"Which is why he drinks approximately his body weight in coffee by noon," Miles added with a grin.

I found myself smiling at their easy banter, the way they teased each other with obvious affection. My parents never joked, never engaged in playful conversation. Everything in our household had been serious, purposeful, designed to reinforce proper behavior rather than genuine connection.

"What about your business commitments?" I asked, remembering the tablet Nicolaus had been reviewing. "My father mentioned you all maintain family enterprises alongside your athletic careers."

Julian nodded, leaning back in his chair. "The businesses are important, but we've structured things so they don't interfere with our primary commitments— our sports careers, each other." His eyes found mine across the table. "And now you."

The casual inclusion made my breath catch. I was still adjusting to being considered in their plans, their lives, their future decisions.

"Julian oversees the family's sports management company," Christopher explained, clearly proud. "He represents several top athletes in contract negotiations."

"Miles handles sustainable agriculture development," Nicolaus added, his tone carrying respect. "His family's been pioneering eco-friendly farming techniques for decades."

Miles ducked his head modestly. "It's important work, but hardly glamorous. I spend a lot of time in dirt and spreadsheets."

"Christopher runs a chain of artisanal bakeries," Julian continued, smiling at his packmate's obvious passion. "Though he insists on testing every new recipe himself, which explains the constant parade of baked goods in this house."

Christopher grinned unrepentantly. "Research and development. Very important."

"And Nicolaus?" I asked, curious about the most reserved of the four.

"I'm the managing partner of our family's legal practice," Nicolaus continued, his voice precise and measured. "I specialize in family law, particularly cases involving Omega rights and protections."

The revelation surprised me. "Omega rights? That's... not what I would have expected."

Nicolaus's blue eyes studied me with that analytical gaze. "Most don't. But I've seen too many cases like yours—Omegas treated as commodities rather than individuals with agency. The law is slowly changing, but not quickly enough."

His words made me pause, a fork suspended midway to my mouth. "There are laws protecting Omegas?"

"Some," Nicolaus replied, his tone neutral but his eyes sharpening with interest. "Though they're often unenforced or circumvented through family 'arrangements' like yours. It's a particular interest of mine, closing those loopholes.”

"It's a complicated area," Julian added, watching my reaction carefully. "Traditional families like yours often operate in a gray area—technically legal but ethically questionable."

I set down my fork, suddenly not hungry despite how delicious everything was. "I never knew there were options. Legal protections. My parents always presented our arrangement as the only possible path."

"That's by design," Nicolaus said, his clinical tone softening slightly. "Information is power. By limiting your knowledge of alternatives, they maintained control."

Miles reached for the bread basket, offering it to me again. "But that's over now. You have choices, information, support."

I took another piece of bread more to have something to do with my hands than from hunger. "It's overwhelming sometimes. Realizing how much I didn't know."

"That's perfectly normal," Christopher assured me. "You don't have to absorb everything at once.”

I nodded, the information I have gotten a bit overwhelming and from the looks on their faces, they knew it too. Today was my first day here and I was already overwhelmed. I hoped things worked out but right now things felt a bit too much.