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Chapter Twelve

Lilianna

Julian seemed to sense my overwhelm, leaning forward with gentle concern. "We've thrown a lot at you today. Why don't we table the heavy discussions for now?"

"Good idea," Miles agreed, standing to clear the empty bowls. "Lilianna, would you like to see the rest of the house? We’ve given you a tour of your suite, but there's still the gym, library, garden..."

"I'd like that," I said, grateful for the change of subject. The casual domesticity of lunch had been wonderful, but the revelations about Omega rights and legal protections sat heavy in my stomach alongside Christopher's soup.

"I'll clean up here," Christopher offered, already gathering plates. "You three go explore."

Nicolaus stood as well, tucking his tablet under his arm. "I have a conference call in twenty minutes, but perhaps we could continue our conversation later.”

I nodded, though something in his intense gaze made me wonder if "conversation" was the right word for what he had planned. More like analysis, perhaps. But his interest in Omega rights intrigued me, even if it felt too complex to process right now.

Julian rose from his seat, gesturing toward the hallway. "Shall we start with the library? I have a feeling you'll appreciate it."

We left Christopher humming softly as he loaded the dishwasher, his contentment filling the kitchen with warmth. Julian led me through the living area toward a set of French doors I hadn't noticed before.

"This was actually what sold us on the house," Miles said, reaching around Julian to push open the doors. "Well, this and the garden."

I stepped into the library and felt my breath catch.

Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves lined three walls, filled with volumes that showed clear signs of being read and loved.

A rolling ladder provided access to the highest shelves, and comfortable reading chairs were positioned near tall windows flooding the space with natural light.

Unlike the sterile perfection of my parents' library—where books were arranged by color and size rather than content—this room felt alive with knowledge and possibility.

"It's incredible," I whispered, moving toward the nearest shelf. My fingers traced the spines of novels, biographies, scientific texts, poetry collections—all mixed together without rigid categorization.

"Feel free to borrow anything that interests you," Julian said, settling into one of the leather armchairs. "We believe books are meant to be read, not displayed."

I pulled out a volume of contemporary poetry, opening it to find margins filled with penciled notes in different handwritings. "You write in your books?"

Miles chuckled. "Guilty as charged. We all do. Christopher says it's a conversation with the author." Miles shrugged. "Nicolaus is more methodical - he uses different colored tabs for different themes."

"My mother would be horrified," I said, but found myself smiling as I traced the handwritten notes. There was something intimate about seeing their thoughts captured in the margins - questions, exclamations, connections to other works.

"This one's Julian's handwriting," Miles pointed to a particularly thoughtful annotation. "He's our resident philosopher."

Julian shook his head, a small smile playing at his lips. "Hardly. I just ask a lot of questions."

I carefully returned the book to its place, overwhelmed by the freedom to simply browse, to touch, to explore without permission or supervision. "Are there any... restrictions? Books I shouldn't touch?"

Julian and Miles exchanged a glance that spoke volumes.

"None whatsoever," Julian said firmly. "This library belongs to all of us now - including you. If something interests you, take it. If you want to write in the margins, write in the margins. If you want to reorganize entire sections according to your own system, feel free."

The casual permission to alter their space - to make it mine as well - felt staggering. I moved to another section, finding myself drawn to a collection of science texts that would have been forbidden in my parents' house.

"Physics, chemistry, biology," Miles observed, following my gaze. "Christopher's the one who stocks the science section. Says understanding how the world works makes him a better baker."

I pulled out a volume on quantum mechanics, its pages well-worn and annotated. "My mother said scientific subjects were 'unnecessarily challenging' for an Omega mind."

"Your mother said a lot of things that were complete nonsense," Julian replied, voice annoyed but I knew it wasn’t directed at me, but his words unexpecting words made me laugh.The sound of my own laughter surprised me—sharp and genuine, escaping before I could modulate it into something more appropriate.

I clapped my hand over my mouth instinctively, then slowly lowered it when I saw Julian's pleased expression.

"That's a lovely sound," he said quietly. "Your real laugh."

Heat crept into my cheeks. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have—"

"Don't apologize," Miles interrupted gently. "Not for being authentic, especially not for laughing at Julian's bluntness. Someone needs to appreciate it."

Julian rolled his eyes good-naturedly at Miles before turning back to me. "What interests you? Scientifically speaking."

I hesitated, the old caution still lingering despite everything. "Astronomy," I admitted finally. "The stars, planets, cosmic phenomena. It seems... vast. Beyond human pettiness."

Julian's face lit up with genuine enthusiasm. "Miles, show her the roof access."

"Roof access?" I asked, curiosity overriding my ingrained caution.

Miles grinned, already moving toward a narrow staircase I hadn't noticed tucked behind the library's back wall. "One of the house's best features. Christopher had a fit when we first climbed up there—worried we'd fall through and land in someone's bedroom."

We ascended the winding stairs, Julian close behind me, his presence steady and reassuring. The staircase ended at a small door that Miles pushed open, revealing a rooftop terrace I never could have imagined from street level.

The space had been transformed into an outdoor sanctuary—comfortable seating arranged around a fire pit, potted plants creating natural windbreaks, and string lights waiting to twinkle against the evening sky.

But what caught my attention immediately was the telescope positioned near the edge, its polished brass gleaming in the afternoon sun.

"We're high enough here to get decent stargazing," Miles explained, following my gaze to the telescope. "Not perfect—city lights and all—but on clear nights you can see quite a bit."

I approached the instrument with reverent steps, hardly daring to touch it. "It's beautiful."

"It's Nicolaus's, technically," Julian said, coming to stand beside me. "But he's generous about sharing it. He knows more about the constellations than the rest of us combined."

I traced the telescope's elegant curve with my fingertips, imagining nights spent beneath the stars, learning their patterns and stories. "I've only ever seen stars in books," I admitted quietly. "My parents' estate was well-lit at night—security concerns, they said."

"Light pollution," Miles confirmed with a slight frown. "Though I suspect the security concerns were secondary to keeping you from having too much wonder about the world beyond their control."

Julian's jaw tightened at Miles's observation, but he kept his voice gentle when he spoke. "Would you like to try it? The telescope? Even in daylight you can see some things—the moon if it's visible, sometimes Venus."

I looked up at him, searching his face for any sign that this was a test or trap. But his hazel eyes held only patient interest, the same expression he'd worn when offering me the violin.

"I would love that," I whispered, hardly daring to believe such a simple pleasure was being offered without conditions.

Julian moved behind the telescope, adjusting the angle and focus with practiced ease.

"Nicolaus taught us all the basics. He says anyone who looks up at the night sky and doesn't wonder what's out there is missing something essential.

" He stepped back, gesturing for me to look through the eyepiece.

"It's not pointed at anything specific right now, but you can get a feel for how it works. "

I bent down, closing one eye as I pressed the other to the telescope. The world through the lens appeared magnified and startlingly clear, the leaves on a distant tree suddenly visible in intricate detail. "It's amazing," I breathed, adjusting my position slightly. "Everything looks so close."

"Wait until you see the moon's surface," Miles said, settling into one of the lounge chairs nearby. "The craters, the shadows—it's like you could reach out and touch it."

I straightened, reluctantly pulling away from the telescope. "Could we... would it be possible to come up here at night sometime?"

"Anytime you want," Julian replied, simply with a smile on his face as he looked down at me. His blue eyes seemed to sparkle, causing me to look down at the floor, my cheeks heating up.

"Thank you," I said softly, still avoiding Julian's gaze. The casual freedom they offered—to use a telescope, to come and go as I pleased, to simply exist without constant evaluation—felt almost more overwhelming than my parents' restrictions.

Miles stretched his long legs out in front of him, tilting his face toward the sun. "We come up here most clear nights. Sometimes with wine, sometimes just to decompress. It's peaceful."

"Christopher falls asleep within twenty minutes every time," Julian added with a fond smile. "Claims the stars make him philosophical, but really they just make him drowsy."

I found myself smiling at the image—these four powerful Alphas lounging beneath the stars, teasing each other as Christopher dozed off. It was so different from the rigid formality I'd been raised with, where even leisure activities were structured for maximum propriety.