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Chapter Seven

Lilianna

The week crawled by in a blur of appointments and preparations.

My mother dragged me from boutique to boutique, insisting on an entirely new wardrobe that met her exacting standards.

"Nothing too bold," she'd murmur to the saleswomen.

"We're looking for elegant simplicity. Modest necklines, appropriate hemlines. "

I stood like a mannequin as they pinned and tucked fabric around me, my thoughts far away from the endless parade of cream, pale blue, and soft pink garments my mother selected. Each night, I retreated to my room and touched the hidden phone like a talisman, reassuring myself that it was real.

By Thursday, my father had assembled a leather portfolio containing what he called my "credentials"—medical records documenting my perfect health and suppressed heats, educational certificates highlighting my accomplishments in appropriate feminine subjects, and a detailed family tree tracing our lineage back through generations of "distinguished" Omegas.

He presented it with the pride of someone displaying a prize-winning pedigree, and I had to swallow my revulsion at being reduced to paperwork.

Friday brought the final medical examination my mother had insisted upon.

Dr. Whitmore, our family physician for over a decade, conducted the appointment with the same clinical detachment he'd shown during all my previous visits.

But this time felt different—more invasive, more thorough.

He documented everything with meticulous precision, ensuring I met whatever standards the Vale pack might require.

"Perfect health," he announced to my mother afterward, as if I weren't sitting right there. "All systems functioning optimally. The heat suppression has caused no adverse effects."

My mother beamed with satisfaction. "Excellent. We'll forward the complete report to Mr. Vale immediately."

Saturday evening, my last night in this house. I hadn’t bothered using the phone they provided me. I didn’t want to bother them and didn’t want to get caught with it. My mother and maids had been in and out of my room, not leaving me much time alone.

I sat at my vanity, ostensibly removing my makeup from dinner, but really just trying to process the fact that in twelve hours, everything would change.

My packed suitcases stood lined up near the door like silent sentinels—three large cases filled with the carefully curated wardrobe my mother had assembled, plus one smaller bag containing the few personal items she'd deemed appropriate for me to take.

What she didn't know was that I'd hidden several books beneath the false bottom of my jewelry case—volumes I'd managed to acquire over the years despite her restrictions.

A collection of poetry, a philosophy text, and yes, the physics book I'd borrowed from the groundskeeper's son.

Small rebellions, but they felt monumental now.

The knock on my door made me freeze. "Come in," I called, quickly capping my Chapstick.

My mother entered, her silk robe flowing behind her like she was making a grand entrance even in my bedroom. She carried a small velvet box in her hands, her expression softer than I'd seen it all week.

"I wanted to give you this before tomorrow," she said, settling beside me on the vanity bench. "It belonged to your grandmother, and her grandmother before that."

She opened the box to reveal a delicate pearl necklace with a diamond clasp—beautiful, traditional, and utterly conservative. The kind of jewelry that whispered rather than spoke, that complemented without drawing attention.

"Thank you, Mother," I said, accepting the box with appropriate reverence. "It's lovely."

"Pearls are always appropriate," she said, her fingers smoothing my hair back from my face. "They speak to breeding without ostentation. The Vale pack will appreciate such restraint."

I nodded, studying the necklace. Another chain, I thought, then immediately felt guilty for the thought. My grandmother had worn this necklace, had probably treasured it. It wasn't the jewelry's fault that it had become another symbol of the cage I was escaping.

"I want you to remember," my mother continued, her voice taking on that lecturing tone I knew so well, "that tomorrow marks the beginning of the most important phase of your life. Everything we've worked toward has led to this moment."

"I understand, Mother." I said, keeping my voice soft but with no emotion.

She studied my reflection in the vanity mirror, her critical gaze cataloging every detail. "You look pale. Are you nervous?"

"A little," I admitted, which was true enough, though not for the reasons she imagined.

"That's natural. Any proper Omega would feel some trepidation about joining such a prestigious pack.

" Her hand rested on my shoulder, fingers pressing just hard enough to remind me of her presence.

"I may be an Alpha, and not understand you as an Omega would, but you have come this far. You have done well.”

Her words hung in the air between us, and for a moment, I saw something almost vulnerable flicker across her features. It was the closest thing to maternal affection she'd shown me in years, and it made my chest tighten with unexpected emotion.

"Thank you," I whispered, unsure what else to say.

She squeezed my shoulder once before standing. "Get some rest. The car will arrive at ten o'clock sharp. I want you downstairs, fully dressed and ready, by nine-forty-five."

"Yes, Mother." I said obediently, like I had been taught by her through all these years.

She paused at the door, her hand on the frame. "Lilianna?"

"Yes?"

"Make us proud." The door closed behind her with a soft click, leaving me alone with the weight of her expectations and the pearl necklace gleaming in its velvet nest. I set the box on my vanity and stared at my reflection.

Tomorrow would be my last day following her rules.

I slipped my hand under the loose floorboard beneath my bed, retrieving the hidden phone. I needed to hear their voices, to remind myself that the promise of tomorrow was real. I hesitated, then selected Julian's number, my heart racing as I pressed call.

He answered on the second ring.

"Lilianna?" His voice was alert despite the late hour. "Is everything alright?"

"Yes," I whispered, moving to the window seat where I'd be harder to hear from the hallway. "I just... I needed to make sure tomorrow is still happening."

A pause, then his voice softened. "Of course it is. The car will be there at ten. Everything's arranged."

"My parents have been..." I trailed off, unsure how to explain the suffocating intensity of the past week.

"Difficult?" he suggested with a sigh.

"Unbearable," I admitted, the word barely audible even to my own ears. "They've been planning every minute, every detail. It's like they're shipping off a prized possession and need to make sure the packaging is perfect."

Julian's sigh carried through the phone, a warm sound that somehow made me feel less alone. "I'm sorry. We knew it would be intense, but that doesn't make it easier to endure."

"It's fine," I said automatically, then caught myself. "Actually, no. It's not fine. Nothing about this is fine." The admission felt dangerous and freeing all at once.

"No, it's not," Julian agreed, his voice carrying an edge of controlled anger. "But it's almost over. Twelve more hours, and you'll be walking through our front door."

I closed my eyes, letting his voice wash over me. "What if I'm not what you expect? Once I'm there, living with you all?"

"We don't have expectations," he replied, his tone softening.

"That's not true," I said, surprising myself with my boldness. "Everyone has expectations."

A soft chuckle came through the phone. "Fair enough. Let me rephrase. We expect you to be yourself—whoever that is. The person beneath all that conditioning. And we expect to give you the space to figure that out."

"I'm not sure I know who that is anymore," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper.

"That's part of the journey," Julian replied. "Finding yourself. And you won't be doing it alone."

I gazed out the window at the manicured gardens below, silvered by moonlight. Gardens I'd walked countless times but never been allowed to alter or tend myself. Everything in my life had been decided for me, controlled, arranged for maximum effect.

"Are you still there?" Julian asked after my prolonged silence.

"Yes…I'm here," I whispered, pressing the phone closer to my ear. "Just... thinking about tomorrow."

"Are you having second thoughts?" His tone wasn't accusatory, just gently concerned.

"No," I said quickly, then paused. "Maybe not second thoughts exactly. More like... I don't know what to expect. From myself, most of all."

The line was quiet for a moment before Julian spoke again. "The first day I competed professionally, I stood at the edge of the court feeling like an impostor. Like everyone would suddenly realize I didn't belong there."

"What did you do?" I asked, pulling my knees to my chest.

"I played anyway. Badly at first—I double-faulted my first two serves." There was a smile in his voice. "But then I stopped thinking about what everyone expected and just... played."

I traced patterns on the window glass with my fingertip, leaving invisible marks that disappeared as soon as I lifted my hand. "And did you win?"

"Actually, no. I lost that match spectacularly," Julian chuckled, the sound low and warm through the phone. "But I learned something important—that being authentic, even when you're terrified, feels better than being perfect and empty."

His words settled into something tender in my chest. "I've never been allowed to lose spectacularly at anything."

"Well," he said, and I could hear the smile in his voice, "you'll have plenty of opportunities with us. We're experts at spectacular failures."

Despite everything—the weight of tomorrow, the suffocating week behind me, the uncertainty ahead—I found myself smiling. Actually smiling, not the careful, measured expression I'd been trained to wear.

"I should let you get some rest," Julian said softly.

"Wait," I said quickly, not ready to break this connection. "Can I ask you something?"

"Of course." His voice still soft as he spoke to me.

I hesitated, then forced the words out. "What happens if I'm not... enough? If the person underneath all this conditioning isn't worth the trouble you're taking?"

The silence stretched so long I wondered if the call had dropped. Then Julian's voice came through, quieter but somehow more intense than before, "Lilianna, do you know what I saw when you walked into that lounge a week ago?"

I shook my head, then realized he couldn't see me. "No."

"I saw someone who was drowning but still trying to breathe.

Someone who had been taught that her own thoughts were dangerous, but who couldn't quite kill the curiosity in her eyes.

" His voice grew warmer. "And when you laughed—really laughed—it was like watching someone remember something they'd forgotten they knew how to do. "

The description caught me off guard, so different from how I'd ever heard myself described. Not obedient or proper or well-mannered, but curious. Alive despite everything.

"That person," Julian continued, "is worth everything. The real question isn't whether you're enough for us—it's whether we're worthy of helping you discover who you really are."

Tears pricked at my eyes, unexpected and unwelcome. I blinked them back, unwilling to give in to the emotion threatening to overwhelm me.

"I should go," I whispered, my voice thick. "Before someone hears me."

"Alright," Julian agreed. "Just remember—ten o'clock tomorrow. And Lilianna?"

"Yes?" I asked, not knowing what else he could have to say to me.

"Pack whatever makes you feel like yourself. Not what they want you to bring." He then gave a quick goodnight before the phone disconnected…and I just had to hope tomorrow would go smoothly. That this was the right thing to do for my life.

Only time would really tell.