Alex stepped lightly down the winding staircase, the dull thud of his shoes on marble echoing against the cold walls of the Masterson villa. He had expected to walk into a full family gathering when the maid told him breakfast had been summoned by his mother—but instead, he was met with silence. Just Eleanor Masterson, perched at the head of the long table, elegantly sipping her tea..
"Ah, finally," she said, setting her teacup down with a delicate clink. "I was beginning to think you'd decided to ignore my invitation."
"I didn't know it was just you," Alex replied carefully, sliding into the seat next to her right.
"Would you have declined if you did?" she asked, her voice deceptively mild.
Alex didn't respond. He reached for a croissant and tore off a piece, more for something to do with his hands than an actual desire to eat.
"I assume you know why I called you here." Eleanor tilted her head slightly, scrutinizing him like a specimen under glass.
Alex shrugged. "No. Should I?"
Her lips twitched in irritation. "Damien Sandbrook spoke with your father. Apparently, he has taken... quite a special interest in you."
The croissant in Alex's hand suddenly felt heavy. "I'm not interested," he said flatly.
Her hand snapped against the table. Not loud, but sharp enough to draw his eyes back to hers.
"Stop being so hypocritical, Alex. You really expect me to believe that? That you, who've been sneaking off to our hotels for private rendezvous with Sandbrook, have no interest in him?"
Alex's eyes widened. "What?"
Eleanor leaned forward, her voice like silk wrapped around broken glass. "Do you really think you can keep secrets in this house? Those hotels belong to the family. Every booking goes through our hands. We know who you meet and when. Don't play dumb with me."
Alex shook his head slowly. "I didn't meet him. Yes, he messaged me, invited me out, but I never went. I ignored him because I'm not interested in getting involved with him."
Her chair scraped against the floor as she stood up. "You idiot," she hissed, fury blooming in her eyes. "You mean to tell me that a powerful alpha like Damien Sandbrook—who holds our financial future in his hands—has been pursuing you, and you've been rejecting him?"
He didn't flinch, but his body tensed.
"How dare you," she spat. "How dare you put your own selfish whims before the survival of this family."
Alex's voice was quiet but unwavering. "I'm not going to prostitute myself for a family that's done nothing but abuse me my entire life."
The words hung in the air like gunfire. Eleanor's face contorted.
"You think this is abuse? You ungrateful brat," she snarled. "After I carried you for nine months, after I put myself through hell to bring you into this world—this is how you repay me? By refusing to do the bare minimum to secure your family's place?"
"I never asked to be born," Alex shot back, standing now, eyes blazing. "You didn't give birth to me out of love. You did it because you hoped I'd be a dominant alpha and make you proud. But I didn't turn out that way, did I? I turned out to be a 'shameful omega'. You have always held that against me. If you disliked me even before manifesting into an omega, after it happened, your dislike turned into hate."
Her lips curled into a sneer. "You don't know what hate is, Alex. Not yet. But keep testing me, and you will."
Alex's jaw clenched.
"You think you're so clever, playing the martyr," she went on. "But don't pretend you haven't been trying to seduce Damien on your own. If you haven't opened your legs for him yet, you will. You better spread them wide for this family's sake—because I refuse to end up in rags."
Alex recoiled as if struck. "You're delusional."
She laughed. A brittle, humorless sound. "Am I? Then explain why Damien carried you inside like some tragic lover last night. Explain why he's been buying you meals. Why does he look at you like you're a diamond wrapped in velvet? Don't insult my intelligence, Alex."
"He invited me to dinner. That's it," Alex ground out. "I felt tired and fell asleep in the car. He didn't want to wake me, so he brought me home. And the takeout food…I don't know why he does that. But I assure you there's nothing going on."
"Then make there be something," she snapped. "I want you to stop taking those goddamn suppressants. Let your omega traits come through. Let him smell what you are. Let him want you."
"No," Alex said coldly.
"Excuse me?"
"I said no," he repeated. "I won't. I'm not going to be your whore, or Father's bargaining chip. I'm done pretending that any of you care about me. You don't get to demand my obedience after years of ignoring my pain and controlling every aspect of my being."
Her expression twisted with rage. "You ungrateful bastard! You think you can stand there and talk to me like that? After all I've sacrificed?"
"Sacrificed?" Alex laughed, bitter and hollow. "You shoved suppressants down my throat before I even understood what they were. You let Father starve me, hit me, break me. The only sacrifice you ever made was your illusion of having a perfect alpha son. And you've been punishing me for that disappointment ever since."
Eleanor's hands curled into fists. "Alexander Masterson," she said, her voice now low and venomous. "You will listen to your mother. Or have you forgotten what happens when you don't?"
Alex stiffened. A memory, cold and damp and suffocating, rose to the surface. The little cupboard. The way the walls would press in around him. The pitch darkness. The hunger. The thirst. The silence so loud it made his ears ring. His father's rage at discovering his son had manifested as an omega. His mother's passive, disgusted gaze as she watched him being dragged by the collar into that makeshift prison.
He swallowed. But this time, he did not look away.
"Do whatever you want, Mother," Alex said, pushing his chair back. "Blackmail me. Threaten me. I don't care. I'm not a child anymore."
He turned and walked out of the dining room, fists clenched at his sides, breath tight in his chest.
Behind him, Eleanor's voice rang out like a curse. "You walk away from this family, Alex—and you'll regret it for the rest of your miserable life."
He didn't look back. Because he didn't care.