It’s Amandine’s birthday tomorrow and while I will call her and give her my congratulations in person, I still take my reluctant arse over to my childhood home. I don’t want to, in any way, broadcast preferences of any of my siblings.
Yes, some of them are easier to get along with and I’m the closest to Amandine, but it doesn’t mean I in any way dislike my brothers.
I slow down by the gate and pull up next to the guard station. I flip up the visor and say, “It’s me, Leopold,” before anyone asks for ID.
The one standing at the window looks like he’s about to ask me for my ID, anyway. Probably a new guy.
However, the security guy who is there with him practically shoves him out of the way to greet me, “Welcome back, young master. I’ll let you in right away.”
“Thanks.”
I flip the visor down and the gates open and I kick life into my bike.
I park outside the mansion. Mum hates it. It’s just stupid to park in the garage when I’m just going in for a five-minute chat.
Dad never said anything about it. Or he did once when he was leaving as I arrived. He told me to park close to the side so it wouldn’t scratch any cars when the driver pick up or drop someone before parking.
As if his big, fancy cars wouldn’t demolish my motorcycle if it got hit by one.
I still listened and have made sure to park it so it’s not in the way in any way. Unless they literally drive on Mum’s flowers or crush the marble steps to the front door.
I get off and remove the helmet, which I stash away. As I walk up the steps, I unbutton my jacket and run my finger through my hair. I don’t bother knocking. This was once my home, too. If my siblings can come and go without doing it, I won’t fucking knock even if I’m apparently supposed to because I went and become a “poor and tasteless person”.
Fuck you too, Mum. Nurses have helped you your whole life whenever you need healthcare. Even the family doctor has nurses assisting him, for fuck’s sake.
Two maids stand in the large vestibule. They bow to me slightly, but, unlike security, they don’t welcome me.
“Where’s Mum?” I ask.
“She’s in the sunroom, I believe,” one maid replies. “Shall I escort you there, master Leopold?”
“No. I remember where it is.”
I head to the sunroom. It’s the worse room to visit while wearing a set of biker clothes and having a tendency to run hot, but at least it’s not sunny today.
The sunroom is as big as I remember it is. It’s really a garden to keep Mum in a good mood during winter. She’s like Amandine and tends to lose spirit when winter comes around.
I find her curled up with a book and some of the cashmere blankets she got when pregnant with me.
“Hello, Mum,” I say. She gives me absolutely no reaction.
Well, no wonder she didn’t mention me during Francis’s birthday. I’m apparently dead to her now.
Geez.
I walk around and get down on one knee. The pants squeak as I do. I see a twitch of her nose.
“Hello, Mum,” I say again. “I came to offer my birthday congratulations to Amandine. Would you mind presenting her with this?”
I take out a gift card to a spa. Not just any spa. I researched closely and went to the location as well, to ensure it would be good for an expecting omega. I also considered the ride when I did, because she must be needing to use the restroom more often, so the trip shouldn’t be too long.
Mum still ignores me. I sigh and stand up. I find the nearby maid and give it to her. “This is for Amandine. Make sure she gets it and make sure she knows it’s from me. Please and thank you.”
The maid bows her head in silence to show she understood.
I had nothing else I could do than take my leave in silence. Mum still refused to acknowledge me. Well, guess that’s what you get for having feelings as an alpha and wanting to be a part of normal society. I’m more surprised she talked to me for nearly ten years after I left.
Just as I placed my hand on the door handle to leave the mansion, I heard a familiar voice: “Master Leopold, your father requests your presence in the study.”
I turn to see the butler stand by a door, hand on the railing of the landing on the second floor.
I don’t answer immediately.
I still remember when he was employed. Our previous butler had served the family since at least my grandfather’s time and Dad had him retire when I was eleven or twelve. Now, almost twenty years later, I realise how young the current butler was back then. He’s not that much older than my eldest brother.
“All right,” I say, and ascend the stairs. The maids bow their head as I pass them, but still don’t speak.
Maidservants are Mum’s staff, and the manservants are Dad’s.
It’s not really like that — they all are under the butler, who is employed by Dad, but the maids tend to handle household matters which are traditionally omega tasks in an alpha-omega relationship.
The butler brings me to the library.
Seems like Dad still uses the same code for private discussion.
It’s honestly kind of cute.
He could just say he wanted to have a private talk like a normal person, but, of course, that’s impossible. It would be too vulnerable, I suppose.
The butler leaves after he shows me to the library and closes the door behind him.
I look around. How long ago was it I was in here? I was never interested in the dusty old books. I walk over to a shelf and study the spines. Some are very old, others are not. I don’t touch anything. The only book I own at are all medical related, I think. I was never big on reading.
Honestly, it’s no wonder I failed the med school entrance exams.
“Leopold.”
I don’t really react to him saying my name. I knew he was in here.
“I spoke to you.”
“That’s no way to speak neither guests nor adult family members,” I reply. “Where’s my greeting, Dad?”
I turn to look straight at my Dad, who has stood up from whatever chair he was seated in when I arrived.
We stare for a long time. My siblings wouldn’t understand what we were doing.
Okay, Emmy might have an idea, depending on how well he can read people other than Francis.
We aren’t measuring up the other. We’re not even trying to assert dominance over the other.
I’m no longer a pack member, so Dad has no influence over me on a psychological level.
I have no plans on challenging him for the seat of the apex and patriarch of the Olivers, so it would make no sense that I, an alpha from outside the pack, was challenging him.
We’re just trying to see who the fuck is the most obstinate bastard out of the two of us. Because, of course, we’re a bit bullheaded.
He scoffs. “Fine. How are you, Leopold? Have you spent all of your money yet?”
“Dad, spending the trust fund I got access to when I was eighteen would take considerable effort. I pay for a housekeeper and occasionally a gardener, and have some bills, but a healthy diet of three to four decent meals and a couple of snacks hardly costs a fortune a day. Even adding a second person to my household is far from reaching those numbers. We aren’t consuming gold.”
I remove my jacket. My pants groan as I take my seat.
I must be one hell of a visual all right.
Leather jacket tossed over the back of a fancy chair, curly hair a mess after running my hair through it, leather pants, tight tee that shows my muscle definition. In a library that looks a few centuries old.
Dad doesn’t comment on it.
“I’m doing fine financially,” I say. “Nurses are underpaid, but I’m already financially secure, so I don’t mind. I am otherwise doing well. No illnesses, and I recently started getting to know someone who I like quite a lot.”
“Why don’t you become a doctor instead, Leopold?”
“I’m too dumb. I’m not good with academics because of that. Being a nurse is less cerebral and more kinetic. For someone like me who can’t even read a novel without falling asleep after a half a page, working with my hands is much better.”
I pause, then reassure him, “I’m not working class, Dad. I’m upperclass with the hobby of having a job and pretending I’m middle class. My wealth is still generational. I’m still as much old money as your other children. I merely took a different route.”
He is silent as he takes this in, then moves on to the next subject.
“Who did you begin courting?”
“My mate. The one you prepared me to meet many years ago. You were correct. It’s overwhelming, intense and painful, but I want this person nonetheless.”
Dad is quiet for a while.
“Omega?”
“Dexter is a male beta.”
I hear his disappointment in the sigh. “Dexter,” he mutters, clearly committing the name to memory. He then says, “You won’t have offspring that way.”
“Dad, medicine exists. I’m sure someone is willing to offer eggs for us and act as a surrogate for us. If Dexter wants children, we will figure it out. For now, I need to focus on keeping him, not whether there’s a womb to rent for a few months. I can have offspring for decades to come. I don’t need to be in a rush.”
He falls quiet again.
There’s clearly something on his mind.
“Is this about Mum?” I ask.
“What did you do to offend your own mother?”
“I exist. I think she finds that revolting.”
Dad’s scent spikes with defensive anger, a need to protect his wife. I don’t blame him. I even understand him.
His expression is calm, however. As is his voice as he says, “That is not what I meant, Leopold.”
“Dad, I didn’t do anything. Last time I came by, for Francis’ birthday, she told me to clean my room, as if I’m a small child. I just went to look if there was any reason to do so. As I went into the room, I noticed one of my childhood toys were lost and asked Mum about it. She claimed having no idea. She took it and later became defensive about it. I merely wanted her to be honest that she did take it, and did so without so much a thought about whether it meant something to me, but instead she seemed to blame me for something that was out of my control. I’m not at fault for her going through menopause.
I know that’s a difficult time to go through, but it gives her no reason to lie to my face. I can smell it, and the deception becomes even more obvious than if it had been to someone else.
So I truly did nothing. I would just have liked to be respected by being asked before someone takes a childhood toy from my childhood room and not be lied to about someone taking items from me, even if it’s for nesting.
Does that make sense?”
Dad looked a bit conflicted. I could understand. Naturally, he’d like to defend his mate of over forty years.
But he also was the one who taught me how to alpha, and what level of minimal respect I deserved.
“You don’t need to intervene, Dad. I don’t blame her. She finds the scent of me as a child comforting. She’s also very emotional because of what she’s going through and a lot of changes happen and it’s terrifying. I’m offering her enough grace to be able to change her mind.”
He looked minimally relieved.
“You are welcome to come to the celebrations as usual,” Dad says.
“I’m welcome?” I ask, bewildered.
That certainly is not the impression I have been given these years.
“I certainly have not said otherwise.”
“Mum has always expressed the opposite… That I’m unwelcome, and should leave immediately. That’s why I’ve kept my visits brief. I thought you agreed with her. You cut off my allowance.”
“You did say that you wouldn’t accept it even if I gave you anything, because you wanted to manage on your own.”
I did? I have no memory of that.
Well, that explains why he always asked about my finances if we had a conversation lasting more than thirty seconds, I suppose.
The silence that follows is awkward, to say the least.
Dad rubs himself between the eyes. He’s really put in a rough spot. Truly placed between a rock and a hard place.
“It’s my scent, isn’t it? She can’t stand it because it’s overwhelming?”
“I can’t say, Leopold. She has never once expressed this to me. She has only expressed your desire to remain outside of the family.”
I had expressed that. It was a long time ago. Mostly out of frustration.
“I didn’t have enough space,” I tell him. “I don’t know how to express it…”
“No, I understand. It’s natural for alphas to want the room to be alphas.”
Another silence.
“It would seem your mother would rather not you come…” he sighs.
This isn’t disappointment I smell. Disappointment would make sense. After all, there seems to be a few misunderstandings between us.
Instead the room is beginning to smell like betrayal.
“Then I’ll just stay away,” I offer. “But if you don’t mind the suburbs, you can come visit my home sometimes, Dad. Dexter currently lives mostly in a pack house, but the alpha, Miguel, is associated with Emmy and I’m good friends with him. It’s a pack connected to me and your pack both as s business affiliate and as an ally. He has already accepted that I’m courting Dexter and won’t interfere. But eventually I hope my mate will be there, in my house, with me too. It’s just that being lovers is still very new to us. I met him nearly a year ago, and we started a relationship officially not that long ago.”
“Give the address to Samuel. I’ll consider it.”
To the butler? That’s practically a yes to visiting, coming from Dad.
“All right.”
We sit in silence for some time. Both of us are too stubborn to be the first one to end the conversation.
It’s dumb.
I realise I’m as stupid as my father.
I didn’t really get his appearance, but seems like I got his personality.
After all, he also broke traditions and put my brothers to lead the company. I was never made to be involved.
And here I am, a nurse.
“Oh, that’s right!” My sudden outburst startles Dad, based on the way he visibly jumps in his chair.
“Is there some else related to this to mention?” he asks after having cleared his throat and coughs to hide his embarrassment at flinching.
“No. Not this. But there’s a matter I wanted to discuss with you that’s very important to me, and you’re the only one who can explain this to me.”
He sits a little straighter, trying to look taller, bigger, more dependable. This is the same alpha that once upon a time made me learn horseback riding.
“What can I help you with, son?”
“I won’t circle around it. Dexter is an orphan. He first lost his mother after his birth, and then his father some years ago. Miguel officially took him in then, but Dexter spent a lot of time with the pack before then. I need you to tell me how to formally announce my intentions of making him my mate when the parents have both passed. I want to do it all correctly.”
Dad looks surprised and then softens before he stands up. “Let’s speak in the study. I have the book of traditions there,” is all he says before he begins to leave the library.
This I won’t be stubborn about. I grab my jacket and follow him without a word.