"See that you don't." He took another sip of whiskey, his eyes never leaving my face. "The Vale pack has very specific expectations. Traditional values. They want an Omega who understands her place."
If they only knew.I had to keep myself from rolling my eyes and keeping my face blank.
"I'll remember everything you've taught me," I said, the words tasting like ash in my mouth. Let them interpret that however they chose.
My mother's expression softened slightly, though her grip on my arm remained firm. "You've been such a good daughter, Lilianna. So obedient, so dedicated to your responsibilities. The Vale pack will see immediately what a treasure they're getting."
The word 'treasure' made something twist painfully in my chest. Not a person—a treasure. Something to be acquired, displayed, possessed.
"We should discuss the logistics," my father said, settling deeper into his chair. "Moving arrangements, what you'll be permitted to take, how often we'll expect communication."
"Communication?" I asked, trying to keep my voice level.
"Naturally, we'll want regular updates," my mother explained, her tone suggesting this should be obvious.
"We'll need to know how things are progressing." Her smile was tight. "Daily calls would be appropriate, I think. Perhaps video, so we can assess your presentation. Usually courting periods is only a couple months, so it shouldn’t be too hard to do."
My stomach clenched. Even from a distance, they intended to maintain their surveillance.
"I'm not certain that will be possible," I said carefully. "The courting period is meant to establish bonds with the pack. Too much outside contact might interfere."
My father's eyes narrowed. "You'll make time for your family, Lilianna. We haven't invested twenty-three years in your development to be cut out now."
Invested. Like I was a stock portfolio they expected returns from.
"I'll do my best," I offered, the compromise bitter on my tongue.
My mother stood suddenly, smoothing her dress. "It's getting late, and you look exhausted. We have a busy week ahead—appointments to make, arrangements to finalize. Get some rest, darling."
The dismissal was clear, and I rose obediently, grateful for the reprieve. "Goodnight, Mother. Father."
"We'll continue this discussion at breakfast," my father added, his tone making it clear this wasn't optional. "Seven-thirty sharp."
I nodded and made my way from the drawing room, careful to maintain the proper posture until I was out of their sight. Only when I reached the grand staircase did I allow my shoulders to slump slightly, the weight of pretense momentarily too heavy to bear.
My bedroom was on the east wing of the second floor—a pretty cage of cream and gold, decorated with the "appropriate feminine touches" my mother had selected. Nothing too bold, nothing too distinctive. Just like me.
I closed the door behind me and leaned against it, finally alone with the enormity of what had happened today. The phone in my purse felt like it was burning a hole through the fabric, a tangible reminder that everything had changed.
I moved to my vanity and carefully removed my earrings, watching my reflection in the mirror. Did I look different? Could others see what I felt—the fracture lines spreading through the careful facade I'd maintained for so long?
With trembling fingers, I retrieved the phone from my purse and held it like something precious and dangerous. The small black device represented everything I'd never had—connection, choice, possibility. I turned it over in my hands, marveling at how something so small could feel so significant.
After ensuring my door was locked—a habit I'd developed years ago when I needed moments of true privacy—I sat on the edge of my bed and powered on the phone. The screen glowed to life, revealing a simple interface with just four contacts: Julian, Christopher, Nicolaus and Miles.
This was the start of a new chapter of my life. I looked at the numbers once more before hiding the phone where no one could find it. I wouldn’t want anyone to find it.
Not when I was this close to leaving this house.
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 treetracing 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.
