Page 194 of Wisteria and Cloves
"You used to tell me that no one would ever want a defective omega like me," I said, my voice steady despite the cruel memories.
My mother's expression shifted from shock to calculating in an instant. "Lilianna, you're being hysterical. No one has hit you or made you do anything. These men have clearly filled your head with delusions."
The cameraman had gone completely still, his lens fixed on my face. I could almost feel the thousands of viewers watching through my phone upstairs, witnessing this confrontation in real-time.
"Are they delusions when there are witnesses?" I asked, my voice steady despite the trembling in my limbs. "When the household staff saw the bruises? When my old tutors noticed I couldn't sit properly after 'etiquette lessons'?"
I felt Nicolaus shift behind me, his protective energy radiating outward. "We have documentation," he said, his voice cold and precise. "Medical records from before and after Lilianna came to us. Testimony from staff members who witnessed your treatment of her."
My mother's composure fractured further, her eyes darting to the camera then back to me. "You're making a scene," she hissed, dropping her concerned motherly act entirely. "This isnothow a proper omega behaves."
"No," I agreed, finding strength in the admission. "It's how a person with self-respect behaves. Something you never wanted me to have."
The cameraman stepped closer, clearly riveted by the unfolding drama. Karen looked like she wanted to disappear, her knuckles white around her tablet.
"You came here with a camera," I continued, gesturing toward the man filming. “You brought the spectacle to my home. You brought someone to film this confrontation, hoping to catch me looking frightened or controlled. But all they're going to capture is the truth."
Karen finally spoke, her voice thin with nervousness. "Mrs. Wycliffe, perhaps we should—"
"Be quiet," my mother snapped, causing Karen to flinch. The reaction was subtle but unmistakable, and I saw the cameraman zoom in slightly to capture it.
"See that?" I said, pointing to Karen's reaction. "That's the real you showing for everyone to see. The way you treated me.”
My mother's face contorted with fury. "You would air our private family matters in public? This is exactly why you needed discipline—you have no sense of propriety!"
"Propriety," I echoed, a bitter laugh escaping my lips. "Is that what we're calling it now? When you locked me in my room for three days without food because I spoke to an alpha you didn't approve of at a charity gala?"
The silence that followed my words was deafening. Even the cameraman seemed stunned, his lens wavering slightly as he processed what I'd just revealed. I could feel the alphas behind me go deadly still, their protective instincts warring with their respect for my autonomy in handling this confrontation.
My mother's face cycled through several emotions—shock, rage, calculation—before settling on a cold mask I knew all too well. "That's... that's not..." she stammered, her eyes darting to the camera. "You're exaggerating. You always were prone to—"
"To what? To lying?" I stepped forward, my voice gaining strength.
My mother recovered quickly trying to save face with the camera recording her every movement, “You were grounded for inappropriate behavior, like any parent would—"
"Three days without food isn't grounding," I interrupted, my voice carrying across the yard with startling clarity. "It's abuse. And you know it."
My eyes narrowed as I looked to my mother's assistant, "Karen, you were there. You brought me water on the second day because you were worried I'd pass out. Tell them."
Karen's face went ashen, her tablet trembling in her hands. She looked between my mother and me, clearly torn between self-preservation and whatever conscience she might have left.
"I... I don't..." Karen stuttered, but her guilty expression spoke volumes.
"Or should we talk about the time you had me fitted for a special shock collar when I was sixteen?" I continued, my voice growing stronger with each revelation. "The one disguised as a choker necklace, that you could activate with your phone if I said something 'inappropriate' at events?"
My mother's face contorted with rage, her carefully constructed public persona crumbling entirely. "That's enough! You ungrateful little—"
"Mrs. Wycliffe," Christopher interrupted, his voice carrying that deadly calm that made even my mother pause. "I suggest you consider your next words very carefully. The camera is still rolling."
The cameraman had indeed moved closer, clearly captivated by the unfolding drama. I could almost see the headlines forming in his mind.
"You're making a terrible mistake," my mother hissed, her voice dropping to that dangerous register I knew too well. "Our family has connections you can't begin to imagine," my mother finished, her voice dropping to a threatening whisper. "This little performance will cost you more than you know."
I felt a strange calm wash over me at her threat. It was the same one she'd used my entire life—the specter of powerful connections, of consequences too terrible to bear. But something had changed. I was no longer that frightened girl who cowered at her warnings.
"No, Mother. It's you who's made the mistake," I replied, standing taller. "You miscalculated when you thought I'd still be too afraid to speak up. You underestimated what these men have helped me become."
Julian stepped forward, his shoulder nearly touching mine—close enough to support without overshadowing me. "Mrs. Wycliffe, I believe my mate has made herself clear. This is private property, and you are trespassing.”
