38. Emmeline
38
Emmeline
T he last time I was here, I was still their daughter.
I’m not sure who I am now.
To them, nothing has really changed, except I’ve brought my new pack with me. I have no doubt they’ll have investigated them. Done some research.
Maybe they’ve even talked to our colleagues and found out about the baby already.
But I don’t know, and I won’t, until the posturing ends.
Alexander steps aside first, wordlessly letting us pass into the house. The familiar click of my heels against the marble floor echoes far too loud in the vaulted entryway. I used to race down this hallway as a kid—sliding in socks, laughing until I was breathless. Evander would chase me, sometimes my dads when they weren’t working.
I had a good life. Mostly.
It feels different now. Like a set piece from someone else’s memory.
Therapy has… well, it’s been hard because it makes you see things from a different perspective. A harsher one.
They lead us all through to the living room. I should’ve guessed when I sat in the horrible, formal one at our home— at my pack’s home —that it was one specifically for guests, since we’ve got that exact same thing here.
It’s sterile. Cold.
And it makes their position clear—tonight, we’re not family. We’re enemies on the battlefield. As dramatic as it sounds, I feel like I’ve already been wounded and I’m barely hanging on.
Victor is the first to speak. “You look very well, Emmeline.”
It’s meant kindly, I think. But the subtext curls beneath it like a vine—twisting, searching for cracks.
You look well—for someone making terrible life decisions.
“Thank you,” I say, smoothing the front of my dress again. It’s already perfect. I know that. But the gesture calms me. Oscar’s close to my side, but Evander wanders over, helping himself to the alcohol bar.
I never dared, even before I was pregnant.
Damian lingers near the lounge door, glancing between me and the others.
“Do you want a drink, love?” he offers, voice low. He’s gruff, but he’s also my favourite of my dads.
Before I can respond, Uri snaps, “No.”
It’s not meant to be rude, I know it’s not. But it is a command. He’s nervous, and I know none of my men are happy with the reception we’ve been given.
I reach behind me, brush my fingers against his hand. He squeezes once, hard.
“I’m good dad,” I say, more gently. “But thank you.”
“Dinner’s nearly ready,” Marcus adds from the hallway, already walking away to go check it.
No one offers to take coats, or mentions how lovely it is to see us. It’s all… neutral. Calculated.
We gather in the lounge, like guests at a wake.
“Whiskey, Sterling?” Evander asks.
My beta shakes his head, a wry smile tugging at his lips. “No thanks, bro. I’ll take a scotch. That way we can argue about taste, too.”
Evander smirks. He pours the drink, calm as ever.
“Take a seat,” Alexander gestures, but where my men hesitate, I don’t. I hear the command, and as the only omega in the room, I have no choice but to obey.
I drop into the nearest seat, my heart pounding. My anxiety doesn’t settle, even when Oscar comes to stand behind me, his hand pressed into my shoulder. He doesn’t sit, and I know he won’t even if asked.
Uri moves to sit right next to me, his thigh brushing against my own. I know this was purposeful, as he now takes up the rest of the three-seater. Especially as he spreads his legs wide.
Alexander sneers and Victor seems amused. Both of my dads sit down opposite. Damian moves over to help Evander pass out the drinks, as Sterling takes a seat.
He crosses his ankle over his knee, the perfect model of disinterested charm. Paxton stands behind one of the armchairs, one hand on the frame like a lion surveying a new territory.
The posturing is going to kill me. Don’t any of them feel the tension? Can they not sense the bristling anger from each of the other alphas in the room?
Or… maybe they do. Maybe this show energises them, perks them up, and gives them something worthy of fighting for.
“Thanks,” Paxton says, nodding at Evander. I don’t know if my brother asked my alpha what he wanted to drink, or if I missed it, but Paxton seems happy.
Evander drapes himself casually across the far end of the sofa like he owns the place. I know for a fact that he’s not on edge.
“Where’s Isaac tonight?” Victor asks, raising a brow at my brother. “He’s not missed a dinner in months.”
“Chasing a few leads for me,” Evander replies. “I’ve got a new job coming up.”
“Really?” I ask, with a smile. “Where?”
My four men exchange looks, and Ev smirks. “Opus Media. I’ve heard it’s the best spot around.”
I frown, glancing over to Paxton in surprise. My alpha shakes his head.
“We’ve not finished negotiations,” Paxton replies, wryly. “But clearly it’s a done deal. I’ll get the paperwork sent over.”
“So,” Victor says, clearing his throat. “How’s work, Em? Still at Opus, I’m guessing?”
I nod, cautiously. The mood is tense, at least for me, but I’m starting to get the sneaking suspicion that something more is at work.
“Yes. I was promoted a few months back, remember?”
“And still working long hours?” Alexander adds, his tone like glass—clear and sharp as he stares at Uri. “Even now?”
The air goes still.
Uri growls under his breath, clearly sensing the reprimand, and I don’t know if he’ll bite, or if he’s going to let me handle it.
I don’t know which option I’d prefer.
I force a smile, as brittle as it is. “I love my job, and I make a difference doing it. I put in the overtime because I want to—not because I’m being forced.”
“That’s what every corporate worm says,” Alexander points out, and I deflate. Uri’s hand reaches for mine, squeezing softly.
“Emme’s extremely good at her job, actually,” Uri says, flatly. “Wouldn’t you agree, Alexander?”
And I realise—far too late—that they’ve discussed this.
Without me.
The positioning. The roles. Who would sit, who would drink, who would stay close. They’ve decided how to play the game, and I wasn’t invited to the table.
A flicker of heat rises in my throat—part embarrassment, part resentment. But I tamp it down. I’m used to this. Being the project, not the strategist. Being the thing they’re trying to protect.
Still, the sting of it feels sharper here, in this house.
They promised that they wouldn’t do this kind of thing anymore. That they’d let me in on the discussions, and let me take part in the decisions.
That they’d not cut me out or stop me from knowing.
My dad clears his throat, but rather than replying to Uri, his eyes are on me. “So how long has this been going on? Have you been fucking your bosses since day one at that company?”
I straighten automatically. “What?—?”
“Dad!” Evander snarls, as Paxton and Uri both growl low. Oscar’s grip tightens on my shoulder, and Sterling has the audacity to laugh .
Alexander narrows his eyes, mouth tightening. “Don’t play dumb. You walk in here with four men—your pack —and a brother who suddenly acts like he’s entitled to information I don’t have.” His gaze flicks briefly to Evander, who doesn’t flinch. “So, I’ll ask again. How long?”
My throat is dry. The words stick in my throat, and I can’t breathe. I can’t answer him, no matter how badly I want to.
Victor cuts in, his tone falsely light. “What your father means is, we’re surprised. That’s all. You didn’t exactly give us a proper explanation before showing up with a… well. A new situation.”
Situation.
Of course. Because to them, I’m not good enough to have a ‘pack’. Is it too permanent for their liking? Too close to someone accepting me?
“We didn’t think who they were was relevant,” Evander says, smoothly enough to make it clear it’s bullshit. “Besides, you’d already started digging.”
Alexander bristles. “Excuse me?”
“Oh come on,” Evander says, jumping up from the sofa. He moves back to the bar, refilling his glass. “You expect me to believe none of you pulled background checks? Called your industry buddies? Half the men in this room work for Opus. You didn’t put the pieces together?”
Damian shifts uncomfortably, looking at the floor, and I shiver where I sit. The knot in my tummy tightens, and I don’t know whether I’m going to hurl, or break down.
Probably both at once, with my luck.
Marcus returns just then, wiping his hands on a tea towel. “Dinner is done. Are we ready?”
No one moves.
“What’s going on in here?” he asks, looking around the room. He fixates on me, unsurprisingly. “Have you started the questions without me?”
“Yes,” I whisper, looking up at him. “It started a few months ago. Not long after my promotion. We’re scent-matches.”
Victor lets out a bitter laugh, and Damian gasps. Marcus’s scoff is hard to ignore, and it shouldn’t hurt the way it does.
“Scent matches,” Alexander says, with a shocked gasp. “You’ve found your scent matches? Months ago?”
“Emmeline, why didn’t you tell us?” Damian asks, quietly.
“I wonder why,” Paxton drawls, and every eye falls to him. “Your daughter is the purest, sweetest, smartest woman I’ve ever met. She’s authentic, hard-working, and so accomplished despite her young age. She’s just brought in a seven-figure deal, on top of her usual client-load.
“But one thing she doesn’t need is to be interrogated like she’s done something wrong. She’s not a failure to fix. She’s your daughter. And she’s?—”
“Paxton,” I whisper, cutting him off. He slams his jaw shut, giving me a weak smile. “I love you, but let me talk, please.”
He nods, and I rise from the sofa, every single eye in the room on me. My heart thuds in time with each click of my heel, and I move so that I’m in the centre of the room. The large bookshelf is at my back, giving me some form of protection, and I make an active effort to not touch my stomach.
My legs are shaking, and I know they all see it—but I do it anyway. This isn’t his fight. This is my time to air my upset, and to have an actual conversation.
No matter what decision my dads make… this is my fight to have.
“I appreciate you defending me. I always will, but it’s my turn to speak,” I say, and Paxton’s jaw clenches but he nods. Evander’s eyes narrow, and I know he wants to argue, but he won’t.
Uri doesn’t even meet my gaze, and Oscar’s currently scrutinising the photos on the wall. Sterling’s the only one who is giving me his full attention, and it’s his confidence I try to emanate.
I face the four men and I know without a doubt that I’m going to break.
“Do you want to know why I didn’t tell you that I met them?” My voice cracks on the first word, and tears prick at my eyes. Already.
This is going to go brilliantly.
“I didn’t think you’d care, if I’m being honest. And worse, I thought you’d be ashamed of it—ashamed of me . I was worried you’d ruin this for me, or berate me for going against what you thought was right for me.”
I shiver, the cold of the room seeping into me quick and fast. My blood chills, my body hunching over.
“You’ve made me ashamed of everything else I’ve ever wanted,” I say.
Victor flinches. Marcus stiffens. Alexander narrows his eyes like I’ve slapped him. Damian doesn’t even move.
“I’ve spent my whole adult life trying to be enough for you,” I say, my voice trembling. “Trying to be smart enough, composed enough, successful enough. And every time I get close, you move the goalposts. You dismiss my work. You brush off my ambitions. You ask when I’m going to find a pack and do what a real omega does.”
“Emme, that’s not—” Victor starts.
Uri’s growl is loud, and as the biggest alpha in the room, everyone quietens. “It’s her turn to speak. Don’t interrupt unless you’re dying. And even then, don’t expect anyone to care.”
I glower at my alpha. “Uri.”
He smirks, but holds his hands up in submission. “Just kidding. I’m sure there’s three men that will care.”
“I love my brother,” I say, giving Evander a soft look. He winks at me, mouthing ‘destroy them’, and I shake my head in amusement. “But my entire life has been a constant competition that I could never beat him in. He’ the golden child, the only one that matters to you, and as stupid as it is—I’ve tried so hard to earn your love.”
I lean abck onto the bookshelf, as my voice grows as thick as my scent is. Tears are trailing down my cheek, and it’s hard. Hard to hold onto the anger. Hard to remember that they’re the reason I’m in so much pain.
Bcause the way they look at me… the broken, confused, pained expressions on their faces, it just makes me think that I’m the problem yet again.
“I found my pack. I found my mates. And even now, when I’ve done the thing you’ve all begged for… when I find something good, something real, with men who adore me, and want the absolute best for me… you look at me like I’ve failed you.”
“Emmeline—” Damian starts, but I shake my head.
“I’m not finished.”
The tears are spilling now, but I don’t wipe them away. I let them fall. Let them see how much they’ve hurt me.
“Therapy’s been hell,” I admit, and Alexander’s eyes widen. “Because I had to look at all the parts of my life I thought were normal and realise they weren’t. That I was loved , yes—but I wasn’t accepted. That I was supported, but only when I did what you wanted .
“I never once was appreciated just for being me. I was never good enough, no matter how hard I tried. Every single morning I woke up, and had to force my emotions into a box. I had to bury my omega instincts down, push away the whines, and the whimpers. I had to forcefully reject my biology, just to survive in this house.”
I breathe in, ragged and raw, as the strong scents of anger, shame and guilt fill the room. Anger from my men. The other emotions from my dads.
“Do you have any idea how hard it is to realise the people you love most in the world only approve of a version of you that doesn’t exist?”
No one answers.
They can’t. It’s so painful to them, to me, for us all.
“I didn’t come here tonight for your permission,” I say, a little steadier now that I’ve got the worst of it out. “I didn’t come here for your blessing, or approval. I came here because… because my therapist told me I could handle it.
“Handle what, love?” Marcus asks.
I reach down, and place both hands on my mostly flat stomach. “I’m pregnant.”
Damian gasps again, louder this time. Victor’s glass hits the table with a loud clink . Marcus makes a strangled sound in the back of his throat.
But Alexander… the dad that I’ve disappointed the most. The one I could never ever make smile. The one that has pushed me away for so long…
He stands, his hands clenched into fists. His chest is rising and falling extremely fast. His bourbon and maple scent darkens, souring even, and I know that he’s furious.
Fuck, he’s enraged.
“You’re what?” he demands. “ How far along are you? ”
“Eleven weeks.” I don’t cower away, I don’t back down.
“ Eleven— ”
“Stop,” Damian barks. My mouth falls shut, and Alexander startles. Everyone watches—well, except Oscar. He’s moved into the doorway, doing something he probably shouldn’t be.
Damian steps forward, placing himself between me and the rest of the room, his rugby frame practically shielding me.
“That’s enough,” he growls, glowering at those opposite. “That’s enough. ”
The silence that follows is deafening. He’s somehow managed to even quiet the thoughts in my mind.
“She’s our daughter,” Damian says, turning to the others. “Our fucking daughter. And all we’ve ever wanted is for her to be happy. Safe. Loved. With a pack that protects her and lifts her up.”
He looks back at me. And I see it—guilt. Pain. Fear .
“We’ve gone about this the wrong way,” he says softly. “We know that. But Emme… we’re scared. We watched your mother push us away when she was pregnant with you. We lost her, and she was… she wasn’t something we ever got attached to, and it hurt. Losing you? Knowing what could happen?”
He shakes his head. “It’s been terrifying. We’ve fucked up. We’re not the best dads, we’re really not, but we don’t want to lose you. We’ve never wanted to lose you.”
My lips part, but I can’t speak. I can’t move.
Victor stands next, and my eyes dart to him, the only part of my body that doesn’t seem locked into place.
His voice shakes as he says, “I never meant to hurt you. I just… I didn’t know how to handle it. The moment you presented as an omega, I—” His voice cracks, and his shame is so hard to ignore. “A girl is hard enough to parent, when we had no idea what to do. But for you to be a female omega ? You have no idea how many ways the world can chew you up and spit you out. You’ve always had so much fire.”
“Such high goals,” Marcus adds.
“We’ve fucked this up, Em,” Victor says. “But we never ever meant to hurt you.”
“But you have,” Uri says, looking at each of them. “You’ve hurt my mate for the majority of her life, and she’s now pregnant, and struggling with her hormones, her biology… she’s struggling because you all failed to prepare her.”
“Uri,” I whisper again, but my voice is softer now. Tired. I don’t want him to make things worse, not after how I’ve already destroyed them tonight.
Alexander is still standing. He hasn’t said anything since Damian shut him down. He just stares at me—stares at my stomach—his mouth slightly open like he’s trying to breathe through something heavy.
Then, finally, he speaks.
“I called in a favour,” he says, quiet enough that I almost miss it.
The entire room stills, and I feel my face twist in confusion. What does he mean?
“I pulled a string, just one,” he continues, staring not at me, but at the floor between us. “To get you the interview at Opus. That was it. I didn’t interfere beyond that. I didn’t need to. You walked in and you earned everything else yourself.”
My heart stutters, my jaw dropping. I look to Evander, but my brother is just as shocked as I am. He didn’t know either.
“You what?” I gasp. “But you… you’ve always told me how I shouldn’t try. That an omega doesn’t belong in the corporate world. That I was just setting myself up for failure.”
Paxton lets out a low whistle, shaking his head.
“I knew you were good,” Alexander says. “I knew what you were capable of. But I also knew people wouldn’t take you seriously—because of your age, your status, your presentation. I knew they’d reject you. So I made sure they’d at least look at you.”
His eyes lift to mine, and for the first time in my life, I see something in them. Something I’ve always wanted to see.
Pride.
“I didn’t interfere again,” he says firmly. “I never interfered again. You built your career on your own. Every success after that was yours.”
Tears hit my cheeks faster than I can process them. My legs almost give out, but Paxton moves behind me, steadying me with an arm around my waist.
Alexander runs a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. “I thought I was doing the right thing—keeping my distance so you could grow. But maybe that was just an excuse. Maybe I kept my distance because I didn’t know how to handle the fact that you didn’t need me.”
“I did need you,” I whisper. “Just not like that.”
Silence falls again, and I don’t know where to go from here. I don’t know what to say, or how to handle the change of the dynamics.
Then Marcus clears his throat and gestures vaguely toward the hallway. “Dinner’s getting cold.”
Is he for real?
I burst into tears, and Paxton growls low, when Victor steps forward. My dad holds his hands out in surrender, ignoring the way my alpha moves protectively in front of me.
“We failed you, Em. There’s no excusing that. But if you’ll let us… we’d like to try again.”
I blink through my tears. “Try again?”
“To get to know you. To learn how to be better fathers. To support you the way you actually need, not the way we think you need.”
Marcus nods. “Vic’s right. We may have failed as dads. But we won’t fail as granddads.”
I sob. Loud and broken and completely unexpectedly.
Paxton wraps me up in his arms, shielding me from view. Oscar is at my side faster than Uri or Sterling, but within a beat, they’re all here. Uri’s arm bracketed around me, Oscar’s pressing tight against my back. Sterling reaches in and takes my hand in his, as I grip Paxton’s shirt with the other.
Tonight has not gone how I expected. In a good way, I think. Maybe.
I don’t know. I really don’t.
But I’m so glad that I’m not alone. That my men are here. Without them, I’d never have had the confidence to do this. To make this move, and to be honest .
“You’re going to screw it up again, I’m sure,” Evander says lightly, and I gasp. “Because you’re human. But if you mean it? If you really put the work in, if you really try to change… she’ll give you the chance.”
“And we won’t take it for granted,” Damian says, voice rough.
I pull back slightly from Paxton’s chest, sniffing as I look toward them. Sterling refuses to let go of my hand, and I don’t force it. I need him.
I need all of them.
“Dinner,” I say, my voice still hoarse. “Let’s sit and eat. Maybe we’ll figure out how to start over.”
Alexander nods, slowly. “That sounds like a plan.”
Victor moves first, disappearing toward the dining room. Marcus follows after a beat. Damian lingers just long enough to brush a hand over my shoulder—tentative, gentle—before heading out too.
Only Alexander stays behind.
When the others are gone, he steps closer.
“For what it’s worth,” he says. “You’ve always made me proud. I just never knew how to say it without sounding… weak.”
“Being honest doesn’t make you weak,” I say softly. “But hiding does.”
He gives a single nod, then turns and walks away.
I turn back to my men, my chest a little lighter.
Paxton raises a brow. “So… dinner?”
I give a watery laugh. “Yeah. Let’s go have dinner with my dads.”
“I hope after that attack, they don’t decide to poison us,” Oscar says, cheerfully.
Sterling snorts. “Please. Like I’d let them get the chance.”
Uri smirks, but says nothing, tugging me gently toward the hallway.
Paxton waits until I’m ready, only releasing me when I nod, and he brushes a kiss to the top of my head like it costs him nothing to give me that kind of reassurance.
Evander lingers behind, his glass still in hand. “You did good, sis.”
I exhale shakily. “I feel like I just cracked my rib cage open and handed them my beating heart.”
“Yeah,” he says with a half-smile. “But look—they didn’t stomp on it. And now, I’ll probably have to put some effort in so that I can retain the golden child trophy.”
I shove him, and he laughs.
“I’m so fucking proud of you,” he says, wrapping his arms around me, and cuddling me tight. “So proud. Now—when do I get to find out if I’m having my first niece or my first nephew?”
“We can find out in a few more weeks, but we’re not sure if we’re going to, or if we’re going to keep it as a surprise,” I say, grinning as he pulls away. “Uri wants to start a betting pool. Ask him about it.”
“I think I will.” He strides along the corridor, not waiting for me, as I slowly walk behind him.
My heart’s still racing, my eyes sore, my makeup long since destroyed. But there’s something new sitting in my chest now—quiet, and unexpected.
Hope.
Hope that maybe I might get the ending I never thought I was allowed to want.
“Come on,” I whisper to myself. “Let’s go eat dinner with dads.”