32. Family Secrets And Unexpected Revelations
Family Secrets And Unexpected Revelations
~ J AMES~
The dining room feels surprisingly comfortable despite the obvious tension simmering beneath the surface.
Elizabeth's father, Mikhail, has been holding court at the head of the table, regaling us with stories of his business ventures while keeping everyone's glasses suspiciously full.
"You see," he gestures with his fork, "whole world moving to digital. Old money becoming new money through technology."
Felix leans forward, clearly in his element.
"The transition to blockchain technology alone has revolutionized how we handle international transactions."
"Exactly!" Mikhail beams. "Smart boy. Very smart. You understand future."
I catch Elizabeth hiding a smile behind her wine glass as she watches Felix and her father dive deeper into cryptocurrency discussions. The food has been excellent – a mix of traditional Russian dishes and modern cuisine that somehow works perfectly together, just like the eclectic mix of people around the table.
"Should I check on Marissa again?" Anastasia frets, glancing toward the stairs for the hundredth time. "She's been on that phone forever."
"Bah," Mikhail waves dismissively. "Probably still talking to new boyfriend. Useless boy."
"You don't like him?" Carter asks, helping himself to more of what I think is beef stroganoff.
"Don't like him?" Mikhail scoffs. "He is douche bag user. And if I find out he associated with hurting Omegas..." He makes a slicing motion across his throat. "Will kill him just for fun."
"Mikhail!" Anastasia scolds. "If you're going to kill him, at least do it to protect Marissa."
Mikhail throws back his head and laughs.
"If Marissa want to fuck tree with sharp branches, so be it! She doesn't use brain to think. Acts like man with dick."
Felix chokes on his drink, and I pat his back while trying not to smirk too obviously. Carter, naturally, has no such restraint.
"I can see who the favorite is," he says with a grin.
"Of course!" Mikhail doesn't even try to deny it. "Marissa adopted anyway. Did favor for empire that lost everything." His expression hardens slightly. "She been reminded she can't replace my Abbie girl, and I will say until in grave. Even then," he waves his glass expansively, "will have to make sign and hang in NYC so world reminded of my wants and wishes. I didn't hustle in youth for sole daughter to not reap rewards of my suffering and survival."
The boldness of his statement leaves us all slightly stunned.
Elizabeth looks particularly shocked, like she's never heard her father speak so plainly about this before.
Holmes, who's been quietly observative most of the evening, suddenly speaks up.
"Then why does it seem your wife isn't fully on board?"
Anastasia's head snaps up.
"You shouldn't pry into others' business."
"Abercrombie is my business," Holmes says calmly but firmly. "She's my Omega, and I dislike anyone who tries to make her life complicated because of their own insecurities."
The bluntness of his statement seems to shock everyone except Mikhail, who bursts out laughing.
"Yes! Good!" He raises his glass to Holmes. "Love man who bold and tells it like is. Wife never listen to me anyway."
"Mikhail," Anastasia warns, but he's already continuing.
"Truth is," he says, his accent thickening with emotion, "Elizabeth actually birthed via surrogate. None of wife's eggs survived IVF, the fancy chemical shit to form life."
The revelation lands like a bomb at the dinner table.
Elizabeth's eyes go wide as she stares at her parents, clearly hearing this for the first time.
"Is this really the time?" Anastasia asks tightly.
Mikhail shrugs, completely unrepentant.
"They learn now or at wedding with all guests around. Pick your poison, my love."
She groans but doesn't argue, which seems to be a common dynamic between them.
"Let me understand this," Holmes says carefully. "You used a surrogate, but Elizabeth is still biologically yours?" He nods to Mikhail.
"Da," Mikhail confirms. "My DNA, surrogate mother's egg. Was best friend of family – very kind woman. Knew she would give good genes."
"So I'm not..." Elizabeth starts, then stops, looking between her parents with new understanding dawning in her eyes.
"You are my daughter," Mikhail says firmly. "Only difference is where you grew. Not who you are."
I watch Elizabeth carefully, expecting tears or at least some sign of emotional distress, but her reaction surprises me.
She simply shrugs, a slight smile playing at her lips.
"Well," she says, taking a sip of her water, "at least I still got your stubbornness and need for high standards, Dad. Otherwise, I would have been screwed."
"That's my girl!" Mikhail beams proudly. "Though ability to adapt is from me too." He glances at his wife. "Anastasia hates adapting to shit."
"Yes," Anastasia admits with a slight huff, "I like the comfortability of stability. Nothing wrong with that."
"Nothing at all," Mikhail agrees, his expression softening as he looks at his wife. "Is why I'm here to be stability you need in this wasteful life." He winks. "Just with money."
She shakes her head, but I can see the tension leaving her shoulders. Elizabeth, too, seems almost relieved, like a weight has been lifted now that the truth is out in the open.
"I knew the truth would come out eventually," Elizabeth says, fiddling with her napkin. "It's part of why I kept my distance. But..." She pauses, considering her next words carefully. "I do have a soft spot for Marissa, actually. I see myself in her sometimes – a woman who wishes to be wanted but is missing functions to make her perfectly wanted by many."
"Ah, my love," Mikhail interrupts, turning to Anastasia with surprising gentleness. "You speak of perfect, but let me tell you something about my wife." He takes her hand, and the gesture is so tender it makes the rest of us feel like we're intruding on a private moment.
"This woman," he continues, "she may not have given birth to our daughter, but she has given everything else. Her heart, her time, her dedication to our family. And I never sought perfection." He looks around the table, his expression serious. "No man or Alpha does. What we strive for is woman who will be there when we rise but also when we fall. For the way she strives for stability in life, is what man strives for in woman he will commit to for rest of his years."
The words settle over the table like a blessing.
I catch Elizabeth smiling softly at her parents, approval clear in her expression.
Looking at them now – this unconventional family with their complicated history – I understand something I hadn't before. It's not about biological connections or meeting society's standards of perfection. It's about choosing each other, again and again, despite the complications and imperfections.
Mikhail may be a crazy Russian businessman who tests his daughter's suitors with elaborate assassination attempts, and Anastasia might struggle with adapting to change, but there's real love here.
Not just between them, but for Elizabeth too, regardless of how she came into their lives.
The way Elizabeth accepts this revelation – w ith grace and understanding rather than drama – speaks volumes about her character. She's not devastated by learning she's not biologically related to Anastasia because she's secure in knowing that family is about more than blood.
I think about my own family, about the expectations and pressures that come with the Morrison name. How different would things be if we focused more on supporting each other's growth rather than demanding perfection?
"You're thinking too loud," Carter mutters beside me, and I realize I've been staring contemplatively at my plate.
"Just appreciating the moment," I reply quietly.
He nods, understanding in his eyes.
"Pretty good family dinner, considering the death threats and revelations."
"Speaking of," Felix chimes in softly, "anyone want to take bets on whether Marissa's actually on the phone, or if she's climbing out a window somewhere?"
"Twenty says window," Carter offers immediately.
"Fifty says she's already gone," Holmes counters.
"You're both wrong," Elizabeth says with a knowing smile. "She's definitely watching us from the security room, trying to figure out how I managed to land four Alphas while she can barely keep one."
Mikhail bursts out laughing.
"See? Smart girl! Gets it from me!"
"The observation skills or the smugness?" Anastasia asks dryly.
"Both!" he declares proudly.
The warm moment shatters as Marissa appears in the doorway, her face pinched with misery.
"I'm here. I didn't leave."
"Let me guess," Mikhail says dryly. "Divorce."
"Dad," Elizabeth corrects, "they weren't married."
"If you don't date to marry, why waste everyone time?" he throws up his hands in exasperation. "Foolish practices for Americans. Russia better. We choose, deliberate, viola. Wife. Husband. You travel, make money, have kids, live happy. No time wasting and regret bullshit."
Marissa's gaze locks onto Elizabeth, her expression hardening.
"Isn't she supposed to be stuck at the academy?"
"Nope." Elizabeth gestures to us around the table. "Not with a pack."
The words seem to flip some switch in Marissa. She straightens, raw anger flashing in her eyes.
"You don't even deserve a pack."
"Marissa," Anastasia cuts in sharply, "I know you're upset about your breakup, but that doesn't justify such comments. Elizabeth has waited five years for a pack. This is her moment, and it shouldn't be tainted."
"Why are you defending her?" Marissa whirls on Anastasia. "You should be on my side!"
"I'm not on either side," Anastasia says firmly. "I'm pointing out facts."
"Yeah, see?" Marissa's laugh is bitter. "I knew I couldn't rely on anyone here. My man was right." She jabs a finger toward Elizabeth. "He was there at Harvard, you know. Said you were just a slut who group-fucked a bunch of guys for fun."
Wait…
The sound of Elizabeth's fork hitting her plate rings through the sudden silence like a gunshot.
My heart races at the accusation, but it's Elizabeth's reaction that makes my blood run cold. She tilts her head, eyes narrowing in a way I've never seen before.
"Who said that?" Her voice is too calm, too controlled.
Marissa spits out a name, adding,
"He was there and says you're just a slut?—"
"Excuse me," Elizabeth rises smoothly from her chair. "I know Dad's ground rule is no attempted murder in the household, so I'll just step outside. Maybe I'll find that Omega sniper to do a job for me real quick."
I reach for her, but Marissa's taunting voice follows Elizabeth as she turns to leave. Mikhail snaps at Marissa to stop, but it's too late.
Elizabeth moves with a speed that takes us all by surprise. One moment she's heading for the door, the next she's in Marissa's face. The slap echoes through the room like thunder, and blood immediately starts trickling from Marissa's nose.
"So it's fun to be raped, right?" Elizabeth's whisper carries in the frozen silence.
My mind stutters to a halt.
What? Raped... when...
Elizabeth's laugh sends chills down my spine – it's hollow, filled with a pain I've never heard from her before. She points at Marissa's face, making her flinch backward.
The realizations hit me like physical blows, each one stealing my breath.
She was raped.
She went into Heat...
She ran away...
She hid...
Only to be found by the wrong people...
They...
They raped her?
Touched my Eli.
My woman...
Suddenly, all the pieces fall into place with devastating clarity. The reason she abandoned everything, why she never set foot on Harvard soil again. How could anyone return to a place where academic dreams turned into nightmares?
My girl endured all that alone.
Elizabeth's voice cuts through my thoughts, raw with five years of suppressed agony.
"Your douche of a man and his friends enjoyed restraining me while I was in fucking Heat!" The words pour out of her like poison from a wound. "They fucked me until I couldn't even walk, blood running down my legs. I had to wait until pitch black to crawl and hide like some whimpering animal because they couldn't control their Alpha pheromones – but I'm the slut? I'm the bitch? I'm the one who doesn't deserve a pack?"
Her scream reverberates through the room, years of pain finally breaking free. She turns on Marissa, rage and hurt radiating from every pore.
"Okay Marissa, let me be the problem then and think what you want, but if I ever come back here for any holiday dinner and you're here, trust me, I'll do something you'll most definitely regret, and yes. It's a threat, so don't you fucking dare tempt me."
She spins on her heel and storms out. I'm moving before I can process the decision, my only thought is to reach her, to somehow help her carry this burden she's been shouldering alone.
A hand grabs my arm, and I turn to find Marissa clutching at me.
The mere touch of her makes my skin crawl, and I fix her with a glare that makes her flinch.
"Wait," she starts, "maybe I can work this?—"
The crack of a gunshot splits the air.
A thin line of red appears on Marissa's cheek, blood welling up from the precise graze of a bullet. She releases me instantly, and we both turn toward the source.
Holmes stands with his weapon drawn, but what catches my attention is his injured eye – now open and revealed to be prosthetic. The artificial eye gives him an otherworldly appearance, especially combined with the cold precision of his stance.
"Stop him again," he says with deadly calm, "and I won't miss."
Our eyes meet briefly, and I understand the message in his nod.
He'll handle things here – I need to get to Elizabeth.
As I race after her, I can hear the chaos erupting behind me.
Mikhail shouting in Russian, Anastasia's shocked gasps, Carter and Felix moving to flank Holmes.
But none of it matters.
All that matters is finding Elizabeth.
Finding her and making sure she never has to face her demons alone again.