ALEX #2
It is hard to imagine my dad taking an eighteen-year-old Lowen heir to a back room and having sex with him. Gross!
Besides, Dad mentioned he had been advising him on some criminal matter, which would have been bizarre. Jacob also studied in another city at the time, so the chances are basically zero.
There are two other brothers, both typical omegas: Sebastien Lowen and Blue Lowen.
I can rule out the younger one, Blue, right away, because first, he was fourteen when I was conceived, and also, after an accident in his teens, his reproductive organs were removed, although to be fair, it happened when he was around fifteen or sixteen.
But anyway, besides the fact that it would be horrible and illegal, I know my biological father already had kids at the time, so Blue is excluded either way.
There is still Sebastien. When I was conceived, he was twenty-seven, married, and already had two children that he had carried himself. But he isn’t a gamma subtype of an omega, so he couldn’t have impregnated my dad.
Those types of omegas usually lean more toward the beta side in appearance, slightly taller and more robust in build than the regular ones. Jacob is a good example of that, but both Sebastien and Blue are small and delicate-looking even for typical omegas.
When Sebastien was around thirty, he divorced his first husband, a multimillionaire from the Red family, the original owners of the Omega Red Line Agency.
He found his own True Mate and now has two more children with his second husband.
Sebastien, however, remains the co-owner of Omega Red Line Agency.
It’s a well-known, and powerful organization that supports abused omegas in need, offering legal and financial help to those who find themselves in difficult situations or who are victims of crimes.
So in theory Sebastien could have attended a lecture like that, he could have known the detective who solved many cases, including tracking down a serial rapist. On the organization’s website, which also offers a news section, I search through updates from twenty years ago and manage to find a post about that event.
It’s about the talk given by the well-known detective Dupont who assisted the agency in several cases.
Interesting. It theoretically means there is a chance that he indirectly knew my dad, who was a prosecutor and had helped with many cases involving omega victims.
It doesn’t all fit perfectly, but for fuck’s sake, what am I supposed to do with all that information? If Sebastien is a one-hundred-percent omega, he can’t be my sire anyway.
So who is?
Out of pure curiosity, I look through the pictures of the Lowen family.
There is something interesting about all of them, something that suggests they might carry a higher level of alien DNA in their blood, because many of them have unusual hair color.
The youngest, Blue Lowen, the geneticist, has hair the color of deep blue navy.
In Jacob’s child photos, his hair appears deep dark green.
Sebastien’s hair has a deep beet-red tone.
Victor has hair in a very dark shade of violet.
And Thor has hair in a deep burgundy color.
The fact that my own hair has a delicate pink shine that makes my strawberry blond truly deserving of its name is an interesting clue.
The closest shades to mine are Victor’s, Thor’s, and Sebastien’s, and I can easily imagine that mixed with my dad’s light blond genes it could produce my hair color.
These are the kinds of analyses I spend my time on.
It is all fascinating, and you could say it becomes something close to a secret passion.
Soon I know almost everything about that family.
I even make myself a special psycho board where I pin photos of all the brothers and their patriarch father, and I even add small pictures of the children from the next generation.
I keep going over everything my dad had told me, trying to recall every nuance of that conversation, and I remember that he had warned my father that he was on contraceptives, which meant that whoever my father is, he must have known he was fertile, and that made it highly unlikely that it was an omega.
I agonize over all of it, debate with myself, and try to add two and two.
Of course it occurs to me to approach each of them and demand a genetic test, but that is completely against my personality.
I can’t destroy someone’s family. I don’t want to be the source of a scandal and I don’t want my father to end up hating me for conducting an investigation on all his brothers, disturbing their marriages.
Yes, I remember what my dad mentioned, supposedly the guy is open to supporting me financially, but I’m not so sure about all the rest, especially the ‘warmly welcome in the family, son!’ part.
Sometimes I drift into stupid fantasies that Bay and I are following the Lowens together, that we are analyzing all that information and sharing conclusions.
I close my eyes and imagine us sitting together in front of my psycho board, studying the faces of the Lowens and debating every possible scenario.
Such a mystery… I am convinced that Bay would find some method, something typical for alphas, that directness and tendency to confront events and facts, that slight aggression in pursuing the truth, and I believe it would help me figure out who my father is.
The funny thing is that among all the Lowens, when it comes to facial features, I look the most like the youngest one, Blue.
Although he is only fourteen years older than me, he is already a renowned genetics expert, with a list of achievements to his name, working at Malden Pharmaceuticals as the head of scientific projects, and his family also holds shares in the company.
I study his photos. He is slight, almost the same height as me, and his delicate face resembles mine so much. We truly look like we could be brothers, only with different coloring since his hair is deep, navy-blue.
"I wish you could help me solve this mystery, Bay," I sometimes whisper to myself.
And then the next day a gray morning comes, and I have to go to college and face the possibility that my tormenters will follow me again.
That day when I get up and walk into the kitchen, I find Jared there drinking cola and chewing on a candy bar.
"That is not a healthy breakfast, Jared," I say in a tired tone because we have already had this same conversation dozens of times.
Jared ignores me, only shrugs and keeps staring into his phone.
For some time now, I have had no control over him whatsoever. It is a miracle he has even advanced to the fourth year of high school.
I can’t influence him in any legally binding way either, because a year ago Jared filed for emancipation, not wanting to face the prospect of having to ask our granddad for anything.
He can make his own decisions now. If he wants to leave the house, he can, and I can’t stop him because of his status as a legally independent minor.
I prepare a few slices of bread with chopped egg, radish, and lettuce and set them in front of him.
He doesn’t say anything. His celadon-green eyes stay fixed on his phone screen.
"Don’t you have a quiz this week? The system says there’s a history test."
Jared doesn’t answer.
"Can you respond when I’m talking to you?" I snap, irritated.
He gives me a bored look.
"Sometimes you’re exhausting, you know. You should find yourself a boyfriend or something, you’re clearly missing some dick."
I freeze and stare at him.
"Jared, what is going on with you lately, you’ve become downright rude."
Silence.
"And your grades are terrible. I have no idea how you’re even going to finish high school."
Jared shoots me a look and says, "I met this guy from a modeling agency and he told me I have good potential and can come in for a test shoot."
"Jared, you’re still very young and that business is pretty… predatory. A lot of young models get exploited and treated badly."
He snorts. "I’m not a virgin anymore, in case you didn’t know! If I have to fuck a few guys to get a good contract then why not?"
I stare at him, unable to believe what he is saying.
"Do you hear yourself, Jared? That is not the life you want! Sleeping with guys in exchange for a vague contract? Repeat that sentence in your head one more time and think about whether it makes sense."
Jared pushes the untouched plate of sandwiches away and stands up, throwing his backpack over his shoulder.
He tosses casually as he walks out, "Don’t wait up for me tonight, I’m going to a party."
"Jared, you should tell me where you’re going, some kind of contact…"
But he doesn’t say anything, just leaves and slams the door.
I press my forehead to my clasped hands. I want to cry. I am failing on every possible front of my life.
What a fucking disaster…
I don’t have anyone close, I have lost Bay, my dad, I am unfit as Jared’s guardian, and I don’t even know who my father is.
Glancing at the medicine cabinet, I feel its pull, a few steps and… I have gathered enough sleeping pills in there to end this damn life once and for all.
Is there really no one who cares about me?
I haven’t seen Bay in more than two years.
Has he forgotten about me?
His career is doing pretty well, he already has a million subscribers on YouTube, his videos, which from what I read in the captions are edited by Malik, average around two hundred thousand views, he plays at different events, at charity concerts in the city, at festivals, and every month money lands in my account because he keeps the promise he made, that he will support me through all of college.
Every time I see his payments, something twists tight in my chest, because he doesn’t owe me anything. Maybe he already has a new boyfriend? Strangely enough, we are still officially married, I am not planning to file for divorce, and he isn’t doing so either.
I follow news about his life, his socials, posts from fans, comments, searching for mentions that he has a boyfriend, but I can’t find anything.