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 financialhelp to those who find themselves in difficult situations or who are victims of crimes.
So in theory Sebastiencouldhave 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 specialpsycho boardwhere 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 musthave knownhe 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 mypsycho 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 inpursuing 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.
