“Matty, can you get the door please? I need to get the soap out of Kiki’s eyes. How she managed to go from blowing bubbles to wearing it is beyond me,” I grumbled as I lifted my screaming daughter onto my hip and headed to the kitchen sink.

“Okay, Dad. But will you make Chris quit banging on the table? It’s bugging me,” Matty shot his brother a glare as he went to answer the door.

My younger son had one ear pressed to the table while he banged different pieces of silverware against it in a non-stop audio assault of Bang! Bang! Bang!

While it was obnoxious as hell to the rest of us, Chris couldn’t hear it. I could only assume he was focusing again on the different vibrations the various implements made as they struck the dented laminate surface.

The doorbell rang again with three insistent ding-dongs while Matty leisurely made his way through the dining area and around the corner to the foyer. I kept an ear out to see who was at the door, while laying Kiki back over the sink and using the sprayer to wash the soap from her face.

“Ow! Daddy, noooo! That stings!” she shrieked, her high-pitched voice and the rushing water adding to the din in the room.

“Shh, I know, baby. Keep your eyes closed, let Daddy help you,” I soothed as I quickly worked to remove the offending soap.

The temperature in the room dropped about ten degrees when a frigid voice spoke above the melee a few seconds later.

“I see things are about as well organized as they were the last time I was here. No wonder my son could never remember where he lived. I wouldn’t want to come home either if this was what I had to face. Honestly, didn’t they teach you how to run a household in that backwater village where you were spawned, Laurence?”

Straightening my back, I focused on Kiki and bit back the angry retort I wanted to give. No, it wasn’t worth the energy to get into it with Tristan’s mother. Even he called her the Ice Queen. But… still. His mother, his right... not mine. My job was to be the dutiful omega husband who never spoke a word out of turn, even to this bitch.

“Hello, Helen. I will be with you in a moment. Kiki had a little issue with her bubbles a few minutes ago, and we’re getting soap out of her eyes. Perhaps you’d like to sit down while you wait?”

I didn’t bother looking at her to see the upturned, sneering lip and raised brow I knew were being sent my way.

“Bubbles? How on earth could a child be hurt by those? Aren’t they non-toxic? Only you would find toxic bubbles. And why was a three-year old like Kimberley playing with them without supervision? You know, Laurence, if you’d only let us hire you a nanny like proper families are meant to use, the children wouldn’t be injured by toxic bubbles. And what in the world is the deaf one doing pounding on the table? Should he really be allowed to handle forks and knives? Don’t you know that deficient children need more supervision than abled ones, Laurence?”

“Chris isn’t stupid! He just can’t hear,” Matty interrupted in defense of both his brother and me. “He likes to pound on things because he can feel the noise it makes. See? That’s why his ear is against the table. And Kiki’s bubbles aren’t toxic, I swear! It’s because soap hurts if you get it in your eyes.”

“I’m done now, Daddy! Let me get down, please.” Kiki’s bright blue eyes popped open imploringly as soon as I shut off the water. Whether or not she was still in any discomfort, she was in a rush to go inspect her rarely seen grandmother.

“Hold on, Kiki. Let me dry you first.” I grabbed a clean dish towel and quickly wiped her face dry before setting her down. I took a little longer than necessary to wipe the sink area and gather my wits before turning back to face the she-devil from Sherman Oaks. Also known as Helen Adams, my bitch of a mother-in-law.

Turning to her with my best socially-approved smile, I found her still standing in the doorway between the dining room and kitchen. She was visibly scanning the room, looking for any signs of filth or neglect that would solidify her bad impression of me. Biting back a sigh, I looked at Matty.

“Sweetie, would you ask Chris to stop now so I can hear myself think? Tell him to bring me the silverware to wash while I put on tea for your grandmother, please.”

Matty rushed to comply, while Helen shook her head. “Tea won’t be necessary. I don’t intend to stay in this hovel for a moment longer than I must to deliver my news.”

Mercifully, Matty had silenced Chris and the room was suddenly still. It was so quiet, in fact, that I could hear the blood rushing in my ears from the sudden cessation of noise. Then Kiki started in.

“Hi, Grandma Adams! Can I have a hug?” she held her chubby arms up with a winsome smile to her grandmother. Helen shook her head and took a step back.

“No, dear. You’re all wet. Just... run along and play with your dolls. I need to speak to your father. We will visit when you come live at Grandmere’s house this weekend. Go on now.” She made a shooing motion that would have pissed me the fuck off if I hadn’t paused at what she’d insinuated.

Was Tristan planning to make us go live with his parents? Had he not paid the rent again on yet another house? Please, please tell me this isn’t so. I couldn’t move a third time in two years, and especially not to the seventh layer of hell that was the Adams Estate.

“Matty, take your brother and sister outside and play, please. Stay in the backyard where I can see you, and tell Chris to stay away from the gardening tools. I need to speak to your grandmother privately.”

Helen’s eyes narrowed as she watched Matty patiently sign to Chris while Kiki ran to wait by the sliding door for her brothers. Helen turned back to me with a sneer.

“Does Matty do all the parenting around here? You do realize my heir is only seven, yes? Surely you can manage to do more than supervise chaos? One would hope you were at least capable of feeding them properly. I’m not sold on your cleaning abilities, so there must be something you bring to the table around here, hmm?”

Not needing to defend my parenting skills, I walked over to the table and pulled out a chair for her highness then stood behind the chair opposite her, my arms resting on its back as I leaned over it.

“Please have a seat, Helen. Perhaps you could begin by telling me what’s earned me this rare privilege of a surprise visit?”

She took a handkerchief from her bag and dusted the chair and table edge before daintily sitting down on the edge of the seat with her hands stiffly clutching her purse.

Dressed immaculately in a mauve pants suit with low heels and her ever-present string of pearls, Helen made an attractive picture to those who didn’t know her intimately.

Her make-up was perfectly applied, and her short, auburn hair curled as though she’d just left the salon. Even her French manicure was perfectly glossy and without a smudge.

“I’ve come with news, Laurence. Nelson and I received a call from the sheriff last night, just past midnight.” Forgetting that she’d used it to wipe away the imaginary dirt from my table and chair, Helen lifted the hankie she still had clutched in her hand and dabbed at her dry eyes with it. “Tristan has been taken from us, Laurence.”

“Excuse me? Taken? I don’t understand...” I was confused and babbling, but I honestly had no idea what was happening right now. “Why did the sheriff call you and not me? Was there a ransom demand?”

Helen lowered her handkerchief and shot me a withering glare. “No, you imbecile. Not kidnapped, taken. He is deceased, Laurence. Nelson’s office is arranging the cremation as we speak.”

I moved around and dropped down onto the chair, completely shell-shocked. “Wait. Excuse me? Shouldn’t I be the one to make these decisions? And why wasn’t I the one notified? I don’t understand. Wait... Tristan is... gone?”

“This right here is a perfect example of why you’re not the one handling things. Tristan lived on our benevolence, and we will decide how our son is interred and remembered. As for your other question, the sheriff called us so the senator had warning that his heir had been found dead in a car wreck with an omega whore. Both of them had been drinking, and there were drugs on the scene. Nelson had quite the mess to clean up, let me tell you. If you’d kept my son happy, he wouldn’t have been out behaving like that, I know that much is true.”

Ignoring her accusations, I focused on the meat of the story. Tristan hadn’t come home for the past three days because he’d been out on another bender with a sex worker, huh? Figures. I stared past Helen at our three children playing in the yard, wondering how I would tell them.

Tristan hadn’t been the most involved parent when he’d bothered to be home, but he was still their father. I’d long ago come to terms with the fact that the alpha I’d thought I’d married back when I was an innocent college student wasn’t the reality of the man I’d ended up with, but I’d tried to keep the worst of his unpleasantness from the children. Even now, I still found myself defending the bastard to his mother.

“Helen, he didn’t live on your benevolence. We both know that Tristan worked hard managing his father’s public relations department. He earned every dime he made.”

She snorted in a rarely seen inelegant manner. “Please. Cards on the table, Laurence. It’s just us here, right now. My son had gambling problems that constantly sent him running to his father for monetary help. Add in the drugs, alcohol and his penchant for cheap omegas, and my son wasn’t the poster child for working hard. Now. Let me tell you what’s going to happen. I’m not paying for you to remain in this house, and my son left no provision for you to inherit from his trust, which means you’re now dependent on my good will.”

“Excuse me? I’m his husband, and the father of his children.” I looked up at her in confusion. “Why wouldn’t I inherit?”

Helen dabbed her eyes one last time then put her hankie away in her purse before looking back at me triumphantly. “You are eligible to receive your joint assets. Since you own no property and his trust is in our family name, that only leaves you with whatever pittance you have in your personal accounts. The trust is in the name of the Adams Family Foundation and goes to the current Adams heir at the age of thirty. Tristan would have been thirty next month. Now, since he hadn’t received it yet, it reverts to the next heir, Matthew.”

I blink at her in disbelief. “You’re cutting us out because his birthday was three weeks away? And now it’s all going to Matty? Doesn’t that mean I’ll be in charge of it as his parent anyway?”

She shook her head. “No. I am the executor of the trust, not you. Matthew will receive it at age thirty. Until then, he will live with us and we’ll see to his education. We’ll take the broken one and the girl as well, don’t worry. You’ll have twenty-four hours after the funeral on Thursday to vacate this house and turn the children over to me. If you don’t raise a fuss, I’ll grant you supervised visitation once a month and settle a small allowance on you.”

An icy smile crossed her face then. “Fight me on this, and you’ll get nothing. I’ll still get the children, either way. Trust me, Pumpkin. You’re an omega with no ability to provide for them, and their grandfather is a senator. Now, I need to be on my way, there will be people bringing cards and flowers for my loss. I need to be home to receive them. You’ll receive the information about the funeral from Nelson’s assistant, Sandra. Do not embarrass the family. If you or the children need proper funeral attire, let Sandra know.”

Before I could even formulate a response, she was up and leaving the room, without so much as a backward glance for her grandchildren. I heard the front door firmly close a few moments later, and bowed my head with relief. The only evidence remaining from her impromptu visit was the scent of Chanel no. 5 floating in the air.

Despite how he’d died, and the fact that there’d been no love left between us since Kiki’s birth—a birth he hadn’t bothered to attend—I still couldn’t help the tears that were already welling up from the news of his death. Tristan was a shitty husband, and a spoiled trust fund baby who’d preferred to be out on the town rather than home with his family...

But... he was also the father of my children. And an alpha who I’d given my word to love, honor, and cherish until death did us part. Well, I guess we were parted now. And even if I wasn’t in love with him anymore, I still mourned the loss of the boy I’d once known. The young alpha who’d had stars in his eyes and a silver tongue filled with promises.

Ah, well. I stood and steadied myself, then walked over to the door. I needed to let the children know, and then after they were in bed later, I’d give into my own tears for the loss of life and figure out what I’d do next.

I had three days to figure it out, because come hell or high water, I’d be leaving here with my children after that funeral and not looking back. No matter what I had to do, I would not let them be taken away from me to live on that cold estate, and be sent to boarding schools like their father before them. No, my babies would remain with me, thank you very much.

A fresh wave of nausea hit me then, and I rubbed my flat stomach with a sigh. Yes. All of my babies would be raised by me, without any interference from the Adams’.

* * *

It was nearly midnight as I stowed the last of the luggage into the back of my minivan. The car was the one thing that had, thankfully, been only in my name and safe from Helen’s touch. Between that and the eleven hundred dollars and forty-seven cents I’d pulled when I’d closed our accounts yesterday, I had what I needed to get my family out of here and back to the home town I’d left in the dust over a decade before.

I’d spoken to Gramps and he’d been all-too-happy to welcome me and “the tykes” into his home. Fresh country air and farm living would be good for all of us. It was time to leave the city and the reach of Helen Adams behind, and go home where I belonged. It was time to go back to MacIntosh Meadows.

After I roused Matty and Chris, I sent them to use the bathroom one last time while I got Kiki up and ready for the trip. Once they were all settled safely into their various seats and belts, I ran back in and did one last check around the house to make sure I hadn’t forgotten anything of importance. Everything else could be sold by the landlord, or whoever wanted to deal with it.

When I turned off the lights and locked the door behind me, I pressed a palm to the cheap plywood and said a silent goodbye to the life I’d led here, and the husband I’d lost. Turning with a sad smile, I went out and got myself settled into the van and started the engine. I was ready for our new beginning.

Chris and Kiki fell asleep before I left the driveway, but I could feel Matty’s eyes on me in the dark vehicle as I made my way toward the interstate.

“Where are we going, Dad?” He asked finally. He spoke in a rarely-heard, soft, almost hesitant voice.

“We’re going to my hometown, to live with Grampa Harold. You’ll like it, Matty, trust me. Gramps lives on a farm, and there are a lot of animals. He’s excited to finally meet you guys.”

“He’s the old man who sends us two dollars in our birthday cards, right? And that gross fruitcake thing at Christmas?”

I chuckled quietly. “Yeah, that’s him. Two dollar bills and fruitcake.”

After a few moments thought, Matty spoke again. “Why haven’t we met Grampa Harold before, Dad? Or gone to see his farm?”

Not wanting to speak ill of the dead, I shrugged. “Your father always had a lot going on with his job at your grandfather’s office, you remember. We always meant to go visit, but every time I’d plan a trip home, something came up.”

“Did Papa not like your Gramps? Or was it because he lived on a farm instead of in a nice estate?”

Trust a kid to hit it on the nose with the truth. “Hmm. I wouldn’t say your father disliked Gramps, it was just... bad timing?”

“Okay, Daddy. I suppose that’s probably true.” I knew from his tone of voice that Matty wasn’t buying what I was selling, but he was either feeling polite or was simply too tired to argue. “When will we be there?”

I merged onto the southbound ramp of the highway and smiled back at Matty’s reflection in the rearview mirror. “If we don’t have to stop too many times? Sometime Saturday afternoon, I’d say. It’s about eight hundred miles, and I’ll need to stop at a motel tomorrow night so I can sleep instead of driving the whole way.”

“Wow. I hope you brought Chris’ crayons and Kiki’s dolls then. Because this is going to be a long trip if the kids get bored, you know.”

I smiled at him not lumping himself in with the kids. “Don’t worry, buddy. I’ve got activity bags back there for each of you, and a full bag of snacks next to the drink cooler. We’re all set, I promise.”

Matty yawned and leaned back to watch the lights go by outside his window. “Okay, Daddy... love you.”

“I love you too, Matty.”