Omega's Truth - Nora Phoenix Page 0,77

him saying whatever he thought.

“I don’t think you have to worry about that.” Naran winked at Sando.

Thank god the alpha had offered to stay with him. At first, Sando had thought it a bit ridiculous, but even as he walked in here, his chest had become tight again, his heart rate had sped up, and his hands had become clammy. Being in the presence of his grandfather was pure stress, more than he’d realized before. If Naran could mitigate that even a little, his presence would be well worth it.

“How’s your research going, Professor?” Naran smoothly changed the topic.

“Very well, very well.” He frowned. “Are…are you a doctor?”

In a flash, Sando recognized the importance of that question. His grandfather would never share the details with his research with so-called outsiders, but if Naran were a doctor… “Yes, Papa. Naran is a doctor in internal medicine, specialized in hereditary blood diseases.”

The lie fell off his lips as if he’d done it a thousand times before, so easily that his grandfather didn’t suspect a thing. And Naran, god bless him, played right along. “Yes, Professor, like Sando said. And I’m eager to hear more about your research.”

Sando blew out a slow breath when his grandfather’s face lit up. “That’s why I brought him, Papa,” he added for good measure.

“Let us not dawdle, then.” Minutes later, his grandfather was drowning Naran in minutiae of his research the alpha would have no interest in whatsoever. Sando had to give him credit for maintaining an interested expression and making appropriate “hmms” and “ahas” to keep his grandfather talking. Sando listened intently, staying very quiet in the hopes that his grandfather would forget he was there and might share something he’d kept a secret from Sando.

Thirty minutes in—Naran’s eyes were glazing over a bit, and Sando couldn’t blame him—it all seemed fruitless.

“…but recurring tests showed that the new modification was far more effective at suppressing the OHH levels.”

Sando sat up straight. What? What tests was his grandfather referring to? Naran peeked at him from the corner of his eye, and Sando made a subtle gesture that he should ask for details.

“That’s interesting, Professor,” the alpha said, and Sando was once again impressed with his acting skills. But Naran used to be a private investigator, so he must’ve done this often to get information from people. “How did you conduct these tests?”

Sando held his breath. Would his grandfather remember Sando was there?

His grandfather leaned forward, his eyes glowing. “I’ve been doing tests for twelve years with the medication I’ve been developing, consecutively testing modifications on the same test subject so the results would be accurate. My test subject is not a gene carrier, but I’m confident that the final version of my medicine will significantly ameliorate the heat of omegas with the genes. In him, it blocked them effectively until…”

He stopped talking, and his alert posture changed into slumped shoulders as he slowly turned his head toward Sando. He looked at Sando, uncertain at first, then remorseful. “Allessandro…”

“Why?” Sando burst out. “Why would you do that to me?”

“I wanted… I wanted the best for you.”

Sando vehemently shook his head. “No. I refuse to accept that. You wanted the best for you. You used me. You used my brain, my research, and even my body—all without my permission. You lied to me my whole life…Grandfather.”

His grandfather gasped. “You…you know?”

“How could you keep this from me? How could you not tell me about my mother, about my biological father?”

Gone was the angry man he’d seen over the last months, the man who’d hit him, who’d hurled insults at him. In its place sat an old, frail man, weeping. “I never meant to hurt you.”

Sando stared at him, that statement echoing in his head. “I never meant to hurt you.” Was it true? What did that mean? He saw no evidence that supported it. Wanting the best for someone meant loving them unconditionally—like Maz and Lucan had done—not only when they did your bidding. They’d waited for him, never pressuring him, loving him, even when he’d had doubts.

Wanting the best for someone meant allowing them to be themself, not conform to some picture you had in your head. His grandfather had wanted him to be genderless, statusless, sexless. A robot in many ways, without social contacts, only focused on work. How could that ever be what was best for anyone?

And as for the not wanting to hurt him… What an empty cliché that was. He’d drugged Sando for thirteen years,