Chapter 17

Alana’s POV. In the past few days, I found myself truly enjoying my honeymoon. It was an unexpected surprise, a far cry from what I had initially imagined. Alec had a way of making even the most ordinary moments special, and for that, I couldn't help but be grateful. Yet, beneath the surface of our newfound connection, I couldn't shake the feeling that Alec was keeping big secrets. It was that phone call that had set off my internal alarms. There was something about it that didn't sit right with me, and it left me with a gnawing curiosity. Alec had been careful, not letting any information slip through, and I had to admit he was a master at dodging my inquiries. It seemed he was deadly serious about whatever he was hiding, and I was determined to uncover the truth. Over the past few days, I had tried subtle tactics to dig deeper, but Alec remained steadfast. Not a single slip-up or hint. It left me frustrated and more intrigued than ever. This man was up to something, and I couldn't afford to be caught in the middle of it. We had one and a half days left of our honeymoon, Alec approached me with the news that he had a business meeting in New York and requested that we cut our trip short. Once again, I tried to pry information from him, but he skillfully sidestepped my questions. Eventually, I relented, realizing that he wouldn't reveal anything until he was ready. Despite having my business matters to attend to, I reluctantly agreed to return home. Alec promised to make it up to me, though I harbored no illusions about holding him to that promise. He left in a hurry, packing a suitcase and rushing out the front door. “I’ll be back before you know it, I’ll call you once I get there,” he promised and leaned over, planting a soft kiss on my cheek before running off to the car. Alone in the house, I locked the doors behind me and allowed my curiosity to get the best of me. I couldn't help it; I was only human. I made my way to Alec's room, the one I had avoided until now. The difference between his room and mine was stark. His space was neat and organized, a striking contrast to the chaos that had taken over my own. Considering we had spent the same amount of time in the house, it didn't bode well for my reputation as a tidy person. I couldn't resist the temptation to explore Alec's room further. The bookshelf caught my eye, though it held only a few books. Upon closer inspection, it became evident that Alec had a love for science fiction and mystery novels. My eyes shifted to a large box beside the bookshelf, and curiosity got the better of me. Inside, I discovered more sci-fi and mystery books, as well as a collection of comics. It was an interesting revelation, hinting at a side of him that I hadn't expected. Maybe he was more of a weirdo than I thought. Okay, perhaps comic books weren’t weird but I didn’t need much to look down on Alec. He was too perfect so any shallow jabs I could take, I’d take. Nearby, another box beckoned, and I couldn't resist the urge to peek inside. There, I found a photograph of Alec, much younger, sporting a college shirt. He was standing next to a girl his age, her beaming smile radiating happiness as she embraced him. She wore a 'Brown' university sweater. The name 'Ryan' was scrawled on the back of the picture. Ryan was the girl from the foster home where Alec had grown up, I realized. It made me wonder if he still maintained contact with her. Another photo in the box showed a group of children, varying in ages, along with a younger version of Alec and Ryan and three middle-aged women. It was likely a picture from the foster home days. I gently placed the photos back in the box and moved on. I couldn't resist the urge to explore further, so I ventured into Alec's closet. Some clothes were still packed in boxes, while others were neatly hung. My eyes widened as I examined the brands – Tom Ford, Armani, and other prestigious Italian labels. The air inside his closet carried his intoxicating, masculine scent, leaving me momentarily lost in thought. Even his casual clothes leaned toward the expensive side. It was a stark contrast to the image of the poor orphan he had portrayed. Questions flooded my mind. Where did he acquire all this wealth, and what exactly was his profession? As I surveyed his room, my gaze landed on his nightstand. A slightly open drawer beckoned me, and I couldn't resist taking a peek. Inside, I discovered an old notebook. Eager to uncover more, I opened it, but to my surprise, the pages were filled with cryptic terms like 'Borg,' 'Vulcan,' and others that made no sense to me. It seemed like some sort of code language, designed to keep prying eyes like mine at bay. Alec was clearly keeping secrets, and I had to admire his cleverness in concealing them. My curiosity had its limits for the day, and I decided to end my snooping session. I snapped a quick photo of a few pages in the notebook for further investigation and then returned everything to its original place. Back in my room, I felt a strange mix of satisfaction and unease. After tidying up my own space, I called my mom. It didn't take long for her to agree to visit. We spent time together in the backyard, sipping iced coffee and sharing cookies. We admired the garden as we chatted, enjoying the simple pleasures of a quiet afternoon. "I saw your posts online, you guys seem in love," my mom commented, savoring a strawberry-filled doughnut. "Well, then we're definitely playing our roles well," I replied curtly. "You know, Alana, Alec seems like a great guy. I understand you just went through a breakup with Daniel, but maybe you should consider giving Alec a chance." Her expression struck me as odd; she had never smiled like this when discussing Daniel. I sighed, trying to navigate this conversation carefully. "You don't know him the way I do. Trust me, he's not as wonderful as he seems. I have a gut feeling that he's up to something." "My sweet daughter, you've always had a competitive streak. Are you sure your hesitation isn't influenced by the fact that Alec almost always came first place?" She gently rubbed my back, her eyes soft and understanding. "Mom," I said, narrowing my eyes at her. "Sweetie, we both know how competitive you can be. Just consider giving the man a fair chance." "Good things never come from forced situations," I argued. "That's not entirely true. After all, you're the result of a forced situation, and you're your dad's and my greatest achievement," my mom revealed, her words dropping like a bombshell. My frown deepened. "W-what?" I stammered. "What do you mean I come from a forced situation?" "I think it's time I told you that the first time I spoke to your father was on our wedding day." My mom cleared her throat and set down her coffee. I sat there, stunned by her revelation. My entire perception of love and relationships, built on my parents' example, had just crumbled before me.