My Father Sold Me to a bunch of Crazy Alphas
Chapter 106: Young Dumb Kids ( Tom’s POV )

Chapter 106: Young Dumb Kids ( Tom’s POV )

My mother was an omega. My father was beta.

Their marriage was peculiar to say the least. Pitiful. My poor mother was in love with the deeply unremarkable man.

And this utterly ordinary idiot used her love at the best extent his tiny mind could think about— entertainment for his boss.

And so, my mother was the actual provider for our family: money, food, branded clothes and connections.

That was how I, the same despicable species as my father, ended up in a top school— the same school Luther attended.

But I was not going to be like my father, I’ve earned my place and got as many scholarships as I could. I grabbed the chance my poor mother sacrificed herself for and held it with my teeth until my gums bled out.

I disliked Luther profusely.

At least when I first met him.

I learned early that being myself didn’t work.

Being the gloomy child got me ignored, yelled at, or worse.

So I studied someone who never got stepped on—my father’s boss.

He was sharp, confident, always in control. People leaned in when he spoke. They laughed when he wanted them to. I decided that was the way out.

Not kindness, not honesty.

Control.

I couldn’t copy his money or power, but I could copy the way he moved, the way he smiled like every room belonged to him.

I built it piece by piece, stripping out what didn’t fit, filling gaps with charm where muscle or money should’ve been.

Then I added humor. People trust the one who makes them laugh. People forgive the one who keeps things light.

Make them smile, and they won’t notice the teeth behind it.

If an alpha intimidated for power, a poor beta like me couldn’t use anything else but practice charm.

By the time I hit seventeen, the act wasn’t an act anymore.

It was a second skin.

I could walk into a room and own it with a grin and a well-placed line.

I could turn anything filthy if I wanted to—slipped into conversations just to watch faces burn.

Then came the transfer.

Last year of high school, new building, new faces sizing me up like they had a chance.

They didn’t.

I walked in smiling, jacket loose, eyes bright like I’d been waiting for them all my life.

Dropped a joke before the teacher finished attendance.

Something stupid about the school mascot looking like it needed therapy.

They laughed.

They always laughed.

I let the sound roll through the room and claimed it like it was mine.

But there was one gloomy kid in the back of the classroom that spared me just a bored, unimpressed look before redirecting his attention back to his studies.

That boy was a reflection of what I was behind my mask and I hated him profusely because of it.

Because I could tell he saw right through me.

So I did the only thing I could. Everything.

Everything to make sure I impressed this awful boy.

But that was no easy task.

"Lu, my love, you didn’t kiss me good morning!"

"Tom, give up already. He hates you!"

"Luuuuu, don’t ignore me. You used me and threw me away just like that? After such passion last night?"

I left the classmate behind to follow Luther.

His steps echoed down the hall, sharp and quick.

Mine followed, steady, gaining on him with every turn.

He glanced back once, caught my eyes, and kept moving.

That only made me push harder.

The halls were thinning out, the last of the stragglers peeling away, leaving just us.

His pace picked up. Mine did too.

My chest burned, but I didn’t stop.

He wasn’t getting away.

He turned down the last hallway and hit a dead end near the back stairwell.

Perfect.

He slowed, but I didn’t.

My shoes slammed the floor until I was right there, closing the gap, cutting off any exit.

He stopped hard, shoulders rising and falling.

I pressed forward until his back nearly touched the wall.

My arms braced on either side, boxing him in.

Let’s see you escaping this one, annoying rich brat!

His breathing was fast, sharp, and I felt every drag of air hit my skin when I leaned in close.

Close enough to see the heat creeping up his neck.

His eyes wouldn’t stay still, flicking from mine to the floor and back again.

Flustered.

Definitely flustered.

Got you!

I felt the grin pulling at my mouth before I knew it.

Victory buzzed in my veins.

I’d played this game for months now, watched him ignore me, shut me down, act like he didn’t care.

Now, here he was, breathing hard, trapped with nowhere to go.

I tilted in closer, close enough that his breath mixed with mine.

My pulse slammed, fast and hard.

Just a little more, and I’d have him.

Just one kiss. One win.

The victory was mine.

I could finally prove to myself that my mask was impenetrable. No matter who looked at it.

Then he said it.

"You would be so much more attractive if you would drop the act already."

The words cut clean through me.

My smile faltered before I could stop it.

My breath stalled in my throat.

Everything in me jolted sharp—panic rushing hot and sudden, crawling up the back of my neck.

He knew. Somehow, he knew.

I tried to laugh it off, but nothing came out.

My throat felt tight, useless.

My arms stayed where they were, but every part of me screamed to move.

Back up.

Hide it.

Fix the crack before it spread.

His eyes were steady now, calm in a way that made it worse, like he’d been waiting for this.

This personified gloom had me tight around his little finger. And I couldn’t help but play.

God, was he always this pretty?

I dropped my hands from the wall, fast, like they burned.

Stepped back too quick, almost stumbling over my own feet.

Heat roared in my face, and I couldn’t even look at him.

Couldn’t look at anyone.

I turned away before he could see more, before he could pull anything else out of me.

My pulse wouldn’t slow.

My breathing stayed ragged.

For the first time in a long time, I wasn’t the one in control.

"Not so smug now the mask dropped, huh?"

His ironic voice echoed through both the long hallway and my mind, leaving behind such a strange feeling that I finally was able to understand my poor mother.

Maybe this dependency was her fuel all this years. Same dependency I had with Luther since I first saw him.

Obsession.

Love.

I caught his hand before he could turn away.

My fingers wrapped tight, and I gave a sharp pull.

He stumbled forward, surprise flashing across his face as I spun him around in one motion.

Before he could react, my arms were already around him, locking him in.

His body stiffened instantly.

Shoulders tight, back straight, like he didn’t know what to do with me clinging to him.

I pressed in closer, holding firm, refusing to let go.

For a second, I thought he might shove me off.

Instead, his hand lifted slowly—hesitant, awkward—and landed on my head.

A single pat.

Then another.

Light, quick, like he was trying to calm a wild animal. I could feel the uncertainty in every movement, but he didn’t pull away.

His palm rested there, warm and strange, while the silence dragged out between us.

I didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Just held on until his breathing evened out, even as mine stayed too fast, too loud in my own ears.

"Don’t cry. You’re making me feel bad that I didn’t kiss your stupid face!"

I was crying?

Wait, so he wanted to kiss me?

I held him tight, face pressed to his shoulder, hoping he couldn’t see how red I was.

My heart was loud, pounding so hard I knew he could feel it.

I stayed still, trying to breathe slow, but it didn’t work.

Then he laughed, soft and short.

It made me freeze.

A second later, his arms came up, wrapping around me in the same clumsy way I held him.

It wasn’t smooth.

It wasn’t sure.

It was probably just an act of pity from him.

But he didn’t let go. Neither did I.

And here we were. After what it felt like a lifetime, still hugging. Still unsure of one another.

I was still hiding my face in the gap between his shoulder and his neck, trying to helplessly hide the truth written all over my face.

But we were not simple-minded kids anymore.

And Luther had gone through too much to be still innocent.

"Who?"

The words expanded in my throat, choking me, suffocating me. Guess I was not ready to perform this part of the plan yet.

Nonetheless, it was way too late to change my mind.

"Tom! Tom, tell me who did it! Who killed my father?"