At that very moment, Alex found himself in the most awkward situation of his entire life—one he had never experienced before.
He had seen many things: horrifying creatures capable of driving one insane with a single glance; ruined worlds that had fallen due to human greed or the intrigues of cosmic entities; the planet Pandora, where the locals, to put it mildly, were mentally unstable and behaved like complete lunatics.
But all of that paled in comparison to what was happening right in front of him now.
Alex was sitting in the office of psychologist Valerie Kinbott during a so-called family therapy session. And he was here for one simple reason—a strange deal with Wednesday. On the days when her parents were staying in Nevermore, he had to pretend to be her fiancé.
And now he was sitting on a couch in the center of the room, with Wednesday beside him, her expression icy cold. She was gripping his hand with such force that, had Alex been an ordinary human, his joints would have shifted long ago.
The reason for this was Morticia and Gomez, who were once again having a bout of passionate affection. And even the fact that Alex and Wednesday were sitting between them did not bother them in the slightest.
At that moment, Alex would have given anything to be anywhere else—in hell, in another world, in the epicenter of an apocalypse—anywhere but here.
Meanwhile, Wednesday's gaze grew colder by the second, and there was a clear desire to kill someone in her eyes. Valerie Kinbott felt no less uncomfortable. In all her years of practice, she had seen many things, but such a specific family dynamic—never before.
"Parents, stop it!" Wednesday said sharply when her patience finally ran out.
Her cold tone was enough. Morticia and Gomez immediately stopped their displays of affection.
Even Valerie noticeably sighed in relief. Alex did the same. He had nothing against love as such—just not when it was unfolding twenty centimeters from his face.
Morticia and Gomez looked at Wednesday. Meanwhile, she pulled a folder out of her backpack and stood up from the couch.
Alex recognized it immediately.
He remembered that Gomez had been involved in the case of Garrett Gates's murder. And he knew the truth: Gomez did not kill Garrett. Neither did Morticia—even though she believed otherwise. Garrett had been doomed the moment he fought Gomez, consumed by jealousy and having long since become something more than just human.
But the others didn't know that.
"Parents… I think it's time to pay the price. It turns out you lied to me," Wednesday began, preparing to open the folder.
At that exact moment, Alex realized that now was absolutely the worst possible time for such revelations.
He jumped up from the couch and, acting preemptively, grabbed Wednesday by the cheeks and kissed her sharply.
Wednesday froze.
While she was disoriented by the unexpected kiss, Alex deftly pulled the folder from her hands and hid it under his coat. He shielded her with his body, and from the outside, only one thing was visible—the kiss.
At that moment, Valerie Kinbott finally concluded that helping this family was impossible. Moreover, Wednesday was no less an Addams than her parents.
Gomez and Morticia nodded approvingly as they watched what was happening, especially their daughter's reaction.
And inside Wednesday's own head, a real whirlwind was raging. All the words, accusations, and questions she had been about to voice instantly faded into the background. She didn't know what to do with her hands—and in the end, she placed them on Alex's neck. Either to strangle him, or to hug him.
For her, this was a first.
"Not now," Alex whispered quietly, pulling away after the kiss.
Wednesday frowned, looking Alex straight in the eyes. He was still just a centimeter away from her face, and in his gaze, she clearly caught a hint—he had a plan.
He didn't say anything, but it wasn't necessary: one look was enough to convey that he knew what she was about to do and had already figured out how to handle it. Wednesday frowned even more but still decided to trust Alex. Subconsciously, this wasn't the first time she had done so.
She saw how easily he earned people's trust—with a few phrases, a calm tone, an almost imperceptible smile. Alex could get anyone to talk and reveal even their deepest secrets, as if it were nothing.
"Wednesday, dear," Morticia said gently, "I understand you want to spend as much time as possible with your fiancé, but… what exactly did you want to show us?"
Alex and Wednesday turned simultaneously to Morticia and Gomez. On Alex's lips, the trace of Wednesday's black lipstick was clearly visible, smudged and unmistakably obvious.
Valerie Kinbott suddenly felt completely out of place. She desperately wished she could be anywhere but here.
Pugsley, on the other hand, paid no attention to what was happening and continued diligently eating the dried fruits, which were actually just meant as air fresheners.
Wednesday shot Alex a look full of silent question: "And how do you plan to get out of this?" The glance made it clear—he better say something convincing rather than spout clumsy excuses.
"I think," Alex began, in a calm and confident tone, "that Wednesday wanted to say that she figured out your plan. You originally intended to send her to Nevermore. The thing found the completed documents in the school archives, and the dates on them are several years earlier, even before her official transfer."
"Ah…" Gomez sighed, slightly raising his hands. "Wednesday, dear, we didn't mean to deceive you. We, as parents, just wanted the best for you. We knew how you might react, so… we decided to proceed cautiously."
"And you did the right thing," Wednesday said coldly, keeping her eyes on her parents. "Unfortunately, I wouldn't want to bury my parents prematurely. Alive."
From Gomez and Morticia's words, Wednesday understood one thing: they had indeed planned to send her to Nevermore even earlier. That was enough for her to stick to her version of resentment—angry that they tried to make decisions without her consent. Deep down, she was ready to enact revenge, but for now, the game was worth waiting.
Gomez and Morticia, unaware of the real reason Wednesday had taken out the folder, believed her story about the documents. Luckily, the topic didn't develop further.
Alex exhaled in relief and was about to return to his place. He knew that very soon, Sheriff Donovan would appear at Nevermore's doorstep—a man who had dreamed for years of putting Gomez behind bars.
Without a word, Wednesday pulled Alex back to the couch and sat him next to her, then sat down herself. This gesture made Gomez and Morticia literally glow with dark joy and pride for their daughter. In their eyes, Wednesday was confidently following in their footsteps.
And most importantly—they saw how Alex's presence in her life was gradually changing her. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, but changing her nonetheless. Wednesday had never let anyone get this close before.
"Um…" Valerie Kinbott said hesitantly, looking at Alex with a puzzled expression. "You… have something on your lips."
Everyone turned to Alex and noticed the clear trace of Wednesday's black lipstick on his lips. With an impassive expression, Wednesday pulled a black handkerchief from her pocket and carefully wiped his lips—as if she had done it many times before.
Alex didn't resist. He was long accustomed to one of the girls wiping lipstick off his face. With the same cold composure, Wednesday tucked the handkerchief back into her pocket, as if nothing had happened. Soon, the atmosphere in Valerie Kinbott's office returned to its usual awkwardness: everyone was silent, and Valerie was unsuccessfully trying to get anyone to talk.
The session lasted a full half hour, but during that time, Valerie Kinbott couldn't get a single proper answer from the Addams family. They either responded in their usual strange manner or simply ignored the questions. When the awkward family therapy finally ended, Wednesday took Alex by the hand and pulled him outside, clearly unwilling to stay in Valerie Kinbott's office any longer than necessary.
Once in the fresh air, Alex pulled a cigarette from his pocket. Wednesday already had a lighter and, without a trace of emotion, lit it for him.
"Who would have thought family therapy could be such an entertaining activity," Gomez said with a smile, exiting the building while holding Morticia's hand.
"Absolutely, my dear. We should do this more often," Morticia replied with the same smile.
Watching them, Alex wanted to comment that visits to a psychologist usually went very differently—especially when everything was drowned in awkward silence or grim remarks capable of throwing anyone off balance. He looked up at the windows of Valerie Kinbott's office and thought that after what she had just witnessed, she would probably want to drink. A lot—just to cope in any way with what she had seen.
Lowering his gaze, Alex once again saw the familiar scene of affection between Morticia and Gomez and sighed deeply.
"Mr. and Mrs. Addams, how about some coffee? My treat. Strangely enough, they make very good coffee here," Alex said, trying to interrupt the scene unfolding before his eyes.
Gomez and Morticia looked at him simultaneously and agreed without hesitation. Alex just hoped that Sheriff Donovan wouldn't be in the café—not wanting to further escalate the situation.
Before heading to the "Fluger" café, Alex closed one eye and made sure that Sheriff Donovan was currently in the morgue due to the so-called suicide of the coroner, who was supposed to retire in a week. Alex knew the coroner had been forced to kill himself, and it was Marilyn who had found a way to exact revenge.
Entering the "Fluger," the Addams family immediately drew a lot of attention—their dark appearance and corresponding clothing could not go unnoticed. While they occupied a table, Alex went to order coffee. To his dismay, Tyler was again on shift, staring exclusively at Wednesday as usual. Suppressing the urge to eliminate Tyler prematurely, Alex calmly collected the order and headed to the table where the Addams family was already seated.
"My dear Wednesday, your coffee, just the way you like it—with four shots of espresso. Mr. and Mrs. Addams, I'm not sure of your preferences, so I chose according to my taste. Pugsley, I noticed you enjoy unusual combinations, so this one's for you," Alex said, placing the cups on the table.
"Oh, Alex, darling. You really didn't have to go to such trouble," Morticia said with a kind smile, taking her cup.
"Indeed, it wasn't necessary," Wednesday calmly added, accepting her coffee from Alex's hands. "Plain tap water would have been enough for them."
Alex gave a slight smile and sat down next to Wednesday, opposite Morticia and Gomez, who were already sipping their coffee with contented smiles. Watching them, Alex couldn't help but conclude that the Addams family was actually not that different from any other—only their tastes and perspectives leaned toward the dark and unsettling. That was why interacting with them wasn't so difficult once you understood the rules of the game.
In the quiet, broken only by occasional sips of coffee, Alex thoughtfully tapped his finger on the table in a steady rhythm. He was pondering how to steer the conversation toward the past and subtly glean the details he needed. He already sensed that sooner or later, an opportunity would arise that would allow Wednesday to learn the truth about the events that had taken place in Nevermore many years ago.
"Alex, don't you want to share some details about your work?" Gomez asked with a smile, elegantly sipping his coffee. "Or is that classified information, since you're a federal agent?"
"Did you fight monsters?" Pugsley jumped in immediately, his eyes lighting up with genuine excitement.
"I had to," Alex replied with a slight smile, looking at him. "And, by the way, just recently."
"Cool… What kind of monsters?" Pugsley pressed on. "Arachnae? Or maybe a rabid chupacabra?"
"Earlier this spring, I had the chance to visit Blackwood Mountain," Alex said, slowly turning his cup in his hand. "That's where I encountered a wendigo."
"Ah, wendigos," Gomez perked up. "I remember Fester and I used to hunt them. Smart and incredibly stubborn creatures. Hehe. Uncle Fester even tried to tame one… the wendigo almost ate him."
"That's right, darling," Morticia added softly, shaking her head. "After that, Fester spent a whole month sulking. He's always had a soft spot for unusual pets."
Alex raised an eyebrow in surprise and glanced at Wednesday. Just yesterday, they had been discussing wendigos, and back then she had pretended to know almost nothing about them. Now, she calmly turned her head toward Alex, clearly indicating that her parents' stories didn't interest her at all.
Sighing, Alex realized she knew far more than she let on. She just preferred to act as if it all passed her by—another little game, and probably another plan to get him talking.
Deciding not to dwell on it, Alex began recounting his hunt for the wendigo in Blackwood. The story clearly made an impression: Pugsley's eyes literally shone, and he listened intently without looking away.
Once the coffee was finished, everyone agreed there was no reason to linger in Jericho any longer. The Addams family returned to the car and soon headed back to Nevermore. Settling into his seat, Alex glanced at his phone and noted that the entire trip—from the psychologist's visit to the coffee conversation—had taken just over an hour.
By the time they returned, the Nevermore courtyard was already bustling with a buffet set up for the parents. Alex scanned the yard and quickly spotted Dean, who was sitting at a separate table with Garth. Not far away, Bess had settled in with Enid, Esther, and Murray.
After saying goodbye to the Addams family, Alex headed over to Dean's table. As he got closer, he noticed that Dean's plate was piled high with food, as if he were planning to single-handedly devour the entire buffet.
"Dude, where've you been?" Dean asked when Alex sat across from him.
"Ever been to a family therapy session?" Alex replied evenly, looking at him with a blank stare.
"Do I look like the kind of guy who needs a shrink?" Dean replied lazily, shoving a piece of steak into his mouth.
"Actually, you might benefit from it," Garth interjected calmly, a friendly smile on his face. "I can give you the number of a great specialist. Bess and I went to her after that thing with her stepmother. It was tough for her back then, and it really helped. You could go with Sam."
"No way," Dean cut in irritably. "We've got everything under control. Definitely not the time to waste hours with some guy telling me stuff I already know."
"She's a woman," Garth clarified.
"Whoever," Dean snapped even more irritably. "I'm not letting anyone poke around in my head. I've had enough of that already."
"Alright, Dean," Alex intervened, stopping him. "Nobody's sending you anywhere. You're right—we already have enough problems. And that's exactly what we need to talk about."
"Did you manage to find anything out?" Dean asked, catching the seriousness in Alex's voice.
"For now, it's just speculation," Alex replied. "But there's reason to believe our case isn't just about what we're looking for… and it might also involve the Men of Letters."
At Alex's words, Dean's hand froze halfway to his mouth. He immediately understood what Alex meant, furrowed his brow, and looked at him. Alex gave a subtle nod, confirming he meant exactly that.
Dean didn't like the thought. It seemed the Men of Letters might be involved in the hunt for the Shards of Darkness. But he still couldn't figure out how the order fit into what was happening.
Noticing Dean's confusion, Alex opened one of the old files on his phone and slid the screen closer. Dean quickly scanned the document and saw that it concerned a letter sent to Britain. At that moment, Garth tactfully got up and went over to his wife—he had enough sense to understand that this conversation was clearly not meant for outsiders. Alex was deliberately speaking in a way that prevented anyone nearby from catching the gist.
"So you're saying one of the Men of Letters is pulling the strings?" Dean asked quietly, handing the phone back.
"Think about it yourself," Alex replied, pocketing the phone. "A book, whose true power is known only to a select few, and to everyone else it's just ancient junk. A monster chained up and turned into a submissive dog. And most importantly—only the Men of Letters, at least in theory, are capable of understanding how to use Amara's power."
"So we've got a rogue Men of Letters member who decided to destroy a school for monster kids?" Dean frowned. "And why would they even do that?"
"As far as I understand, the British Men of Letters are fanatics. They want to eradicate all things supernatural. And with Amara's power, that's entirely possible. But right now, it's probably just an experiment—a test run. Otherwise, it would already be over. For now, it's only speculation. I'm not one hundred percent sure. We need to catch the culprit and extract answers," Alex said in a low voice, explaining part of the situation to Dean.
"If what you're saying is true, a lot starts to make sense," Dean frowned even deeper. "And what if we take out one of these Men of Letters? Will a dozen more come after our souls?"
"We'll try to bury it through the Bureau. The FBC and the Men of Letters, to put it mildly, don't get along. If a member of the order ends up in the Bureau's hands, they can't do anything," Alex said, rhythmically tapping his finger on the table.
"So we catch a rogue Men of Letters member, hand them over to the Bureau, and pretend we had nothing to do with it?" Dean asked, clarifying the plan.
"Exactly. Until we deal with the Darkness and the shards of Amara's power, we don't need extra interference. The situation is already bad enough. All sorts of supernatural beings are starting to awaken, and a new cycle is about to begin," Alex said, reaching for a cigarette.
"You mean that cycle?" Dean squinted.
"Yes. The entity in Derry will awaken soon. We have about a month, maybe a month and a half at most, before it all begins," Alex said with a heavy sigh.
After hearing this, Dean completely lost his appetite. Problems kept piling up one after another, not giving him even a moment to breathe. He pushed his plate away, feeling only a headache and a sharp urge to drink.
Alex noticed but said nothing. He understood perfectly well himself: just as they barely managed to deal with one disaster, the next one was already waiting at the doorstep.
He got up from the table to pour himself some water. At that moment, Enid, who had been quietly watching him the entire time, also stood. Garth, having returned to the family, distracted everyone's attention, and Enid grabbed a plate and headed to the drinks table, completely ignoring her mother's grumbling about how she should think less about boys and more about becoming a "normal" werewolf.
As she approached the table, Alex caught a familiar scent. Turning his head, he saw Enid smiling with a plate in her hands.
"What were you talking to Dean about?" she whispered. "He looks so gloomy now."
"The killer clown who likes to kidnap children and eat them," Alex replied just as quietly.
"What?.. Do those really exist?" Enid asked, her face full of shock.
"Unfortunately. But tell me, how are things with your mom? Did you manage to stand up to her, or is she pushing you again?"
"Besides the fact that she didn't like my hair, makeup, and the way I think about boys instead of focusing on becoming a wolf… I think I handled it pretty well," Enid said, twirling a pink strand of hair around her finger.
"Maybe I should have a little talk with your mom?" Alex asked with a smirk, glancing over his shoulder at Esther.
"You're not planning to hit her, are you?" Enid asked cautiously.
"Why would I? She's your mom. You'd be sad if I did that. And I don't want you to be sad," Alex replied with a warm smile.
Hearing Alex's caring words, Enid beamed with happiness and started rocking slightly on her heels next to him.
But both Alex and Enid suddenly felt a cold, piercing gaze on them.
They turned their heads and met Wednesday's icy eyes. She moved her lips slowly, silently reminding him that he was still her fiancé. Enid didn't immediately understand what Wednesday meant, and Alex briefly explained the terms of the deal he had made with her.
Hearing this, Enid narrowed her eyes and looked at Wednesday with understanding—Wednesday had decided to play dirty, using her parents as cover. Enid couldn't help but let out a quiet growl, especially when she noticed the faint smirk on Wednesday's face.
However, the tension was abruptly broken by the sudden arrival of the police, led by Sheriff Donovan. Whispers immediately rose in the crowd—no one understood why the police had shown up at that exact moment. Sheriff Donovan paid no attention to the looks and conversations around him and walked confidently toward the table where the Addams family was sitting.
"Gomez Addams, you are under arrest for the murder of Garrett Gates. Anything you say can and will be used against you in court," he began, placing handcuffs on Gomez's wrists.
Reading him his rights, Donovan immediately led Gomez toward the exit under the watchful eyes of everyone. Alex instantly looked at Wednesday—her expression had turned to stone. A tear rolled down Morticia's cheek as she saw Gomez being taken away under escort. Enid, watching the scene, clenched Alex's hand, sharply feeling the pain and tension of Wednesday's family.
Alex realized there was no time to lose and immediately moved after them.
"Dean!" he shouted, heading toward the exit.
"Don't forget to give it back later," Dean called, tossing Alex the keys.
Alex pocketed the keys and headed for the outer parking lot where the Impala was parked. He quickly reached the car and got behind the wheel, watching the police convoy leave Nevermore.
He was about to start the engine when the doors of the Impala swung open, and Wednesday slid into the passenger seat with her usual cold expression. Without a word, Alex started the engine and followed the convoy.
Reaching the city, he headed straight for the sheriff's office. They had to wait over an hour due to formalities and paperwork before Alex received permission to visit, even though, given his authority, he technically didn't need it. All the while, Wednesday remained silent and calm, saying nothing—she was just patiently waiting.
Once he received the permission, Alex returned to her side and led her in. They entered the visitation room and took the booth furthest from the door. All that was left was to wait.
A few minutes later, the steel doors opened, and Gomez was brought in—wearing an orange prison jumpsuit, accompanied by a police officer. He sat down on a chair and looked at Wednesday with a guilty expression. She remained seated next to Alex, outwardly cold and composed.
"Wednesday, tell me, how is your mother feeling right now?" Gomez asked first.
"She's in despair. She doesn't like orange," Wednesday replied, pausing before continuing.
"Now answer my question, father. Why did you hide this from me? Or did you really think you could conceal something like this? Don't you have anything to explain?"
Alex placed the folder with the murder case on the stand so that Gomez could see the documents.
"So, you already knew everything, Wednesday?" Gomez asked with a heavy sigh.
"I suppose it's my fault, Mr. Addams," Alex calmly interjected. "Upon arriving in town, my partner and I studied everything related to Jericho and Nevermore. This case came to our attention. But it clearly states here that you were acquitted and Garrett Gates' death was ruled an accident."
Gomez lowered his gaze.
"When you both look at me like that, hiding the truth becomes harder. Garrett was infatuated with Morticia. He mistook ordinary kindness for flirtation. That obsession drove him mad. At some point, he started stalking Morticia, and we even went to the police."
"And why didn't the police help?" Wednesday asked coldly.
"The Gates family had enormous influence in Jericho at the time," Alex replied evenly, pulling a candy from his pocket. "The city was essentially theirs."
"Exactly," Gomez confirmed. "The police looked the other way. Garrett's father hated outcasts, and when Morticia accused his son of stalking, he completely lost it."
"And then what happened?" Wednesday pressed.
Gomez exhaled heavily, as if reliving the past.
"It all came to a head on the night of the Crow Ball. Your mother and I went outside for some air, and that's when Garrett appeared. He sneaked into the school. His insane love clouded his mind. In his eyes, there was only a desire to possess and to kill. Morticia immediately told me to run."
Gomez paused to gather his strength.
"Garrett grabbed a sword and chased me onto the roof. As I ran, my entire life flashed before my eyes. I grabbed the first thing within reach. He was blinded by jealousy and couldn't stop. I knocked the sword from his hand and instinctively grabbed it myself—I just wanted to toss the weapon so he couldn't pick it up again. But in his rage, Garrett lunged at me… and impaled himself on the blade."
Gomez fell silent, letting the room fill with a heavy quiet, as if giving his words time to settle and reveal their full tragic weight.
Throughout her father's story, Wednesday didn't once take her eyes off him, carefully noting every subtle shift in his expression. From a young age, she had studied Gomez and had learned to detect with unerring accuracy when he lied or left something unsaid.
Alex, meanwhile, remained calm, occasionally nodding as he listened intently to the story. In truth, he already knew what had happened that night and even knew where the evidence proving Gomez's innocence was. But before taking action, Alex wanted to speak with Sheriff Donovan and subtly plant the idea that the situation was far more complex than it seemed at first glance. He understood that Donovan was smart, but too fixated on his own version of "justice," a version hastily covered up years ago by labeling the incident an accident.
Tapping his fingers rhythmically on the table, Alex considered how to handle everything without provoking Marilyn. She could unleash a monster on Gomez or orchestrate something far more dangerous. The main priority was to prevent more deaths, including the mayor and others. Alex knew Marilyn intended to exact revenge on anyone she held responsible for her family's demise, and both Nevermore and the entire city of Jericho could be caught in the crossfire.
Wednesday turned her head and looked at Alex, noticing his thoughtful expression and the measured movements of his fingers. Gomez couldn't miss the glance either—somehow, he began to fidget just then. There was something intensely focused and weighty in Alex's demeanor.
"Thank you for being honest with me, Father," Wednesday said calmly.
"Forgive me if I was a bad father, Wednesday…" Gomez began, a shadow of sorrow crossing his face.
"Spare me the extra sentimentality. There's already too much of it in my life," Wednesday replied evenly.
"I was only looking out for you… and didn't realize you didn't like it," Alex interjected, playfully mimicking a sulking child.
"Not now," Wednesday said, gently pushing his face aside.
"I'm glad there will be someone by your side who can take care of you… while I'm not around," Gomez said softly. "I may not have been a perfect father, but I always wished you happiness, Wednesday."
"What kind of father gives his five-year-old daughter a rapier?" she asked calmly.
Alex almost blurted out that his own little gremlins had received a bomb they'd assembled themselves instead of a rapier, but he caught himself just in time. Alex's wives, watching through the screens, exchanged glances, then looked back at him, involuntarily reminded of their own daughters, who always carried something dangerous in their pockets. In the end, the idea of a rapier even seemed safer to them than what Anya, Nyaruko, Jinx, and Tina usually carried around.
After Wednesday's question, Gomez cleared his throat dryly, aware that such gifts weren't exactly standard fatherly practice.
"Still, you've mastered cold weapons perfectly," he remarked cautiously.
"Or does he teach his daughter to swim with sharks?" she asked next.
"You were colder than any shark," Gomez replied with a proud smile.
"Teaches how to skin rattlesnakes?" Wednesday continued in her calm tone.
"If you know how to prepare them, they taste like chicken," Gomez said, still smiling.
"Actually, any snake tastes like chicken…" Alex added thoughtfully.
"Now that you mention it, yes," Gomez nodded in agreement.
"That's exactly what I wanted to say, Father," Wednesday continued. "You taught me to be independent. To be strong in a world full of dangers. Because of you, I know how important it is to always trust myself. And if you're curious… you were a good enough father."
For the first time, a rare softness touched her voice—subtle, but sincere notes of care.
Hearing every word of his daughter, Gomez felt a deep sadness mixed with quiet joy. As a father, he had always wanted Wednesday to be happy, and he understood that a long separation lay ahead. Knowing how much she disliked excessive sentimentality and tears, Gomez offered a restrained smile, signaling that he was alright.
After saying this, Wednesday calmly rose from her seat and headed toward the exit, clearly intending to speak privately. Alex, however, remained seated. Wednesday looked at him, and he gestured that he would catch up with her later. She squinted slightly, then nodded and left.
Once the door closed, Alex turned his attention to Gomez, who now watched him with keen interest.
"Mr. Adams… no, Gomez. This whole story… half of it is a lie. Am I right?" Alex said calmly, fingers intertwined.
"I don't understand what you're talking about, Alex," Gomez replied, a trace of nervousness in his voice.
"No need to answer. I've already figured out roughly what happened that night. As a man, I fully support your decision. In your place, I might have acted even more radically, but overall—just the same. You don't need to explain anything. And to put your mind at ease…" Alex looked him straight in the eyes. "…I will never harm Wednesday. Never."
"Your words warm my soul, Alex," Gomez said with a genuine smile. "I knew right away that you were a good young man."
"No thanks necessary. This situation is too suspicious, considering all the factors. For now, it's better if you stay cautious—the area has been too restless lately. I'll try to delay your transfer to the state prison until I find the right leads. And now, I better return to Wednesday before she accidentally hits the sheriff for his less-than-tactful words," Alex said, rising from his chair.
"Our little thundercloud is certainly capable of that," Gomez smirked and nodded. "She's never tolerated rudeness toward herself."
Alex bid Gomez farewell and left the meeting room. Already on the move, he began mapping out a plan in his mind: how to act carefully, avoid provoking Marilyn's retaliation, and still get Gomez out of prison without putting him in further danger.
To be continued…
(While writing this chapter, I thought about Alex chatting with Enid's mother, but every time my thoughts led to Alex pulling out a stick and hitting Enid's mother over the head. I tried, of course, but I've already shown that Enid only considers her Father, Uncle, and Aunt as part of her family. As for her mother, she can go to hell, that stray dog.)
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