Leaving the visitation room, Alex ran into Wednesday's cold stare. In her eyes there was a clear demand for answers—why he had stayed behind to speak with her father in private. Instead of explaining, Alex raised a hand, signaling that he needed to make a phone call.
He decided to seriously deal with the bureaucracy in order to delay Gomez's transfer to a state prison. One day would be more than enough to get the man out, clear his name, and prove that he hadn't killed anyone. In moments like these, Alex genuinely loved bureaucracy: if you knew where to call and whom to talk to, paperwork could be easily pushed aside for as long as needed.
Wednesday raised an eyebrow as she listened to his conversation and quickly realized what exactly he was doing. Even she paused for a moment, considering how useful it was to have connections capable of solving problems quietly and without unnecessary noise. Of course, Alex could have acted more forcefully—taken matters into his own hands and simply obtained a document releasing Gomez—but that would have provoked Marilyn into far more radical measures, and that was not something they could allow right now.
Finishing the call, Alex slipped his phone back into his pocket and gave Wednesday a thumbs-up, letting her know everything was settled. She slightly raised an eyebrow and silently nodded. All that remained was to speak with Sheriff Donovan and put everything in its place.
Gesturing for Wednesday to follow him, Alex headed toward the sheriff's office. Showing Bernice's badge to the female secretary, they were let through without any questions. Once again, Wednesday noted to herself that the status of a federal agent opened far more doors than one might like to admit.
Alex approached Donovan's office and lightly knocked on the doorframe, catching the sheriff's attention as he was pouring himself some coffee.
"What brings you here, agent? And in the company of a murderer's daughter, no less," Donovan said, turning around.
"Sheriff, within the hour you'll receive an official document by fax ordering you to delay the transfer of Gomez Addams," Alex said calmly as he entered the office and took a seat across from the desk.
Donovan frowned, looking at Alex, who sat with an unruffled expression despite the bandage over his eye and the cast on his arm. Then his gaze shifted to Wednesday, who had taken the chair beside him. She was looking at him just as calmly and coldly.
Looking at the pair, the sheriff felt a headache creeping up on him. He glanced at his mug of coffee and thought that maybe he should have poured himself something stronger.
"Gomez Addams confessed and signed a statement. I was already preparing to hand the case over to the prosecutor. Why are you interfering, agent?" Donovan asked as he sat down behind the desk.
"Don't you find such a coincidence strange?" Wednesday calmly interjected. "The coroner supposedly commits suicide over an old case on the very day the only suspect arrives in town."
"At last, the guilty got what he deserved," Donovan smirked. "And putting handcuffs on your father was especially satisfying."
"Sheriff, doesn't that really seem strange to you?" Alex asked before Wednesday decided to respond to that remark in her own way.
"What exactly? That a federal agent decided to side with a criminal?" Donovan replied calmly, looking him straight in the eyes.
"My partner and I saw the coroner last week," Alex continued, tapping his finger against the armrest of the chair. "He didn't look like someone preparing to take his own life. Why would a man with only a week left until retirement suddenly decide to end it all? He kept this truth to himself for years, and then chooses to die precisely when Parent's Day is taking place in Nevermore and Gomez Addams comes to town."
Alex paused and added in the same calm tone:
"I'll ask again, Sheriff. Are you really certain that a man who was planning to take his wife to a resort after retiring suddenly decided to hang himself?"
Hearing Alex's words and meeting his calm, confident gaze, even Sheriff Donovan doubted for a moment what had really happened. However, no matter how much he might have wanted to listen to those doubts, all the available evidence still pointed to Gomez Addams. Alex noticed the hesitation growing in the sheriff's eyes, but it almost immediately disappeared. He only let out a quiet sigh, understanding that Donovan was, above all, a cop and was used to trusting facts, not intuition.
"Someone is trying to divert attention from the main investigation," Wednesday said calmly, breaking the prolonged pause between Alex and the sheriff.
"And what exactly does that mean, Miss Addams?" Donovan asked, turning his gaze to her.
"It means that the real culprit is somehow connected to what happened in Jericho and Nevermore in the past," Wednesday replied in an even tone, as if stating an obvious conclusion.
"Everyone who had anything to do with that case were your parents, the former sheriff, and the coroner. All the other participants have long been dead," Donovan cut in sharply.
"What happened to them?" Wednesday frowned slightly.
"The Gates family was destroyed. The mother hanged herself from a tree behind the house, the father drank himself into delirium tremens. The younger sister didn't survive—she was adopted and taken abroad, where she drowned. No one is left. Your father is guilty not only of Garrett's death, but of the fate of his entire family as well," the sheriff said grimly.
"Was Laurel Gates' body ever found?" Alex asked calmly, tapping his finger against the armrest of the chair.
"No. And there was no point in looking. There were witnesses who saw her drown," Donovan shrugged.
"I see. Thank you, Sheriff. You'll receive the official document within the hour. We'll be going now," Alex said, standing up and taking Wednesday by the hand. "And one more thing, Sheriff… keep an eye on the mayor. He might be involved as well."
"What do you mean by that, agent?" Donovan asked, watching him go.
"Exactly that. Our serial killer may be avenging the Gates family or be connected to them somehow. Stay alert over the next few days," Alex threw over his shoulder, leaving a very clear hint.
Sheriff Donovan frowned again, but still decided to heed Alex's words. Caution was never unnecessary.
Meanwhile, Alex and Wednesday had already left the sheriff's building and gotten into the Impala. Alex started the engine and, steering with one hand, thoughtfully tapped his fingers against the wheel.
"Wednesday, we need to stop by the morgue," he said, turning at the intersection.
Wednesday looked at him and silently nodded, immediately understanding what he meant.
Pulling up to the morgue, Alex parked the car, and they stepped out together. Patrol officers were stationed at the entrance, guarding the scene. Alex showed his credentials, and they were let inside without any questions. Following the directions of one of the officers, Alex headed toward the room where the coroner's body had been found, and Wednesday followed him, carefully observing her surroundings.
Almost immediately, Alex noticed a piece of black chewing gum stuck over the lens of a surveillance camera. He looked at Wednesday and let out a heavy sigh.
"My dear Wednesday, weren't you planning to erase all traces of your presence?" he asked, nodding toward the camera.
"Even the most experienced serial killers make mistakes. Otherwise, they would never be caught," she replied calmly.
"Alright… whatever you say. Not important," Alex waved it off.
"So the cameras won't help us," Wednesday noted coolly, continuing her inspection.
"If they record audio, we might still find a lead. If, of course, the coroner really didn't blow his own brains out," Alex said as he headed toward the coroner's office.
Wednesday frowned slightly at those words, but still nodded.
Alex entered the coroner's office, calmly sat at his desk, and powered on the computer. Slightly swaying in the chair, he quickly opened the folder with the surveillance recordings, found the necessary file, and started it. Wednesday stood behind him, watching his actions closely.
They began listening to the recording, even though nothing was visible on the screen—the camera lens had been covered with black chewing gum. Alex turned up the volume and slowly fast-forwarded the recording until the sound of footsteps appeared, followed a few moments later by a gunshot. Wednesday frowned even more. Alex, tapping his finger on the desk, rewound the recording back to the moment the coroner entered the room and played it again.
And again—footsteps, then a gunshot.
After the second playback, Alex frowned, and Wednesday, for the first time, realized that getting her father out of prison might be much more difficult than she had anticipated. But Alex played the recording a third time, focusing precisely on the moment the coroner appeared.
"What are you trying to hear?" Wednesday asked, noticing his tense, concentrated expression.
"Listen closely. It's hard to catch, but during the footsteps, there's a voice," Alex replied, turning the speakers up even louder.
Wednesday raised an intrigued eyebrow and leaned closer, peering over his shoulder. And indeed—through the sound of the footsteps, the coroner's voice could be heard. Distorted, unnatural, like a skipping record.
That was enough for Alex. He immediately understood: the coroner had been possessed by Darkness, and he had been forced to take his own life. Most importantly, from the moment he entered the morgue until the gunshot, he had neither the time nor the opportunity to write a suicide note. Alex also became fully convinced that in this timeline, Marilyn Thornhill—also known as Laurel Gates—was far more insane than in the original.
Wednesday also understood what he meant. She had heard this voice before. The first time was in Alex's mission recordings from Bright Falls, where the Taken spoke in the exact same distorted, unnatural manner. The second time was in the forest near Nevermore.
Alex quickly connected his phone to the computer, transferred the recording, and erased all traces of the file so it could not be recovered.
"I really hope our villain isn't insane enough to send a monster after the sheriff's office and try to kill your father," he said, disconnecting the phone.
"It's entirely possible. We need to go back. I want to hear my mother's side of the story," Wednesday said, heading toward the door.
"Do you really suspect Morticia?" Alex asked, raising an eyebrow as he got up from the desk.
"My father lied when he told his story. I've been playing Russian roulette with him since childhood—every gesture gave away that he was hiding something. It's not hard to guess what he's trying to achieve," Wednesday replied calmly, turning and looking at Alex over her shoulder.
Alex smiled and followed her. The conversation with Morticia was meant to give Wednesday the answers she had been seeking. Meanwhile, Alex continued to play the role of someone who knew nothing. Though he also planned to let Dean listen to the recording—he needed to be in the loop as well.
Back at the Impala, Alex started the engine and drove back to Nevermore. He still hadn't met Enid's parents, and he had no desire to upset her.
On the way, he called Dean and asked where everyone was. Just as Alex had expected, Dean was nearby. After getting the direction, Alex and Wednesday headed toward the forest near Nevermore, where the students and their parents were spending time outdoors.
As they walked along the path, they could already hear voices when they noticed Enid moving quickly off to the side. Seeing Alex and Wednesday, she immediately rushed over to them and hugged Alex tightly, pressing her face into his chest. Wednesday frowned for a moment but let it go when she heard the quiet sobs.
Alex gestured to Wednesday that he could handle it himself and that she should go find her family. Wednesday held his gaze for another second, then nodded and moved on.
Left alone with Enid, Alex gently stroked her back, helping her calm down. He already had a good idea of what was going on, but right now silent support was what mattered most. In the distance, he noticed Bess and waved to her, signaling that everything was under control. Bess smiled and went back.
"So, my little ball of pink fluff, what upset you so much?" Alex asked, pulling Enid back slightly and carefully wiping the tears from her cheeks.
"Mom… she… she wants to send me to a werewolf camp so I'll become 'normal,'" Enid forced out, still sniffing.
"And that upset you this much?" Alex said gently. "Don't worry. She won't send you anywhere. And in the worst case… I'll kidnap you."
Hearing Alex's words, Enid's eyes widened at first, then she laughed, quickly realizing it was just a joke. But along with the laughter, a warm, almost aching feeling spread through her chest—she didn't even notice how his gaze had changed.
At that same moment, far less pleasant thoughts began to form in Alex's mind—about Enid's mother, who was ready to send her own daughter to a so‑called werewolf camp just to make her "normal." In Alex's eyes, Enid was the most normal of them all. Unlike her brothers, who behaved like wild beasts with no self-control whatsoever.
Pushing those dark thoughts aside, Alex kept smiling as he gently kneaded Enid's cheeks, helping her fully calm down. She relaxed quickly, feeling that familiar warmth and sense of protection.
At the same time, Alex's wives, who were watching the feed, were on full alert. They had seen more than once what happened when the intrusive thoughts in his head took over. If necessary, they would intervene. Alex, however, had no idea that an interception plan was already in place and that they were ready to stop him at any moment.
"I think this is exactly the right moment to meet your parents. You don't mind, do you?" Alex said, lightly stretching Enid's cheeks.
"You're not planning to hit anyone, are you?" Enid asked with a smile as her face was being pulled in different directions.
"Why would you think that? Why does everyone always assume I resort to violence at every opportunity?" Alex protested, tugging her cheeks a bit harder.
"Ouch… be gentler," Enid complained, feeling a slight sting.
"Sorry. So, my sweet ball of pink fluff," Alex leaned closer, stopping just a centimeter from her face. "What made you decide that I'm just waiting for a chance to punch someone?"
"Well… even though you're always smiling," Enid began, a little embarrassed, "you and Dean both have these looks… like in any argument you'd immediately switch to force."
"First of all, Dean and I aren't brothers. We just look alike, but that's different. And now—let's go to your parents. There's no point discussing my supposed constant brawling here," Alex said, abruptly changing the subject as he pulled Enid along with him.
When Alex pulled her by the hand, Enid laughed. Her mood rose rapidly, and her joy was impossible to hide. She watched with pleasure as Alex's expression changed after her words.
He led her back toward where everyone had gathered. Still holding Enid's hand, Alex looked around, searching for her relatives.
The first person he noticed was Dean—he was sitting with Garth and Bess. Nearby, by the campfire, were Esther and Murray, who, as usual, was silent. And despite the fact that the adults were spending time with their children, Enid's brothers continued to behave like wild animals: growling, shoving, and bothering everyone around them.
Shaking his head, Alex led Enid farther on. The closer they got to her parents, the tighter Enid squeezed his hand. The nervousness wouldn't let go. Alex gently squeezed her palm in response, silently telling her that he was there. Everything would be fine.
When they approached, all eyes immediately turned toward them. Even Dean raised an eyebrow slightly—it was clear from his expression that he had heard the entire conversation between mother and daughter and was ready to step in.
"Why did you bring him here, Enid?" Esther began sharply. "Instead of talking to boys, you should be thinking about how to become like everyone else. You shouldn't have run away. It's just a werewolf camp. Your cousin finally managed to transform after it. Don't you want to be normal?"
Alex stepped forward, not letting go of Enid's hand.
"Nice to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Sinclair. My name is Alexander. I'm your daughter's boyfriend. I came to introduce myself and, at the same time, to talk about your words about Enid being 'not like everyone else,'" he said calmly, smiling.
"I don't need anyone telling me how to raise my children," Esther snapped. "I've raised plenty of children already."
"Mrs. Sinclair," Alex continued in the same even tone, "I'm speaking to you respectfully only because you are Enid's mother. Otherwise, I wouldn't be speaking to you at all. If you believe you're raising your children properly, then let me say this: your sons are worse than wild animals. My pets are smarter than they are."
His smile didn't fade.
"And I'll repeat this only once: Enid is normal. Unlike you. In your family, the only abnormal one is you—if raising animals instead of children can even be considered normal…"
"Don't you dare—" Esther tried to interrupt him again.
"I'm not finished," Alex said coldly.
The tension in the air thickened at his tone. Even Dean tensed—he had heard that voice before. The first time had been during a full-scale renovation in the Bunker, when he had tried to slack off. That tone tolerated no objections.
Even Enid's brothers, who had been making noise and growling just a second earlier, fell silent instantly. Their instincts told them to protect their mother, but a single cold look from Alex was enough for them to tuck their tails, whimper, and back away. Enid flinched. Esther had it worst of all—the cold gaze was directed straight at her.
"I think we should talk in private, Mrs. Sinclair," he said. "And don't make me drag you by the scruff of the neck like a dog."
Alex straightened up.
"Now stand up. And move. Now."
As he walked away, Alex gently stroked Enid's hair and smiled at her, as if to reassure her that everything was under control. Then he shot Esther another cold, warning glance and moved ahead, clearly intending to go far enough away that no one would be able to overhear their conversation.
Esther froze for a moment, unsure of what to do. Alex's gaze terrified her to the point that her knees trembled—she couldn't utter a single word. Helplessly, she looked at her husband for support, but Murray only glanced at her briefly and calmly returned to his task, roasting marshmallows over the fire as if nothing had happened.
Then Esther turned her gaze to Bess and Garth, but she received no help from them either. They had long since seen how Alex treated Enid, and even they were starting to get irritated by Esther's behavior and her methods of raising her children. Alex's words had struck painfully true: Enid's brothers behaved more like wild animals than humans.
Realizing that she wouldn't get any support and had no other choice, Esther took a deep breath and followed Alex.
"I hope he doesn't do anything to her…" Garth said quietly, swallowing hard. "His look scared me to death. Even all those monsters I saw back when I was still a hunter didn't frighten me like he does now."
"Believe me," Dean said grimly, shaking his head. "It would have been better if he had hit her. What awaits her is far worse."
"What could be worse?" Enid asked, inadvertently overhearing the conversation.
"Your mother is in for a very long and extremely unpleasant parenting talk," Dean replied, visibly shivering. "I'd rather hear a banshee scream again than go through that myself."
"So bad that you'd rather go deaf?" Garth asked, shocked, looking at him.
"Alex is like Bobby… only worse," Dean snorted. "When Sam and I first met him, he lectured us for a whole hour. And believe me, it was hellishly unpleasant. We even concluded he must be Bobby's illegitimate son. I felt like a kid who messed up on every front."
"Oh… now I understand," Garth muttered, nodding knowingly.
Garth kept nodding, fully understanding what Dean was talking about—he had experienced similar reprimands from Bobby himself when he was still alive.
Meanwhile, Enid didn't take her eyes off the direction where Alex and Esther had gone, clearly wanting to eavesdrop. But Dean gently placed his hand on her shoulder and shook his head, signaling that she shouldn't. Even he didn't want to hear it—and the target of the parenting lecture wasn't him.
Time dragged agonizingly slowly. Only about ten minutes later did Alex and Esther appear on the horizon, with Esther following him.
Alex still wore his usual kind smile. Esther, however, looked as if she had undergone a true revelation. Her gaze flickered between sadness, the realization of her own mistakes, and the heavy understanding of how deeply she had hurt her daughter.
As they got closer, Alex gave a thumbs-up, signaling that the conversation had… been effective.
"Mrs. Sinclair," he said calmly, sitting down next to Enid and taking her hand. "Don't you want to say anything to your daughter and your family?"
All eyes immediately turned to Esther. She silently sat down next to her husband and lowered her gaze to the ground. Murray carefully looked over his wife, made sure she was alright, and quietly exhaled.
Then he looked at Alex—the man who from the very beginning had stood on Enid's side and protected her. Murray had always supported his daughter silently, but it was only next to Alex that Enid didn't lose her smile and felt truly safe.
Everyone waited.
Esther slowly lifted her gaze and looked at Enid. Enid immediately tensed—and Esther noticed. Pain and deep sorrow flickered in her eyes. After talking with Alex, she finally began to understand how terribly she had acted, if her own daughter was even afraid to speak to her.
"Enid…" she began quietly. "Forgive me. I shouldn't have pressured you… forced you to change during the full moon. I just wanted you to be like everyone else."
She paused, struggling to find the right words.
"But now I understand… you don't need to be 'like everyone else.' First and foremost, you… are my daughter. And as a mother, I should have supported you, not broken you."
Her voice trembled.
When Esther fell silent, a grave silence filled the room. Every member of her family stared at her as if they had just witnessed a miracle. Even Murray's normally calm face showed complete shock—he hadn't expected to hear such words from his wife, especially apologies directed at Enid.
Enid held Alex's hand tightly, feeling conflicting emotions from what she had just heard. She looked at him, and Alex responded with an encouraging smile and a slight nod, signaling that her mother was speaking sincerely. Enid turned back to Esther and, swallowing hard, tried to find the words.
"I don't blame you, Mom. I understand that you wanted the best for me. But I want to stay the way I am. Even if I never change during the full moon… I know that someone will be by my side who will accept me for who I am," Enid said, not looking away and squeezing Alex's hand even tighter for support.
"Thank you, Enid," Esther replied, her voice clearly relieved.
Enid smiled and nodded, affirming her words. Murray looked at his wife and placed his hand on her shoulder, silently offering support. As much as he wanted to know exactly what Esther had said to their daughter's boyfriend, he understood perfectly: this conversation had benefited the entire family.
Enid looked at Alex—with a genuine, bright smile on her face. In the next moment, she hugged him tightly, pressing her nose into his chest. Words couldn't express how grateful she was. A simple conversation had changed her mother so much that she was able to admit her mistakes. Smiling, Alex patted Enid on the back, letting her hold him as long as she needed.
"Alright… my heroic work here is done. Time to move on to another. As they say, justice doesn't wait," Alex said, standing up.
"Need some help?" Dean asked, looking at him.
"Nah. Rest, recover, and eat well to regain your strength. It's just a twenty-year-old matter. Unlike you, I haven't been out cold for a whole week," Alex waved his hand, showing that everything was under control.
"As you say, Momma. Oh, and if you go back to Jericho again—buy a pie," Dean smirked.
Alex nodded, said goodbye to everyone with a smile, and before leaving, quickly kissed Enid on the top of her head. Then he headed off to find Wednesday. Enid understood that Alex wanted to help Wednesday and didn't stop him—even though a twinge of jealousy was beginning to stir inside her. Before, she had accepted such things calmly, but now, after everything he had done for her, the jealousy felt much stronger.
Finding Wednesday wasn't difficult. Hearing an explosion, Alex immediately knew where to go. Turning toward the sound, he arrived at the edge of a lake and saw Wednesday and Pugsley sitting on a small fishing pier. As he approached, he noticed Wednesday catching fish… with a grenade. For some reason, it instantly reminded him of how his daughters had done something similar—not with fish, but with far more dangerous creatures on Pandora.
Hearing footsteps behind them, Wednesday and Pugsley turned and saw Alex walking toward them. Without a word, he sat down next to Wednesday, letting his legs dangle off the pier.
"Well, how's it going? Biting?" he asked.
"Not really. I think the explosion scared the fish away," Wednesday replied calmly.
"Really, Miss Addams? And here I thought it was just bad bait," Alex said with mock surprise.
Wednesday looked at Alex's face, which was pretending to be astonished, and with a familiar gesture, pushed him slightly away. Alex just smiled in response, letting her do it.
Pugsley watched everything from the side, still unable to believe how much his sister had changed. He couldn't get used to the idea that Wednesday could trust someone so completely—let alone act so freely with a person who was the complete opposite of her nature.
"You'll be able to get our dad out, right?" Pugsley asked, looking at Alex and Wednesday.
"If we can't officially prove his innocence," Alex said calmly, "there are always other channels. We can get him out and erase all records that claim your father supposedly killed someone. It's not that difficult."
He pulled a cigarette from his pocket, and Wednesday immediately clicked her lighter to light it for him.
"Have you done something like this before?" she asked, putting the lighter back.
"Yeah. How many crimes do you think Dean had hanging over him? Grave desecrations, murders, assaults, break-ins, thefts—the list goes on and on. They even showed him on TV. There was a report accusing him of robbing a bank. The FBI was after him and Sam."
Alex smirked and gave a thumbs-up.
"And it was all erased. People quickly forget these things if you don't keep reminding them."
"Cool," Pugsley said with obvious admiration. "Your partner robbed a bank, and they filmed it."
"He didn't rob a bank," Alex sighed, rolling his eyes slightly. "He was hunting a shapeshifter who took the form of employees and robbed jewelry stores and banks."
But Pugsley's expression didn't change. In his eyes, Dean had now become a complete legend—a man accused of countless crimes who had never been caught.
Alex looked at Pugsley and once again realized that every member of the Addams family was… unique in their own way. Exhaling smoke, he turned his gaze to the lake and lightly swung his leg while sitting next to Wednesday. She silently stared at the water.
A moment later, Wednesday reached into her bag, pulled out another grenade, yanked the pin, and without hesitation threw it into the lake. The underwater explosion made Alex briefly think about not getting soaked. Unnoticed by herself, Wednesday was already leaning on his shoulder.
"By the way… where's Mom?" she asked, turning to Pugsley.
"She said she wanted to be alone," he replied thoughtfully. "Somewhere no one will find her."
Wednesday nodded, instantly understanding the place he meant. She stood up and grabbed Alex by the hand, dragging him along.
Alex waved goodbye to Pugsley as Wednesday literally pulled him away. All Pugsley could do at that moment was wish him luck. He knew too well: if Wednesday wanted something, she would get it—even by force.
She led Alex to the inner courtyard of Nevermore, to the passage leading to Belladonna's secret club. Not wanting to interfere with the upcoming mother-daughter conversation, Alex transformed into a black cat and nimbly jumped onto Wednesday's shoulder.
She only raised an eyebrow, saying nothing.
Approaching the statue, Wednesday snapped her fingers twice. With a faint screech, it slid aside, revealing the entrance.
Descending the steps, Wednesday heard her mother softly humming an unfamiliar melody. Peeking from behind the railing, she saw Morticia standing in the center of the hall, her expression serene—as if this place helped her cope and endure the separation from her husband.
"Hi, Mom," Wednesday said, stepping down and drawing her attention.
"Hello, Wednesday," Morticia replied with a gentle smile. "So, you're part of Belladonna too. You managed quickly."
Her gaze shifted to the black cat perched on her daughter's shoulder.
"I refused to join the club," Wednesday said calmly, stopping in front of her mother.
Hearing her daughter's words, a faint shadow of sadness flickered in Morticia's eyes. She had wanted Wednesday to follow in her footsteps—to continue the tradition, to become part of what Morticia had lived for many years.
But, as always, Wednesday preferred to follow her own path, stubbornly denying even the possibility of being like her mother.
Alex, lying on Wednesday's shoulder in the form of a cat, couldn't help but feel the tension. It hung in the air as soon as they were alone.
"Did you refuse to join Belladonna because of me?" Morticia asked softly, intertwining her fingers and looking intently at her daughter.
"I can't continue your legacy," Wednesday replied calmly, meeting her mother's gaze. "You won the Poe Cup four times. I—just once. You were the best at fencing. I'm not. Why send me to a place where I will always be in your shadow?"
"Oh, for God's sake, Wednesday. How could you win the Poe Cup four times if you've only been here for a year? Oops…" Alex muttered irritably and immediately realized he had overstepped.
He hastily covered his snout with his paw, but it was already too late. Morticia looked at him with a playful, understanding gleam in her eyes. Wednesday, however, stared coldly and warningly, as if he had just chosen the wrong side.
Alex awkwardly cleared his throat and decided to retreat tactfully. He was already leaping off Wednesday's shoulder when she deftly intercepted him, preventing his escape.
Morticia watched with undisguised interest. She recognized Alex immediately—not just by his voice, but also by the unusual color of his eyes.
"Wednesday, this isn't a competition where a daughter is obliged to surpass her mother," Morticia said calmly.
"The whole world is a competition," Wednesday replied just as calmly, holding the cat in her arms. "And right now, I'm in it too."
"If that's the competition you're talking about…" Morticia nodded slightly. "Then I understand."
Wednesday looked her mother straight in the eyes.
"As for the club—I refused to join because it became vulgar and boring. I saw no reason to be a part of it."
"Things were different before. Our mission was to protect the Outcasts from the xeno…" Morticia began, calmly looking at her daughter.
"DO NOT SAY THAT WORD!" Alex shouted desperately, stretching his paw forward.
Both Wednesday and Morticia immediately lowered their eyes to the cat. Alex looked as though he were trying to prevent a catastrophe. He was genuinely frightened.
He knew that GIR, MIMI, and Stitch were watching the livestream. One wrong word could trigger this insane trio into launching another "crusade." Even Alex's family, observing the scene, felt the tension—and were grateful for his timely intervention.
"Ahem… Please, continue, Miss Addams. Don't mind me," Alex quickly said. "I'll wait outside."
Skillfully slipping from Wednesday's hands, he didn't wait for any reaction and hurriedly disappeared.
Alex already knew how this conversation would end. Wednesday would learn the truth: her father did not kill Garrett Gates. And Morticia—she would know too.
Garrett had died from the poison of a belladonna flower—the same poison he was supposed to mix into the punch under his father's orders to eliminate the Outcasts. But fate had decided otherwise.
Leaving the secret hall, Alex returned to his normal form and leaned against the wall, patiently waiting for the mother-daughter conversation to conclude.
To be continued…
(In short, I've come to the easy conclusion that it's easier to fix Enid's mother with a long conversation. Because I still remember the first time I watched the show, how she infuriated me the moment I saw her. I won't talk about future events that might happen in this arc for now. But after Wednesday, we'll return to Supernatural for a while, and then we'll move on to the other storylines I've planned.)
Early access to chapters on my patreon: p*treon.com/GreedHunter