Page 121 of Knot Their Arrangement

I've grown up around wealth, and seen the kind of luxury that old money can buy. But ten billion dollars is another level entirely – the kind of wealth that doesn't just open doors but builds and demolishes entire buildings at whim.

My mind races as I try to process the implications. Ten billion dollars invested in Omega rights – not just supporting the movement but essentially guaranteeing its success through sheer financial force.

The kind of backing that could weather any opposition, that could ensure the new laws have real teeth instead of being mere symbolic gestures.

The casual way Kieran sits there, looking perfectly relaxed while I'm having an existential crisis over his casual donation, only emphasizes the surreal nature of this revelation.

He's wearing what looks like a simple black sweater, though I'm sure it probably costs more than my entire wardrobe. Nothing about his appearance screams 'I could buy a small country if I wanted.'

Yet he just dropped ten billion dollars into a cause that most Alphas are fighting against.

An Alpha publicly supporting Omega rights is controversial enough – but an Alpha with that kind of financial power doing so? That would shake the very foundations of our carefully stratified society.

It wouldn’t be safe to reveal his identity when it comes to such a contribution. For multiple reasons.

My gaze darts between the four men, seeing them in an entirely new light. I knew they were wealthy – everything about this house screams old money and expensive tastes even without me getting to take in the details with the low-lighting ambience.

What must it be like to have that kind of power?

To be able to casually write a check that could fund entire government departments? To look at systematic oppression and decide to dismantle it not through violence or revolution, but through carefully applied financial pressure?

The water I'd sprayed across the counter seems to mock me – such an undignified reaction to what is apparently a casual revelation for them. But how else should one respond when discovering they're sitting in a kitchen with someone who could probably buy the entire city if he wanted to?

And if Kieran has this kind of wealth, what about the others?

Damon's criminal empire clearly generates significant income, but how deep do those resources really go? Ezekiel's position as a detective suggests more modest means, but there's nothing modest about his clothing or bearing. Even Rhett, with his professional racing career and obvious success from all the medals, trophies, and hung achievements, carries himself with the easy confidence of someone who never has to worry about financial constraints.

Combined…they’re probably more powerful than my father. Would they want to even take him down? What would they even get out of it?

The question echoes in my mind as I stare at Kieran, trying to reconcile the quiet, sophisticated Alpha who held me so gently at Cardinals with someone capable of casually investing ten billion dollars in societal change.

A gentle touch to my forehead breaks through my spiraling thoughts. I look up with a slight pout to find Ezekiel standing over me, carefully dabbing at my lips with a napkin.

The tenderness of the gesture catches me off guard, making me blink as I emerge from my daze.

"Why are you so surprised?" he asks softly, his dark eyes studying my expression with careful attention.

The question makes me pause, considering how to explain a lifetime of conditioning in a way they might understand.

"I've always been around those who despise Omegas," I begin slowly, each word carrying the weight of years of observation. "My entire culture revolves around the benefits Omegas can provide – how a man can lead, benefit, grow, and become someone better through owning us."

The napkin in Ezekiel's hand stills as I continue, his attention fully focused on my words.

"It's ingrained in how I've grown up, present in every aspect of life I've witnessed. So to meet a pack who has power, and wealth, but actually wants Omegas, and others, to thrive in our unfair society?" I shake my head slightly. "It's shocking."

My fingers trace the edge of the water glass, watching condensation gather beneath my touch.

"As a woman, we're already at a disadvantage. We have to be humbling to our husbands, submit in all aspects." The bitterness creeps into my voice despite my attempts to maintain composure. "Learn to cook, clean, and please a man. These expectations are drilled into your head at such an early age."

The sound of bacon sizzling provides a strange counterpoint to my words as I force myself to continue.

"If you become rebellious in the home, it's your own family members that will 'teach' you a lesson before you can disgrace them outside the family walls."

My gaze drifts across the luxurious kitchen, taking in the evidence of wealth and sophistication that surrounds us.

How different from the gilded cages I grew up in, where every luxury came with strings attached, every comfort designed to remind us of our place.

"I never necessarily got punished," I admit, a hint of old guilt coloring the words. "My rebellion wasn't done against family. My rebellion was leaving the home and exploring the world to get away." My eyes find Rhett's back where he stands at the stove, his movements precise as he tends to what smells like eggs and bacon. "And obviously those came with consequences."

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