Dinner Table Surprise

I am a traditional alpha female.

From the time I was a little girl, my mother always drummed one rule into my head: Love yourself first, because nobody else will.

So, naturally, I took her advice to heart and got myself three boyfriends.

For my intellect, I had a brilliant senior from my college. For my domestic peace, I had a sweet, devoted homemaker of a man who wanted nothing more than to marry into my life. And for my physical satisfaction, I had a wild, athletic puppy who knew exactly how to behave in the bedroom.

For three years, because I managed my schedule with military precision, they had absolutely no idea the others existed.

That was until I decided it was time to settle down with my sweet homemaker. I initiated a clean, ruthless break with the other two, only to walk straight into a family dinner and find my exes calling my fianc "big brother."

The two of them looked at me, their smiles turning into sharp, venomous smirks. "Oh, look at that. Is this our future sister? And here I thought she was my girlfriend!"

It all started on a Tuesday evening when I got home from work.

I walked into the kitchen to find Fred cooking, shirtless, wearing nothing but a kitchen apron that did very little to hide his broad, muscular chest.

Taking in the sight, I couldn't help but admire how absolutely divine he looked. He was like a portrait of a pure, domestic saint.

"Did you work on your chest at the gym again?"

Fred was six years older than me. Terrified that I would eventually discard him for being too old, he had been secretly working out for months.

He looked up at me, his eyes filled with hopeful anticipation. "Do you like it, Gemma?"

I walked over and ran my hand over his chest, utterly pleased by his dedication. "Fred, without you, who on earth would pamper me like this?"

He wrapped his arms around me from behind, gently lifting my long hair over one shoulder so I could eat my dinner in peace. "You lost your mother when you were so young, Gemma. From now on, Ill be your protector, your caretaker, your everything."

My heart swelled with affection.

As a reward for his sweet, compliant behavior, I didn't force him to say any of his usual embarrassing, dirty-talking phrases tonight.

Afterward, as I lay curled against his chest, I asked him what he wanted.

"My boss told me my name is on the list for a permanent tenure-track position."

"Whatever you want, your girl will buy it for you," I murmured, tracing a circle on his chest.

Fred caught my fingers, his touch incredibly gentle. "Actually, I want to take you to meet my family. Is that okay?"

He lowered his long eyelashes, his thumb lightly stroking my palm. "I was raised in a very traditional household. My father always told me that a man must be devoted to one woman for his entire life."

"I've been with you for three years, Gemma. I think its only fair we start talking about marriage."

Looking at his cautious, anxious face, my heart softened. "Fred, do you really doubt my character? The position of my husband belongs to you, and only you."

A woman could have a thousand lovers, but she could only have one husband. That was my boundary as a traditional alpha female.

Fred was a respected professor at a prestigious university. He was perfect. He could manage the household, cook magnificent meals, and eventually tutor our children.

I only needed a supportive husband to keep my home front secure while I climbed the corporate ladder. In return, I was more than willing to keep him comfortable.

"An alpha female needs to secure her home before she can conquer her career. With you managing the house, I have absolutely nothing to worry about!"

Fred let out a soft, dramatic sigh. "Unfortunately, I only know how to cook eighteen different cuisines, including European, Japanese, and fusion."

"You have so many admirers, Gemma. They are younger than me, and they know how to say all the right things. Im so terrified you'll get bored of me."

I couldn't tell if he was genuinely insecure or just flexing his domestic superiority. Regardless, as a traditional alpha female, I knew I had to give my man some reassurance.

"I swear to you, nobody can ever touch your position as my husband."

I wasn't lying. The husband spot was permanently reserved for him. It was just the lover spots that had suddenly been vacated.

I laced my fingers through his, resting my head against his shoulder. "I recall you mentioning you have two younger brothers."

"I happen to have some free time this weekend. Take me to meet them."

Fred had raised his younger brothers after their parents moved overseas. He was basically a father figure to them. Moving forward, his brothers would be my brothers, and I would make sure our family was perfectly looked after.

But first, I had to officially end things with the other two.

I returned to the high-rise apartment I shared with Tristan.

Sitting on the kitchen island was a fresh glass of milk and a neat sticky note.

Working late tonight. Wait up for me.

I took a slow sip of the milk, crumpled the note, and tossed it into the trash can.

At three in the morning, Tristan walked through the door. Even with his tie loosened and his dark hair slightly mussed, his sharp, aristocratic features looked strikingly handsome in the dim light.

"Tristan, we need to break up."

Tristan froze, his dark, narrow eyes locking onto me like a predator spotting prey.

I was rarely difficult or demanding. This was the very first time I had ever initiated a conflict.

He ran a hand through his hair, his voice raspy with exhaustion. "Gemma, I don't recall doing anything wrong."

"Or did you do something wrong?"

I looked away, a slight pang of guilt hitting my chest.

In reality, Tristan hadn't done anything wrong. I was the one who had never done a single proper thing in our relationship.

"The reality of marriage is that one partner always has to sacrifice their career to manage the home," I said, keeping my voice cool and rational. "Both of us are ambitious, career-driven people. Neither of us would ever make that sacrifice."

"You are an incredible boyfriend, Tristan. But you are not husband material."

Tristan strode over, his hand clamping under my jaw to tilt my face up. He leaned down, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin of my neck. "I don't agree. We have a dozen ways to solve that issue. Breaking up is just the easiest way out for you."

He began to press his weight against me, his hands sliding under my shirt. "Have I been too busy lately? Have I not been keeping you satisfied?"

"Thats my mistake. Let me make it up to you tonight."

Understanding his intentions, I reached up and stopped his hands. "Do you want me to help you find your next girlfriend?"

Tristans hand went entirely still. "What did you say?"

"I said..."

Before I could finish the sentence, he had already taken charge.

I was powerless against his physical strength, so I simply allowed myself to enjoy the experience.

Two hours later, Tristan sat on the edge of the bed, his back covered in angry red scratches. He pulled a tube of soothing cream from the nightstand, pulled back the duvet, and began to gently apply it to my bruised skin.

"Our family has very traditional values, Gemma. You are my first woman, and you will be my last."

"I expect the same from you."

I frowned, entirely disagreeing with his philosophy. "You know that humans aren't naturally monogamous creatures, Tristan. Sleeping with the exact same person for the rest of your life gets boring for both of us."

Under the dim yellow lamp, his dark eyes turned incredibly cold as he stared at me. "So, you're bored of me?"

"Have you found someone else who excites you?"

"Tell me who he is."

"I want to see who has such a massive death wish."

I shrank back slightly, only for him to pull me back down onto the mattress, pinning me beneath him. Staring into his intense, dark eyes, a shiver ran down my spine.

"Nobody," I lied.

But Tristan believed me. He leaned down, placing a gentle, possessive kiss on my lips. "Gemma, if anyone else dares to look at you, Ill ruin them."

"I love you so much it makes me feel sick."

I held my breath, staring at him.

In that moment, I realized Tristan was an absolute psychopath.

Thank God I was marrying Fred. He was gentle, sweet, knew how to cook eighteen different cuisines, and actually wanted to run a home. His brothers were bound to be normal, healthy individuals, unlike Tristan.

The next morning, I packed my things, called the landlord to terminate the lease, and moved out.

As I walked down the street, I spotted Logan standing under a large sycamore tree.

Seeing me step out of the building, he jogged over, grabbing my hand with a desperate, pleading expression. "Gemma, did I do something to upset you? Why are you breaking up with me?"

He buried his face in my neck, his tears soaking into my sweater. "Ill be better, I swear. Ill do whatever you want. Just don't leave me."

I let out a quiet sigh, placing my hands on his shoulders to gently push him back. "No, Logan. Ive just lost interest."

"You're young. You'll find someone much better suited for you."

I was lying, of course. He would never find another woman who could successfully manage three different boyfriends at the same time without breaking a sweat.

Logan stood frozen, his hazel eyes clouded with tears. "I don't believe you. Your mouth says you don't care, but your body tells me you still want me."

I looked away, unable to meet his eyes. I hadn't expected the young athlete to be so observant.

Logan reached out, his fingers lightly catching mine. "Are you breaking up with me because of her?"

I remained silent, trying to recall who "her" was.

Last week, I had gone to the sports academy to pick him up.

I had walked into the training facility just in time to see a young girl in a white tennis skirt handing Logan a bottle of sports drink. The rest of the team was cheering and whistling, and Logans ears had turned bright red as he playfully nudged his teammate.

Ultimately, he had accepted the drink, twisting the cap off to take a sip.

At the time, I didn't think much of it, but I had casually tossed the energy drink I had bought for him into the nearby recycling bin. When I looked up, Logan was staring straight at me, his face pale with panic.

He had dropped the bottle immediately and sprinted over to me.

"I only took it because I didn't want her to feel embarrassed in front of everyone," he had rambled desperately, his fingers lightly tracing my palm. "Gemma, Im your puppy. From now on, Ill only drink water if it comes from your hand."

His touch had been incredibly warm and electric.

I had to admit, out of the three of them, Logan was the most satisfying in the bedroom.

Tristan was far too intense, always leaving marks on my skin, while Fred was too gentle and cautious to be truly exciting. Logan was like a wildfire, always energetic, always eager to please, and constantly bringing new ideas to the table.

To be honest, I was going to miss him.

But a young athlete was a lover, not husband material.

I tucked my hands into my coat pockets. "That girl is younger, she has more time for you, and she actually suits your lifestyle."

"More importantly, she can give you a normal future."

Logans brow furrowed in anger. "We've been together for three years, Gemma. Whatever rough edges we had have been smoothed out. Tell me the truth. Are you hiding something from me?"

A flash of panic hit me, and I quickly shifted my gaze toward the taxi waiting at the curb. "I need to get married next year, Logan. And I want to have a child the year after that."

"You're still practically a kid yourself. How could I ever rely on you to run a household?"

Logans shoulders slumped, his eyes welling with tears like an abandoned golden retriever. "Ill grow up, I promise! Ill mature! I won't stay like this forever!"

"I can be your husband, Gemma."

I offered him a sad, small smile. "By the time you're ready, Ill already be married with a child."

Logan looked as if he were about to cry. He grabbed my sleeve, his voice cracking. "Gemma, please. Just keep playing with me. I don't care."

I reached up and patted his soft, messy hair. "Ending this is the most responsible thing I can do for you, Logan."

The cold winter wind swept through his hair as I stepped into the cab, leaving him standing alone on the sidewalk.

When I got back to Fred's house, he was on the phone, giving his younger brothers a stern lecture.

Fred was an incredibly protective older brother. Having just found out that both of his younger brothers had been ruthlessly dumped by "cruel, heartless women" and were currently drinking themselves into a stupor, he was furious.

"Ive told you both a thousand times to keep your eyes open when choosing a partner!" he shouted into the receiver. "If you had my judgment, if you had found a woman as sweet and devoted as your future sister, would you be crying into your beer right now?"

"Just wait. Im bringing her to the family dinner this weekend. I want both of you to see what a proper, loving woman looks like."

"Do you hear me?"

"Your big brother only wants the best for you."

He hung up and immediately pulled me onto his lap, wrapping his arms around my waist.

"Are your brothers having relationship trouble?" I asked curiously.

As Fred began to detail their tragic breakups, I reached out and patted his chest. "How could anyone be so cruel? Don't worry, Fred. As their future sister, I will make sure they feel loved and supported."

Freds brow furrowed slightly, a rare hint of possessiveness in his eyes. "You don't need to love them too much. Just focus on me."

At one o'clock on Saturday, we arrived at the five-star restaurant Fred had booked.

Fred came from an academic family. His parents were both professors teaching overseas, leaving the three brothers to navigate life in the city together. Every time Fred spoke of them, his voice was filled with pride and affection.

To be honest, I was slightly envious of their bond. If I had been raised by loving parents instead of being abandoned by mine, maybe my perspective on relationships wouldn't be so twisted.

Before pushing the door open, my chest tightened with a strange, nervous energy.

"Fred, what if your brothers don't like me?" I asked, looking at him. "What if they try to turn you against me? Will you run away with me?"

Fred squeezed my hand tightly, his eyes dead serious. "Don't worry, theyre going to adore you. And if they don't, I will choose you over them every single time."

Hearing his absolute devotion, I let out a sigh of relief. "I hope so."

I pushed the door open.

Sitting across from the elaborate spread on the round table were Tristan and Logan.

My brain went entirely blank.

As my eyes locked with Tristans dark, frozen gaze, my entire body began to tremble with sheer terror.

Oh my god.

They both had the last name Shaw.

How did I never make the connection?

Fred, entirely oblivious to the silent explosion in the room, kept his arm wrapped around my waist as he guided me toward the table.

"Tristan, Logan, this is the woman Ive been telling you about," he said, beaming with pride.

"Her name is Gemma."

Tristan tilted his head, his lips curling into a sharp, terrifying smirk.

"Gemma? What a spectacular coincidence. My ex-girlfriend was named Gemma too."

"Fred, are you sure we aren't sharing the same taste in women?"