Alex was outside the secret room of the Belladonna Club. He sat on the pedestal by the statue, lazily smoking a cigarette and listening to the conversation between Wednesday and Morticia.

However, he wasn’t hearing anything new—Alex already knew all of this. The Belladonna Club had been founded by a distant relative of the Addams family, one of the creators of Nevermore. A woman who had devoted her life to protecting Outcasts and creating a safe haven for them. Her name was Goody Addams.

In her time, Goody had possessed the Book of Shadows. It was with its help that she had cursed Joseph Cracklstone, condemning his soul to eternal torment in hell. Yet there existed a ritual capable of bringing him back to life. And the final, key component of this ritual was the blood of Goody’s direct descendant. Wednesday’s blood.

Exhaling cigarette smoke, Alex pondered whether it was worth allowing this ritual to take place at all. Perhaps it would be easier to simply stop it.

He flicked the ash and ran through the options in his mind. Disrupt the ritual. Destroy its foundation. Go to Hell and either kidnap Cracklstone’s soul or erase it completely—and then watch with satisfaction the look on Marilyn’s face when her plan crumbled.

But then Alex frowned.

Marilyn might possess a shard of Amara’s power. That meant that if the ritual failed, she could summon not Joseph himself, but a distorted echo of the past. Something far more unstable… and dangerous.

There weren’t many options left.

Either take Wednesday as far from Nevermore as possible.

Or eliminate Marilyn. And Tyler along with her.

Alex took another drag of his cigarette but eventually pushed the thoughts aside. There was another possibility.

If Marilyn really returned the shard of darkness to her ancestor, then the bearer of that power would become Joseph Cracklstone himself. And that meant…

The thought naturally led Alex to the Cain Blade.

While Dean was unconscious, the blade was with him. Alex not only carried it with him but had already tested it. The blade turned out to be a sort of conduit: by killing creatures or people infected with darkness, it absorbed that energy and gradually transferred it to Amara. Slowly. Unnoticed. Bypassing Chuck’s attention.

The irony was exquisite.

Chuck sincerely thought he was the smartest. He believed Amara was blinded by revenge. But Amara wasn’t foolish. Her goal wasn’t blind rage—it was to destroy all of Chuck’s plans.

And to see his face the moment he realized that everything he had so carefully built had crumbled to dust.

At that thought, Alex couldn’t help but laugh, already imagining that expression.

The laughter faded as he listened to the conversation again. Morticia was recounting events from more than twenty years ago to Wednesday. About the death of Garrett Gates. About how Gomez had taken the blame.

At the time, Morticia hadn’t noticed the signs of poisoning. She had chalked everything up to a surge of jealousy and rage—Garrett couldn’t accept that she had chosen Gomez. She and her husband hadn’t discussed this episode for many years. It was too painful a memory.

Few knew the truth.

And the official version of Garrett’s death had been carefully covered up, written off as an accident.

“People are such foolish creatures…” Alex muttered, exhaling smoke upward.

“You just realized that now?” a voice said behind him.

Alex turned his head and saw Morticia and Wednesday coming up the steps. That meant the conversation was over.

Wednesday had clearly already made up her mind: she intended to dig up Garrett Gates’ body to investigate the poisoning theory.

Alex stubbed out his cigarette and climbed down from the pedestal.

“No, my dear Wednesday. I’ve known this for a long time,” he said calmly. “What still amazes me is the sheer ‘genius’ of the Gates family head’s plan.”

“Which plan exactly?” Wednesday raised an eyebrow. “Committing genocide against the Outcasts over some imagined grievance about the lands?”

“I mean the other one,” Alex shook his head. “The plan to poison over a hundred children and hope no one would notice. Did he really think the parents would just accept it?”

He snorted.

“The families of Nevermore students are far from ordinary people. Many of them have influence all over the country. Even an idiot would realize Jericho would drown in blood.”

“You’re right about that, dear Alex,” Morticia said calmly. “If the plan had succeeded, the city would have burned.”

“Exactly,” Alex nodded. “People are foolish. So… what’s the plan?”

“We need to dig up Garrett Gates’ body,” Wednesday said without a hint of emotion.

“Then we’ll need exhumation permission,” Alex replied, pulling out his phone. “The paperwork will take an hour or two.”

“We don’t have that kind of time,” Wednesday said, grabbing Alex by the hand and pulling him along.

Morticia watched with a slight smile as Wednesday dragged Alex after her. She followed them with soft, almost silent steps, thinking that even though her daughter had remained herself, she had still changed—albeit slightly, but noticeably—under Alex’s influence, who had suddenly intruded into Wednesday’s personal space and, to Morticia’s surprise, had not been driven out.

It gave her a quiet joy.

For as long as Morticia could remember, Wednesday had always relied only on herself—from the very moment she had begun to walk and talk. She hadn’t sought support, waited for approval, or needed anyone’s hand nearby. And now—Alex was there.

Following them, Morticia felt proud of her daughter. Wednesday had taken the initiative—just as Morticia herself had once done, falling in love with Gomez and ignoring the opinions of the entire world. She had wanted to give her daughter advice, but watching Wednesday in action, she realized: no advice was needed. Her daughter would handle it herself.

Alex didn’t even have time to react before he found himself once again in the Addams family car, already heading back to Jericho.

Watching the passing landscapes outside the window, Alex remembered that in the original timeline, Wednesday and Morticia had been jailed for digging up the grave. He hoped that with his presence in this story, arrests could be avoided.

Of course, he once again forgot that the goddess of Luck liked to play little jokes on him, creating small but irritating problems.

After some time, the car stopped at Jericho’s central square. Behind the old chapel was a small cemetery.

Getting out of the car, Alex noticed Wednesday pulling shovels from the trunk.

He wasn’t even surprised.

Anything could be in the Addams family car—from shovels to a coffin—and it wouldn’t have shocked him in the least.

Taking one of the shovels from Wednesday’s hands, Alex followed Morticia, who knew exactly where Garrett Gates’ grave was.

With a heavy sigh, Alex began digging, mentally reflecting on how his work had come to this—now he was digging graves. Despite the cast on his arm—which, by all rules, should have signaled that he was still “injured”—Alex didn’t slack off and dug alongside Wednesday.

“Ah, I remember how your father and I dug our first grave together,” Morticia remarked, watching the process. “You two look so lovely right now.”

“Mom, are you sure you don’t want to help us?” Wednesday asked coldly, throwing her a glance.

“Oh, forgive me, Wednesday, but I believe you should experience your first grave-digging with your beloved yourself,” Morticia replied with a smile, inspecting her neat manicure with interest, clearly unwilling to ruin it with hard labor.

Wednesday stared at her mother with an empty gaze.

Morticia responded with a carefree smile, making it clear she was completely serious.

Gripping her shovel, Wednesday silently continued digging, her face as cold as ever. Nearby, Alex grumbled quietly as he worked.

At that moment, Alex thought about how he had spent so much time carefully avoiding everything related to ghosts, excavations, and burning remains—and yet here he was, elbow-deep in dirt.

Since arriving in Jericho, this was already the second time he had dug a hole. The first was when he and Dean had killed a demon. Now—it was the exhumation of a body buried over twenty years ago.

“I could’ve actually gotten exhumation permission, and we wouldn’t have to dig this damn grave. And, by the way, my arm is broken,” Alex grumbled, not stopping his work.

“You said yourself that your wounds would heal quickly. So dig and stop acting like a child,” Wednesday cut in calmly, giving him a blank stare.

Alex just sighed and kept digging.

A moment later, his shovel struck something solid.

He froze, realizing they had reached their target.

Wednesday immediately crouched, brushed away the remaining dirt, and opened the grave. Inside lay Garrett Gates’ body—almost untouched, not having decomposed due to the belladonna flower poison.

“Well, well… what do we have here…” a female voice said.

Alex peeked out of the grave—and a flashlight beam hit him square in the face.

Seeing the police uniform, he only let out a heavy sigh. Luck, as usual, had decided to turn its back on him at the worst possible moment.

Meanwhile, Wednesday acted quickly and without hesitation. With a deft movement, she broke a finger off Garrett Gates’ body, carefully wrapped it in a handkerchief, and hid it in her pocket—the evidence for the future.

The female officer held the flashlight with a steady hand. An openly satisfied, almost mocking smile played across her face as she illuminated Morticia, Alex, and Wednesday.

“Well, well…” she said cheerfully. “The Addams family in full today, going straight to jail. And in the company of a federal agent. What a picture. If I tell anyone, they simply won’t believe it.”

“I think I can explain what’s happening here,” Alex said calmly, climbing out of the grave.

“Of course, agent. Of course,” the officer replied with the same smile. “You’ll have a chance to explain everything at the station. Now, please—follow me.”

Alex sighed again. Sometimes he really did have to play by the rules—even if he absolutely hated them.

He turned and held out his hand to Wednesday, noticing how she subtly hid the wrapped finger in her pocket. Wednesday took his hand and climbed out of the grave.

Under the mocking gaze of the police officer, the trio took their seats in the patrol car.

Alex looked down at his clothes—completely covered in dirt. Then he glanced at Wednesday, who looked no better. The thought came to him naturally, and he couldn’t help but smirk.

Wednesday turned her head and raised an eyebrow.

“What’s so funny?”

“I was just thinking…” Alex said with a slight smile. “This is my first time digging a grave in the company of a girl. And, oddly enough, your mother’s words were right. There really is… some sort of romance in it.”

“I see…” Wednesday replied shortly.

But for a split second, a faint smile flickered across her lips.

“Quiet over there,” the officer said, turning her head slightly. “You’ll have plenty of time to talk when we book you, Mr. Agent.”

Alex raised his hands in surrender and leaned back against the seat.

He stole a glance at Wednesday. Her face was no longer as sullen as before, and he was certain that the smile hadn’t been imagined.

At the police station, everything went quickly and without ceremony.

Alex stepped out of the car calmly as the officer opened the door, helped Wednesday and Morticia out, and followed him inside.

The processing and questioning took little time—they had been caught at the crime scene, so any excuses were pointless. Alex noticed Sheriff Donovan’s tired expression: no anger, no surprise—just heavy, worn-out indifference.

In the end, Alex, Wednesday, and Morticia were placed in a single holding cell. Locking the bars, the officer reminded them they could post bail in the morning.

Alex settled onto the bench and stretched out comfortably.

Meanwhile, Morticia and Gomez, separated by the bars, were already openly demonstrating their affection, paying no attention to anyone around. Wednesday stood aside with her usual cold expression, desperately trying to ignore it.

“Not even the hand of justice can separate us,” Gomez whispered between kisses.

“My dear…” Morticia replied softly, pressing closer. “We’ll still spend this night together.”

Alex did his best to block both his ears and eyes, just to avoid seeing it. He lay on the narrow bench of the jail cell, staring at the ceiling and pretending that what was happening around him didn’t concern him at all.

He was sure that Dean had already been informed about the situation. And the thought made him sigh heavily. Dean wouldn’t let this opportunity pass—mockery, teasing, and sarcastic comments were guaranteed.

Wednesday, with a stone-cold expression, turned to her parents, giving them a cold, almost disdainful glance, and deliberately looked away. Then she approached the bench where Alex was lying.

Without a word, Wednesday sat directly on his stomach and folded her arms across her chest.

“Even animals during mating behave more decently than you,” she said coldly. “And neither of you would last a single day in prison. Luckily, that’s not your concern.”

“Oh, our little criminal already has an escape plan,” Gomez said with a smile. “And, my dear, look how cute they look together in a jail cell.”

Alex cracked open one eye and looked at Wednesday sitting on his stomach. Then he silently closed it again, giving only a slight shake of his head.

He had already realized more than once that the Addams family… had peculiar tastes. And reacting to it was just a waste of nerves.

If his relationship with Wednesday went further, he would have to accept this as part of everyday reality. Including her attempts to somehow harm him—or find a way to do so.

Honestly, he was mentally prepared for it.

After all, Wednesday wasn’t the first.

Sometimes, in a fit of jealousy, Zhang Ya had tried to strangle him or tear him apart with her hair. Of course, she never succeeded—usually only until the jealousy passed.

Meanwhile, Wednesday pulled the handkerchief from her pocket and carefully unfolded it. Inside lay Garrett Gates’ finger.

“I grabbed a souvenir from the cemetery,” she said calmly, holding her hand out. “I think Garrett won’t mind losing a finger. As you can see, he really did die from belladonna poisoning.”

“So… Garrett died even before…” Morticia began, and for the first time in a long while, relief was audible in her voice.

“Before you wounded him,” Wednesday finished for her. “Yes.”

“Oh, you’re even more charming when you’re not guilty of murder,” Gomez said with feeling, placing his hand on Morticia’s cheek and immediately kissing her.

“And now, stop clinging to each other and focus,” Wednesday said dryly, taking the finger from her mother’s hand while Morticia kissed Gomez.

The moment Wednesday touched Garrett Gates’ finger, a vision overcame her.

She barely wobbled—Alex was already there. He caught her instantly, not letting her fall.

This made Morticia and Gomez stop their display of affection. Morticia immediately went to her daughter and gently cupped her face.

“Wednesday… Wednesday, look at me,” she called calmly and confidently. “Come back. You’re here.”

Morticia had far more experience with visions. She knew how to help, how to hold, how to pull someone out of that state. In the vision, Wednesday clearly saw the past. The head of the Gates family was handing Garrett a vial of poison. His voice was insistent, almost hysterical. He demanded that the poison be added to the punch—to kill all the outcasts.

And in a moment, Morticia’s voice pulled Wednesday back to reality. She gasped sharply and immediately looked at Alex. Their conversation at the entrance of the Belladonna club came to mind. His words. His confidence. At the time, she hadn’t paid much attention. Now—she understood. Alex had known from the very beginning.

“You knew,” Wednesday said coldly, keeping her gaze fixed on him. “From the very start. Didn’t you?”

“Knew what?” Morticia asked cautiously, noticing the tension in her daughter’s voice.

Catching Wednesday’s look, Alex gave a barely perceptible smile—she had indeed noticed his slip. At first, there had only been suspicions that Garrett Gates had died from belladonna poisoning. But nowhere did it say exactly how he had been poisoned or where the poison had come from. From the very beginning, Alex had claimed that the head of the Gates family was behind it. At the time, neither Wednesday nor Morticia had paid his words much attention.

Now, after the vision in which Wednesday saw Garrett receiving the poison from his own father, along with the insistent order to poison all the Outcasts, it became clear to her: Alex had known everything from the very beginning. His words hadn’t been a guess—they had been a conclusion.

“Alright, you figured me out…” Alex said calmly, leaning closer. “And you do remember what I told you, my dear Wednesday. What my job is.”

“Your job is to know everything,” Wednesday replied dryly, repeating his own words.

“Correct, my gloomy bride,” he smirked. “After your father’s story, I realized he was covering for your mother. From everything I heard and learned—including Garrett’s poisoning with belladonna—I simply put two and two together. It wasn’t hard to guess: it was the head of the Gates family, who viciously hated the Outcasts, who gave the poison to his son. If he had shown up at the Raven Ball himself, he would’ve either been thrown out or not allowed in at all. But Garrett—that was different. An ordinary teenager, blinded by love. His father just didn’t account for how much. And… bam. Everything went off the rails. Have I satisfied your curiosity?”

As he spoke, Alex gently brushed Wednesday’s cheek.

Wednesday stared at his face—only a few centimeters from her own—and didn’t even react to the touch. At that moment, she clearly realized that Alex had come to all of this simply by connecting the facts he’d heard. The truth had only been revealed to her through the vision.

Morticia and Gomez, hearing his words, exchanged looks and then looked at Alex differently. They clearly hadn’t expected him to reconstruct the entire picture from nothing more than fragments of information and a few circumstantial clues. And now it was obvious why their daughter was so eager to unravel his secrets—Alex really was like a large, locked box full of mysteries.

“Oh… am I interrupting something?” a mocking male voice drawled. “Should I come back later?”

It was as if everyone snapped out of a trance.

Alex withdrew his hand from Wednesday’s cheek and saw Dean standing there, smirking with his arms crossed. From the look on his face, Alex immediately knew where this was going and clenched his teeth.

Confirming his fears, Dean pulled out his phone and immediately took a picture—clearly intending to show it to everyone and have a good laugh.

Alex rose irritably from the bench while Dean kept clicking away. The Addams family first looked at Dean with mild surprise, then at Alex, whose face was a picture of pure annoyance.

“Damn, it’s blurry,” Dean snorted. “Could you take a step back? I need a proper shot. My boy’s behind bars for the first time. I’m so proud of you.”

“Are you having fun?” Alex asked calmly, narrowing his eyes slightly.

“Oh, absolutely. I sent you out to buy a pie, and instead you get caught digging up a grave and thrown in a cell. For God’s sake, this is the best day of my life. Forever serious, responsible Alex—behind bars. I have to show this to everyone. Honestly, I’d sooner believe Cass suddenly became normal than that you’d end up here,” Dean said, continuing to take photos.

“You do realize I’ll be out in the morning, right?” Alex asked indifferently.

“Of course. But that’ll be in the morning—after everyone’s already seen these pics,” Dean grinned, slipping the phone back into his pocket.

“Alright, jerk. We’ll talk later,” Alex clicked his tongue irritably. “And in the morning, I need you to go to Mayor Walker’s office and secure a meeting.”

“No problem. For now, enjoy yourself. See you in the morning. Oh, and…” Dean pulled a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from his pocket and handed them to Alex. “I figure you won’t survive the night without these.”

Seeing this, Alex smirked. Everything had been taken from his pockets, including his cigarettes and lighter, and in a place like this, he couldn’t access anything from his inventory. So, taking the cigarettes from Dean’s hands, he just nodded silently.

Dean waved, smirked once more, and added that he was heading to the hotel—to a warm bed. At those words, Alex’s teeth ground together.

Once Dean left, Alex sat back down on the bench next to Wednesday, not bothering to explain that the mayor issue could be resolved easily in the morning. Lighting a cigarette, he mentally prepared to spend the night behind bars—accompanied by Morticia and Gomez’s ongoing declarations of love and Wednesday’s constant efforts to restrain herself from wanting to kill her parents for their complete lack of self-control.

He was finishing his cigarette when he felt someone cautiously leaning on his shoulder. Turning his head, Alex saw Wednesday—eyes closed, peacefully settled next to him. He gave a faint smile and draped his arm around her shoulder, drawing her closer.

Looking up, he met the eyes of Morticia and Gomez, who were enjoying their own way of affection, exchanging their usual darkly humorous comments. Thinking about the long night ahead, Alex stubbed out his cigarette, closed his eyes, and tried to sleep.

Sleeping, however, was not easy—their ongoing immersions in “eternal love” sounded far too expressive in the background. Alex opened his eyes and glanced at Wednesday, peacefully asleep on his shoulder, genuinely baffled at how she could fall asleep with such sounds around her.

Sighing, he mentally regretted not getting the official exhumation permit and was sure his entire family wouldn’t miss a chance to laugh at him being behind bars. If he told anyone that the first demon, created by the hands of the Creator—the Demon King and the embodiment of the very concept of Destruction—was sitting in a mortal-built prison, they would surely mock him.

Though, on reflection, Alex acknowledged that his brother Lucifer had probably been a frequent guest of such places too—even if only briefly.

Sighing again, Alex cast a silence spell around his ears—and almost immediately fell asleep.

In the morning, Wednesday suddenly opened her eyes and realized she was still asleep, leaning against Alex. Morticia and Gomez were also asleep—sitting and holding hands. Even the prison bars didn’t stop them from being close.

Wednesday glanced at her parents, then back at Alex, feeling his arm around her waist. Looking at his calm, sleeping face, she thought for a moment that waking up like this wasn’t so bad. Especially when you feel the warmth of another body and don’t want to pull away.

Following some inner impulse, she reached out and gently stroked his cheek, not entirely sure why—she just wanted to.

At that moment, Alex’s eyelids twitched, and he opened his eyes. Seeing his usual dark gaze upon waking, Wednesday didn’t flinch—instead, she felt a strange pull toward him.

“Mmm… good morning. Where’s my coffee?” Alex murmured, leaning in to kiss Wednesday on the lips.

Feeling the warmth of the kiss again, Wednesday showed no emotion and simply removed her hand from his cheek. By now, she had grown accustomed to the pleasant sensation that lingered after their kisses.

As Alex rubbed his eyes sleepily, fully waking up, rather dark thoughts flickered through Wednesday’s mind—locking him somewhere dark where no one could find them, and staying there together. Almost exactly like now—behind bars, in the same cell.

These thoughts seemed perfectly natural to her. More than that—she believed it would give her the upper hand. After all, Enid, her roommate and silent rival, would surely lose.

Alex, of course, had no idea what obsessive and grim ideas had begun to form in Wednesday’s mind, and even if he did, he probably wouldn’t have been very surprised.

Once fully alert, he looked at her again and noticed her intense, unwavering gaze, with a clear hint of possessiveness.

“If you keep looking at me like that, I’m going to think you want to lock me in a dark place where it’s just the two of us,” Alex said, leaning closer.

“And what makes you think that’s not true?” Wednesday replied calmly. “I don’t see any problem with it.”

Alex smirked.

“Sounds tempting. But first, we need to wait for the officer to release us, post bail, go see the mayor… and finally, change clothes. I spent the whole night in dirty clothes. I need a shower. And coffee.”

He looked at Wednesday with a slight smile.

Wednesday continued to stare at Alex with her black eyes, not blinking for a second. The dark thoughts about locking him away gradually receded, giving way to a more pressing concern—the need to prove her father’s innocence.

Soon the police officer arrived, and after a brief but unavoidable episode of bureaucracy, Alex, Wednesday, and Morticia were free.

Alex escorted Wednesday and Morticia to the city hall building, then headed to the hotel to change. He had absolutely no desire to hear the mayor’s explanations about why Garrett Gates’ case had been covered up or the reasons behind it. Alex already knew: Wednesday and Morticia could handle it without him. They had enough evidence to completely clear Gomez, and his presence wouldn’t have changed anything.

Returning to the hotel, Alex found Dean having breakfast.

“Well, look who’s back. How was your first night in jail?” Dean asked with a smirk, glancing at him.

“Fine. While I take a shower, you better listen to this,” Alex said, starting a recording on his phone and placing it on the table.

Dean raised an eyebrow and played the recording, while Alex headed to the bathroom.

After washing off the dirt from the exhumation, Alex stepped out of the shower, put on clean clothes, and sat down at the table. Dean was already finishing his coffee, listening intently to the recording. His expression gradually grew more serious.

After hearing it, he came to the same conclusion as Alex: the one who controls Darkness can subjugate people through that power.

Alex poured himself some coffee and began recounting in detail everything that had happened and what he had managed to find out. Dean listened silently, occasionally nodding, finishing his drink.

“If I’ve got this right, it all comes down to the Gates family and their hatred of the Outcasts,” Dean summarized. “I don’t see any other options. The father tried to poison the entire monster school, but the son messed up, and everything went downhill from there. And then, maybe, someone from the family showed up, got the power of Darkness, tamed a monster, and stole the ancient book of rituals.”

“Not ‘someone from the family,'” Alex corrected calmly, taking a sip of coffee. “A specific family member. Laurel Gates’ body was never found. We only have witness accounts.”

Dean frowned.

“So, we have a woman who’s angry at the world, decided to take revenge. And maybe she’s connected to that order of botanists. But how do we find her? We checked everyone in the city, including Nevermore students. No trace of Darkness. Not the slightest hint.”

“That’s the catch,” Alex said, tapping his fingers on the table. “If she can control this power, hiding it isn’t a problem. Or maybe the source of the corruption is her tamed monster, and she’s just orchestrating the revenge parade.”

“I don’t know if that’s possible,” Dean said. “But it’s possible that Laurel Gates didn’t drown. She could have come into contact with Darkness, become possessed, and her thirst for revenge took over. She came back—but she’s hiding. Maybe she created a Fold for herself.”

“Very possible,” Alex nodded. “When she leaves the Fold, she becomes an ordinary person, with no traces of Darkness. That’s why we can’t find her. Otherwise, we would have sensed her by now.”

Dean nodded silently. Now everything was finally coming together. There was a culprit—and it was a woman.

Alex slowly sipped his coffee, keeping quiet about the fact that he already knew exactly who was behind it all.

During the night spent behind bars, he figured out exactly what was needed for the resurrection ritual of Joseph Cracklstone. And he knew: Dean would have to pierce Cracklstone’s body so that the Blade of Cain could absorb Amara’s power. Alex was certain that during the ritual, Marilyn would pass that power to her ancestor, making him stronger and helping her complete her revenge.

Finishing his coffee, Alex threw on a clean coat and left the hotel.

He headed to city hall to see how Gomez’s release would unfold.

As he approached, Alex noticed Gomez exiting the building, accompanied by the sheriff. Within moments, the Addams family surrounded him, forming an almost caricatured, yet somehow touching scene. The embraces stood out—though Wednesday’s face remained her usual cold self.

“Figlio, come here,” Gomez said with a smile, noticing Alex. “You’re practically part of the family already.”

“I don’t think—” Alex began, forcing a smile.

“Alex, dear, there’s no need to be shy,” Morticia said softly, stepping forward.

Before Alex could think of a polite explanation, he found himself drawn into a group hug from the Addams family. They surrounded him on all sides, and for a moment he was at a loss, unsure how to react—especially with Wednesday right there.

She stared at him with her black, unblinking eyes as they were literally pressed flush against him.

Alex, of course, didn’t mind hugs in general… but in this situation, it felt decidedly awkward.

“Too tight,” Wednesday said in a flat tone.

“And someone’s standing on my foot,” Alex added just as calmly.

When the hugs finally ended, Alex, slightly annoyed, realized that all this time it had been Wednesday stepping on his foot.

After all the farce with accusing Gomez of murder, the story had ended surprisingly well, and the Addams family headed back to Nevermore. Parent’s Day had come to a close.

Alex decided to go with them—he still needed to say goodbye to Enid’s family, despite everything that had happened that day.

Upon arriving at Nevermore, Wednesday decided to change into clean clothes, and Alex wanted to visit Enid, so they headed to the dormitory together.

Alex followed Wednesday calmly into their room, and as soon as they entered, they saw a flustered Enid.

“Where were you all last night?!” she blurted, running up to them. “I couldn’t find you, I couldn’t get through on the phone! Where have you been?!”

“First, we were digging a grave,” Alex said, awkwardly clearing his throat. “Then we were put behind bars, where we spent the whole night.”

“You WHAT?!” Enid shrieked, staring at them with wide eyes.

“Long story,” Alex sighed. “In short: we dug up a twenty-year-old corpse to get evidence, then we got caught. And if someone had just listened to me, we wouldn’t have spent the night in a cell.”

He gave Wednesday a pointed, expressive look.

“It all worked out,” she replied calmly. “So I don’t see any reason to make a drama out of it.”

Grabbing clean clothes, Wednesday headed into the bathroom, went inside, and slammed the door, locking it immediately.

Alex and Enid exchanged a glance. Enid looked at him as if she had just received some fateful revelation.

Alex gently stroked her hair and was about to step out onto the balcony for a smoke when Enid grabbed his arm and dragged him to her bed.

He blinked in surprise as Enid literally flopped him onto the couch and straddled him.

“As much as I’m against this,” Alex smirked, “if Wednesday sees us, we’re guaranteed a couple of knives in the chest.”

“No worries,” Enid replied with a smile, leaning closer. “We’ll be quick. Probably.”

And in the next instant, Enid kissed Alex on the lips—she had missed him a lot during that time.

Alex responded to the kiss, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her closer.

But as soon as the sound of water in the shower subsided, Enid suddenly opened her eyes, quickly slid off Alex, and just as quickly wiped the lipstick from his lips. Then she reapplied it on herself, pretending as if they had merely been talking the whole time.

Alex watched these deft, practiced movements with a faint smile. He chuckled softly.

Hearing his laugh, Enid froze, stopped applying her lipstick, and looked at him, pouting slightly.

“Hey…” she drawled.

Unable to resist, Alex gently pinched her cheek.

“Ouch!” Enid exclaimed, but immediately smiled.

“How’s your mom doing?” Alex asked, releasing her cheek.

Enid paused for a moment, still adjusting her makeup.

“I don’t know exactly what you talked about with her…” she began slowly. “But now she’s… different.”

She paused again, choosing her words carefully.

“It feels a bit strange. I’m used to the way she was before, the way she always spoke. And now…” Enid sighed softly. “It even feels awkward, the way she’s started caring about me.”

Alex raised a finger slightly, as if giving a short lecture.

“The first step always starts with acknowledging your mistakes. I just pointed that out to her. After that—it’s her choice.”

Enid let out a soft chuckle.

“Yeah… You should’ve seen my brothers’ faces when Mom started scolding them for their behavior yesterday. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

She pouted slightly, spreading her lipstick, and laughed.

Alex couldn’t help but smile too and asked her to go on.

Enid, of course, didn’t hold back on the details. For her, it had been a real shock—how suddenly her mother had changed after talking with Alex.

A couple of minutes later, the bathroom door opened.

Wednesday emerged, already dressed in her school uniform, and immediately caught the conversation between Alex and Enid.

Her gaze landed on them—sitting far too close together on Enid’s bed.

Wednesday’s eyelid twitched ever so slightly.

She silently suppressed her irritation and turned away, focusing on tidying her desk, while Alex and Enid continued their conversation as if nothing had happened.

To be continued…

(How I adore the end of the year (I don’t). And the reason for that is that it’s always the same thing. Those constant end-of-year conferences that can last for hours, where the boss praises everyone. Usually, I take a vacation by then, but this time I’ve slipped up a bit and my vacation doesn’t start until next week. To hell with it, my vacation is starting soon and I’ll be able to get some sleep (I guess).)

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