From the first moment I set eyes on Dr. Grace Trevelyan-Grey, I knew there was something special about her. I don't remember much from the time directly following my birth mother's death, but what I do remember clearly as though it were yesterday is watching a very pretty woman walking into the hospital room where I was being treated for malnourishment, dehydration, and several injuries inflicted by the pimp. Most of the people at the hospital were very kind to me, but it was because they pitied me. I recognized that even as a four-year-old, even if I didn't quite understand it. Grace never pitied me. The doctors and nurses tended to me, doing their jobs, then left me alone in that room. I remember being lonely, more lonely than I've ever felt, and sad and angry, and desperate to see my mother. Unlike the others, Grace sat with me whenever she had even a second of spare time, reading to me, talking to me. She even brought me a puzzle to occupy me and helped me put it together. The picture was of a puppy dog. I was so proud when we finished that puzzle.

Grace learned earlier than anybody about my phobia of being touched. The first time she tried to touch me, when I was upset and crying and throwing a tantrum because the nurses were trying to give me a bath, she immediately understood. I have a vague recollection of her pulling my nurses and other doctors out of my room and reading them the riot act anytime one of them tried to push my limits. It took a while, but I finally discovered that Grace could be trusted to know where I couldn't be touched. If I was upset, she sat beside me, her hand running through my hair, whispering comforting words to me.

One day she didn't come see me. I had been waiting for her—she'd promised to be there to have dinner with me—and I'd been on my very best behavior that day, because I knew it made her sad to see me crying and throwing fits. I even let a nurse help me with my bath, though I controlled where the washcloth went. I remember sitting on my bed, staring at the door and waiting for the nice lady to walk through it and smile at me. That smile comforted me in a way nothing else did.

She didn't come that night. I threw the biggest tantrum I'd thrown the entire time I was in that fucking hospital—I shoved away the tray of dinner one of the orderlies brought me, making a mess on the floor. I fought anyone who tried to calm me down, screaming if they came near me. None of them knew what to do with me. I didn't care. Grace and I had bonded, and she broke a promise to be there for me that night. I had been absolutely devastated. I had convinced myself that I'd done something wrong, something to anger her.

When Grace appeared at my door the next night for dinner, I wanted nothing to do with her. She tried touching my hair—I swatted away her hand. She apologized—I rolled over, my back facing her. I know she sat at my bedside that entire night, and though I couldn't admit it aloud, just her presence comforted me.

The day before I was discharged from the hospital, Grace entered my room, not in her doctor's clothes, but a sweater and pants. This time she was accompanied by other people. There was a man who seemed nice enough, though I didn't like him as much as Grace. The man was holding the hand of a little boy a couple years older than me with blond hair and blue eyes. Grace introduced them as Carrick and Elliot, though of course my mind processed Lelliot. She told me they would be my new family—she would be my new mommy, Carrick my new daddy, and Lelliot my big brother. I didn't understand what she meant by any of it—I had a mommy. I didn't need another one. But at the same time, I really liked Grace and didn't want her to leave.

I spent a few weeks in a foster home. Grace visited me every day. She would tell me about her house and the bedroom she and Carrick arranged for me. She told me I could play outside in their big backyard with Lelliot and that she and Carrick would take care of me. The day I finally went home with them was the most terrifying and best day of my young life. It was the start of my new life with my new family who loved me. My nightmares haunted me for years to follow, but Grace was always there to comfort me in the best way she could. Carrick taught me to fish and ride a bike. Lelliot taught me to play. I wanted to tell them what they meant to me and that I loved them, but I couldn't find my words. They were lost when my mother left me. I think I was afraid if I said anything, the Greys would realize I was a naughty little boy who didn't deserve their time, and they'd send me away.

They never did. No matter what I said or did, Grace never turned her back on me. Even the discovery of what went on with me and Elena when I was fifteen didn't stop her loving me.

Only once has she turned her back on me. That was last week when she stood up and walked out of my home after I told her I had still been in contact with Elena, even after promising her I wouldn't. I am in debt to this woman for saving my life and my repayment was to betray her trust.

But this is my chance to fix it. Complete honesty—maybe not complete; no mother needs to hear that her fifteen-year-old son was being tied up naked by a friend of hers, begging to be fucked—is the only way to go about this.

On the way to the club, I called Ana to tell her what I was doing. She even offered to meet me so I wouldn't have to face this alone, and though I was desperately tempted to take her up on that offer, I know this is something I need to do on my own. For once in my life, I have to own up to my mistakes and earn back forgiveness. I can do this...

All my life I've managed to portray a man who never shows emotion, never shows what he's really thinking to anybody. Only within the last few years has that changed; the first time I told my parents I loved them, I thought my dad was going to have a heart attack and my mom's eyes teared up every time I saw her for a week. I don't know how many times Grace told me how grateful she was to Ana for "bringing me out of myself". It was a while before I really understood what she meant by that. I wasn't only different around Ana than I'd ever been with another woman; I was different with my family. I was more apt to come to family dinners and actually stay until dessert; I was less likely to blow off my siblings if they wanted to spend time with me. Ana changed everything about me and everybody noticed.

It only makes what I did to her worse.

I glance up from where I've been staring at my glass of wine when there's a knock on the door of the private room where will be meeting. I've instructed the club's personnel that we are to be left alone throughout our meal and that they were to knock before entering. I don't need some nosy busboy hearing any of this shit and then selling to the gossip rags at the highest bidder. I stand as she's led to my table and walk around to meet her. "Hello, Mother," I say tentatively.

She smiles at me. It's a little brittle, but it's real. "Hello, Christian."

I lean down and kiss her cheek, then pull out her chair for her before walking around to sit across from her. "Wine?" I ask, reaching for the bottle.

She glances at the bottle and debates. "Please."

I fill up her glass, then mine, and we puruse the menu silently. The tension is building, but we manage to avoid each other until our lunch orders are taken. Once the waiter leaves the table, I rest my arms on the table and lean towards my mother. "Mom," I begin, trying to remember everything I wanted to say to her. It all seemed to fade away when she arrived.

"Me first, Christian," she interrupts. She sets aside her wine glass and reaches across the table to place her hands on mine. I can't help my rapidly beating heartbeat. Is this it? The moment she tells me I've gone too far this time and she wants nothing more to do with me? "First, I must apologize for the way I left you the other night. I taught my children that if there isn't something nice to say, you shouldn't say anything at all, and at that very moment, I had nothing nice to say. I'm not going to pretend I wasn't hurt and disappointed with what you had to tell me, and I'm not going to pretend that I was and still am beyond angry with you. You made a promise to me Christian, at the bedside of your injured wife who was carrying your child, and you broke it. I thought you were done with that woman—I took you at your word, Christian. I thought you understood that what went on with you and Elena Lincoln was nothing more than child abuse, and that anything that happened after was inappropriate." She sighs and shakes her head a little. "Christian, without going into too much detail, I want to know about your relationship with Elena over the last few years."

I swallow hard. I know this would be a point of discussion—whether Grace brought it up or I did, I had every intention of telling her. "After I turned twenty-one," I begin hoarsely, "it was business. She fronted me the capital to start my business as a loan. I suppose..." I trail off, shaking my own head as I rethink what I was going to say. "I considered her a friend, a confidant. Even after I repaid the loan, I remained in contact with her. I believed she understood me. She knew of my haphephobia and she helped set me up with... women... who respected this."

My mother's eyes widened. Clearly this was far beyond what she thought we would be discussing today. "Women?" she says faintly.

I nod, unable to meet her eyes. "I know everyone thought Ana was my first girlfriend and everything else, and for the most part that is true. She was the first woman I ever considered having a real relationship with. She was the first woman I ever saw a future with. She changed everything for me, Mom."

"She can't have changed everything, Christian," she says, using an uncharacteristically bitter tone. "You cheated on her."

And there is the familiar feeling of shame. "I know," I whisper.

"Tell me more about Elena," Grace says, using her professional tone. "Was it only sex? If that's the case, then why remain in touch with her after so long? Why not cut ties with her? She abused you, Christian!"

I sit back in my chair, running my hands through my hair. There's a knock on the door and I've got another moment to think as our salads are delivered. I suddenly have no interest in eating, but I pick up my fork reflexively. Once the waiter leaves us, I look at my mother, my saving grace, again. "Our relationship was complicated," I begin quietly, staring at my salad. "I know I told you this before, but Elena taught me about controlling my behavior in all things. She took a troubled boy who could've ended up dead or in prison and turned him into a highly-successful businessman."

"How, Christian?" Grace is starting to sound exasperated, bordering on angry. "I'm sorry, but I don't understand how a child molester could possibly have a positive influence on a victim."

I've been trying to figure out just how much of this to share, and I think back to when I first told Anastasia about my lifestyle. I balk at the realization I'm about to have much the same discussion with my mother. "Elena introduced me to a lifestyle she'd practiced for quite a while," I begin cautiously. "I don't know whether you're familiar with BDSM—" Please god, don't let her be familiar with it! "—and to be an active participant, control is positively necessary."

I pause, taking a bite of the salad that tastes like newspaper and have to watch as my mother realizes exactly what I'm trying to say. "Oh, Christian," she whispers, her eyes closing. She looks as though her heart is breaking. When she opens her eyes again, I see anger and hatred shining back at me. It takes a lot to convince myself those emotions aren't meant for me. "So Elena was your..." She looks around the room, searching for the word that evades her.

"Elena was my Dominant. I was her submissive," I hear myself admitting. "It meant she had full control over me in all things. If she got word that I'd been fighting or slacking off in school or that I was drinking, I was punished."

Grace gasps, her hands flying to her mouth. "If she 'got word'? What you're saying is when I confided in my friend she was using those things against you?" Her voice is firm, but her entire body is shaking.

"Mom," I say when I realize where her thoughts are going. "Please don't blame yourself. You had no reason to believe this was going on and I wouldn't have told you. Of course you should have been able to confide in someone."

"I gave that bitch ammunition to punish you," she says severely. "And what does that mean, punish? How did she punish you?"

Fuck... "Physical punishment," I say, staring down at the table. "Usually with some sort of implement. Her favorite was a cane."

Grace looks like she might fall over. "A cane?" she whispers faintly. "And... and she beat you with this cane?"

I nod. "Yes. I got pretty accomplished at hiding the marks from you and Dad. She would make sure the marks were where no one would see them. My back. My chest. Upper thighs..."

Further realization has struck. "So all those times you came home limping or with a bruise that you said was from fighting at school... Elena did that?"

"Yes."

"Jesus, Christian," she whispers. "Why didn't you tell us?"

That's actually an easier answer than most of the rest. "She had me convinced that if you and Dad were to find out you would turn me away. She knew about my fears of abandonment and my self-loathing. I truly believed her when she said I deserved what she was giving me and worse. I was afraid that if you found out what was going on, you'd hate me."

"You were just a boy," she says, shaking her head sadly.

I sigh heavily. I know I need to tune out these comments—if she keeps making them, I'm going to break down and never get through this conversation. "After a time, I was grateful for her," I say to my wine glass. "My grades were improving, my behavior was improving, and as a result of that, you and Dad were happier with me. There were days I wanted to come to you, days that I very nearly did. But every time I tried, Elena seemed to be right there, knowing exactly what I was going to do. The punishment was always harsh and was generally held off on until you and Dad were out of town for whatever reason."

"I don't want to know anymore about punishment," she says suddenly, looking ill. She distractedly pushes away her salad, then takes a fortifying gulp of her wine. "If this... relationship ended when you were twenty-one, then why on earth keep in contact with her?"

"Like I said, I considered her a friend, the one person in the world who knew me. She introduced me to this lifestyle and it allowed me to succeed when I could have so easily failed. It's about control and power..."

Her eyes widen. "Are you saying you still practice this lifestyle?"

"No," I answer quickly and honestly then realize it isn't quite true. "Not in that manner."

"Did you hurt women?" she demands, her voice nearly shrill. "All those things Elena introduced you to—did you partake in them on your own?"

I feel my head nod. "Yes. I was a Dominant."

"How many women, Christian?" she asks as though she doesn't want the answer. "Ana?"

"No," I tell her firmly. "Ana is not part of that lifestyle. Before her there were fifteen women, all of whom were of legal age and agreed to submit to me. Please don't ask me for details, Mom. You don't want them."

"Well, I think you're right about that," she says wryly, just before a knock on the door signaling the main course had arrived. Our mostly full plates of food are taken, replaced with grilled chicken and rice. My mother and I are only looking at one another and I know she's compiling a list of questions for me. We're left alone again and she picks right up. "How did Ana come into this? You can't tell me she approved of this sort of thing."

I smile slightly. "No, she didn't," I admit softly. "When we first met, I wanted to introduce her to it. It was the only way I knew to be intimate with a woman—" I inwardly cringe. Did I really just say that to my mother? "And even though I knew it probably wouldn't work out, I wanted Ana. I didn't understand why. She fascinated me, obsessed me... I pursued her. I found out how innocent she really was and nearly called the whole thing off. Even I couldn't take advantage of her. But she didn't want to leave. She wanted me even though I'd told her one of my darkest secrets. Eventually we worked out a way we could be together. She accepted me as I was, I compromised with her in a way I've never done with anybody. And it was the very best decision I ever made."

My mom's expression has softened slightly hearing me talk about my wife. "Again, I can't argue with you on that. How did you meet these women? Surely they can't be found in classifieds." She scoffs.

I snort a laugh into my wine. "No," I agree, realizing what I'm about to share. "Actually, Elena helped me find most of them. She knew the type of woman I preferred and she knew my..." I pause, second-guessing using the term hard/soft limits. Really don't want to get into that. "My other preferences..." We both look away from each other and my mother's face grows red.

"And judging by the display at your birthday party a few years ago, I imagine she took to Anastasia like a duck to water," Grace mutters with more sarcasm than I've ever heard her use.

"She thought Ana was a fleeting fancy," I say. "She and I remained in contact often through the years for more than just the reasons we're discussing; we have a business relationship. Or had might be the more operative term. I was a partner in several of her ventures including Esclava. At first she seemed supportive of my relationship with Ana. When Ana flew to Georgia to visit her mother, Elena encouraged me to fly out to see her. I think she thought that if I got Ana out of my system, I'd go back to doing what I always did. When that didn't happen, she started trying to talk me out of being with Ana by telling me I was only capable of having the type of relationship she and I had. It was her only way to keep me under her thumb."

"So not only did she introduce you to this twisted way of life, but she tried to manipulate you away from the best thing that ever came into your world," Grace summarizes. I can only nod. "How long after our conversation in the hospital when Ana was recovering did you contact her again?"

Sighing, I occupy my fingers by twisting my wine glass between them. "Not until Teddy was a few months old," I admit. "At first it wasn't intentional, us being in touch. I was having lunch one afternoon and she happened to be there. We spoke briefly—she congratulated me on my son's birth, I thanked her, we went on our way. A week or so later, she contacted me asking if I'd meet her lunch for old time's sake—I know I should have said no, but I agreed. It wasn't long before we were having lunch once or twice a week. We fell back into old routines—I would confide in her about my business deals. I didn't want to talk to her about Ana, but eventually we were. When Ana and I started fighting a couple years ago, Elena as right there to tell me how she'd always known Ana and I wouldn't work out. After years of blocking out her poisoning me on normal relationships, I let her in again. I believed everything she was saying about Ana, letting her comfort me when I was upset about whatever was going on in my marriage."

My mother is staring me in disbelief. "Instead of speaking with your therapist or god forbid, your wife, you confided in your child molester?" she asks incredulously.

"Yes," I respond. "Ana calls it an emotional affair. She's right, of course. At the time, I honestly didn't see anything wrong with talking to Elena—aside from Ana, she knew me better than anyone, knew the worst things about me—"

"And she used that to wreck your marriage," Grace spats.

I feel like a world-class bastard, a feeling I've had much too often over the last several months. "Yes." I don't know what else to say. This lunch is exhausting me, mentally and emotionally, and I just want to go home to my wife. Unfortunately, there's still a lot Grace needs to know.

"Where does this Lucy woman come into the picture?" she asks. I wonder if she's changing the subject from Elena because she can't stomach to hear more or wants to get this over with so she can walk out and leave me behind for good.

Fighting to keep that thought in the back of my mind where it belongs, I sigh. "Lucy and I met last year," I say. "It started out as a business relationship, but I was away from home working on a deal and went to the bar. Lucy was there. Ana and I were fighting again, and I wanted some sort of outlet, someone to talk to. We ended up in my hotel room."

"Did you even stop to think what would happen to your marriage?" she asks. "The woman who stayed with you even knowing all of these secrets, brought you into the light..."

"I know," I say painfully. "And I did think about it. Between what was happening with Ana and me, and all the things Elena was putting into my head a couple times a week, I justified what I was doing by convincing myself my wife was going to leave me and I needed something to control my world."

"Christian, Ana loved you more than anything," Grace says fervently. "We all saw it! She wouldn't have left you."

"She almost did," I admit. "She had bags packed, but changed her mind before going through with it."

My mother's eyebrows rise briefly in surprise. "Well, all things considered, I couldn't have blamed her if she had," she says bluntly. "As for blaming her..." The anger has returned and this, I know, is directed solely towards me. "For you to keep from us the reason she left you is just as bad as lying to us. I spent months thinking some very horrible things about her, because I believed she broke your heart. I've already said my piece to Ana about this and apologized profusely. I'm glad she's giving you another chance and that the two of you seem committed to working it out, but let me tell you this, Christian Grey: if you lose that girl through carelessness and deceit, you will regret it for the rest of your life."

"That I know," I tell my mother. "Mom, I spent five months thinking I could replace Ana. I thought Lucy might be my future if Ana left me."

"Were you in love with her?" asks my mom.

I sigh. "For a brief time," I begin slowly, once again seriously considering the question, "I believed I was."

"And now?"

I take a sip of my wine and a deep breath, thinking through what I need to say. "Ana asked me once whether I was in love with Elena and I thought it was the most ridiculous question I've ever been asked. I told her no and it was the truth. I was already in love with Ana by then; I just didn't realize it. What I didn't understand at the time, what I've only just begun to understand is that in some twisted way, while I was with Elena, I believed I was in love with her because I didn't really understand love. It wasn't until I met Ana that I realized what I felt for Elena was as far from love as it was possible to be. I felt and still feel that way about Lucy. What I feel for Anastasia is more real than anything I've ever experienced. She's my life and I will never put her through anything like that again."

Grace's brow furrows. "What do you mean manufactured and contrived?" she asks cautiously as though she already suspects the answer.

"Elena," I say bitterly. "Apparently she and Lucy are old friends. Elena helped Lucy weave her way deeper into my life. She knew me well enough to know which hotels I stay at when on away on business—Lucy showed up outside me room while I was in Germany last month. I turned her away," I add hastily at the flash of anger in my mother's eyes. "And I came clean to Ana about it when I saw her next."

"You're finally being honest with her then?" she remarks. I flinch at her words.

"I'm trying," I respond emphatically. "Mom, I've never tried so hard for anything in my life."

She nods. "And the kidnapping?"

My stomach clenches at the recent memory of finding out my son had been taken by a yet unknown assailant. "Lucy picked him up from his school. The school failed to follow proper security protocol for students leaving. We believe Lucy was planning to take Teddy out of England, possibly to come back here. She convinced herself—possibly with Elena's assistance—that the only thing keeping me from divorcing Ana was our son, and if she took Teddy from her, I'd follow along and be with her."

Grace is shaking her head. "Christian, that could have gone so much more differently," she says quietly.

"I know," I say, my voice cracking slightly. "Believe me, Mom, I know. And if it had gone differently, if something had happened to my son because of something I was responsible for, I never would have forgiven myself."

"And yet you don't understand my anger towards Elena," she tells me. "Christian, you and your brother and sister have always been my life. I would have done anything possible to keep you safe. Then I find out that my friend was taking advantage of you and your vulnerabilities for years, right under my nose. You can tell me all you want that I wasn't responsible for these punishments Elena put you through, but if I had kept my mouth shut, she never would have had reason..." She trails off when I shake my head.

"Mom, I was so caught up in what Elena and I were doing that I would have told her about my misdeeds even if you hadn't. I don't blame you," I tell her fervently. "Never once have I blamed you. You and Dad and Elliot and Mia... you were my safe place. All I ever wanted was to make you proud of me and to feel worthy of your love. I never wanted you to hear any of this and I'm sorry that I've brought us to a place where you have to hear it. The last thing I wanted was to hurt you and I would fully understand if you left here today and never wanted to see me again."

The nerves are back as I watch my mother's face as she registers what I've just said to her. Her expression matches the one I've seen Ana use with me: the one of strained patience. "Never wanted to see you again?" she repeats incredulously. "Christian, when is it going to sink into your brain that no matter what happens, you are my son. I love you unconditionally—I always have and I always will. You anger me, disappoint me, frustrate me to no end, but that does not mean I will ever cut you out of my life. Sweetheart, you're my little boy. I don't care how old you get; that's what you will always be. Yes, I am upset that you broke promises and lied and put trust in people who don't deserve it in the slightest, but I know how hard you're working to get Ana back. And I support you in that fully. I am praying the two of you can get past this, and as long as you're determined to change your behavior, you'll have her at your side until your last dying breath. That woman loves you, Christian; I don't think you fully comprehend that.

"Now, having said all I've said, this is the last I will pry into your private life. You and Anastasia need to work through your problems together, without my help or that of Kate's..." She rolls her eyes, telling me she knows exactly what happened between me and my sister-in-law before dinner last week. "Don't throw away this opportunity, Christian. You'll regret it more than you ever know if you do."

I nod. "I know," I whisper, still in shock that she still wants me in her life after everything I've just told her. "Thank you, Mom."

She smiles and reaches over to take my hand in hers. "I love you, Christian. Nothing will change that. I can only hope that one day you'll understand that."

"I love you, too," I say hoarsely.

We decide to pass on our cold lunches and for once I don't balk at the thought of food waste; I think if I tried to eat right now, I'd be sick. I think my mother feels the same. I walk her to her car silently, opening the driver's side door for her. "Tell Dad hello for me," I say. "I'll probably come by this weekend for a chat with him if he's not busy."

"I'll tell him," she promises, allowing me to pull her for a hug and kiss. "And Christian?"

"Yes?" I ask as I help her into the car.

"Let's never have a discussion like this again, okay?"

I think my mother is actually blushing. And when I realize she's doing this because of the subject of our conversation, I also blush. "Deal," I quickly agree. "Drive safe." She smiles and waves as she pulls out of the parking lot.

I nearly collapse in relief when I realize I've survived the most humiliating conversation I've ever had with my mother. Taylor's pulled the car around and informs me that he's called ahead to let Ana know I'm on my way home. I bristle for a moment at his assumption that I wouldn't be returning to work after lunch and that he called my wife without my knowledge or permission. It's only as I'm buckling up in the backseat that I realize I couldn't handle returning to work and it's only fair to have given Ana ample warning before my arrival.

I don't know how I'm feeling right now—emotionally drained, exhausted, desperate to hold my wife and son in my arms. What I do know is that my worst thoughts haven't come to pass. My mother doesn't hate me because of everything I've told her today. She still loves me. Still wants me.

How did I get so lucky in my life? Forget all my success professionally; my family loves me, supports me through everything, and I've taken them for granted more often than not. It's time to change that. My parents won't be around forever; I need to show them what they mean to me.

Ana's good at that sort of thing. So I think my first step is will be showing her what she means to me. And I know exactly how to do that.