[BL]Reborn as the Empire's Most Desired Omega
Chapter 146: Clinical Curiosity

Chapter 146: Chapter 146: Clinical Curiosity

Vivienne didn’t look back as Windstone escorted her out. She knew when to accept defeat, especially when it came to Trevor Ariston Fitzgeralt.

There were certain battles you lost quietly, not because you lacked ambition, but because the cost of pressing forward would brand you desperate.

She sighed as they reached the privacy door. The corridor behind her was silent, dignified, like even the walls had chosen not to remember her visit.

"I’m sorry for troubling you," she said sweetly, her voice carrying just enough grace to sound sincere.

"There is no need for apologizing, my lady," Windstone replied, unbothered, his golden-framed glasses catching the late noon sun. He looked the same as always, composed, unshakable, impossible to charm.

"You’re as cold as your master," she said, smiling faintly. "You know, I only wanted to see him. To know him."

"You could have requested an appointment," Windstone said, tone calm but without kindness. "Or waited for a social event where both of you were present."

Vivienne tilted her head, a gesture too refined to be called defiance. "I didn’t think I’d be allowed."

Windstone’s gaze didn’t shift. "No, my lady. You didn’t think you’d be welcomed. That’s not the same."

She stilled, her fingers brushing the edge of her sleeve, adjusting the pearl cufflink as if it mattered. "So you’ve decided I’m the villain again."

"We both know you," Windstone said simply. "You didn’t come for closure. You came to compare. To confirm who won and who still had to be removed."

Her lips parted, but nothing came. No clever line. No quiet defense. Because it wasn’t untrue.

"They are already bonded, Lady Vivienne," he said, his voice steady, almost calm. "And for the history that existed before your lie, I’ll offer you a warning."

She looked at him, the curve of her jaw sharp with pride she hadn’t fully swallowed.

"Don’t do anything stupid," Windstone continued. "Lord Trevor has no reason to be restrained anymore. And he’s already drawn the line at his wife."

The words landed without force, but their weight settled somewhere behind her ribs.

Vivienne swallowed once, eyes narrowing just slightly. "I don’t intend to cross that line. You know that I had no other choice."

Windstone regarded her impassively. The kind of silence that wasn’t meant to invite understanding, only reflection.

"I know you believe that," he said at last, voice low, almost tired. "But lies told out of desperation are still lies. And consequences don’t care about motives."

She flinched, just barely. Not enough to be seen by a crowd, but enough that Windstone noticed and chose not to press further.

"Everything I did was to stay in the same room," she said, quieter now. "To be seen. You don’t understand what it’s like never to be eligible, to be disqualified before you even speak."

Windstone adjusted his gloves, fingers smooth over fabric. "And yet, here you are. Still speaking."

Vivienne’s lips pressed into a thin line.

He wasn’t wrong.

He never was.

"I loved him," she said finally.

Windstone nodded once. "Possibly."

Then: "But what you loved more was the version of yourself you could be beside him."

The door behind them clicked open slightly in the wind, then closed again. The sound echoed in the narrow corridor like a sealed verdict.

Vivienne straightened her shoulders. "I won’t make trouble."

"Good," Windstone said, already turning away. "Because he will."

And then he was gone, as silent as he’d come.

Leaving Vivienne alone in the filtered gold of the late afternoon, surrounded by the soft rustle of expensive fabric and the echo of things she would never get to rewrite.

— View the correct content at NovelFire)

The car door closed with a soft thud, sealing out the warmth of the embassy steps and the sting of Windstone’s parting words.

Vivienne settled into the leather seat, crossing her legs carefully, the silk of her skirt falling into place like water. She didn’t speak right away. The driver knew better than to ask where she wanted to go. Her destination was routine. Her thoughts were not.

She exhaled through her nose, a single breath to clear the quiet rage still curling at the edge of her composure.

"I want a file on the new Grand Duchess of Fitzgeralt," she said without turning her head.

Her secretary, seated across from her, didn’t blink. "Public or confidential?"

Vivienne kept her gaze on the window, watching the buildings slip past. "Both. Anything not classified. Academic records, medical publications, educational history, and early affiliations. Be discreet."

"Of course."

She leaned her head back against the seat and closed her eyes for a moment.

She wouldn’t do anything reckless. NovelFire

She’d meant what she said; she wouldn’t cross the line Trevor had drawn. She wouldn’t scheme or interfere or try to tear them apart. But something inside her itched, insistent and cold.

She had to meet him. Once.

Not because of Trevor. Not because of their history or what might have been. By lying to him, she had gotten out of her family’s clutches, overcome her need to be close to the dominant alpha, and, for all intents and purposes, he had helped her before calling off their engagement.

But because the way that omega looked at her didn’t feel like weakness. It didn’t feel like submission. It felt like judgment.

And Vivienne Alostora did not take kindly to being judged, especially not by someone the world insisted on labeling as rarer than her. She wasn’t foolish enough to dismiss biology, but she was a researcher. She had spent the better part of her academic career studying secondary gender anomalies. Dominant omegas had always existed in theory—abstract, clinical, observed from a distance.

Now one sat at the right hand of the Fitzgeralt house head.

She opened her tablet with a soft tap and began drafting the message.

To: His Grace, the Grand Duchess of Fitzgeralt

From: Lady Vivienne Alostora

Dear Your Grace,

I understand that our first interaction was abrupt, and for that, I offer no excuses. I write to you not about your husband nor the past that links us distantly, but as a fellow academic in the field of biological research. Your designation has prompted much attention, most of it crude or political. Mine is neither.

I would value the opportunity to speak with you—not for gossip, not for court maneuvering—but to understand what I have never had the privilege to observe directly. If you are willing to meet privately, I assure you of complete discretion and scientific neutrality.

With professional respect,

Vivienne Alostora

Biological Institute of Applied Gene Science

She reread it once. Then again.

And saved it to drafts.

For now.