[BL]Reborn as the Empire's Most Desired Omega
Chapter 160: Warning

Chapter 160: Chapter 160: Warning

Trevor had just finished adjusting the blanket again, and Lucas had kicked it off in his sleep, one leg thrown out over the side, as if threatening the floor, when his datapad vibrated softly from the nightstand. He ignored it at first. Lucas had finally stopped burning against him, and his breathing had settled into something resembling sleep. For once, Trevor didn’t want to move.

But the second chime came faster. A direct ping.

He sighed quietly and reached for the screen with one hand, angling it away from Lucas’s face. The sender’s name was enough to make his jaw clench.

Vivienne Alostora.

Trevor sat up slowly, careful not to shift Lucas too much, and opened the message. It had arrived in Lucas’s official palace inbox, but that inbox, like almost everything else, was mirrored on Trevor’s personal system for security. Not even Windstone had override access.

He read the message once. Then again. And by the end of it, his expression had gone from mildly annoyed to ice-sharp stillness.

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 in relation to your husband nor the past that links us distantly, but as a fellow academic in the field of biological research. f.(r)eew ebnov\ll.com

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 complete discretion and scientific neutrality.

With professional respect,

Vivienne Alostora

Biological Institute of Applied Gene Science

Trevor stared at the final line for a moment, his thumb hovering over the screen.

Of course Vivienne would couch it in the language of research. Discretion. Neutrality. But the subtext rang clear. She was not writing out of curiosity; she was hoping to see him. The version of Lucas that no one else had access to. The version that Lucas was still learning to claim. NovelFire

Observe directly, she had said.

Trevor’s jaw clenched.

The worst part wasn’t the nerve, but that she didn’t realize she’d made a mistake. Not in sending it, but in assuming Lucas read that inbox himself. Or that Trevor wouldn’t know.

He looked down. Lucas was curled toward him again, fingers still tangled in his shirt, lips parted just slightly with sleep. He’d shifted closer in the last few minutes, his body instinctively seeking the cold.

Trevor exhaled slowly.

He closed the message, flagged it, and forwarded a copy to Windstone marked Restricted: pending response authorization.

Then, he did what any reasonable man would do when someone attempted to get under his skin through professionalism.

He opened a blank reply window, verified Vivienne’s credentials, and began typing.

To: Lady Vivienne Alostora

From: Office of His Grace, the Grand Duchess of Fitzgeralt—overseen by Lord Fitzgeralt

Lady Alostora,

Your message has been received and reviewed. At this time, His Grace is indisposed and unable to respond personally.

Inquiries of a scientific nature concerning His Grace’s biology, designation, or personal evolution must be routed through official court channels and submitted to the Palace Ethics Board for review.

If you wish to request formal access, a clearance process may be initiated, subject to legal, medical, and diplomatic review. This ensures both the dignity of the subject and the credibility of any academic partnership.

Please note that all correspondence directed to the Grand Duchess is archived and subject to scrutiny for potential breaches of privacy or implied coercion.

We thank you for your interest.

Respectfully,

Grand Duke Trevor Fitzgeralt

On behalf of His Grace

He hit send.

Then he set the tablet down and pulled Lucas closer, his voice a murmur against flushed skin. "I won’t let anyone touch you ever again."

—

The second panel of the morning was dragging.

The presenter, a dull aristocrat with honorary titles but little real research, was droning on about gene silencing protocols in pre-designated alphas. Vivienne had heard the same theory repeated five times in the previous year, and none of them addressed the actual ethical complications, let alone the biological volatility.

She sat in the front row, surrounded by perfectly pressed colleagues and institutional lapel pins, with her coat draped over the back of her chair. Her tablet lay idle on her lap, and her phone rested face down beside her water glass.

It vibrated once. Then again.

She ignored it at first, thinking it was an assistant confirming her next lecture slot or the usual polite posturing from smaller labs. But the name that blinked across the screen on the third buzz made her pause mid-note.

Trevor Fitzgeralt.

No... worse.

Office of His Grace, the Grand Duchess of Fitzgeralt—overseen by Lord Fitzgeralt.

Her hand froze.

The message preview was short. Sealed. Official. She tapped to fully open it, her pulse a steady thrum behind her ribs as she shifted slightly in her seat and angled the phone towards her.

Vivienne stared at the screen, unmoving.

The rest of the conference hall became irrelevant, with the presenter still speaking, the row behind her laughing politely, and someone adjusting their teacup at the refreshment table near the side door. The razor-clean message glowing in her hand drowned out all other noise.

Trevor had read the email and replied instead of Lucas.

And not just as a husband, but as a man issuing a warning.

Vivienne breathed slowly out through her nose, forcing her expression to remain neutral. She was aware of the eyes that were nearby. Professors. Committee heads. Students scribbled notes, waiting for her reaction and approval. She was not going to give them one.

She turned her phone over on her knee, screen down. But the words lingered behind her eyes.

Implied coercion.

Archived correspondence.

Overseen by Lord Fitzgeralt.

She swallowed, lips pressed in a line, and adjusted her posture like nothing had happened.

He hadn’t blocked her. Not directly. But he’d drawn a line in court protocol that she’d have to go through to cross. Not Lucas. Not the bondmate wrapped in mystery and clinical fascination.

No. The gatekeeper was the man she’d once stood beside in a lecture hall. The man who now ruled silence as effectively as scholars ruled data.

Vivienne leaned back slightly in her chair, crossing one leg over the other with composed elegance. The panel was shifting to questions. She didn’t raise her hand.

Instead, she made a mental note in that precise, sterile part of her mind:

He’s watching everything.

And he still plays to win.