[BL]Reborn as the Empire's Most Desired Omega
Chapter 181: Ambush

Chapter 181: Chapter 181: Ambush

The door opened without a knock this time.

Trevor stepped into the sunroom like he owned every square inch of air, light, and flooring, dressed in a dark shirt with the sleeves casually rolled and his platinum ring catching the sun like it had been cast there for dramatic effect. He paused just inside the threshold, eyes scanning the tableau in front of him, the half-finished lemon tart in Lucas’s hand, the soft linens, and the too-close figure of Benjamin LaVierre reclining in a chair like he belonged in the painting of someone else’s marriage.

Lucas, to his credit, did not jump up like a scandalized debutante. He didn’t move at all.

But Benjamin did.

He turned with a lazy smile that only sharpened at the edges when Trevor didn’t return it. "Ah, the husband arrives. Don’t worry, I was just being charming, not scandalous."

Trevor didn’t answer. He crossed the room slowly, methodically, the kind of pace reserved for inspection walks and war councils. When he reached Lucas, he leaned down and pressed a kiss to his temple, brief, proprietary, and affectionate in a way that warned off empires.

"Love," he murmured, "you forgot to lock the doors."

Lucas, eyes still on his tart, replied blandly, "I assumed Windstone would screen for invaders."

"He did," Benjamin said brightly. "He just likes me."

"Benjamin, what are you doing here?" Trevor asked while nudging Lucas for some space.

"To know the wife of my friend." Benjamin dramatically put his right hand on his head. "You run away to Saha, to Dax, from all people, and let me rot here."

Trevor didn’t budge at the nudging. If anything, he leaned further into Lucas’s space like it was a natural extension of territorial law. His tone, however, remained velvet-smooth. "I didn’t realize I needed your permission to leave the continent."

Benjamin dropped his hand with a sigh, only half-feigned. "You didn’t. But I expected at least a note. A farewell drink. A last-minute gift. Do you know how insulting it is to learn of your best friend’s marriage from a headline, a single-line announcement, no photos, no chaos, no drama? You’ve betrayed our brand."

Trevor glanced at Lucas, deadpan. "I’m married to chaos now. The branding held."

Lucas gave him a dry look.

"Well, at least give me an invitation to your public wedding."

Trevor didn’t blink. "I’ll give you a seat next to Cressida."

Benjamin perked up immediately. "Perfect. We trade skincare secrets and court gossip like diplomats exchange treaties. I might survive after all."

Lucas raised a brow. "That’s not the alliance I expected to hear about before breakfast."

Benjamin shrugged, unapologetic. "She appreciates elegance, taste, and mortal enemies. I bring all three."

Trevor gave him a flat look. "Just remember she once declared war over dessert forks."

"Yes, and I supported her," Benjamin said proudly. "That caterer deserved ruin."

Lucas sighed, setting his tea aside. "What exactly do you want, Benjamin? Aside from tormenting my husband and raiding my pastries."

Benjamin leaned forward, suddenly more genuine beneath all the gloss. "I want to be here. For the wedding. For you."

Lucas blinked.

Trevor crossed his arms, head tilting ever so slightly. "And not just to watch the drama?"

"I like drama," Benjamin said lightly. "But I like seeing the right people win more."

Trevor nudged Lucas again, but his tone had softened. "We’ll send you an official invitation."

Benjamin grinned. "I’ll bring my best shoes. And maybe a spare tiara for Cressida, just in case." NovelFire

Lucas exhaled slowly, half-exasperated, half-amused. "This is my life now, isn’t it?"

Trevor rested a hand on the back of the chaise. "You chose it."

"I did," Lucas muttered. "God help me."

Benjamin clinked his pastry bag against Lucas’s glass. "To love, war, and designer seating charts."

"And surviving both duchesses under one roof," Lucas said dryly.

"Oh, darling," Benjamin purred. "I thrive in chaos."

—

A sound carried from the front hall.

Heels.

Four of them.

Moving in coordinated rhythm, like the cavalry had finally breached the gates.

Lucas sat up straighter. Benjamin lowered his sunglasses. Trevor, who’d just claimed victory over pastry, froze like a man hearing the first crack of thunder at his own execution.

Windstone appeared with grim elegance. "They’re here."

Lucas blinked slowly. "Who?"

Windstone didn’t flinch. "Lady Serathine and Lady Cressida."

Trevor sat down without grace. "Both?"

"They arrived in the same car."

Lucas choked on absolutely nothing. "They arrived together?"

Benjamin pressed a hand to his heart. "My God. They’ve merged."

Windstone gave a polite nod that screamed resignation. "Their luggage has already been color-coded. They requested the joint suite on the east side. And the garden terrace. And your private library, Your Grace, for evening discussions."

"Discussions," Lucas repeated flatly, staring into the middle distance like he was witnessing his own burial.

"They also mentioned," Windstone continued delicately, "a revised plan for the public ceremony, new renderings for the floral arch, and... tea."

Trevor stood again with the manner of a man preparing for an ambush. "Where are they now?"

"In the salon. Coordinating," Windstone said, and then, after a beat too long: "They brought mood boards."

Lucas slumped back against the chaise like the air had been taken out of the room. "I need a parachute. A decoy. A fake elopement with forged documents and a goat."

Benjamin didn’t blink. "I can supply the goat. But only if it wears a sash."

Trevor ran a hand down his face. "Why are they coordinating? They’re supposed to hate each other."

"They do," Benjamin muttered. "That’s what makes this worse. This is not an alliance. This is strategic co-domination. It’s a matriarchal coup."

Lucas buried his face in a throw pillow. "I’m not strong enough."

Trevor, because he was now legally obligated to be supportive, patted his ankle. "You’re doing great, love."

Windstone cleared his throat. "They would like to see you. All three of you."

Trevor blinked. "Me?"

Lucas peeked out from the pillow. "Why Benjamin?"

Windstone raised a brow. "Apparently, Lady Cressida trusts his sense of contrast, and Lady Serathine wants a second opinion on your posture."

Benjamin sat up straighter, already smoothing his shirt. "Well. I’m honored. And slightly afraid."

Trevor exhaled like a condemned man. "Let’s go."

Lucas didn’t move. "I’m not ready."

"You look perfect," Benjamin said, standing. "Like a duchess mid-heist. Or a scandal waiting to erupt."

"That’s not comforting."

Benjamin smiled, the picture of war-ready elegance. "It wasn’t meant to be."

Windstone held the door open.

The three men filed out like generals heading to peace talks they knew would fail.