[BL]Reborn as the Empire's Most Desired Omega
Chapter 187: Dinner with family

Chapter 187: Chapter 187: Dinner with family

Lucia Fitzgeralt had the posture of someone who judged people for a living and won every time. She sat like the room belonged to her, dressed in slate-gray silk and garnet earrings that could have doubled as murder weapons. Her eyes, pale and unblinking, tracked Lucas and Trevor as they approached the table.

"Mother," Trevor said coolly as they reached their seats.

"Trevor." Lucia inclined her head just slightly. "You didn’t mention he was so... decorative."

Lucas smiled with surgical precision. "I’m also punctual, literate, and resistant to subtle cruelty. But thank you for the compliment."

Cressida sipped her wine without blinking. Serathine’s lips twitched.

From the left, a chair scraped as Milo collapsed into it, draped in unbuttoned elegance and the scent of clove cigarettes he wasn’t technically allowed to smoke indoors. "Gods, he talks like he knows what a spine is. Refreshing."

"And dangerous," Alaric murmured from beside Lucia. He looked effortlessly bored in a dove-gray jacket, one hand idly sketching something in the margin of his napkin with an antique ink pen. "He’s not even pretending to defer."

Lucas tilted his head slightly, eyes glinting like glass under tension. "Should I?"

Alaric looked up from his napkin, pale eyes narrowing just a fraction. "Not to me. But most people do. It’s charming when they try."

Lucas reached for his water, unbothered. "I’ve been charming before. I retired."

Milo gave a low whistle, dragging his chair closer with a deliberate scrape. "Trevor, darling, I like him. I thought you were marrying some trembling thing in cream and lace, but this one’s sharp. You never said he had teeth."

"I didn’t think you’d show up," Trevor replied, tone light but laced with steel. "So I didn’t see the point."

Lucia lifted her glass. "And yet here we are."

"Yes," Trevor said. "Here."

There was a quiet pause, filled only with the flickering of candlelight and the polite clatter of cutlery as the first course was laid down.

Lucia didn’t look at the plate. "It’s been quite the spectacle, watching you rebuild the estate. I hear the vineyards are profitable again."

"They are," Trevor said flatly. View the correct content at NovelFire

"And the western annex is completed."

"It is."

Milo leaned back, tapping the edge of his wine glass like he was keeping rhythm with an invisible orchestra. "Quite the empire you’ve carved out while we were away."

"You mean while you left me to clean up the ruins you created and abandoned?" Trevor asked, the light catching and nearly absorbing in his purple eyes.

Milo didn’t flinch. He just smiled, loose and charming, the kind of grin that always came before a lie or a scheme.

"Well, we knew you’d handle it," he said, gesturing vaguely, like the years of debt, legal battles, and court whispers were an unfortunate weather pattern Trevor had merely weathered. "You always had that... obsessive competence thing going for you."

Lucas’s expression didn’t change, but his fork made a quiet sound as it met the edge of the plate. Serathine noticed. So did Cressida.

Alaric finally looked up from his sketch. "The estate’s not just stable. It’s ascendant. Your name’s on legislation now. Investment arms. Royal committees. People whisper about Fitzgeralt again, and not in the way they used to."

Trevor didn’t respond. He just tilted his head, a gesture that would have been almost curious if not for the coldness in his eyes.

"So, you’ve come to ask for more. Isn’t it?" Trevor asked directly, he was bored to death by his family.

Alaric offered a nonchalant shrug, his ink-stained fingers still playing with the corner of the napkin. "We came to talk, little brother. You’ve built something real. It’s only natural we’d want to reconnect."

Trevor’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. "You mean cash in. Let’s not dress it up."

Milo sighed like this was all terribly exhausting for him, swirling the wine in his glass with theatrical boredom. "Does everything have to be transactional with you? We’re family."

"You only remember that when there’s something to gain," Trevor replied, still calm. Still sharp. "The last time I heard from any of you, the estate had defaulted on three suppliers, and you were all sending excuses from beach houses and artist communes like we weren’t bleeding in public."

Lucia dabbed her mouth with her napkin, not flinching under the accusation. "Trevor, let’s not pretend the past was ideal for anyone. We did what we had to do to preserve ourselves."

"You did what you had to do to avoid responsibility," Trevor corrected, finally leaning back in his chair with slow disdain. "I was the one left to rebuild the ruins you three pretended weren’t on fire." NovelFire

He glanced sideways, catching Lucas’s gaze, steadier than ever. Gods, he wanted to be in their bedroom. He wanted Lucas in his arms, a blanket wrapped around both of them, with the windows shut and the outside world reduced to nothing.

But instead, he was here. With ghosts wearing his blood.

Alaric set down his pen. "So we’re clear: yes. We want a stipend. Not extravagant. Just a share. We help smooth things politically before the ceremony. Say the right things. Smile in the right places. Then we vanish again."

Lucas let out a low breath, barely loud enough to be heard. But Trevor heard it. He always did.

"You think this marriage is fragile," Lucas said, gaze fixed on Alaric. "That a few disapproving headlines could rattle it."

Milo raised a brow. "We think headlines matter. Especially when whispered by family."

"And you think you’re still family," Trevor said, voice soft now. "That’s the mistake."

Lucia’s expression turned frostbitten. "You think a single wedding makes you untouchable?"

Trevor rose from his chair with smooth, effortless grace, every line of his frame carved from restrained fury and inherited elegance. He looked down at her with the weight of a man who’d carried empires and walked away clean.

"Dear," he said, voice cool as polished steel, "I’m already untouchable."

He let the silence stretch, just long enough for Milo’s smirk to falter.

"I’m already married to Lucas," Trevor continued, eyes sweeping across the table like a verdict. "The bond was sealed weeks ago. The Empire knows. The court knows. Your blessing?" His lips curled into something too faint to be called a smile. "It never even registered."

Across from him, Lucas didn’t need to speak. He simply adjusted the cuff of his shirt and looked at Lucia like one might examine a crumbling statue, interesting once, irrelevant now.

Trevor didn’t sit back down.

"The only reason we’re having a ceremony at all is because Cressida and Serathine want it. They built this House when you abandoned it. They kept the bloodlines clean, the estates intact, and the reputations salvageable."

He glanced toward Serathine and Cressida, each of them poised, cold, and deeply, dangerously satisfied.

"They’ve earned it," Trevor said simply. "You haven’t."

Lucia’s eyes narrowed. "So this is it, then? You think you can erase us?"

Trevor stepped back, extending a hand toward Lucas. "You erased yourselves. I’m just writing over the blank space."

Lucas took his hand without hesitation. "Have a pleasant evening," he said to the table at large. "Or don’t. We won’t be here for it."

And together, they walked out, leaving behind garnet earrings, ink-stained napkins, and the last breath of a dynasty that once thought power was their birthright, only to discover it had changed hands and wouldn’t be returned.