[BL]Reborn as the Empire's Most Desired Omega
Chapter 63: Let’s get married

Chapter 63: Chapter 63: Let’s get married

"Are you sure we need to see both of them tomorrow?" Lucas asked, frowning at the appointment list on Trevor’s tablet like it had insulted him personally.

Trevor didn’t glance up. "They were your tutors while you were under Misty’s care. Their contracts ended the moment you came to Serathine. That timing alone is worth examining."

Lucas sighed and sank deeper into the couch. "Isabela Wright used to lecture me on emotional resilience and then cry at historical documentaries."

"She’s the one with blond hair and the obsession with handwriting analysis, right?" Trevor scrolled through the notes. "Scheduled at ten. She already submitted her NDA copy."

Lucas rolled his eyes. "She also once said my silence was ’a tactical form of defiance.’ I was eight."

Trevor’s lips twitched. "Sounds accurate."

Lucas ignored him. "And Tom Walton?"

"Noon. Formerly military-educated. Wrote that suspiciously poetic evaluation of you right before he was dismissed. The one where he called you ’unshaped brilliance behind glass.’"

Lucas blinked. "That’s a little much."

"It’s also why I want to hear him out," Trevor said, quieter now. "There’s a chance their NDAs weren’t just standard. Misty had help covering her tracks. If either of them saw something—anything—it might point us toward whoever she worked with."

Lucas tilted his head, his gaze narrowing slightly. "You mean the one you won’t talk about?"

That stopped Trevor.

He went too still. Just for a second, but Lucas caught it. The absence of movement. The breath was held too long. Then, just as quickly, Trevor smoothed it over with practiced calm.

"How did you know?"

"I’ve read Professor Kelly’s NDA," Lucas said evenly. "There was a curious name. And I assumed that you and Serathine knew something, since neither of you gave me the file after." Correct content is on NovelFire

Trevor didn’t speak.

Lucas tapped the edge of his book once. "The professor sent me a scan after the meeting."

That did get a reaction. Just a flicker of Trevor’s brow, then a subtle exhale.

"I was going to tell you," he said quietly.

"No," Lucas corrected, tone light but not unkind, "you were going to avoid telling me. And then Serathine was going to avoid it too. Which means whatever name was in that NDA scares you both."

The door slammed open as if summoned by political frustration itself.

"I swear to every competent man who’s ever held a pen," Serathine stormed in, "the imperial family is good only for looks, battle, and politics. A flicker of humanity would kill them. Is it really that hard to forget their damn ranks for a minute?"

Lucas blinked. "Well. She’s back."

She tossed her folder down onto the armrest, barely missing Trevor’s tablet, and paced once, sharp and furious, like a lioness in silk.

"I told them everything," she seethed. "And they still sat there like Lucas is some unfortunate situation they have to manage instead of a person who has been used since the moment he was born."

Trevor stood but didn’t interrupt.

Serathine kept going. "You have two days, Lucas. Two days. To become a symbol. To become off-limits. Because apparently the only way to keep dominant alphas from sniffing around like he’s a walking legacy contract is to lock him down in a public engagement and hope they get bored." NovelFire

Lucas didn’t look away. "So I’m not even a danger to the throne anymore. Just a prize."

Serathine’s voice broke through, bitter and low. "They had, and still have, good intentions. But Misty’s article told them you’re dominant."

She paused. The words hung like a blade about to fall.

"And that changes everything."

Lucas stilled.

Trevor’s head tilted slightly, the faintest tension building in his jaw.

"Dax already sent a message to Caelan," Serathine continued. "Not a threat. Not yet. Just... interest. The kind of ’interest’ that comes wrapped in foreign titles and sealed with blood-colored wax."

Her voice tightened. "And he won’t wait more than a few days for an answer before he starts making demands. And then threats."

Lucas swallowed. "Because I’m dominant."

"Because you’re rare," Serathine said quietly. "And because you are in the perfect position to be the next Queen of Saha. There is no better option for Dax."

Lucas blinked slowly. "Queen of Saha."

"Are you going for the crown now?" Trevor asked, one brow raised, voice light with dry amusement.

"Tempting," Lucas replied, equally entertained.

Everything was happening so fast, so impossibly out of his control, that he realized he had two options: despair and suffer under the weight of being wanted for all the wrong reasons, or roll with it and take control in the only way he knew how—through sharp wit and brutal awareness.

He chose the second.

Everyone in this world was weighed by their value. That hadn’t changed. He was no different. But this time, at least, he wasn’t alone in it. This time, the people in the room didn’t want to package him—they wanted to protect him.

And that, he thought, was a start.

Lucas leaned back on the couch, tone cool. "I mean, if I have to wear a crown either way, I might as well pick the one with the better wardrobe."

Serathine let out a quiet, exhausted laugh. "You’re impossible."

"Thank you," Lucas said sweetly, eyes glinting with mischief that didn’t quite reach the tired edge beneath it. "So we have: engaged in two days, restricted from going public since I’m off suppressants, and I don’t get the chance to go to university anymore."

He tilted his head, his voice light but brittle. "Lucky for us that I do have some sense of humor."

Neither Trevor nor Serathine responded right away. Lucas didn’t expect them to.

Then Trevor spoke, quiet but direct. "University was never meant for people like us."

Lucas glanced at him. "Oh? And what exactly are ’people like us,’ Trevor?"

"The kind who get tutors at home," Trevor replied evenly. "The kind whose futures were signed off long before they learned how to argue back. University is a luxury for heirs without purpose. We don’t get that kind of time."

Lucas sat back slightly, brows lifted. "That’s a grim endorsement of education."

"It’s not an endorsement," Trevor said. "It’s reality. And reality hasn’t stopped you from learning. You taught yourself half the time anyway."

Serathine raised a brow. "And you’re still better read than half the Foreign Office."

Lucas cracked a tired smile. "Because they don’t read anything that doesn’t come stamped with a crest and three layers of flattery."

Trevor nodded. "You won’t be less because you’re not sitting in a hall. And when you want access to any professor in the Empire, I’ll make sure they answer."

Lucas stared at him for a moment, then let out a breath, equal parts surrender and reluctant comfort.

"Fine," he said. "I’ll accept my fate as a high-functioning captive with excellent stationery."

Serathine gave him a look. "You’ll be the most dangerous academic in silk."

Lucas’s grin returned, this time a little closer to real. "I have an idea."

"Oh, no," Serathine said immediately, already regretting her existence.

Trevor didn’t look up from his tablet, but his voice was suspicious. "What kind of idea?"

"The kind that keeps me entertained," Lucas said, stretching his legs out and looking far too pleased with himself. "You said I’m going to be photographed, interviewed, dressed up like a diplomatic centerpiece..."

"Yes," Serathine said slowly, already bracing for impact.

"Then let’s skip all of that and..." He turned his head. Looked directly at Trevor. "Get married."