Chapter 45: A Fate Worse Than Death

Chapter 45: Chapter 45: A Fate Worse Than Death "I was outside the door for three minutes," she corrected, "which in this palace is long enough to stage a coup or fake a death certificate." Trevor finally looked up. "You’re slipping. Two minutes and thirty seconds is usually your limit." Serathine arched a brow. "I like to give men the illusion of privacy before I interrupt." She crossed to the desk, ignoring the chairs altogether. Instead, she leaned against the edge like she’d been summoned rather than excluded. Her eyes flicked to the file. "Did you read it?" "I did. It’s even worse than the first one; whenever it is Faceless Agatha knows what they are doing." Caelan said it calmly, but the other two knew him long enough to know that he was mad. There’s a section," Caelan went on, "that wasn’t in the other versions. One that seems to be exclusive—meant only for Misty and Faceless Agatha." He exhaled. Controlled. Cold. "It’s vile." Trevor reopened the file. The paper was crisp, unaged. Preserved on purpose. Serathine leaned in, her gaze sharp, scanning the page until she reached the clause Caelan had marked. There was a brief silence before she began to read aloud—voice flat, like she was reading a financial statement. "Should the first party fail to produce an heir through subject L.O.K. by the age of twenty-five, the subject shall be transferred in full to the second contracting party, with all physiological and binding rights intact." Her eyes narrowed slightly, but she didn’t stop. "The subject’s rare secondary status—as a male omega of imperial descent—shall be preserved for the benefit of eligible noble houses lacking active secondary traits. Under this clause, the subject may be utilized, under strict containment, to initiate awakening of latent or dormant bloodlines through proximity-based pheromone stimulation and enforced bond proximity." Serathine took a step back and swore under her breath. Trevor’s voice cut in quietly—without looking up: "Use of the subject’s biological heat cycle, if triggered prematurely, is permitted under ethical exemption, as the contract recognizes the subject as biologically conditioned and ownership-bonded." Serathine’s mouth tightened, but she waited for Trevor to finish reading it. "This clause shall be enacted without appeal. The subject, designated as resource-grade, shall no longer be recognized as a legal citizen once transferred." The words landed like acid. Trevor didn’t move at first. He stared at the page like it was something alive and rotting. His blood was boiling—he could feel it behind his eyes, in his pulse, and in the edge of his breath that threatened to break. His purple eyes narrowed, slow and cold, burning holes through the parchment as if glaring hard enough might erase what was written. "No one tells anything about this to Lucas. Serathine looked at him. Her expression wasn’t soft—it was steel. "Agreed." Caelan stood now, for the first time since the conversation began. He walked around the desk slowly, as if the room itself might need reminding of who ruled it. "The only people that know about it are in this room," he said. "Not even Lucius or Sirius. And I have a strong suspicion—not even Christian knew." "No," Serathine said, turning toward the window, voice steady. "He didn’t." She rested one hand on the sill, the sunlight catching in her rings, but there was nothing soft in her posture. "I’ve met him before coming here. Christian found out about Faceless Agatha yesterday," she continued. "After meeting Lucas. He doesn’t know why Lucas reacted the way he did—they never met or spoke until then. He assumed Lucas was playing court politics, but he seemed genuinely disturbed about their meeting". Trevor didn’t look up from the closed file. "You trust him now?" "I didn’t say that," Serathine said dryly. "But he was sincere. And I’ve known Christian long enough to recognize sincerity in him. It doesn’t mean he won’t destroy something if he thinks it serves the Empire. But he’s not behind this." Caelan nodded once, slowly. "That narrows it." Trevor exhaled through his nose, the tension receding only slightly from his jaw. "And makes it worse. If Christian wasn’t part of this, then this contract was never meant to work through him. It was always a placeholder. The real endgame was Agatha." "And Misty knew it," Serathine added. She turned her head slightly, her gaze now fixed on the garden outside—untouched and blooming in curated symmetry. A lie of peace. Like Lucas had been. "She signed her own son to a fate worse than death." Her voice didn’t rise, but her hands gripped the window frame with force. "What do we do with her? Christian initiated a lawsuit for the version of the contract he found." Caelan didn’t move. Trevor’s tone was cold. "We watch her." Serathine turned back, eyes flaring. "She sold a child." "She sold an omega of imperial descent," Caelan corrected, voice like cut stone. "To someone we can’t find yet. With no binding clause for his safety." He paused. "She’s more evil than we imagined. At this point... is it even about money?" Trevor didn’t answer right away. "I have no earthly idea," Caelan said, his voice too calm for the rage behind it, "but we can find out." He leaned on his desk, arms crossed over his chest, the gold pin on his tie catching the sun like a blade that didn’t need to be drawn to be dangerous. "She has a daughter," he added. "And a fiancé." Serathine’s brows lifted. "You think they’re involved?" "I think people like Misty never act alone. They just like to pretend they do when things go wrong." Trevor closed the file with a thud that cut the air in half. "First, Lucas," he said. Caelan nodded slowly. "We officially announce that he is to be my fiancé," Trevor continued, standing tall now, his coat perfectly aligned, his voice sharper than before. "Let the court, D’Argente, and my house—Fitzgeralt—start negotiating." Serathine tilted her head slightly. "You want to provoke Agatha." "No," Trevor replied. "I want to expose them." He stepped away from the desk, gaze sharp, already calculating the ripple effects. "Whoever—or whatever—Agatha is, they’ll need Misty. They’ll need a foothold. Something they can exploit to justify clawing Lucas back." He paused. "According to the law, the contract is now void. Christian’s lawsuit and Serathine’s adoption erased its weight—but that doesn’t matter to people like Agatha. Legitimacy won’t stop them." "They’ll still try to get what they want," Serathine said. "Through pressure. Through loopholes. Through sympathy if they’re desperate enough." Trevor’s tone was ice. "They’ll use his ability to awaken dormant bloodlines." He turned back toward the desk, the folder still lying between them like a wound that hadn’t stopped bleeding. "What alpha at birth who never awakened wouldn’t want to use him?" he asked, voice razor-thin. "One touch. One bond. One engineered heat cycle—and suddenly they’re powerful. Recognized. Valuable." Serathine’s expression hardened. "He won’t be seen as a person. He’ll be seen as the shortcut they’ve been waiting for." Caelan’s voice was low. Measured. Unforgiving. "That’s why we seal the future before they weaponize the past." Trevor nodded. "We announce the engagement before the week is out. No delay. No leaks. It comes directly from the palace, with Fitzgeralt and D’Argente backing it. And we name it what it is—a formal political alliance between my House and the next heir." Serathine tilted her head slightly. "And Lucas?" "He’ll learn what he needs to know," Trevor said. "Nothing more. It’s time for someone to protect him from this hell."