Chapter 46: The List of Deviations

Chapter 46: Chapter 46: The List of Deviations The Baye manor’s gardens looked too perfect from this height. Lucas sat at the small table by the window, elbows propped neatly, spine perfectly straight—as if posture could make order out of chaos. Outside, the gardens gleamed beneath the late light, arranged in precise symmetry. Nothing about them was natural. His tea had gone cold. Again. He hadn’t touched the agenda in the last ten minutes. The leather cover sat open, a thin pen slotted into the crease, hovering between pages. On the left-hand sheet, his own handwriting stared back at him. List of Deviations Lucas Oz Kilmar becomes Lucas Oz D’Argente - future duke. Serathine is my guardian - Misty banned from seeing me ever again after the GalaTrevor Ariston Fitzgeralt — Grand Duke of the North.Who sent the info about me being his son to the Emperor? The last line wasn’t underlined. He’d rewritten it twice already, and still it didn’t look right. Too vague. It hadn’t happened in his past life—not like this. Misty had spent years hiding what he was. The registry had been tampered with, sealed shut. Lucas hadn’t even known the truth until it was too late to matter. But now? Now Serathine had announced him as her heir—and not just to the Capital. The Baye Gala had made it official. Lucas Oz D’Argente, ward of the Duchess. An heir with land, name, and blood that mattered. But she hadn’t stopped there. She had also confirmed the interest of the North—an alliance between House D’Argente and House Fitzgeralt, through engagement. Through him. Even more, Trevor wanted to take part in it. Lucas had watched the moment it shifted. At first, Trevor had stood beside him like a shield on command—Serathine’s tool, honest in his displeasure and petty to those who forced him into it. But something had changed. The way Trevor looked at him now wasn’t just protective. It wasn’t like an alpha wanting an omega; it didn’t set off his instincts or make him react. And Lucas had accepted the help. Because even with Serathine’s name behind him, even with legal protection, even with eyes watching from all sides, he knew. He knew Christian wasn’t finished. And more importantly—he knew the second buyer wouldn’t be, either. They had paid for something. Someone. And people like that didn’t let things go just because the paperwork changed. They would want their investment returned. Or replaced. And they wouldn’t come through the front door. Someone had told Serathine and the Emperor. Someone who knew exactly what they were doing. Lucas drew a line under the question at last, then tapped the pen against the paper with silent rhythm. ’Why now? Why in this life?’ It couldn’t have been Misty. She would have sold him, not crowned him. ’So who?’ There weren’t many options. The imperial registry was sealed, and the medical records were erased or buried. That left only two viable sources: someone in the palace... or someone who had seen the contract. His gaze drifted toward the window again, unfocused now. The manicured gardens below glowed beneath the estate’s discreet lighting—rows of rose trees, cut into geometric precision, backlit by soft golden fixtures. Not a single petal out of place. Lucas’s fingers hovered over the open page of the agenda. His laptop rested beside it, screen black, the time reflecting faintly in the glass. He hadn’t moved in minutes. He wasn’t thinking about the gardens anymore. He was thinking about the Temple. In this life, Serathine had come for him on the first day. No warning. Just her voice at the edge of the incense hall, crisp and undeniable, speaking his name like it already belonged to her. He barely understood what was happening—still seated on the woven mat in front of the offering altar, fingers marked with ash and jasmine, lost in the quiet rhythm of breath and ritual. And it was in that moment, standing under the Temple’s carved archway with the scent of sandalwood clinging to his clothes, that he realized: This was his second life. But in the past life, things were different. He had stayed in the Temple for seven days—not out of reverence, but for space. A breath. A loophole. The only time Misty and Ophelia weren’t allowed to follow him. He had used tradition as a shield, hidden behind incense and quiet halls while pretending he needed longer to "reflect." And they, back then... they were different, too. Lucas leaned back in his chair, fingers spinning the pen between them absently. The gardens outside blurred as he narrowed his eyes, trying to summon the details. After the ceremony—after it became official—they didn’t celebrate. They closed in. Misty smiled for the camera, of course. Posted something about growth, legacy, and pride. But behind closed doors, they stripped his access down to a skeleton. His study time was supervised. His clothing options were filtered. They fired three of his private tutors without warning—one for calling him "independent" and another for suggesting he apply to a university outside the capital. He hadn’t even known about the third until weeks later. Lucas smiled as he found a starting point for understanding what had changed and why. He questioned whether the god truly had mercy on his destiny. No. There was something else, and he would like to find out what. And now, it was time to start asking questions. There were three names: Isabela Wright — 35, beta, sharp-minded, with soft-spoken instincts Lucas had once trusted. Tom Walton — 43, methodical, patient, black-eyed, always one step behind Misty’s mood shifts. Steve Kelly — 50, ash-brown hair, pale green eyes. The one who left crying. He wrote their names in the agenda, one after another, under the heading: People Removed Private tutors dismissed after Temple return Was it because they noticed? Or because they knew? Lucas tapped the pen once, then underlined Steve’s name. Someone had silenced them. Or maybe they just moved them out of the way before they could say too much. Lucas stared at Steve’s name for a long time. The man had been kind. Not overly affectionate, not foolishly protective. Just... kind. He never corrected Lucas when he asked too many questions. Never flinched when Misty’s tone shifted in the hallway. Never looked at him like something fragile. He had also never come back.