[BL]Reborn as the Empire's Most Desired Omega Chapter 78: Inheritance, Lemon Cake, and Quiet Power

"I want to know," he said. "Why you never ntioned Dax. Not even once. Not even to warn ."

Trevor didn’t move.

Lucas continued, softer now, but colder too. "You had every chance. Even after I proposed. Even after I stayed."

His fingers curled lightly against the wood.

"I understand tactics. I understand urgency. But this—this felt like omission, not protection. And you, of all people, know how I respond to manipulation."

Trevor exhaled slowly. His expression didn’t change, but sothing behind it settled—more focused now, as if he’d been expecting this mont.

"I wasn’t hiding it from you," he said. "I just didn’t think about it."

Lucas didn’t look away. "That’s not better."

"No. It’s not," Trevor said. "What I told you about him is true—Dax is who he is. And he’ll show his face soon enough. You’ll et him."

Lucas’s expression didn’t shift. Not exactly. But sothing in the air tightened, like instinct bracing against history.

"I don’t like being handled," he said eventually.

Trevor’s voice was soft but firm. "I see. I’m sorry."

A pause.

"It might take a while to rember to say everything up front," he admitted, "but if I ever forget—just ask. I’ll always tell you what you want to know."

Lucas studied him for a long second. Then—finally—he nodded.

—

The terrace overlooked the back of the Fitzgeralt estate—an expanse of curated wilderness designed to look untad. Beyond the marble railing, tall evergreens edged into the forest, and further still, a haze of silvered light flickered where the lake t the hills. A single estate drone hovered near the treetops, humming faintly, its wings catching the sun.

Lucas sat beneath a wide awning draped with light-filtering fabric, legs tucked beneath him on a cushioned chair, the collar of his linen shirt open and unapologetically wrinkled. The espresso cup beside his plate had long since gone cold, and his untouched food sat arranged like a diplomatic offering he didn’t trust yet.

Trevor, across from him, had abandoned his suit jacket sowhere inside. His sleeves were rolled, wristwatch still gleaming, and his tie was looped loose around his neck like even he hadn’t expected to be off-duty. His tablet was turned off, resting screen-down near the bread basket.

Windstone stood just beyond the stone-columned archway, hands behind his back, posture perfectly still, waiting for them to call him.

It was a beautiful afternoon.

Lucas stabbed another olive and exiled it to the side of his plate. "What did the Grand Duke do before Serathine dragged him to the D’Argente estate?"

Trevor, calmly spreading butter over a slice of bread, didn’t pause. "I ran the estate. Oversaw infrastructure, managed land agreents, and handled the title’s responsibilities".

"That’s not a real answer," Lucas said.

"I also completed my military commission remotely," Trevor added. "Logistics and intel division. I passed the academy exams while sorting inheritance disputes and convincing the local council not to shut down our shipping contracts."

Lucas raised a brow. "Multitasking aristocracy. Impressive."

Trevor’s expression didn’t change. "The job was supposed to be soone else’s."

Windstone stepped forward to collect an empty plate, voice as even as ever. "His brothers and mother left when the title transferred. Said they weren’t interested in ’generational chains.’"

Lucas tilted his head, brows knitting slightly. "So they ran? No fight for the inheritance? No scandal over the title?"

Trevor took a slow sip of water before answering. "No public scandal. Just a series of very formal signatures, so ergency flights, and one exceptionally long silence."

Windstone added, "His mother sent a handwritten note. It said, and I quote, ’You’ll do fine. Don’t call.’"

Lucas blinked. "That’s it?"

"She attached a recipe for lemon cake," Trevor said dryly. "She and the other two never wanted to be here. They excused their abandonnt with the fact that I was a dominant and the rightful heir."

He didn’t look angry. He didn’t even sound resentful. He was just being factual, as if he’d said it a hundred tis before and had stopped expecting it to sound personal.

"They still get paychecks," he added. "Part of the separation agreent. I fund their freedom."

Windstone, rearranging the tray with exact precision, added without looking up, "And their housing, their healthcare, and their quarterly offshore audits."

Lucas stared. "So you’re paying them to disappear."

"They made it easy," Trevor said.

Lucas leaned back slowly in his chair, watching Trevor—not like soone gathering gossip, but like soone trying to understand where the fracture lines were buried.

"I’m starting to think I married a very dangerous man."

Trevor t his gaze without blinking, then shrugged with maddening calm, his watch catching sunlight like it had its own opinion. "But you knew that."

"I did. But it’s different when there’s in the equation," Lucas said, sinking a little deeper into his chair.

"You don’t have to fear ," Trevor replied, voice low but steady. "You’re the only one who can do anything you want, and I’ll follow."

Lucas tilted his head, lips curling. "That sounds like a vow."

"It is."

Lucas chuckled, dry and quiet. "So... anything else I should know now that we’re married?"

Trevor leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on the table as the sunlight filtered over the terrace floor. "I snore when I’m overtired; I hate pistachios; I keep ergency files in a locked drawer under the third floor stairwell, and I’ve already inford the staff to report to you, not , when we’re ho."

Lucas blinked. "You what?"

"You’re more terrifying," Windstone chid in flatly, appearing with clinical timing at Trevor’s side. "Also more persuasive. They voted."

Lucas stared. "I ca yesterday night. I’ve been here for less than a day."

Windstone nodded. "And yet here we are."

Trevor took the tablet from Windstone and offered it to Lucas like a peace treaty. "In your defense, you didn’t campaign for it."

"I didn’t know there was a campaign," Lucas muttered, taking the tablet anyway.

"There wasn’t," Windstone said. "It was unanimous."

Lucas scrolled through the list, brow furrowing. "Why are there three separate entries for ’manage the Duke’s calendar’ with my na next to them?"

"Delegation," Trevor said smoothly.

"Cowardice," Windstone corrected.

"Cowardice from who?" Lucas asked, not even looking up from the tablet. "This alpha doesn’t fit the description."

Trevor arched a brow, but his mouth twitched like he was suppressing a smile. "Is that a challenge? I do have people I don’t want to et—especially after a flash wedding."

Lucas finally looked up, eyes narrowing slightly. "If I scared you off, you had two hours and one very large balcony to escape from."

Trevor folded his arms. "I don’t run from things. I... reprioritize them."

Windstone, bone-dry: "And by reprioritize, he ans pretend they don’t exist until soone emails twice."

Trevor ignored him. "Anyway, I’m not avoiding the consequences. I’m simply choosing the order in which I face them."

Lucas smirked, dangerous and unhurried. "And what order am I in?"

"You’re already at the top of the list."

"Good answer," Lucas said, tapping the screen once. "Try to keep it that way."

Windstone stepped aside as they reached the entrance hall. "Please keep the dominance gas indoors. The security system logs everything now, including sarcasm."

"I hope it grades," Lucas muttered.

Trevor pulled open the main doors leading into the eastern corridor. "Co on. Ti to see what you own."

Lucas followed, tucking the tablet under one arm. "Hopefully sothing with a fireplace. I have complaints to burn."