151 Morning Tribunal 2
151 Morning Tribunal 2
Lucian
There was a bitterness in Darian’s voice now, something older and deeper than anything we were discussing.
I knew it had to do with Mara. I didn’t press.
Instead, I said simply, “I see where you’re going with this.”
Darian continued. “She left her first love because of money. Chose power over loyalty. If you want proof of the child she claims died, you’ll need to ask about the grave. If the story’s real, there’s a tombstone somewhere.” I stayed silent, letting his words settle.
Then I said, “Mara and I have another idea.”
He was quiet, listening now.
“We’ll go to Goldenpeak. Alone. We’ll find your grandparents–without telling your mother. If what she told us is true, they’ll confirm it. If there was ever a baby, there’ll be a grave. And if that man–Alaric–really loved her … there’ll be a marker for his child.”
“Why do you believe that?” Darian asked.
“Because love is the only reason a man would cling to a secret for twenty–three years,” I said. “Lambshed is massive. He doesn’t need her money. But if she betrayed him–if she abandoned him and his child–then this isn’t extortion. It’s revenge. He wants to ruin her peace and make her husband turn on her.”
Darian was quiet again. Processing
“You’re on to something, Lucian,” Darian agreed, his tone steadier now.
“If there really was a child between her and Alaric, there’ll be a grave. A tombstone. Something tangible,” I said, reinforcing the idea.
“I like it. We’ll stick to that plan,” he said. “I’ll stif up enough surface drama at breakfast to keep her and Father distracted. I don’t want to get into my personal life with them, and I know you don’t either.”
“Breakfast will be eventful, as always,” I muttered.
He chuckled. “Only this time, we’re the ones turning up the heat.”
I laughed softly with him, the rare sound briefly cutting through the tension that seemed permanently etched into my life lately.
Then I heard the soft, unmistakable cry of a baby in the background.
Emma.
Darian quickly excused himself to attend to his daughter and hung up.
The room fell quiet again, but my mind didn’t. Hearing Emma’s voice stirred something in me–something hollow and aching. Darian, who was six years younger than me, had stepped into fatherhood before I had. He got to hold his child, rock her, hear her cry dally. That single, fleeting moment when I heard Richard cry after birth it was all I had. One sharp, raw sound before silence and machines swallowed his world.
<151 Morning Tribunal 2
+ Poss
I prayed the hole in his diaphragm would close on its own like the specialist said. I clung to that hope because the idea of them opening my son’s tiny chest for surgery was too much. Three months. That’s how long it would take before I could visit him again. Until then, all I had were thoughts. Worries. Quiet fears about complications–about what else might surface because of Tina’s selfishness.
Forgiving her? That was a distant concept. I couldn’t even touch the idea without bitterness rising in my throat. She stole something from my son–his health, his strength. It would take years to even consider
forgiveness. If ever.
I dragged myself into the bathroom and stared at my reflection. My beard had grown in–messy, uneven, curling in places it shouldn’t. I used to keep it sharp, carved, disciplined. Now it just looked like a symbol of everything I’d let go of lately–routines, appointments, the small self–care rituals that had kept me grounded. First it was the drama with Tiffany. Then Richard. The days blurred together, and I hadn’t noticed how moch time had passed.
I brushed my teeth slowly, rinsed my face, then linked a staff member near the room.
“Please bring Mara a tuna sandwich and a warm glass of lemon water.”
“We’re out of tuna, Alpha,” the response came a moment later, “But we do have smoked salmon.”
Smoked salmon between toast? I wasn’t sure how that would taste, but at this point, I wasn’t about to argue.
“That’s fine.”
The sandwich arrived forty–five minutes later–just as Mara stirred awake. She shifted under the covers, blinking sleep from her eyes, her hair messy and her skin glowing with that soft, morning light. Completely naked, she quickly wrapped the sheet around herself when she realised the staff had walked in.
They placed the tray down and exited respectfully.
Mara made her way to the bathroom to brush her teeth–she was meticulous about it, never letting me kiss her before that. I had to respect the consistency.
She returned a few minutes later, her eyes clearer now. And then, without a word, she climbed onto the bed and straddled me, her sheet slipping slightly as she settled against my body.
I welcomed her with open arms, pulling her close and kissing her deeply. She tasted like mint and warmth and peace. Her moans were a balm–soft músic that soothed the ache in my chest. I kissed down her neck, my hands sliding up her back, grounding myself in her.
Finally, she leaned her forehead against mine and asked in that quiet, knowing voice, “How are you feeling
now?”
I smiled faintly. Her timing was always perfect–never too soon, never too late.
I looked into her eyes, filled with calm and strength, and answered honestly,
Tina is gone. Richard’s in good hands,” I said, brushing a loose strand of hair behind Mara’s ear. Honestly I’m relieved, I think we should have dinner with your folks soon–to thank your father His quick thinking made all the difference.”
She raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised. “Dinner with my parents? Voluntarily?”
I chuckled. “Yes. Miracles happen.
<151 Morning Tribunal 2
+ Pones S
She smirked. “And while we’re being generous, can we also make sure Dr Green’s licence gets suspended?”
I sighed and shook my head. “Not really. He wasn’t entirely negligent. He did say the hole might close on its own, and he informed your father too. There’s been enough sadness lately, Mara. I’d rather we focus on
healing.”
She studied me for a moment, then gave a soft, understanding smile. “So… we’re letting it go?”
I nodded. “Yeah. Let’s move on.”
“Hmm,” she hummed. “You’ve grown… wise.”
“Don’t get used to it,” I teased, and she laughed.
A pause fell between us, her gaze turning a little more mischievous. “Are we dodging breakfast?”
I hesitated for a heartbeat, then shook my head.
Her smile faded. “Lucian…”
“I know,” I murmured. “Believe me, I know. But there’s no way my father’s letting us skip it.”
She climbed out of bed, grabbing the sheet to wrap around herself. “You know it won’t be pleasant, right?” “I’m ready,” I said simply. “As long as no one takes a jab at you, I can handle whatever else comes.” That made her smile again, the edge of tension melting from her shoulders.
She reached for the tray and picked up the sandwich. I stayed quiet, curious to see how she’d react. One bite later, her expression did all the talking. She winced and slowly lowered it back onto the tray.
“This salmon is salty,” she muttered, washing it down with a gulp of grape juice.
I cringed a little. “Sorry, darling. They didn’t have tuna. I thought you’d be hungry before nine.”
“The juice will do just fine,” she said with a smirk. “We’ll survive.”
She stepped closer to where I was sitting on the edge of the bed. I wrapped my arms around her waist and leaned in, placing a gentle kiss on her belly.
“I can’t wait to meet our child,” I whispered.
She giggled, then bent down to kiss me softly.
That was all the permission I needed.
I pulled her back into bed, wrapping her in the warmth of the moment, sealing her laughter with kisses.
No matter what breakfast held–judgment, tension, old ghosts–I knew I could face it
Because she was mine.
And for the first time in a long time, I had everything i truly wanted right here in my arms.
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