CHAPTER 298: CHAPTER 298: BY MORNING

By morning, whispers had already begun.

The spider’s den had cracked from within, the story spreading through neat reports and urgent letters: a failed trial, a collapse in the middle of her own lab, and a body that survived but could no longer stand.

Vivienne, once poised in silk and sharp smiles, was carried out on a stretcher, her scent acrid and fouled beyond recognition. Staff spoke in hushed tones of the scream that never fully left her throat, of the way her spine bent at the wrong angle. No one dared call her "dominant" anymore. Not after seeing her crumpled like that.

The papers already had their headlines. Leaked documents stamped with Trevor’s seal slid quietly into the right hands overnight: audits, records, and the proof of every fabricated credential and every misused fund. It didn’t matter whether the public believed her accident was arrogance or carelessness; the result was the same. She was finished.

Sponsors withdrew within hours. Boards convened emergency sessions. Every door she had forced open slammed shut.

For the nobility, it was a spectacle. For the families of the omegas she had preyed upon, it was vindication. For Vivienne herself, lying in a hospital bed with her body refusing to obey and her empire turned to ash, it was humiliation crafted so precisely that only one name came to her lips when she finally broke down.

Trevor.

—

The smell of coffee clung to the morning air, bitter and warm, cutting through the faint cedar that still lingered in the sheets upstairs. Lucas sat at the long breakfast table, robe loosely tied, a half-buttered roll abandoned on his plate as his eyes skimmed the headlines.

Spider Queen Falls.

Vivienne Exposed.

Dominant Omega No More.

Each line was sharper than the next, the ink pressed deep into the page as though the printers themselves had relished it. The photographs were worse, grainy shots of a stretcher, a pale hand slipping limp from its side, guards shooing away the curious.

Lucas’s lips curved faintly, a smile that was not quite kind. He sipped his coffee, eyes flicking to the finer print where Trevor’s seal glinted in the corner of a reproduced document. Audits. Funding trails. Medical records. Enough to bury anyone. Enough to make the collapse inevitable.

"Reading before eating again," Trevor’s voice murmured from the doorway. His hair was still damp from the bath, his suit jacket draped casually over one arm.

Lucas didn’t look up, though the corner of his mouth twitched. "You could’ve left her to rot quietly. But no, you had to make a show of it."

Trevor moved closer, the steady sound of polished shoes against marble, until the chair beside Lucas scraped softly back. He sat, pouring himself coffee without a word. His cufflinks caught the light as he set the cup down, neat as always.

"She made herself the show," he said at last. "I only cut the curtain."

Lucas’s smile sharpened. He folded the paper neatly, sliding it aside as though the matter were already done. "You did more than that. You gave the wolves a feast. They’ll tear each other apart trying to avoid being the next Vivienne."

Trevor leaned back slightly, eyes on him over the rim of his cup. "Good. Fear keeps the pack in line."

Lucas hummed, low in his throat, and finally picked up his abandoned roll. "And you always did enjoy keeping your hands clean while the rest of the world dirtied theirs."

Trevor’s mouth curved faintly, but he didn’t deny it.

Lucas tore a piece of bread and rolled it absently between his fingers before bringing it to his mouth, chewing with exaggerated thoughtfulness. His eyes flicked once more to the folded paper on the table, then back to Trevor. "So," he said at last, voice dry as dust, "am I supposed to thank you for terrifying half the capital before breakfast?"

Trevor didn’t miss a beat. He reached for the coffee pot, poured with a steady hand, and said, "You can thank me later. Tonight, perhaps."

Lucas stilled, halfway through another sip. His brows arched, suspicion immediately sharpening his expression. "Tonight?"

Trevor settled back into his chair, crossing one leg over the other, the line of his suit immaculate even in such a casual gesture. "Dinner. Outside the manor."

Lucas set his cup down carefully, as though Trevor had just suggested high treason. "Outside? With people? And don’t tell me you mean one of those suffocating noble clubs where everyone spends three hours pretending the food is edible."

"No."

"Then..." Lucas tilted his head, eyes narrowing in mock calculation. "Fast food?"

Trevor’s lips curved faintly, though he didn’t look away from his coffee. "No."

Lucas gave a low laugh, leaning back in his chair and tugging the robe a little tighter around his shoulders. "Then what’s the point? The only thing worth leaving the manor for at this hour is greasy fries."

Trevor finally looked up, meeting his gaze with that same steady weight that never quite allowed Lucas to win, no matter how sharp his tongue. "The point is you. And us. Away from here, even if just for a few hours."

The words slid under Lucas’s skin before he could deflect them. He shifted, reaching for his roll again, using the small movement to mask the quick flutter in his chest. His voice came lighter than he felt. "And is it safe? You do remember Benedict is still out there breathing, don’t you?"

Trevor didn’t flinch. He leaned forward, resting his forearms against the table, cufflinks gleaming where the sunlight caught them. His voice was low, unshaken. "It will always be safe with me."

At last, Lucas huffed, reaching for his cup again if only to break the stillness. A faint, reluctant smile tugged at his lips. "You’d better be right. Because if this ends with me dodging knives in an alley, you’re going to let me have my fast food for a week."

Trevor’s smile widened, slow and deliberate, as if he had been waiting for the concession. "Deal."

Lucas snorted softly, sipping his coffee with deliberate nonchalance, but the warmth in his eyes betrayed him.