CHAPTER 581: ACCUSATIONS IN THE OPEN

In all fairness to Luca, he had not expected things to get this hectic and tense.

The little heir sat at the foot of his father’s bed, his expression apologetic as he glanced toward the other hospital beds in the shared ward, where about nine other people lay in various states of indignity.

The medical bay was rarely used like this. Normally, injuries were treated with medical tanks or quick-draw healing wands. But today, the ward was hosting what could only be described as a mass time-out.

First, there was Chief of Staff Killian Nox, who appeared to have decided to remain unconscious until the world sorted itself out.

Next was Jax, who nearly needed to be restrained after refusing to rest. He kept insisting he had to get back to the barns to check on the animals in labor, despite already wobbling like a drunk toddler.

Then came Master Quinn, whose competitive streak had apparently overridden his survival instinct. Ollie swore the man had been "possessed by the spirit of competition" and had nearly triggered a spiritual breakthrough without proper preparation.

The rest of the beds were filled by a few unfortunate staff members, Steward Han, Butler Gary, the Duke himself, and—most surprisingly—Luca’s husband. All of them wore different expressions that, if taken out of context, could easily convince a passerby they had just been in a brawl.

Only they had.

But shockingly, not with each other.

"Papa, what happened?" Luca finally asked, noting that none of them appeared physically injured.

"Ah, my son! It is really nothing! Do not concern yourself with us, it was just a misunderstanding," the Duke declared with a forced smile. Around him, the other faces in the room soured again like milk left out in the sun.

Because how could they possibly tell their precious heir what had happened at the military headquarters?

How could they tell him that while he had been working tirelessly for the Empire and its people, certain maggots had started crawling out to smear his name?

Many had stayed inside the dungeon space, but there were always a few whose work required them to go outside for negotiations. Unfortunately, they were also the first to catch the stench of the budding scandal.

Cheating. A Paramour. And an abandoned child.

When Duke Leander Kyros first heard the rumors, he almost fainted on the spot from sheer rage.

Because the first public one happened right outside the Military Headquarters.

Xavier was the first out, his steps steady and expression unreadable as he descended the hovercraft ramp. The Duke followed, already rehearsing the polite greeting he’d give the Marshal when it happened.

A man burst from the gathered crowd like a rabid beast breaking its leash.

Leander’s first instinct was to vaporize him. Unfortunately, the setting was "civilized society," so that was frowned upon.

The stranger lunged at Xavier.

Xavier, that wolf, at least possessed the right reflexes and shifted aside with effortless precision, letting the man stumble past without even brushing his sleeve. The movement was so calm, so deliberate, it made the outburst that followed feel even more jarring.

"You!" the man shouted, spinning back toward them. His voice cracked under the weight of grief and rage. "How dare you stand here like nothing happened? How dare you parade around with him—" he jabbed a finger toward the Duke, then toward the absent figure of Luca, "—when your hideous partner destroyed my sister’s life?"

Murmurs rippled through the bystanders, and Leander’s heart rate spiked so hard he thought he might need a defibrillator.

"My sister loved him!" the man cried, his voice rising until it was almost a wail. "She bore him a child. His child. And he abandoned her. Left her to die while everyone whispered about her shame!"

Oh, absolutely not.

Leander felt the world narrow to a thin, hot line of fury that Butler, Gary, and steward Han actually had to restrain him from flying off the handle.

Because this was a show.

And soldiers hurting civilians would have been a bigger and highly welcomed outcome by whoever orchestrated this.

The man’s chest heaved as he went on, the words spilling over themselves in broken outrage. "We searched everywhere for the boy, but we couldn’t find him. We couldn’t even bury her with her child because he’s gone!" His voice cracked again. "You think I’ll let that go? You think I’ll let him live like nothing happened while my sister rotted alone?"

The Duke’s hands curled into fists at his sides.

It was gutting.

Because this wasn’t just rumor-mongering. It was a performance of grief designed to sound undeniable. And by the timeline they were weaving, the accusation fell squarely before Luca had entered the Academy... back when he was labeled a philanderer, when stories of his charm and careless liaisons had spread like wildfire.

They couldn’t touch his current reputation. So they had dragged a ghost from the past and draped it in tragedy.

Leander’s teeth clenched. He wasn’t sure what angered him more—that someone dared accuse his son of such a thing, or that Xavier, who now stood silent before the man, might even for a second believe it could be true.

Duke Leander had been ready—primed—to wade in and drag Xavier out of this mess by the collar if necessary. Because there was no way he could face his son if he let this boy get brainwashed under his very own watch. And while he was aware that Xavier knew about Luca’s real past, a public farce like this wasn’t something most youngsters would be able to handle.

But the man... oh, the man wasn’t done.

The wailing shifted. It wasn’t raw grief anymore—it was something slimy, calculating. His voice dropped just enough to sound conspiratorial but stayed loud enough to carry over the gathered onlookers.

"You... you’re not like him," the man said, stepping closer. "I can see it in your face. You didn’t know."

Leander almost choked. Xavier’s face was a mask of pure expressionlessness. The only thing you could read from it was that the man in front of him was still alive purely because Xavier hadn’t yet decided what to do with him.

But the fool took it as encouragement.

"It’s not your fault," the man pressed on, voice trembling like some noble crusader for the truth. "People like him... they drag you down with them. But you still have a chance to walk away clean. To be free. You should know everything he’s done before it’s too late. Before you end up like my sister."

Leander could feel his blood pressure spike.

And then the man raised his voice again, making sure everyone in the crowd could hear the next line. "Back in Halvex Prime, I’m sure there are others he’s had relations with. Victims, just like her."

Halvex Prime?

Xavier didn’t even twitch. Didn’t move a muscle. Which, in Leander’s already panicked mind, could only mean one thing: this bastard was getting to him.

The man seemed to think so too, his chest puffing with the smug confidence of a predator who thought his prey had stopped running.

Leander’s every instinct screamed to step in—now. To pull Xavier to safety before this scum actually started weaving poison into him. He was two seconds away from grabbing his arm when Xavier finally spoke.

"Who allowed you in?"

The calm, even tone made the words land like a blade’s edge.

Xavier’s gaze swept the crowd. "Unless you are a member of the military, all guests are required to display their clearance badges. So who allowed you in?"

The air went taut. A ripple of stunned silence spread.

The man’s bravado faltered, sweat breaking along his hairline.

From the back, a voice cut in. "I did."

Leander’s head snapped toward it, his hackles rising instantly. He knew that man. A snake in uniform. And he was already rehearsing exactly how much blood the court-martial would squeeze out of him.

But Xavier moved first.

He peeled off one glove with a sharp snap, the movement smooth and deliberate, before flicking it so it struck the so-called military "benefactor" square in the chest.

"It’ll be a waste of resources to have you court-martialed," Xavier said coolly. "Better to deal with it like this."

The orchestrator opened his mouth, clearly ready to scoff at Xavier’s arrogance—

A cadet challenging an active officer? Hah!

But then Xavier’s gaze slid back to the original wailing man, and the change in atmosphere was instantaneous. The temperature seemed to drop, the air thick with the kind of killing intent that made the hair on Leander’s arms stand up.

"Next time," Xavier said, his voice low and deliberate, "when you invent a planet, pick one that at least has open airspace for travel."

The man’s face drained of color.

For a moment, Leander just stood there, frozen mid-thought like someone had hit pause on his brain.

Did Xavier...?

Did he just...?

The words hung in the air, cold and sharp, and Leander’s mind took its sweet time catching up. First came the confusion. Then the dawning realization. Then the mental image of the wailing fool choking on his own tongue.

And then—oh. Oh.

By the time it all registered, the Duke had coughed thrice to control his savage satisfaction and urge to wrap this wolfish son-in-law in a blanket and smuggle him home.