Chapter 413: Chapter 413

The next morning came softly, filtered through the pale curtains of the hospital suite. The air was still cool from the night, carrying that faint, clean scent of antiseptic and freshly laundered linen. Machines hummed quietly in the background.

Lucas stirred, his eyes opening slowly against the light. For a few seconds, the world felt distant, muffled by the lingering fog of anesthesia. His mind pieced together fragments: the sterile brightness of the operating room, the quiet voices, and the sudden cry that had cut through everything and changed it all.

He exhaled, the motion tight across his abdomen. There was soreness, dull but deep, a reminder of the incision beneath the bandages. His hand shifted, brushing against the blanket, searching almost unconsciously until it found another hand waiting for it.

He was there in the chair beside the bed, suit jacket gone, shirt sleeves rolled up, looking like a man who hadn’t blinked in twelve hours. His hair was slightly disheveled, and the faint bruise of sleeplessness sat beneath his eyes, but his expression, when Lucas turned toward him, was calm.

"You’re awake," Trevor said quietly, as if the words themselves might startle him back to sleep.

Lucas’s voice came out hoarse. "Apparently." His lips curved faintly. "Did I miss anything?"

Trevor stood, brushing his hand lightly along Lucas’s hair. "Only the part where you terrified me for forty minutes and then immediately started lecturing the anesthesiologist about temperature control."

Lucas blinked once, then let out a soft laugh. "That sounds like me."

"It was." Trevor’s mouth curved, though his voice softened. "The surgery went perfectly. Dr. Marin said your recovery is on track. You’ll stay under observation for two days."

Lucas’s eyes flicked toward the bassinet near the far corner of the room, half-shielded by the curtain. "And him?"

Trevor followed his gaze, and something in his posture changed, something subtle and raw, the shift made every line of him gentler. "He’s perfect," he said. "Smaller than I expected. But loud."

Lucas’s smile deepened. "He takes after you, then."

Trevor let the remark pass, crossing the short distance to the bassinet. He reached down carefully, as though the world itself had turned fragile, and lifted the small bundle of pale fabric into his arms. The baby was swaddled tightly, a faint tuft of dark hair visible against the white blanket, his small face relaxed in the easy peace of newborn sleep.

Trevor turned back toward the bed, his every movement careful not to wake up the child. Lucas watched in silence as he came closer, the sight of him, this man who commanded armies, cradling something so small it barely filled his forearm.

"Careful," Lucas murmured. "He’s barely the size of your forearm and already owns you."

Trevor’s gaze flicked down to the sleeping child, a soft, disbelieving smile touching his mouth. "He already owns both of us."

He sat carefully on the edge of the bed, helping Lucas shift slightly so he could see. The baby’s face was calm, expressionless in that new, perfect way. Lucas reached out, his fingers brushing lightly over the blanket, tracing the faint rise and fall of the tiny chest.

"Dr. Marin said he’s healthy," Trevor said quietly. "But they’re keeping him for monitoring today; it’s routine, nothing unusual. His oxygen levels were a little low at first, but they’re stabilizing now."

Lucas nodded slowly, eyes still on the baby. "Good." He swallowed once, the emotion catching unexpectedly in his throat. "He’s real."

Trevor’s hand covered his, steady and warm. "He is."

They stayed like that for a long moment, quiet, suspended in that small, perfect bubble of peace. The baby made a faint noise, more sigh than cry, shifting just enough for his nose to wrinkle. Trevor adjusted his hold instinctively, and Lucas caught himself smiling.

"You’re good at that," he murmured.

"I’ve had twelve hours of practice," Trevor replied softly. "You were asleep for most of it."

Lucas’s voice dropped. "You didn’t sleep?"

Lucas turned his head just enough to meet his eyes. "You’re going to make the nurses nervous if you keep glaring at the monitors all night."

Trevor’s lips twitched. "They’ll survive."

"I’d rather you didn’t," Lucas said, the faintest smile returning to his mouth.

Trevor leaned in slightly, brushing his lips against his forehead. "I’ll rest when you both do."

Lucas exhaled, the sound more fond than exasperated. "Unionized, my ass."

Before Trevor could respond, a soft knock came at the door. A nurse peeked in, followed by the unmistakable rustle of designer coats and the distinct cadence of Cressida’s voice in the hallway.

"Ah," Lucas murmured, half amused, half resigned. "The cavalry."

Trevor adjusted the baby in his arms as Serathine entered first, her expression a mix of poised composure and unmistakable relief. Behind her came Cressida, elegant as always, and Mia, who looked seconds away from running over.

"Well," Cressida said, her eyes sweeping over the scene. "He’s beautiful."

"Of course he is," Serathine added, stepping closer to the bed. "He looks like Lucas."

Mia grinned. "Poor kid, doomed to grow up surrounded by perfection."

Trevor’s arm shifted subtly, a protective motion so instinctive it made Lucas smile. "He’ll survive it," Trevor said dryly, though the corner of his mouth softened when the baby stirred. "He’s already resilient."

"Resilient," Mia repeated, stepping closer with the reverence of someone seeing something holy, and tiny, for the first time. "He’s the size of a loaf of bread, Trevor."

"A very determined loaf," Lucas murmured.

Serathine gave him a look of quiet affection. "You’re both looking well," she said, her gaze sweeping over the monitors before landing back on Lucas. "You scared half the family yesterday."

"Half?" Lucas arched a brow. "I was aiming for the full set."

That earned him a quiet laugh from her, though she didn’t bother hiding the relief in her eyes. Cressida, meanwhile, had taken her place by the window, sunlight cutting across the pearls at her throat. "He looks like you," she said again, this time with a gentler tone of approval, even pride. "But his hair and frowns resemble Trevor."

Trevor glanced up from where he was studying the baby, the faintest smile tugging at his lips. "That’s called good breeding."

Mia snorted. "That’s called bad temperament."

Lucas sighed, though the warmth in his eyes betrayed him. "If this is how you’re all going to talk around him, he’ll start rolling his eyes before he can walk."

Cressida’s lips curved. "At least he’ll know what he was born into."

The baby made a small sound, shifting in Trevor’s arms, and Serathine reached out, brushing one gloved hand along the edge of the blanket.

"He really is beautiful," she said quietly. "Strong, too. You can tell already."

Lucas met her gaze, something unspoken passing between them. Gratitude, maybe. Or just the quiet recognition of how far they’d all come to reach this point.

Trevor glanced down at the tiny face again, studying it like a puzzle he’d never quite expected to solve. "She’s right," he murmured. "He’s strong." ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴀɴᴛ ᴛᴏ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀs, ᴘʟᴇᴀsᴇ ᴠɪsɪᴛ ɴovelfire.net

Lucas tilted his head, his voice barely above a whisper. "We’ll have to name him before the entire staff starts taking bets."

That earned him a low hum of agreement, and Cressida’s expression sharpened in quiet anticipation, clearly prepared to debate family names and lineages right there on the spot.

"Later," Trevor said preemptively, his tone brooking no argument. "When Lucas is rested."

Mia grinned, retreating a step. "Translation: you’ve both been up all night and the Duke doesn’t want to lose another argument before lunch."

Serathine smiled faintly. "Come, let’s give them some quiet."

Cressida hesitated only long enough to brush a hand along Lucas’s arm before following her out.

The door shut softly behind them, and for a moment, the world narrowed again to the steady beep of the monitor and the rhythmic sound of their child’s breathing.

Lucas sank back against the pillows, watching Trevor cradle the baby, still looking at him like he couldn’t quite believe he was real. "You’re thinking too much," he said softly.

"I’m thinking," Trevor replied, his voice low, "that I don’t remember what the world was like before this."

Lucas smiled, eyes growing heavy again. "Louder," he murmured. "And lonelier."

Trevor shifted closer, brushing his thumb along Lucas’s hand. "Sleep," he said quietly. "We’re not going anywhere."

Lucas’s breathing evened out within minutes, exhaustion and relief finally winning over. Trevor sat there long after, the morning light spreading slowly across the room, pale and new.

When the baby stirred, his small fingers curling around the edge of Trevor’s shirt, he looked down, something fierce and quiet settling in his chest.

"Welcome home," he murmured.

The baby sighed in his sleep, as if he’d already known.