David didn't move for a moment.
Then he lowered the folder to the table and slid it toward Lucas.
"I confirmed their current locations, employment status, and the terms of their dismissal."
Lucas flipped the folder open without hesitation. The pages were crisp, printed on thick paper, and clipped together in three sections. One for each name.
David continued, tone even.
"Isabela Wright. Thirty-five. Beta. No known political ties. She left her last teaching post a month ago—the same week you were officially transferred to D'Argente. She's taken no new contracts since. No public statements, no private complaints. Lives alone."
Lucas skimmed her file, eyes moving quickly.
"She used to bring me pressed tea leaves," he said quietly. "Said they helped focus."
"She now works as a freelance academic editor," David said. "Mostly textbook material. Keeps to herself. No direct communication with your mother after the dismissal."
Lucas nodded once. "Next?"
David flipped the page.
"Tom Walton. Forty-three. Beta. Relocated to the outer provinces shortly after his termination. He applied for a research grant at the University of Westfield but never followed through. He lives in a rented flat. No professional activity since."
"Still methodical," Lucas murmured. "He used to build mock exams like he was training me for war."
Serathine raised an eyebrow. "He probably was."
Lucas didn't deny it.
David moved to the final page. Slid it forward with more care than the others.
"Steve Kelly. Fifty. Omega. Lives in the city, near the eastern district. Teaches part-time at a community learning center. No formal contract. No digital footprint beyond public service records."
Trevor glanced at Lucas. "That's the one you said cried?"
Lucas nodded, gaze still on the page.
"He didn't say anything. Just packed his things and left. I was in the hallway. I wasn't supposed to be."
David folded his hands. "He has no history of political involvement. No public commentary. But his departure was flagged internally."
Lucas looked up. "Flagged by whom?"
David hesitated. "It didn't come from the household staff. The request to remove him came from an external office—filed under Misty Kilmer's personal authorization. No intermediary."
"So she did it directly," Trevor said.
"No paper trail?" Serathine asked.
"None that would hold," David replied. "But I still have access to a few places."
Lucas turned the folder back toward him, eyes scanning the final lines of Steve's file.
"He was the only one who ever called me by my full name," he said. "Not 'Mr. Kilmer.' Just Lucas."
Silence settled over the table.
Serathine leaned back in her chair. "Do you want to see them?"
Lucas didn't answer immediately.
"Yes. I think I do." He said while setting his cutlery with care.
Trevor tilted his head. "All of them?"
"If they're willing."
David gave a small nod. "I'll arrange discreet meetings. Staggered. No official correspondence."
Lucas closed the folder. "Make it soon. Before Misty realizes I remember them."
—
The library wing Serathine had designated for the meeting was empty, quiet, and far enough from the main household that most staff didn't wander past it. The walls were paneled in dark wood, the windows narrow and tall. One of them was cracked open for air.
Lucas stepped inside first, posture calm, gaze flicking once across the room before moving toward the seats that had been arranged near the fireplace.
A second set of footsteps followed behind him.
He didn't turn, but sighed—dramatically—before looking over his shoulder.
Trevor stood in the doorway like he had every right to be there. He was dressed in his usual style—impossibly relaxed for someone with power in his signature. Dark shirt open at the collar, a soft gold chain catching the light where it rested against his collarbone. Dark trousers. Black shoes. The only color in the entire ensemble was the chain, the belt buckle, and his eyes.
Lucas had always hated that shade of purple. It looked like trouble that never apologized.
"You're still following me," he said flatly.
Trevor stepped inside, hands in his pockets. "That's correct."
Lucas arched a brow. "You know this is a conversation, not a hostage exchange."
"I'm here for safety," Trevor said, scanning the room like it mattered. "Yours."
"From what, exactly? Sentimental flashbacks?"
Trevor's tone didn't shift. "From being stupid."
Lucas gave him a long look. "If I needed a chaperone, I'd pick someone quieter."
"You picked me," Trevor said, shrugging. "That's on you."
Lucas arched a brow. "So you plan to protect me from Steve Kelly?"
"From whatever might be watching Steve Kelly."
Lucas folded his arms. "You think Misty sent a sniper to the Baye manor?"
Trevor didn't look at him. "I think your mother doesn't believe in losing. Especially not to her own son."
Lucas sat down in the chair nearest the window, legs crossed neatly at the ankle. "So what is this? Protective fiancé?"
Trevor finally turned, arms folded. "Let's call it co-surveillance."
"Romantic," Lucas deadpanned.
Trevor didn't miss a beat. "We can frame it that way if it helps you sleep."
Lucas gave him a flat look. "I sleep fine."
"Alone?"
Lucas narrowed his eyes. "This is why people don't like you."
"This is why people don't try to poison me," Trevor replied, casually moving to lean against the wall like he belonged there. "They assume I'm already cursed."
Lucas sighed and looked away, pretending the conversation wasn't mildly entertaining.
"You're not sitting with me," he said.
Trevor approached with a wide grin on his face, the kind that made his purple eyes shine like they knew exactly how annoying he was being.
"Of course I do," he said, already pulling out the chair beside him. "I'm your fiancé, and I'm worried about people using your new power."
Lucas didn't move. "You're worried about me having power, or about other people noticing I do?"
"Yes," Trevor said brightly.
Lucas blinked. "That wasn't a yes-or-no question."
"And yet," Trevor said, adjusting the chair like he was getting comfortable, "I answered it perfectly."
Lucas looked at him, unimpressed. "You're a menace."
Trevor smiled, unbothered. "You say that like it's new."
Lucas pinched the bridge of his nose. "Fine. Sit. But if you say anything stupid, I'm going to pretend I don't know you."
Trevor leaned closer, resting his elbow on the armrest between them. "Then you'll owe me a re-introduction at the engagement ceremony."
Before Lucas could answer, the door creaked open.
And just like that, the atmosphere shifted.
Steve Kelly stood in the doorway—hands clasped, coat neat, face careful.
Lucas stood, all humor gone from his expression. "Mr. Kelly."
Steve gave a quiet nod. "It's good to see you again."