Chapter 329: Chapter 329: Desperate
For a heartbeat Lucas’s brain gave him nothing but the shape of a girl in midnight silk, jewelry flashing under the LED wash. Then her voice reached him, that careful sweetness, pitched for the cameras, and the sound cracked something open.
Ophelia.
It had been years since he’d said the name aloud. In this life she was taller, the lines of her face sharper, almost eighteen now, and her hair smoothed and polished into the same soft wave Misty had once demanded. But under the lacquer he could still see the girl from his last life: the one who corrected him at dinner parties with a smile, who whispered the right comments at the right ears until they became weapons, and who helped Misty and Christian shape him into a thing to be sold.
He had imagined, once, that he’d feel something if he saw her again. Anger. Grief. Even nostalgia. But standing on the dais with the platinum band still warm on his finger, all he felt was an odd, cool clarity, like looking at an old photograph of someone he no longer knew.
His voice, when it came, was steady enough to be picked up cleanly by the nearest microphones.
"Ophelia," he said, green eyes meeting pale blue without a flicker. "I wasn’t aware that you would be a guest here."
He let the next words land like frost. "You weren’t important enough to be on my list."
The hush that followed was small but audible, a ripple through the front rows. For the first time Ophelia’s smile faltered, her weight shifting almost imperceptibly on her heels. She hadn’t expected the wall of cameras to catch her like this; she certainly hadn’t expected her brother’s voice to be that cold.
Trevor’s palm at Lucas’s back stayed steady but there was a quiet gleam of approval in his violet eyes. Mia’s tablet was angled slightly, as if she were already blocking the approach of staff. Above, Sirius’s mouth curved in a slow, wicked smile; Lucius’s glance flicked from Ophelia to Lucas, assessing the scene with the same calculation his father used.
For a beat Ophelia just stared at him, the cameras catching the faint tremor at the edge of her perfect smile. In her head, this moment had always gone differently: Lucas would turn, startled but soft, maybe even moved, and she would step into his orbit the way she’d rehearsed. He would remember the girl who used to correct his table manners, who whispered in his ear before Misty sent him off. He would be malleable. Grateful.
Instead, she was staring up at a stranger in a tailored coat with a platinum seal flashing on his hand, a stranger whose voice sliced through the hall with ice-bright indifference.
The tantrum rose before she could stop it. "That’s not fair," she blurted, the sweetness draining out of her tone. "You’re acting like you don’t even know me. Like you’re..." her hand flicked at the ring on his finger, "too good now? Because you’ve got titles and photographers?"
Lucas’s reply was soft but clear enough for the nearest microphones. "I’m acting like someone who remembers exactly who you are."
The murmur in the hall thickened, a low sound of amusement and appetite. Even Sirius tilted his head, openly curious. Lucius’s expression barely changed, but his eyes stayed on her as if watching a slow collision.
Ophelia took a half-step forward, midnight silk whispering around her ankles. "You used to listen to me," she pressed, voice sharpening. "You always did. Everyone knows that. They’ve been keeping me away from you because they’re afraid of that. But I’m not afraid of them."
Lucas’s green eyes stayed level, unreadable under the LEDs. "And you think walking into the middle of an imperial ceremony proves your bravery?"
"I think it proves you still need me," she shot back, her pale blue eyes flashing. "You’re still my brother. You can’t stand there pretending I don’t matter."
Lucas tilted his head slightly, the platinum band glinting as he moved. His voice stayed low enough to sound almost intimate but clear enough for the microphones to catch every word.
"Ophelia..." he said, with the faintest pause before the blade slipped between the syllables. "You never mattered."
The hush in the hall fractured. A ripple of shocked murmurs rolled outward from the front rows. Flashes stuttered like lightning; the press smelled blood in the water. Sirius’s brows shot up, his grin widening. Lucius’s expression didn’t change, but the dark flicker in his eyes told its own story. Mia’s fingers tightened around her tablet; Trevor’s palm at Lucas’s back stayed steady, anchoring him against the rising noise.
Ophelia’s face went white and then blotched red, the practiced poise cracking like sugar glass. She opened her mouth...
"Mother is still alive; they lied to you! Odin saved her!" she blurted, voice breaking on the name. It came out louder than she meant, carrying over the hall like a thrown stone.
Security had already begun moving when she raised her voice. Two plainclothes officers slid between her and the dais with the smoothness of a drill. One caught her elbow, and the other blocked the camera angles. She twisted, silk whispering as she tried to pull free, eyes wild with desperation and fury. "Lucas! She’s alive! He saved her!"
Lucas didn’t flinch. He just looked down at her with that same strange clarity, the platinum band still warm on his finger, cameras flashing like heat lightning around him. Whatever he might have felt once had been burned away.
Trevor shifted a half-step closer, his arm brushing Lucas’s, his presence silent but solid as the security team eased Ophelia toward the side doors. The hall filled with murmurs and the frantic whir of journalists’ lenses, but on the dais, Lucas stood motionless, green eyes steady as marble.
"Protocol break," Mia murmured under her breath, already flicking through her tablet to signal staff. "We’ll need to scrub that from the livestream."
Trevor’s violet eyes stayed on Ophelia until she disappeared through the doors, then slid back to Lucas. He didn’t say a word, but the glint in his gaze promised he would deal with the name she’d just thrown into the room.