Bound by the Mark of Lies (BL)
Chapter 107 - 102: The better choice (2)

Chapter 107: Chapter 102: The better choice (2)

Gabriel exhaled sharply, his fingers tightening around the fabric of his sheets. He knew the world he lived in wasn’t fair, wasn’t kind, but hearing Damian lay it out so plainly still unsettled him. It was not just about the decisions he would made; it was about the ones he had no idea were being made for him. And worse, the ones he would have been forced to make.

His voice was quieter now, but no less sharp. "And my family?" He met Damian’s golden eyes, searching for any flicker of deception. "Did they know? Were they complicit in this plan of yours?"

Gabriel braced himself to hear what they had planned behind his back, and why they had brought him back.

Damian’s gaze remained steady. "No."

Gabriel narrowed his eyes. "You expect me to believe that?"

"I do," Damian said without hesitation. "Your family had no part in my plans. They have their own interests and their own concerns. I don’t share my strategies with anyone outside my circle. The only ones who knew of my intentions about you were Astana and Edward."

Gabriel inhaled, his mind racing through the implications. His family had planned this without the Emperor, and he remembered Lucius insisting on taking the civil exam, as well as the fact that marriage to the Emperor was the most logical thing for him. Despite their attempts to keep him safe, despite their protectiveness, they hadn’t known. The realization sat uneasily in his chest. He had expected half-truths and political maneuvering, but not this.

Damian’s control over information was remarkable. Even Gabriel had to admit it was impressive. For someone so watched, so scrutinized, to weave his plans in secrecy without even the most well-connected nobles catching wind, it was a skill few could master.

A reluctant admiration stirred in Gabriel. But then another thought struck him.

"Gloria."

Damian’s brows furrowed slightly. "What about her?"

Gabriel straightened, his expression unwavering. "She had to know something. You gave me robes for the ball, which she made. Did she help you? She is a genius at her work, but even so, two days is a tight deadline for such work."

Damian’s lips pressed together briefly before he spoke, his tone calm but measured. "Gloria is one of my agents. She knew parts of the plan, but not everything."

Gabriel stiffened. "One of your agents?"

Damian inclined his head slightly. "I have many," he admitted. "Gloria has been invaluable in her field, and I needed someone who could ensure you had the right attire without drawing suspicion."

Gabriel scoffed, shaking his head. "So she knew enough."

"She knew what I needed her to know," Damian corrected. "I don’t give anyone more information than necessary."

Gabriel let out a short, humorless laugh, but his mind was already elsewhere.

The atelier.

He thought back to the long hours spent in her fitting room, the way she had taken her time measuring, adjusting, and asking him questions about his preferences, about his work, about the Emperor’s actions because of his words at the hearing.

He felt a shiver run up his spine. Did Damian truly punish Count Ebon because of him?

’No. He knew that Ebon wasn’t doing his work. No. He used the moment to get rid of him.’

At the time, he had assumed it was nothing more than the usual process; after all, she was one of the finest tailors in the capital. But now?

’Was that why it took so long?’

His fingers drummed against the sheets as the pieces clicked into place.

Her curiosity hadn’t been idle. Her insistence on certain details, the way she had subtly steered the conversation toward Damian, it had all been intentional.

And he had not noticed; he was caught up in so many events that Gloria’s usual nosiness did not alert him to anything.

Gabriel exhaled through his nose, tilting his head back slightly. "So that’s why she took her time with the fitting."

Damian remained silent, watching him carefully.

Gabriel huffed a quiet laugh, though there was no real amusement in it. "She asked a lot of questions that day. About me. About you." His dark eyes met Damian’s. "Was that part of her assignment too?"

Damian’s lips twitched, almost as if he were smiling. "Gloria is naturally curious. It works in her favor."

Gabriel’s jaw tightened. "That’s not an answer."

Damian held his gaze for a moment before exhaling. "She was meant to observe. To ensure you wouldn’t reject what I had prepared for you."

Gabriel scoffed, running a hand through his hair. "And what if I had?"

Damian’s golden eyes darkened slightly. "You didn’t."

Gabriel shivered, not because the response was threatening, but because it was accurate. He had worn those robes. He had walked into the ballroom wearing them, fully understanding what they meant.

And maybe, on some level, he had already known there was no walking away.

His fingers curled into the fabric beneath him. "You really don’t let anything slip past you, do you?"

Damian took a slow step closer. "I don’t have a choice."

Gabriel studied Damian, noting how his expression remained unreadable and his posture composed. But there was something about his response that told Gabriel it was not just about power. It was about survival.

And for the first time since this conversation started, Gabriel wondered just how many times Damian had been forced to play this game, how many times he had to outmaneuver those who would see him fall. He was a new Emperor, and five years were nothing compared to his entire life, but Damian appeared to have seen it all. For a brief moment, he remembered what Max had told him: Damian, not him, had received the blessing to be emperor. He could see why.

Gabriel’s fingers relaxed slightly against the sheets. He exhaled. "Then tell me, Damian. What would you have done if you had been me and had been given the choice between you and George?

Damian didn’t hesitate. "I would have chosen me."

Gabriel blinked, caught off guard by the bluntness.

Damian’s gaze was unwavering, his voice steady. "Because I know George. And I know myself. I don’t make empty promises, Gabriel. And I don’t take what I can’t protect."

Gabriel swallowed, the weight of those words settling over him. He had expected an argument, another attempt to justify Damian’s actions. He had not expected that.

For a long time, neither of them spoke.

Finally, Gabriel muttered to himself, "I hate that you make sense sometimes."

Damian smirked as he approached the bed. "Get used to it," he stated simply.