The Omega Who Wasn't Supposed to Exist
Chapter 37: Custody Lost: The Spouse Reclamation Mission

Chapter 37: Custody Lost: The Spouse Reclamation Mission

[Imperial Palace—Empress Private Garden, Night]

The garden was, in a word, ridiculous.

Lucien stared at a pond shaped like a phoenix eating its own tail, beside a bush that was—without a shred of doubt—trimmed into the shape of Adrien’s disturbingly perfect profile.

"I’m not saying you’re dramatic," he said slowly, balancing a crystal bowl of chocolate-covered pickles on his lap like it was a holy relic, "but this bush has a nose sharper than my mother’s personality."

Elise plopped down beside him on a cushion that probably cost more than his childhood home and the neighbor’s mortgage combined. Fireflies blinked lazily around them, the garden glowing as if the stars themselves had descended to eavesdrop.

"It’s aspirational," she said, deadpan.

Lucien blinked. "The nose or the narcissism?"

"Both," she replied primly, lifting a honey-drenched lotus fruit like it was a royal decree. "And no judgment from a man who’s literally licking whipped cream off seaweed, Lucien."

"I’m cultivating a palate, thank you very much," he sniffed, and then immediately winced as the sweet-salty slime assaulted every remaining ounce of dignity in his mouth. "Oh gods, that’s a war crime."

Elise giggled into her fruit, then leaned back on her elbow, eyes catching the golden glimmer of fireflies.

"I feel... happy today," she said suddenly, like it surprised her too.

Lucien blinked at her. "Is it because you found me?" he asked, smirking like a raccoon who just stole royalty-grade pastries.

Elise chuckled and nodded. "You’re right."

Lucien sat up straighter, puffing his chest like a smug little peacock. "Well, what can I say? I radiate charm. It’s a burden."

She leaned toward him with a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Is that how you charmed the Grand Duke of the Empire?"

Lucien gave her a look so deadpan it could kill crops. "Oh, sweetheart, no. He fell head over heels for me—obviously. Got completely overwhelmed by my hotness, and then BAM—his ducal sperm were in me before I could even say, ’Wow, that’s a suspicious number of buttons on your coat.’"

Elise howled with laughter, nearly dropping her fruit. "By the gods—Lucien! I can’t breathe—ducal sperm—" She clutched her belly. "You’re so stupid. I love it."

Lucien grinned, a little puffed up. But then Elise quieted, the laughter settling into something softer. She brushed her hair behind her ear and said, more gently this time, "You know... I’m really glad I met you."

Lucien blinked, surprised by the shift in her expression.

"Ever since I became Empress... every meeting, every conversation, every smile—it’s all strategy. Even meeting an old friend feels like playing chess with a knife at my back. Everyone wants something. They all want favors. Power. Access. Influence. Nobody just... wants me."

Lucien’s smirk faded. He looked at her. Really looked at her. In the firefly-lit garden, she didn’t look like the most powerful woman in the empire. She looked tired. Lonely. Human.

"But when you grabbed the Grand Duke’s arm earlier," she continued, eyes fixed on the glowing pond, "and glared at me like I owed you something—I just knew. You were going to be honest with me. Messy. Unfiltered. Real."

Lucien blinked.

And from behind them, two very large, very emotionally confused Alpha husbands were leaning against the doorway like undercover spies in royal robes.

"Is... is that why you invited us here?" Silas asked slowly.

Adrien gave a faint smile, his eyes never leaving Elise. "Yes. She’s been... hollow lately. The imperial physician said the loneliness might lead to depression. And when I heard about you and Baron," he glanced at Lucien, "I thought... maybe she’d feel less empty. Less alone."

Silas sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "So you brought in another unfiltered, hormonal drama machine to keep her company?"

"Exactly," Adrien said, completely unbothered.

And then—

Empress Elise WHIPPED around like a caffeinated hurricane in silk, eyes sparkling with the divine madness of friendship unlocked.

She GRABBED Lucien’s hand like she was swearing an oath of vengeance.

"SO—"

Lucien flinched like a fainting goat in a corset.

She stared deep into his soul. "Let’s be forever buddies."

Lucien froze.

The fireflies paused.

The stars tilted closer in curiosity.

Somewhere, a cricket coughed awkwardly.

He blinked.

FLASH.

Aya Nakamura. His unhinged office bestie, who once explained mpreg to him using gummy bears, glitter glue, and a poorly drawn diagram on a pizza box.

His pupils dilated. His aura glowed.

"LET’S RAISE OF BABIES TOGETHERRRR—" He shrieked like a cult leader handing out sparkle Kool-Aid.

Elise gasped like she’d been proposed to by destiny itself.

"YESSSSSSSSS!" she roared, nodding like a duck in fast-forward. "YESSSSS TO ALL OF IT!"

They both jumped up. Lucien knocked over the chocolate pickles. Elise flung a throw pillow into a bush. They grabbed each other like warriors making a pact in the middle of a battlefield made of hormones and questionable cravings.

"I WILL BE THERE FOR YOUR CRAVINGS!" Lucien bellowed.

"AND I’LL HOLD YOUR HAIR BACK WHEN YOU’RE VOMITING FROG ICE CREAM!" Elise declared.

"I’LL TELL YOUR HUSBAND TO APOLOGIZE EVEN WHEN YOU’RE WRONG!"

"I’LL SCHEDULE OBJECTS TO THROW AT YOUR HUSBAND WHEN HE BREATHES TOO LOUD!"

Their voices echoed across the glowing garden, the wind carrying their battle cries of chaotic, hormonal friendship into the night.

And in the doorway—Adrien and Silas stood completely frozen. Like statues. Or two large, overpaid bodyguards witnessing their own obsolescence.

Adrien blinked. "Why do I feel like... I’ve just been replaced?"

Silas nodded slowly. "I think we both just lost custody of our spouses."

Adrien’s eyes widened. "Quick. We have to grab them before they decide to move in together."

The Alphas shared a look of pure, shared horror.

Mission: Reclaim Your Mate—activated.

In perfect sync, both men strode forward like overly dramatic drama club members pretending to be calm.

Silas gently placed a firm, possessive hand on Lucien’s lower back. Adrien wrapped an arm around Elise’s shoulders like a well-dressed anaconda.

"Honey," Adrien said, his voice dipped in syrup and desperation, "you’ve had a long day. You need rest. The baby needs rest."

He threw in a soft eyebrow wiggle for bonus persuasion points.

Elise blinked. "You’re right."

She turned to Lucien, beaming like a glowing fertility goddess. "Lucien, what about you staying here tonight? In the imperial palace?"

Lucien, still high on snack adrenaline and new friendship hormones, gasped. "Oh, I don’t mind! Should I pack? Should I knit matching socks for the babies—"

"THEN," Elise announced, her voice going royal decree levels, "how about we sleep in the same cham—"

She didn’t even finish the word.

Because Silas moved.

With the speed of a panicked Alpha and the efficiency of a man who’s been trained in thirty-seven forms of combat and none of them prepared him for this—he swept Lucien into his arms like a bridal kidnapping scene from a drama.

"We shall be going to the guest room—GOOD NIGHT!"He bolted like a swooning prince carrying his omega away from a very sparkly cult.

Lucien shrieked, legs dangling. "SILAS—MY SEAWEED SNACKS—"

"They’ll be delivered by the maids!" Silas shouted, already halfway down the corridor.

Adrien gave a solemn thumbs-up.

Elise stared after them, expression unreadable. "...Did he just carry my best friend like a sack of rice?"

Adrien smiled. "Yes, dearest."

Elise sighed dramatically, placing a hand over her belly. "Gods, I miss him already."

***

[Imperial Palace – East Wing Guest Room, Night]

Lucien was already tucked in bed like a royal dumpling, only his nose peeking out from beneath the plush blankets. The room smelled faintly of lavender and imperial money.

Silas walked in like a romance novel cover come to life—robe half-loosened, chest on obnoxiously casual display. A single firefly floated dramatically past his shoulder, like it knew it was witnessing something steamy.

He slid under the covers beside Lucien, the silk sheets whispering betrayal to gravity.

"Is the bed warm?" Silas asked, his voice low and concerned. "The chamber hasn’t been used in a while."

Lucien, completely unfazed by the accidental strip show beside him, mumbled, "Elise made sure everything was perfect. The blankets, the lighting, even my snack plate. She’s... probably the nicest person I’ve met in a long, long time."

Silas froze. Mid-pillow-fluff. Mid-breath.

"...What about me?" he asked, voice cracking like a teenage bard.

Lucien blinked.Then blinked again.Then blinked a third time for dramatic effect.

"Oh look, moonlight," he said, twisting to face the window like a guilty criminal. "Can’t wait to see Elise tomorrow morning. I feel like the night is so long. So long."

Silas narrowed his eyes and, with the speed of a man being replaced in real-time, slid an arm under Lucien and pulled him in like a big, jealous teddy bear.

"My love," he purred, chin resting on Lucien’s head, "aren’t you giving a little too much attention... to someone you just met?"

Lucien made a noise between a gasp and a squeak. "S-Silas, this is territorial and vaguely feral behavior."

"I am territorial and vaguely feral," Silas said matter-of-factly, snuggling Lucien deeper into his chest like he was hoarding him for winter.

Lucien’s face was now planted against pecs that felt specifically designed to short-circuit omegas.

"What—what are you doing?" he mumbled, half-buried in silk and hormones. "Silas..."

"I’m conducting a routine inspection," Silas said smoothly, letting his hand drift beneath Lucien’s oversized nightshirt. "Hmm."

Lucien squirmed. "Stop—your hands are cold!"

"...Interesting," Silas murmured. "I feel like... your chest grew a little."

Lucien turned red instantly. "IT’S THE NIGHTSHIRT. It’s loose. You’re imagining things. Stop fondling me like you’re detecting magic artifacts."

Silas gave him an innocent smile that was approximately 78% wicked. "Nope. Feels fuller."

Lucien nearly combusted as Silas’s fingers brushed over his bare skin. The contact was feather-light, but it made Lucien’s breath catch like a guilty noble in tax season.

Then Silas leaned in, his voice low and honey-smooth. "Can I kiss you?"

Lucien blinked, his brain buffering.

"O-Only a kiss!" he squeaked. "Don’t—you know—go forward. We have... we have a fetus. A hypothetical fetus. Possibly watching."

Silas chuckled, all dimples and mischief. "Don’t worry, my love. Once I study the correct positions during pregnancy, I’ll behave. For now."

Lucien’s entire soul turned pink. "YOU ABSOLUTE BASTARD," he hissed, smacking Silas’s chest with the ferocity of a flustered kitten. "WOBBLEBEAN IS HEARING THIS!"

"I think Wobblebean will understand his parents are deeply in love," Silas said, utterly unrepentant.

And before Lucien could retaliate with a fruit pillow or a moral lecture on prenatal dignity—Silas gently cupped his face, tilted it up, and kissed him.

It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t fiery or wild. It was soft. Reverent. The kind of kiss that says, I know you. I love you. And even when you throw soft punches at me, I still think you’re the center of my universe.

Lucien’s hands fisted the front of Silas’s robe, trembling slightly. He kissed back, eyes fluttering shut, surrendering to the moment—the warmth, the safety, the stupid fluttering in his stomach that might’ve been love or possibly indigestion from seaweed whip.

When they finally pulled apart, Lucien was breathless.

Silas rested their foreheads together, smiling. "You’re everything to me."

Lucien mumbled against his lips, "And you’re annoying. But like...in a hot, emotionally responsible way."

They both smiled.

Outside, a firefly bonked into the window like a tiny cupid who’d seen too much.