[BL]Reborn as the Empire's Most Desired Omega

At noon the room had quieted again. The soft clink of porcelain had faded with breakfast, and the scent of citrus and linen hung in the air—clean, still. Afternoon light slanted through the balcony doors, casting long, golden stripes across the polished floor and the edge of the chaise where Lucas now sat curled, one leg tucked beneath him, Trevor’s oversized robe draped around his shoulders.

Trevor stood by the desk, fingers resting lightly on the back of a chair, a frown tugging at the edge of his mouth.

"You should write everything down," he said at last.

Lucas looked up from his journal, pen still in hand. "I already did. The important things."

Trevor raised a brow. "Everything, Lucas. Not just what’s useful. Not just what makes sense."

Lucas hesitated, his thumb brushing the spine of the leather-bound agenda resting in his lap.

"I don’t want you to forget anything," Trevor continued, quieter now. "Even the parts that sound insane. Even the parts that hurt. Memory’s fickle. Time erodes things. And if we’re going to tear this whole system down, we need the truth—even if it’s messy. Even if it’s only true for you."

Lucas’s grip on the pen tightened, just slightly.

"I’ve already written names," he said slowly. "Places. Faces. Christian. The buyers. The way Misty handled the documents, how I was transferred. The clinic visits. What Velloran said to me. I’ve written it."

Trevor nodded. "Good. That’s a start. But I mean the rest too. Your thoughts. The patterns. The timelines that don’t line up. The memories that feel like dreams. The ones that feel too real."

Lucas didn’t answer right away. He stared down at the page, the last sentence half-finished.

Then, very softly: "You were married."