Chapter 232: The hidden side of him
Trevor leaned back in the chair that still smelled faintly of salt and old wood, brought over from the coastal estate not out of need but memory. They’d only returned a few hours ago, and the main mansion felt both too large and too expectant, like a theater resetting its stage after the final curtain.
Lucas was just a room away. His office door stood slightly ajar, enough for the sounds to carry, pages turning, a pen tapping glass, and the crisp slide of envelopes being opened and sorted by hand. Trevor didn’t need to hover anymore. If Lucas wanted him, he’d call. If Lucas were in trouble, Trevor would already know.
He exhaled slowly, his fingers brushing over the folder on his desk. The cover was still warm from the sun that had slanted through the tall windows earlier, its edges softened by use. Inside, nothing new. Just a confirmation of what was already done.
Jason Luna had died at the coastal estate, quiet, efficient, with the kind of finality that left no trace. Trevor hadn’t drawn it out. He wasn’t Dax.
His phone, resting beside the closed folder, still glowed faintly from the recent call. Serathine. Her voice lingered like a well-aged perfume.
Trevor had known her for years. Long before Lucas. Long before this mess had unfolded into courtrooms and assassins and blood-slicked titles. Their relationship was one of careful understanding, built on shared contempt for inefficiency and for excuses. He didn’t ask questions she wouldn’t answer, and she didn’t insult him by pretending not to know who he was. It worked.
He had long suspected she chose him for Lucas before Lucas had even known. That night nearly a year ago, at the coming-of-age gala... she hadn’t asked. She’d suggested. She’d placed Lucas near him and stepped back, like someone setting the first move of a game already mapped five turns ahead. Not Dax. Not some silver-tongued heir from a minor house. She had chosen Trevor.
And Trevor never forgot a favor that large.
He reached for the cup Daniel had brought, new tea, faintly spiced, still hot enough to catch in the throat if he drank too fast.
"She’s releasing the girl," he murmured aloud, mostly to himself.
The sound of a chair moving from the room beyond drifted through the wall. Lucas, probably shifting to sort through the last stack of letters. He’d been buried in postponements since they returned, but he didn’t complain. He didn’t sigh. He just worked.
Trevor let himself smile faintly.