Betrayed by My Ex, Marked by His Alpha Emperor Brother

Chapter 72

Kaelen’s POV

"How do you feel about living with Daddy, sweetheart?"

Elara knelt in front of Valerius, smoothing one of his wild curls behind his ear. He sat cross-legged on the floor, a tin soldier in each hand, mid-battle. At her question, both soldiers froze.

His dark gold eyes went wide. Then wider.

"Like... forever living?"

"Forever living," Elara confirmed.

"In Daddy’s castle?"

I opened my mouth to correct him—it was a palace, not a castle—but something stopped me. Maybe the way his entire face was already luminous with hope. Maybe the fact that to a child his age, there was no difference.

"In Daddy’s castle," I said.

Valerius dropped both soldiers. They clattered against the wooden floor.

"Can I bring my tin soldiers?"

"Every single one."

"What about my toy knight’s cape?"

"Especially the knight’s cape."

He launched off the floor and crashed into my legs. I caught him under the arms and lifted him. He was lighter than I expected—lighter than he should have been, probably—and the thought sent a sharp ache through my ribs.

"We’re going to live in a CASTLE!" he announced to the ceiling. Then he twisted in my arms to look at Elara. "Mommy, did you hear? A CASTLE!"

"I heard, baby." Her voice was soft. Her eyes glistened.

I shifted Valerius to one arm. He immediately wrapped himself around me like a small, excited vine—legs locked around my torso, arms around my neck, chin digging into my shoulder.

"When?" he demanded. "Now? Can we go now?"

"Soon," I said. "We need to pack your things first."

"I can pack fast. I’m the fastest packer in the whole world."

He was not, as it turned out, the fastest packer in the whole world.

It took quite some time just to locate all the tin soldiers. They had migrated to every corner of the small cottage—under the seat cushions, behind the washbasin, inside a boot. Valerius insisted on a full headcount before anything could be boxed.

Brenna arrived midway through the chaos, took one look at the scene—Elara wrapping dishes in cloth, me on my hands and knees pulling a tin cavalry officer from beneath the stone hearth—and leaned against the doorframe.

"Well, well." She crossed her arms. A slow grin spread across her face. "Look at the emperor of the realm, crawling on the floor."

"There’s one more under there," Valerius said, pointing. "The general. He’s important."

I reached further. My fingers closed around something small and metal. I pulled it out, dusty and dented.

"Got him."

"That’s the general!" Valerius snatched it from my hand and held it up to the light like a sacred relic. "He goes first. Always."

Brenna helped us load the first round of belongings into the carriage. Then the second. Then the third.

"Three trips," she muttered, hefting the last bundle. "For a place this small. How did you two accumulate so much?"

"Tin soldiers breed," Elara said dryly.

Brenna laughed. Then she nudged Elara with her elbow and dropped her voice—not quite low enough.

"From a cramped little cottage to an imperial palace. You really went and did it, didn’t you?"

Elara flushed. "Brenna."

"I’m just saying. Quite the upgrade." She winked at me over Elara’s shoulder. I pretended not to notice.

The palace gates opened as our carriage approached. Valerius had his face pressed to the window the entire ride, fogging the glass with his breath. When the main structure came into view—white marble, soaring columns, the great crystal chandelier visible even through the arched entrance—he went completely silent.

That worried me more than the screaming.

The carriage stopped. I stepped out and turned to help Elara down. Valerius remained frozen in his seat, mouth hanging open.

"Little one?"

He blinked. Slowly.

"That’s not a castle," he whispered. "That’s a KINGDOM."

The entrance hall seemed to swallow us. Valerius walked three steps in and stopped dead, his neck craned so far back his curls brushed his shoulders. The vaulted ceiling soared above us, painted with scenes of ancient hunts and moonlit forests. The crystal chandelier caught the fading daylight and scattered it across the marble floor in fragments of gold and white.

"Mommy," he breathed. "There are PAINTINGS on the CEILING."

"I see them, baby."

He spotted the grand staircase. His eyes locked onto the polished stone banister—wide, smooth, curving in an elegant sweep to the second floor.

I saw the thought form before he even opened his mouth.

"Can I—"

"Absolutely not," Elara and I said in unison.

We looked at each other. Something passed between us—surprise, then warmth, then the faintest flicker of amusement. The first time we had spoken as parents in perfect sync.

Valerius groaned. "You two already sound the same."

I showed them through the palace. Valerius ran ahead, skidding on the polished floors, opening doors at random and gasping at whatever he found behind them. A music room. A small indoor garden. A corridor lined with suits of ceremonial armor.

"Does anyone LIVE in all these rooms?" he asked, bewildered.

"They do now," I said.

When we reached the residential wing, I paused outside the master suite. Turned to Elara.

"I had a separate room prepared for you," I said carefully. "Adjacent to mine. Connected by a sitting room. I didn’t want to assume—"

She raised an eyebrow.

"Kaelen. We have a five-year-old son."

"I’m aware."

"I think I can manage sharing a bedroom."

Heat crept up the back of my neck. My inner wolf rumbled smugly inside my mind.

"If you’re sure."

"I’m sure." The corner of her mouth twitched. "Unless you snore."

"I don’t snore."

"We’ll see."

Valerius’s room was across the hall. He burst through the door and stopped. The room was three times the size of his old one—a wide bed with carved wooden posts, a window seat overlooking the gardens, shelves waiting to be filled. A thick rug covered the stone floor.

He turned to me with an expression so raw and open it nearly undid me.

"This is MINE?"

"All yours."

He walked to the bed. Touched the carved post. Ran his fingers along the wood. Then he climbed onto the mattress, bounced once experimentally, and lay flat on his back with his arms spread wide.

"I fit," he said, amazed. "I fit and there’s still MORE."

That evening, we ate in the kitchen rather than the formal dining hall. Valerius sat on a tall stool at the large stone prep table, legs swinging, demolishing a plate of roasted meat and bread with the single-minded focus of a boy who had spent the day in constant motion. His toy knight’s cape was still tied around his neck. He’d refused to take it off.

"Daddy," he said through a mouthful. "Do dragons live in the garden?"

"Not currently."

"Could we GET one?"

"We’ll discuss it."

Elara caught my eye across the table. Her lips pressed together, fighting a smile.

After dinner, I carried Valerius to his new room. He was fading fast—eyes heavy, words slurring together, the knight’s cape dragging behind us like a velvet train. I set him on the bed and pulled the thick blanket up to his chin. His tin soldiers stood in a careful row on the bedside table. The general at the front.

He blinked up at me. The excitement was gone now. Something else had taken its place. Something small and afraid.

"Daddy?"

"Yeah, little one."

"Will you be here when I wake up?"

The question landed like a blade between my ribs. Because he had never been able to ask it before. Because for five years every morning had begun without a father in the next room. Because this child—my child—had learned not to expect permanence.

I leaned down. Pressed my forehead to his.

"Always," I said. "Every single morning. I promise."

His small hand found my collar. Held on for a moment. Then released.

"Okay," he whispered. And fell asleep.

I stayed longer than I needed to. Watching him breathe. The curl of his fingers against the pillow. The way his lashes fanned dark against his cheeks.

Five years. I had missed five years of this.

My wolf stirred against my chest. Not with rage this time. With something quieter. Fiercer.

Never again, he said.

Never again.

I found Elara in the master suite. She stood by the tall window, still in her day clothes—a simple linen dress, sleeves pushed to her elbows, silver hair loose down her back. Moonlight poured through the glass and turned her pale. Luminous. Ethereal.

She heard me enter. Didn’t turn.

"Is he asleep?"

"Out cold. Still wearing the cape."

A soft laugh. "He’ll want to wear it to breakfast."

"I’ll allow it."

Silence settled. Comfortable. But charged with something underneath—a current running just beneath the surface, humming with five years of unspoken things.

She turned.

Her ice-blue eyes found mine. And whatever careful distance she’d been maintaining, whatever wall she’d kept standing between us—I watched it come down. Brick by brick. In real time.

"I need to tell you something," she said.

I waited.

She took a breath. Let it out. Took another.

"I’ve loved you since that night." Her voice was barely audible. "The night of the masquerade. Before I knew your name. Before I knew your face. I loved you, and then you were gone, and I hated you for leaving. I hated you for years." Her eyes burned. "But I never stopped. Even when I tried. Even when I didn’t know who you were. I loved you through all of it. Every single day."

The words cracked something open inside me. Something I’d kept locked down and fortified and guarded with every ounce of control I possessed.

"Ela." My voice came out rough. Wrecked.

"You don’t have to say it back. I just needed you to—"

"I love you."

She stopped.

"I have loved you since I woke in that room and you were gone and the only thing left was your scent on my skin." I crossed the distance between us. Two steps. Three. Until I was close enough to see the moonlight reflected in her tears. "I searched for you. For years. Every face in every crowd. Every scent in every corridor. And then you walked into my archive room, and my wolf knew before I did."

Her breath hitched.

I cradled her face in my hands. Tilted it up.

"Five years," I whispered. "I’m done wasting time."

I kissed her. Not gently. Not carefully. We shared a desperate, yearning kiss that finally fulfilled five long years of aching desire. As our mouths met in fierce, hungry desperation, I breathed her name against her lips—over and over. After all the years of searching and waiting, the taste of her on my tongue was exactly like coming home.