Betrayed by My Ex, Marked by His Alpha Emperor Brother

Chapter 180

Kaelen’s POV

The transmission stone buzzed again while I was still staring at the ceiling.

I hadn’t moved from the kitchen table. The mess from earlier had been swept aside. Upstairs, the crying had stopped. The silence was worse.

I pressed my thumb to the stone. Cassian’s voice filled the room this time—not a written message, but a live call. His tone was bright. Too bright for the hollow space I was sitting in.

"Mate. You’re actually coming? To a children’s party? Voluntarily?"

"I said I would."

"Yeah, but you’ve said a lot of things in the past few years, brother. You said you’d come to the last gathering. You said you’d come to the one before that. You said—"

"Cassian."

"I’m just saying. We haven’t seen you at anything that wasn’t a war council or a border briefing in... what, years? Riley nearly fell off her chair when I told her."

I rubbed the bridge of my nose. He wasn’t wrong. Every invitation had been met with the same excuses—imperial duties, the Rogue campaigns, security concerns. All true. All convenient.

"Things have been complicated," I said.

"Things are always complicated with you. That’s not new." A pause. Some shuffling on his end. "Hold on—Riley wants to say something."

Before I could object, a warmer voice replaced his.

"Kaelen! I’m so glad you’re coming. Talia has been asking about Lyra for a while. They used to be inseparable, remember? Before everything..."

"I remember."

"Good. Good." Riley’s voice brightened further, but I caught the slight tremor beneath it. The careful way she was building up to something. "So, um. I just wanted to ask—and please don’t take this the wrong way—but will you be bringing anyone? A... companion? It’s just that most of the families attending will be couples, and I didn’t want you to feel—"

My jaw tightened. "Feel what?"

"Uncomfortable. That’s all. It’s a family gathering, lots of parents, and I know things have been—"

"I don’t have a companion, Riley."

"Right. Of course. I didn’t mean to imply—"

"Then don’t." The words came out sharper than I intended. The silence on the other end made me wince.

Smooth. Very smooth. My wolf huffed with disdain.

"Forget it," I said, already regretting everything. "Maybe this isn’t a good idea. The children and I can—"

A blur of silver hair shot through the kitchen doorway.

Lyra appeared at my knee, breathing hard. Her braids were still a disaster. Her eyes were puffy and red-rimmed. She was wearing mismatched shoes. She must have heard my voice from upstairs and come running.

"Daddy, who are you talking to?" She tugged at my sleeve. "Is that Auntie Riley?"

I hesitated. Then held the transmission stone down to her level. "Say hello."

Lyra grabbed the stone with both hands and pressed it against her cheek like it was a stuffed animal. "AUNTIE RILEY!"

"Lyra! Oh, sweetheart!" Riley’s voice went soft and high. "How are you, darling?"

"I’m good! I’m three and a half now! Almost four!"

"Almost four! That’s very grown up."

"Uh-huh." Lyra nodded fiercely, even though Riley couldn’t see her. "Daddy, is there a party? I heard party. Is it Talia’s party? Can I go? Please please please, Daddy, can I go?"

She turned those enormous gold eyes on me. Still red from crying. Still damp at the edges. But bright now. Hopeful in a way that made my chest crack open.

"We’re going," I said quietly.

Lyra shrieked. An actual, ear-splitting shriek of joy that rattled the empty plates on the counter. She bounced on her mismatched shoes, clutching the transmission stone like a prize.

"Auntie Riley, Daddy says YES! We’re COMING!"

"That’s wonderful, Lyra. Talia will be so happy."

I watched my daughter dance around the kitchen—spinning, laughing, nearly tripping over her own feet—and something heavy settled in my gut. When was the last time she’d been this excited? When was the last time I’d taken her anywhere that wasn’t a training ground or a council chamber?

Riley’s voice came through again, gentler now. Careful.

"Kaelen? I’m sorry about before. About the companion question. I wasn’t trying to pry. I just... I know what these gatherings are like. Every child there will have both parents. I didn’t want you or the little ones to feel out of place."

Lyra had stopped spinning. She was listening now, her head tilted the way she did when she was processing something she didn’t fully understand but could feel.

"Daddy?" She looked up at me. "Will I be the only kid who just has a daddy?"

The question was so simple. So matter-of-fact. Like she was asking about the weather.

I crouched down to her level. "What do you mean, sweetheart?"

"At things." She shrugged one small shoulder. "Parties and stuff. All the other kids have mommies and daddies. I just have a daddy." Her lower lip didn’t tremble. Her eyes didn’t water. She’d already cried herself dry tonight. "It’s okay though. I’m used to it."

I’m used to it.

Those simple words. Spoken by a child who couldn’t yet tie her own shoes. A child who picked mismatched pairs every morning because no one had taught her how to sort them and I kept forgetting to show her.

I thought of Valerius upstairs. My son, already so bitter. Already convinced his mother had chosen to abandon them. Already building walls so high I couldn’t see over them.

Years. Years of I’m used to it and she abandoned us and two children learning, in entirely different ways, how to survive without the person who should have been here.

And what had I done? Buried myself in wars and border disputes and revenge campaigns. Let the house go dark. Let dinner become an afterthought. Let my son turn cold and my daughter learn to stop expecting things.

Lyra was watching me. Patient. Waiting for me to say something that would make it better, even though she’d already decided it wouldn’t.

The transmission stone crackled softly. Riley was still on the line. Waiting too.

I stood up. Picked Lyra up and settled her on my hip. She leaned her head against my shoulder, the way she always did. Her silver hair tickled my jaw.

"Actually, Riley?" I said into the transmission stone. "I’ll be bringing someone."