Betrayed by My Ex, Marked by His Alpha Emperor Brother novel Chapter 118

Chapter 118: Chapter 118

Elara’s POV

Morning light filtered through the gauze curtains of the medical wing, soft and golden, painting everything in gentle warmth. My daughter was asleep against my chest. Her breathing came in tiny, rhythmic puffs. Each one a small miracle I couldn’t stop counting.

I traced the curve of her ear with my fingertip. So delicate. Like something carved from porcelain. Her dark lashes fanned against cheeks still flushed pink from sleep. A dusting of fine, dark hair—ebony, like her father’s—capped her perfect little head.

Mine, I thought. You’re mine, and you’re here, and nothing will ever hurt you.

The door burst open.

"MOMMY!"

Valerius rocketed into the room at full speed, dark curls bouncing, golden eyes blazing with excitement. He skidded to a halt beside the bed, bouncing on his toes, vibrating with barely contained energy.

"Easy," I whispered. "She’s sleeping."

He froze. Peered over the edge of the blanket. His mouth formed a perfect O.

"She’s so tiny," he breathed. Reverent. Like he’d discovered something holy. "Look at her fingers, Mommy. They’re like little worms."

I bit back a laugh. "They’re fingers, sweetheart."

"Tiny worm fingers." He reached out, hesitated, then very gently touched Lyra’s hand with one fingertip. She stirred. Her rosebud mouth puckered. Valerius yanked his hand back. "Did I break her?"

"No, baby. She’s fine. She’s just dreaming."

"About what?"

"I don’t know. Warm things, probably. Milk and heartbeats."

He considered this with tremendous seriousness. Then he looked up at me, those dark gold eyes shining. "I think her name should be Lyra."

"Lyra?"

"Like the stars. Uncle Cassian showed me the constellation last night. He said Lyra means music. And she made a sound when I touched her. Like a little song." He paused. Frowned. "A grumpy song. But still a song."

The door opened again. Kaelen stepped in carrying two cups of coffee and a stack of papers tucked under his arm. He looked like he hadn’t slept. Shadows bruised the skin beneath his eyes. But when he saw Valerius leaning over the baby, something cracked open in his expression. Something raw and tender that he couldn’t hide.

"Lyra," Valerius announced, straightening up importantly. "That’s her name, Daddy. I decided."

Kaelen set the coffee on the side table. Looked at me. I shrugged one shoulder, careful not to jostle the sleeping infant.

"Lyra Nightfire," Kaelen said slowly. Testing the weight of it. Then he smiled—one of those rare, unguarded smiles that transformed his entire face. "It’s perfect, son."

Valerius beamed.

Kaelen settled into the chair beside me, his hand finding my knee beneath the blanket. Warm. Steady. He leaned over and pressed his lips to my forehead.

"Discharge papers," he murmured against my skin, nodding toward the stack. "Morgan says we can leave later today."

For a moment—just a moment—everything was whole. The four of us in this small, sunlit room. Lyra sleeping. Valerius chattering about constellations. Kaelen’s hand on my knee, solid and warm and there.

Then Valerius climbed onto the edge of the bed. Wriggled closer. Pressed his face against my arm and inhaled deeply.

He pulled back. Frowned.

"Mommy?"

"Hmm?"

"You smell different."

The warmth drained from the room.

"What do you mean, sweetheart?" I kept my voice light. Casual. As if my chest hadn’t just caved in.

"Before, you always smelled like..." He scrunched his nose, searching for words. "Like the warm fireplace. And winter roses. Like warm things. Safe things." His golden eyes—so much like his father’s—looked up at me with innocent confusion. "Now you smell like... nothing special. Just regular. Like the people at the market."

"It feels empty," he added quietly. Not accusing. Not cruel. Just honest, the way only a child could be. "Where did your warm smell go, Mommy?"

Kaelen’s hand tightened on my knee. "Val, why don’t you go find Uncle Cassian? He mentioned something about sword practice."

"But—"

"Now, please."

Valerius looked between us. Something shifted in his expression—that uncanny perceptiveness that made him seem so much older than he was. He slid off the bed without another word and padded toward the door. Paused. Looked back.

"I still love how you smell, Mommy," he said softly. "Even if it’s different."

Then he was gone.

Silence.

A few days later, Brenna dragged me out of the house. 𝘧𝓇ℯ𝑒𝓌𝑒𝑏𝓃𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘭.𝒸ℴ𝓂

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