Betrayed by My Ex, Marked by His Alpha Emperor Brother novel Chapter 285

Chapter 285: Chapter 285

Elara’s POV

"If you check the gate one more time, your neck is going to snap off."

Brenna’s head whipped back toward me so fast I heard the crack. "I wasn’t looking at the gate."

"You’ve looked at the gate seventeen times. I’ve been counting."

"You have not been counting."

"I absolutely have." I adjusted the ribbon on the nearest chair and smiled at her. "Seventeen. In the last few minutes."

Her face flushed scarlet. She clutched the edge of the lemonade pitcher like it was the only thing keeping her upright. Around us, the backyard was transformed—pink and blue balloons clustered along the fence posts, ribbons of satin winding through the garden trellises, and two enormous question marks cut from painted wood standing on either side of the lawn. Kaelen’s masterpiece anchored the center: a pair of confetti cannons mounted on iron stands, aimed skyward, connected by a single trigger cord he’d spent hours rigging that morning.

Hours of work. For two cannons. He’d emerged covered in grease and looking unreasonably pleased with himself.

"They have to be perfect," he’d said when I raised an eyebrow. "My children deserve a flawless reveal."

Now he stood near the cannons, testing the trigger cord one final time with the focused intensity of a man defusing a siege weapon. Valerius crouched beside him, offering unsolicited advice.

"The wind direction shifted," Valerius informed his father. "You should adjust the angle slightly to the northeast."

"Thank you, General."

"I’m being helpful."

"You’re being seven."

Lyra bounded past them both, silver hair streaming behind her like a banner. She’d changed her dress several times already. The current selection was pale lavender with a massive bow at the back.

"Mama!" She skidded to a stop in front of me. "Mama, I think it’s two girls. Because girls are better."

Valerius didn’t look up from the cannon mechanism. "Statistically, with fraternal twins, a male-female combination is the most common outcome. The probability—"

"Nobody asked you!"

"—the probability is approximately the same for any combination, but—"

Lyra stuck her tongue out at him.

"Children," Kaelen said mildly, still adjusting the cord.

"He started it," Lyra announced.

"I stated a fact," Valerius replied.

I pressed my hand against my belly, feeling the familiar double flutter beneath my palm. "How about we wait and find out together?"

Lyra huffed. Then brightened instantly. "When are the people coming?"

Around the middle of the day, as if summoned, the garden gate creaked open.

Cassian entered first, one arm draped around Riley’s shoulders. She was radiant—her cheeks flushed, her dark eyes catching the filtered sunlight. They moved together with the easy rhythm of two people who’d learned each other’s pace. Months of official courtship, and you’d think they’d been tangled together for years.

"Your Majesty." Cassian dipped his head to me, then grinned. "You look enormous."

"Charming as ever, Sir Cassian."

Riley elbowed him sharply. "What he means is you’re glowing."

"I know what he means." I pulled Riley into a hug. "I’m glad you came."

Marcus arrived next, his wife carrying their youngest on her hip while their older children immediately sprinted toward Lyra and the balloon display. Claire followed close behind, staggering under the weight of a gift basket roughly the size of a small horse.

"Two girls," Claire declared as she set the basket down with a thud. "I can feel it. Maternal instinct."

"Claire, you don’t have children," Marcus said.

"Maternal adjacent instinct."

The elders filed in more sedately, accepting glasses of lemonade and settling into the shaded chairs along the garden wall. The yard filled with chatter and warmth.

I surveyed it all—my family, my friends, my home—and something swelled behind my ribs. Not the babies. Something quieter and fiercer.

Then I looked at Brenna.

She’d positioned herself behind the beverage table like a fortress. Her hands were busy arranging cups that didn’t need arranging. Her eyes darted to the gate. Again.

"Eighteen," I murmured.

"Shut up."

The gate opened.

Finnian stepped through, and I watched my best friend forget how to breathe.

He’d dressed up. Not court finery—that wasn’t his way. But a pressed button-down shirt, the sleeves rolled neatly to his forearms. His golden hair was combed back, still slightly damp. He carried a small wrapped package under one arm and looked like he’d rather face a charging bull than a garden full of strangers.

His eyes swept the yard. Found Brenna. Stayed.

I sidled up beside her. "Go offer him a drink."

"No."

"The beverage table is right here. You are literally standing at the beverage table."

"No."

"Brenna. The man is standing alone by the gate looking like a lost puppy. Go. Offer. Him. Lemonade."

"There’s also water," she said faintly, as though this detail mattered.

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