Galaxy's Only Triple-S: Five Lords Can't Hold Her novel Chapter 218

Chapter 218 Welcome Home

Chapter 218 Welcome Home

“No.” Quentin bit the word off hard.

Tyrone raised an eyebrow. “Why not?” SR

“I go first.”

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The air bung still for two full seconds. Then Tyrone let out a disbelieving laugh and kicked his brother’s shin. “You’ve got some nerve. May the best man win, dear brother.”

The next morning, Margaret woke to the feeling of being crushed. Her lungs had almost no room to expand.

She forced her eyes open and found herself staring at a wide expanse of bare skin. Timothy was curled around her like an overgrown blanket, all four limbs locked tight with a grip far stronger than he had any night to manage in his sleep.

She tried to move her arm. It didn’t budge,

“Timothy.” Her voice came out wrecked, barely scraping past her throat.

The man draped across her didn’t stir. If anything, he tightened his hold, his shaggy golden hair rubbing absently against the curve of her neck.

Margaret’s chest rose and fell. She lifted her knee and drove it sharply into his thigh.

“Ah-

Timothy yelped and finally let go, clutching his leg as he rolled to the other side of the bed. His blue eyes blinked open, still red at the corners, staring at her with pure hurt.

“My Lady, are you trying to kill me? What if I damage something?”

“A few more minutes of that and I’d be the dead one.” Margaret sat up and rubbed her aching shoulder. The blanket slipped, exposing her collarbone and the marks trailing across it.

Timothy’s gaze snagged on the sight. His throat bobbed. He started leaning in, and Margaret shot him a look sharp enough to stop him cold.

“Go wash up.”

She ignored the groaning and rolling around behind her and pushed herself off the bed. The moment her feer touched the floor, her legs buckled. She barely caught herself.

A curse slipped out under her breath. She bent down and scooped up the Holo-bracelet from the carpet where it had been thrown the night before.

The screen lit up and notifications flooded in. She filtered out the noise and found two priority comms pinned at the top-Cheiron and Baar.

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13 18 Mon, 6 Jul G

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Chapter 218 Welcome Home

She leaned against the soft ottoman at the foot of the bed and opened Cheiron’s message first.

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“Your arrival record at the spaceport was erased by the Hurst Group, but the Empire’s informants aren’t so easily fooled. The news that you’re back can be suppressed for three hours at most.

“Lesley’s vitals have dropped to the minimum threshold. The Cabinet and the nobles held an emergency meeting last night. They will most likely come to the hospital today to force the issue and demand confirmation of the succession decree. How do you want to handle it?”

The entire message was businesslike, every thread of the situation laid out with clarity. Then, at the very end, a single line stood apart from the rest.

“The wind was strong last night. I stood outside the ICU, watching the vitals curve flicker on the monitor, and my thoughts were full of you. Welcome home, Margaret.”

Margaret stared at that last line, her fingers hovering motionless above the screen.

That was Cheiron. He didn’t shout or fight or demand. He never had. But he knew exactly when to speak, and when he did, his quiet, steady presence settled softly and irrevocably in her chest.

A soft laugh escaped her. She typed a short reply, “Wait for me. I’ll come to the hospital later.”

She closed the window and opened Baar’s messages. Unlike Cheiron’s carefully composed paragraphs, Baar’s were brutally short and instantly recognizable.

At two in the morning, he’d sent, “You make it back?”

At three-thirty, he’d followed up with a single word. “Respond.”

By six, another message had come through. “If you run into trouble you can’t handle, contact me immediately.”

Margaret could picture it perfectly-Baar sitting in the First Fleet’s command center, staring at the comm interface with that stone-carved face.

She took her time typing, “I’m back. No trouble. Very happy.”

Baar’s reply came almost instantly. “Noted. Eat more. You’ve lost weight.”

His messages were stiff and awkward. Even his concern came wrapped in the tone of a command. Margaret stared at the screen and couldn’t hold back a laugh that burst out of her.

“Well, well.” Primo had been locked in the dark all night and finally seized its chance, its electronic voice dripping with gossip and glee. “This whole romantic mess is juicier than any drama. Cheiron is definitely playing the sympathy card-definitely! And Baar? The commander, staring at his communicator in the middle of the night instead of sleeping. Tsk, tsk.

“You’ve got too much free time,” Margaret shot back in her head.

“What are you smiling about?” Timothy had emerged from the bathroom at some point, his golden hair still carrying a trace of dampness, his collar hanging open. Faint teeth marks dotted his collarbone.

He propped his chin on her shoulder and peered openly at the screen. The moment he registered the names, the smile dropped off his face.

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