Becoming Lailah: Married to my Twin Sister's Billionaire Husband-Chapter 249: The Foolish Demon

THE HIGH COUNCIL’S DECREE didn’t fall like thunder.

It crept in like a lock clicking shut.

Mailah realized that was what unsettled her most—not the threat of chains, not even the implication that Grayson had been quietly demoted, but how cleanly it all happened. No dramatic confrontation. No flames licking marble columns. Just a neat, bloodless rearranging of power that left him standing in his own library like a guest who’d overstayed his welcome.

Which, she decided, was the cruelest kind of conquest.

The walk to the library felt longer than it should have. Perhaps it was the way the estate itself seemed to have shifted its mood, the shadows in the corners stretching like curious fingers.

Or perhaps it was simply the fact that every time Mailah took a step, she was reminded of the fire Grayson had kindled in her bones just hours before.

Grayson walked beside her, his dark silk shirt unbuttoned at the collar, revealing the sharp lines of his throat. He didn’t touch her, but his presence was a heavy, intoxicating weight.

He walked with a predatory grace that suggested he was already mapping out how to reclaim every inch of his territory—starting with the foyer and ending with the High Council’s collective heads.

When they reached the towering oak doors of the library, Grayson paused.

He looked down at Mailah, his gaze sweeping over her face. He reached out, his thumb catching a stray crumb of crepe at the corner of her mouth. The touch was brief, searing, and entirely too intimate for a public hallway.

"Leftover crepe," he murmured, his voice a low vibration.

"I know," she whispered, her heart doing a slow, heavy roll in her chest.

He pushed the doors open.

The library seemed darker than usual. In the center of the room, seated around the massive, scarred table that looked like it had been carved from the roots of a world-tree, were the brothers.

Lucson sat at the head, indeed wearing a pair of silver-rimmed "fancy glasses" that made him look less like a demon warrior and more like a terrifyingly handsome university professor.

Mason was leaned against a bookshelf, his arms crossed, looking as stoic as a statue. Ravenson sat in the shadows, his eyes fixed on a map spread across the table. And Carson... Carson was currently trying to balance a pen on his nose.

"Ah, the King and his Consort have arrived," Carson chirped, the pen falling onto the table as he offered a mock salute. "Did you enjoy the crepes, Mailah? I hand-picked the strawberries. They were grown in a valley of despair, which makes them extra sweet."

"They were delicious, Carson. Thank you," Mailah said, taking a seat beside Grayson, who remained standing, his hands resting on the back of her chair in a clearly possessive gesture.

Lucson didn’t look up from the silver scroll spread before him. He adjusted his glasses with a slender finger. "Now that the theatrics are concluded, we should discuss the reality of our current situation. The Council’s decree is quite specific."

Grayson’s jaw tightened. "Tell me the worst of it, Lucson."

"It isn’t necessarily the ’worst,’ Grayson," Lucson said, his tone as cool as a winter morning.

He finally looked up, his pale eyes analytical. "From a purely logistical standpoint, this conservatorship is the most efficient way to protect your assets. You are, by their definition, ’unstable’ due to your amnesia. By placing the estate in our hands, the Council prevents any rival factions from challenging your claim while you are... compromised."

He paused, tapping the scroll. "In fact, I would argue that this arrangement could keep you in line for the next century. It provides a structured environment for your recovery without the burden of administrative sovereignty."

The words hit the air like a slap.

Mailah felt a surge of heat that had nothing to do with passion. She turned her head, fixing Lucson with a glare so sharp it could have pierced.

Keep him in line? The phrasing was so clinical, so dismissive of Grayson’s agency, that she felt her teeth ache from clenching her jaw.

Lucson seemed to feel the weight of her gaze. He blinked, his brow arching in genuine surprise behind his silver frames.

He looked at Mailah as if she were a strange new species of insect that had just learned how to hiss.

A heavy silence fell over the library.

Mason actually let out a tiny, huffing sound that might have been a laugh. Ravenson’s eyes flickered with interest from the shadows.

Grayson’s hand moved from the back of the chair to her shoulder, his fingers squeezing gently. The touch was grounding, but she could feel the smug satisfaction radiating off him. Maybe he liked her fighting for him.

"Don’t worry, Grayson. We have absolutely no interest in your properties," Carson interrupted, grinning widely. He leaned over the table, winking at Mailah. "We’re much too lazy to manage your vineyards or your gold mines. Unless, of course, you’re looking to offload some of your... more precious assets."

He lingered on the word ’assets’ while looking directly at Mailah, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

Grayson’s energy sharpened instantly. The air in the room grew cold, the shadows deepening. "Carson," he said, his voice a dangerous, low-frequency growl. "Choose your next words with extreme care."

"I’m just saying!" Carson laughed, holding up his hands. "You know how much I love humans. They’re so... decorative. But don’t worry, I won’t touch the merchandise. I know you’ve already put a ’Sold’ sign on this one."

"Enough with the bickering. We are being watched. Valerius didn’t just come here to deliver a scroll; he came to see how were," Ravenson interjected from the shadows, his voice a rough rasp that cut through the humor. He stood up, walking toward the table.

Ravenson leaned over the map, his expression grim. "Whatever the High Council’s end-goal is in this—whether they want to provoke Grayson into a mistake or something else—we have to be cautious. The conservatorship is a cage, yes, but it’s a cage with a window. We use that window to find what we need."

He looked at Grayson. "We need to focus on retrieving the Ember Sigil. Once you hold the Sigil someday, your power will be undeniable. Even they wouldn’t dare suggest you are unstable when you hold the heart of the Ashford fire."

Mason, who had been silent the entire time, finally stepped forward. He tapped a specific point on a map of the nearby human city. "The Ember Sigil is behind three inches of enchanted glass and a dozen silent alarms."

Carson blinked, looking genuinely confused for once. "Wait, if it’s yours, why are we making this hard? Why don’t we just walk in and ask for it back? I’ll even say ’please.’ I can be very charming when I’m not being threatened with execution."

Grayson’s expression turned sour, a mix of regret and annoyance. "That is already out of the question. I’ve checked the legal papers concerning the donation. It seems my foolish past self was quite thorough. The donation was unconditional and permanent. The museum has full legal ownership of the artifact."

"Unconditional?" Lucson asked, his brow twitching. "You essentially gave away the heart of our power to a bunch of humans?"

"Apparently," Grayson muttered, his jaw tight. "I clearly wasn’t in my right mind even then."

Mason looked from the map to Grayson, his eyes cold and focused. "Then there is only one logical path forward. We have to steal it. And I say we do it tonight."

"Tonight?" Mailah asked, her stomach doing a nervous flip. "But the Council is literally sitting in your foyer right now!"

"Which is exactly why we go tonight," Lucson said, his logical mask sliding back into place. "They expect us to spend the evening arguing over the conservatorship. They don’t expect a tactical heist. We can use the secret passage in the wine cellar to slip out unnoticed."

Carson clapped his hands together, his eyes bright with excitement. "Oh, I love a good heist! It’s like a romantic getaway, but with more lasers and a 10% chance of being chased by a basement ghoul." 𝒻𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘸ℯ𝒷𝘯𝘰𝑣ℯ𝑙.𝘤𝑜𝘮

He winked at Mailah again, but this time, Grayson didn’t growl. Instead, he leaned down, his mouth brushing against Mailah’s ear so only she could hear him.

"Are you ready for a little late-night thievery?"

The heat of his breath made her shiver. She looked at the four brothers—the stoic warrior, the brooding shadow, the logical one, and the chaotic joker. She didn’t know if she could trust them all, but as she looked at Grayson, she knew she didn’t have a choice.

"I’m ready," she said, her voice steady.

"Excellent," Lucson said, closing the silver scroll with a definitive snap. "Mason, prep the gear. Carson, stop eating the map. Ravenson, watch the foyer. Grayson..."

Lucson paused, looking at his brother. For a second, the cold logic softened into something that looked suspiciously like genuine concern. "Try not to get distracted."

Grayson didn’t answer. He simply took Mailah’s hand, his fingers interlacing with hers, and led her out of the library.

As they walked back toward their rooms to prepare for the night, Mailah felt the weight of the house pressing down on them.