Caught by the Mad Alpha King-Chapter 430: God Intended

They had been enjoying peace for nearly an hour.

Which, in Saha, was a suspicious amount of time.

The private lounge was still loud with children, still soft with the kind of domestic chaos that made the palace feel briefly human. Sebastian had constructed a foam ’fort’ that looked like a tax-funded safety hazard. Cassius was trying to enforce rules that nobody respected. Layle had arranged plush animals into what looked alarmingly like a tribunal. Zion was chasing one of the twins in circles with a toy car raised like a weapon. Dean had fallen asleep against Lucas’s shoulder, heavy and warm, while Lucas pretended he wasn’t melting.

Nero was in Dax’s arms, cheeks flushed, eyes wide, a tiny hand clutching the front of Dax’s shirt like he’d issued a royal decree that his father was furniture now.

Chris was standing near the kitchen counter in the attached kitchenette, rehydrating like a responsible adult and pretending he hadn’t just been coerced into drinking something ’nutritionally dense.’

Dax’s gaze tracked him the way it always did when Chris was within reach and also near sharp objects.

Trevor was mid-sentence with Andrew about school security standards when the security feed on the wall changed.

Not loudly.

Not with sirens.

Just a discreet ping, a line of text across a corner of the screen.

ARRIVAL: HOUSE D’ARGENTE / HOUSE FITZGERALT — AUTHORIZED.

Lucas’s head snapped up so fast it was almost comical.

Trevor’s entire posture tightened like someone had just whispered a threat in his ear.

Mia’s mouth flattened with the kind of expression that meant, ’here we go.’

Even Lucius, who didn’t react much, shifted his gaze toward the door with controlled resignation.

Chris froze mid-sip.

He didn’t need to ask who.

The universe had a sense of humor, and it was never subtle.

Dax looked at the screen, then at Chris.

The corner of his mouth twitched in a way that suggested he had the audacity to find this entertaining.

Chris’s eyes narrowed. "No."

Dax’s expression remained calm. "Yes."

Chris lowered his cup slowly. "They’re late."

Dax replied, in the tone of a man stating the weather, "As God intended."

Chris stared at him like he was personally responsible for divine scheduling.

"Do not," Chris warned.

Dax’s eyes warmed. "Do not what?"

"Do not enjoy this."

Dax glanced down at Nero, who chose that moment to make a pleased gurgle and pat Dax’s chest like applause.

Dax’s mouth twitched again. "Too late."

The door opened ten seconds later.

It opened like the palace belonged to them, which was the first clue that Serathine D’Argente had arrived.

She entered in a pale, elegant coat that looked like it had been cut specifically to make people stand straighter. Her hair was immaculate, her posture effortless, and her presence was the kind that suggested wealth was not something she owned but something that obeyed her.

Behind her - one step, as if she’d chosen to let Serathine appear first - came Cressida Fitzgeralt.

Cressida did not walk like an old noblewoman.

She walked like the final exam. 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝙚𝙬𝓮𝙗𝒏𝙤𝒗𝙚𝙡.𝒄𝒐𝓶

She was dressed in dark, refined modern tailoring that made her look sharper rather than softer with age - hair perfectly set, expression calm, eyes cold enough to make the room remember its place.

She no longer held the titles of House Fitzgerald - Trevor had received them from her and given everything to the next generation - but the palace had never been fooled by paperwork.

Cressida remained what she had always been: a matriarch with gravity.

And a terrifying amount of experience.

The children, sensing a shift in atmosphere the way animals sensed storms, slowed.

Sebastian froze mid-construction.

Cassius stopped talking.

Even Zion paused, toy car held mid-air like he’d instinctively decided this was not the moment to commit violence.

Nero blinked in Dax’s arms, curious.

Layle looked up, eyes narrowing in immediate assessment, and then, because he had good instincts, he quietly went and sat closer to Mia.

Serathine swept her gaze across the room, smiling as if she’d walked into a party thrown in her honor.

"Darlings," she said warmly.

Lucas’s shoulders eased in visible relief, because Serathine was his, even if she was also dangerous.

"Mother," Lucas replied, voice controlled and affectionate with an edge.

Serathine’s smile sharpened. "Late, I know. But I find arriving on time implies one is eager."

Trevor muttered, barely audible, "She’s doing it on purpose."

Andrew murmured back, "They both are."

Cressida’s eyes moved.

One by one, she acknowledged the room like a sovereign counting assets: Lucius, Mia, Sirius, Ethan, Trevor, Lucas, Andrew, and Beth.

And then her gaze landed on Chris.

Chris’s spine went rigid.

Not because he was weak.

Because memory was efficient.

He didn’t forget the months of drilling etiquette into his bones - the way Serathine had taught him to weaponize charm, and the way Cressida had taught him that posture was not a suggestion. The lessons had been so thorough they’d crawled under his skin and taken residence there, turning every instinct he’d ever had into something presentable.

And because of that, the moment Cressida looked at him, Chris’s brain did what it always did: it reached for the one coping mechanism that had ever worked against a matriarch.

Mouth first. Consequences later.

"Cressida," Chris said, voice bright with bravery and poor judgment, "what an unfortunate thing that you’re still alive."

The room stopped breathing.

Sebastian froze mid-blink.

Cassius’ eyes went wide, as if he’d just witnessed a crime and also wanted to take notes.

One of the twins gasped softly in pure delight. The other immediately smiled, as if recognizing a kindred spirit.

Dax did not move.

But the hand supporting Nero’s back tightened a fraction, the kind of tiny shift that meant he was deciding whether to intervene or let Chris learn the hard way, like a man who loved disaster and called it ’growth.’

Serathine’s mouth curved, delighted. "Oh, he missed you."

Trevor looked like he wanted to crawl under the sofa and live there permanently.

Lucas shut his eyes once, very briefly, as if in prayer.

Cressida, on the other hand, laughed wholeheartedly, as if Chris had told her something charming and ridiculous.

"My darling," Cressida said, and the endearment sounded like a warning label, "I’m immortal out of spite."

Chris smiled back, equally bright, because retreat was for cowards. "That tracks."

Cressida’s eyes swept him from head to toe - collar, shoulders, stance, the precise placement of his hands - like she was taking inventory.

Then she tilted her head.

"You slouched for five seconds at the last public event," Cressida said.

Chris blinked. "I did not."

"You did," Cressida replied with serene certainty. "It was when the ambassador from Kadar mentioned his ’traditional values.’"

Chris’s mouth parted, offended. "That was not slouching. That was me actively refusing to levitate out of irritation."

Cressida’s smile sharpened. "Semantics."

Serathine drifted closer with the air of someone coming to watch a duel. "Five seconds?" she purred. "That’s progress. He used to slouch just to spite us."

"I still do," Chris said, without thinking.

Cressida’s eyes narrowed slightly. "In private."

Chris continued because today his instincts had apparently been thrown out of the nearest window and locked out for good measure. "If that makes you sleep better, sure."

For half a heartbeat the room braced for impact.