Betrayed by My Ex, Marked by His Alpha Emperor Brother

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.

"Then offer him water. Or lemonade. Or both. The table is ten steps away from where he’s standing. I timed it."

She made a strangled noise in her throat. But she picked up a cup. Poured the lemonade. Squared her shoulders like she was marching into battle.

And walked.

I watched her cross those ten steps with the rigid posture of someone approaching an executioner’s block. Finnian’s face softened the instant she reached him. He ducked his head. Said something quiet. She handed him the cup, and their fingers brushed.

Brenna snatched her hand back like she’d touched a hot stove.

I sighed.

Progress.

---

Some time later, the moment arrived.

"Everyone ready?"

Kaelen stood beside the confetti cannons, one hand on the trigger cord. The entire party had gathered on the lawn, faces upturned. Lyra vibrated with energy at my side, gripping my hand so hard my fingers went numb.

Valerius stood slightly apart, arms crossed, expression calm. He’d already told me his prediction that morning. One boy. One girl. He’d drawn a diagram.

"One!" Kaelen called out.

The crowd joined in. "Two!"

I caught Kaelen’s eye across the yard. He winked.

"Three!"

He pulled the cord.

Twin explosions of color erupted skyward—one cannon blasting pink confetti, the other showering blue. The petals caught the breeze and swirled together, raining down in a dazzling cascade of rose and sapphire. Pink and blue. A girl and a boy.

The yard erupted.

Lyra screamed so loudly I felt it in my teeth. "A SISTER! Mama, I’m getting a SISTER!"

Valerius permitted himself a small, satisfied nod. "As predicted."

Then Kaelen was there, crossing the distance in three strides, his hands cupping my face. He kissed me—deep and sure and tasting like confetti. Pink petals stuck in his dark hair.

"A boy and a girl," he murmured against my mouth. His gold eyes were bright with something raw and overwhelming. "You’re giving me everything."

"We made them together," I whispered back.

He kissed me again. Longer this time. Possessive.

Someone—probably Cassian—whistled.

The next stretch was chaos. Hugs from every direction. Claire crying. Marcus clapping Kaelen’s shoulder hard enough to stagger any lesser man. The elders offering formal blessings that made my eyes sting. Riley squeezing both my hands and beaming. Lyra attempting to catch every last piece of confetti in her skirt.

Through it all, I kept one eye on the beverage table.

Brenna and Finnian stood side by side. Not touching. Not quite looking at each other. But not moving apart, either.

Good. But not good enough.

---

I waited a while for the congratulations to fade into comfortable mingling. Then I made my move.

Brenna was refilling the lemonade pitcher. Finnian stood a short distance away, talking politely with one of the elders. I angled my approach with surgical precision—coming from Brenna’s left, walking at the perfect trajectory.

I shifted my weight. Let my hip catch hers.

And shoved.

The thing about being pregnant with twins was that nobody questioned your clumsiness. I stumbled sideways with a convincing gasp. Brenna lurched forward with the full force of my shoulder behind her.

Straight into Finnian’s chest.

He caught her. Both arms. Instinct and reflex wrapping around her before she hit the ground. The lemonade pitcher crashed somewhere behind them. Neither of them noticed.

Brenna’s hands were pressed flat against his chest. His arms locked around her waist. Their faces were inches apart.

The entire garden went quiet.

"I—" Brenna stammered. Her face was the color of the pink confetti. "She—I didn’t—"

"I know." Finnian’s voice was steady. Warm. He hadn’t let go. "I’ve been watching her push you toward me all afternoon. She’s not subtle."

I pressed my hand to my belly and manufactured an innocent expression. "Pregnancy hormones. I’m so clumsy these days."

Kaelen appeared at my side. "You’re many things," he murmured in my ear. "Clumsy is not one of them."

Finnian still hadn’t released Brenna. She’d stopped trying to pull away. Her fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, and I didn’t think she realized it.

"She’s going to keep doing this," Finnian said, looking down at Brenna. A faint smile played at the corners of his mouth. "Every gathering. Every chance she gets."

Brenna swallowed hard. "I know."

"So maybe we should save her the trouble."

The garden held its breath.

"Would you like to try?" Finnian asked. His voice dropped low. Quiet enough that it felt private, even with every eye in the yard fixed on them. "Go out with me. On a real date."

Brenna’s mouth opened. Closed. Opened again.