CHAPTER 276: CHAPTER 276: STOLEN WATCH

Elias had survived gods, empires, corporate coups, and whatever breed of chaos Victor called foreplay.

He had not survived mornings.

So when he trudged into the drawing room at exactly 08:00... With a blanket still wrapped around his shoulders like a personal anti-Ego shield, curls a mess, no glasses, and a scowl deep enough to be a trench, he knew something was wrong.

Something smelled like luxury cologne and trouble.

"Good morning, Elias," Ego said brightly, legs already crossed in one of the leather chairs as if he’d been waiting.

Elias blinked once. Then again, slower, like the world might blink back and correct itself.

"...Tell me," Elias muttered, voice still rough with sleep, "why are you here? Again."

Ego beamed. "Because you’re honest in the mornings. Delightfully unfiltered. And there’s something sacred about watching you sulk in linen and rage."

Elias clutched his blanket tighter. "I will scream."

"You wouldn’t," Ego said. "You’re too elegant."

"I will scream."

"And yet you haven’t," Ego noted, sipping from his own freshly poured tea, his tea tray, Elias realized, already tampered with. "Which means you’re curious."

Elias sank into the nearest armchair like gravity had won. "No. It means Ashwin locked my room from the outside and you bribed the kitchen."

Ego shrugged. "Semantics."

Elias scrubbed a hand over his face. "Victor’s been gone for a day. I thought I had a window of peace. Instead, you show up like a Gucci banshee."

"I’m dressed in Numen tailoring," Ego corrected. "Custom. Paid for with your fiancé’s last market win. So technically, I’m dressed in your future. Which means you should feel proud."

Elias stared at him, deadpan. "I hate mornings."

Ego leaned forward, entirely too pleased. "And yet, you still look like a tragic little prince. Disheveled and righteous with that little blanket of yours. Sharp enough to file a lawsuit with your voice alone."

Elias didn’t respond. He just picked up the nearest piece of toast, bit into it like it owed him money, and chewed with a flat stare.

"Now that we’ve established how stunning you are while hating me," Ego continued cheerfully, "I came with a proposal."

"Does it involve a shovel and a shallow grave?"

Ego laughed. "Not today."

"Then I’m not interested."

"Oh, I think you will be," Ego said, unfolding a cream-colored envelope and placing it gently on the coffee table between them. "I’m taking you out. A city brunch. Just the two of us."

Elias blinked slowly.

"You want to brunch with me."

"Yes."

"In public."

"Indeed."

"In daylight?"

Ego smiled. "I’ve already made the reservation. Exclusive. Private. Rooftop view. You can wear sunglasses and glower. I’ll handle the press."

Elias looked down at himself: wrinkled sleep shirt, loose joggers, a blanket draped like an exorcism robe, belly already making itself known and an expression that screamed ’recently threatened a minor god with kitchenware.’

"I haven’t even washed my face."

"You’re glowing," Ego said smoothly. "Pregnancy suits you. Victor should be taking you out weekly."

"Victor," Elias muttered, "has the decency to let me sleep."

"He also said I wasn’t allowed to take you out without permission," Ego added innocently. "So I didn’t ask."

Elias narrowed his eyes.

"Why?" he asked, low and slow. "What do you actually want?"

Ego’s smile didn’t waver. "To spend time with you. To bask in the presence of the only person my son would let kill him if you asked nicely."

Elias blinked.

"...That might be the most romantic thing you’ve ever said."

"I try."

Elias considered the tea. The toast. The blanket and the fact that if he said no, Ego would probably bring the brunch here next time, complete with waitstaff and photographers.

"I’m not wearing anything that requires a belt," Elias grumbled.

"I would expect nothing less," Ego said, rising. "I’ll give you thirty minutes to become devastating."

Elias leaned back in the chair, eyes closed. "You’re not that charming, you know."

"But I’m patient," Ego called from the door. "And I always win."

Elias opened one eye, scowled toward the hallway, and muttered:

"Victor, wherever you are... I hope you’re suffering too."

—

Thirty-One Minutes Later. The extra minute was for spite.

Elias descended the stairs like he was preparing for a public execution. Not his, of course. Someone else’s. Preferably Ego’s.

He had showered. Combed his hair. Clothed himself in black slacks, a crisp shirt, and a tie Victor had once called unnecessarily devastating. His overcoat was cinched neatly at the waist, and his accessories were gold. A chain at his wrist, a ring or two. The watch, notably, was Victor’s. Taken.

Elias had chosen it purposefully, knowing that it would be noticed. It was the most expensive one he had.

The gold caught the morning light as Elias stepped into the marble foyer, shoulders squared, glasses in place, and the exact expression of a man who had slept for four hours and was about to commit financial homicide if anyone brought him decaf.

Ego turned.

And actually paused.

Then, with slow, theatrical admiration, he said, "Oh. My son is going to cry."

Elias adjusted the cuff of his sleeve. "Good."

Ego’s smile widened. "You wore his watch."

"I did."

"On purpose?"

Elias raised a brow. "I dressed myself. What do you think?"

Ego laughed, a warm, delighted sound that echoed faintly under the vaulted ceiling.

"I take back everything I said," Ego declared, sweeping a hand as if presenting Elias to an invisible audience of stunned CEOs. "You’re not the calm to Victor’s apocalypse; you are the apocalypse. But well-dressed."

The line of Elias’s jaw, the glint of the watch, and the sheer contempt radiating from behind his glasses said more than words could.

Ego extended an arm. "Shall we?"

Elias didn’t take it. He just walked past, the soft sound of his polished shoes echoing on the marble as if the house itself knew to make way.

The car was waiting.

Luxury black, chrome trim, windows so dark they probably required a permit. One of Ego’s, obviously. The driver opened the door without a word, eyes forward, too well-trained to comment on anything, especially not on how Elias looked like the crown prince of a country that no longer believed in mercy.

Ashwin was trailing from behind, already reporting everything to Victor and trying to assess the damage simultaneously.

Elias slid inside.

Ego followed with far too much amusement.

"Victor is going to see the press photos," Ego said casually, as the door closed behind them, "and either come home immediately... or commit a war crime out of sheer lust."

"Both," Elias said coolly, crossing his legs. "He’ll do both."

Ego laughed again, and this time, it was soft. Almost fond.

"I raised him well."

"No," Elias said, tilting his head, "you raised a goddamn storm in a three-piece suit. I just keep him from blowing up the planet when the coffee runs out."

Ego leaned back, pleased beyond reason. "And that is why I’m taking you to brunch."

"Because I keep your son from committing felonies?"

"No," Ego replied smoothly. "Because you look like that... while wearing his watch."

Elias glanced out the window, jaw sharp, mouth barely curved.

"Tell the photographers to get my good side," he said. "I want Victor to suffer."

"Darling," Ego said, grinning as the car pulled away from the mansion, "he already is."