CHAPTER 252: CHAPTER 252: CONSEQUENCES (2)

The morning broke pale and sharp over the Capital manor, the air inside carrying that faint, clinical chill that came when too many unfamiliar people were moving through old halls.

Trevor stepped out alone. Lucas was still sleeping upstairs, tucked in against pillows that still held the soft trace of his scent, and Trevor intended to keep it that way for as long as possible.

He’d changed into something far more dangerous than his usual regalia. Black tailored trousers, a crisp white shirt fitted close across his shoulders, the top button left undone. An expensive watch gleamed at his wrist, the gold catching the same light as the discreet cufflinks fastening his sleeves. A matching leather belt cut clean across his waist, understated but unmistakably costly. His hair was pushed lightly back, not slicked into formality, just enough to keep it from falling into his eyes. On his feet, slippers, soft and silent against the polished floors.

It was domestic only in the most superficial sense. Everything else said Grand Duke.

In the main receiving hall, they were waiting.

On one side, Windstone’s people, in black suits, with controlled posture and eyes forward. On the other, the Capital manor staff: butlers in pressed coats, maids in neat dresses, and drivers and attendants standing in a loose, uneven line. Behind them, the Fitzgeralt domain staff had arrived at dawn, their transfer orders signed and sealed before most of the Capital staff had even woken.

The Capital staff had worn their years of service like a crown. They were the ones who served the Fitzgeralt family in the capital, the ones whispered about with envy by lesser households. Their names opened doors in the city.

Until this morning.

Trevor walked to the center, stopping where the morning light spilled through the high windows. His gaze swept the old staff once, with no warmth or recognition, before he spoke.

"As of this morning," he began, his voice calm enough to make the hush feel heavier, "every member of the current Capital manor staff is relieved of duty. Effective immediately."

A ripple of disbelief moved through the line, but Trevor didn’t slow.

"I don’t care who is innocent and who is guilty. That will be determined during the investigation, which will be thorough and, in most cases, unpleasant. But the truth is simple: you were here when a high-level breach occurred. You were here when my omega was targeted. That is a failure I will not allow to repeat."

His purple eyes flicked over them again, slow and deliberate, the weight of it making more than one throat tighten. "Your contracts will be honored to the letter. You will receive every benefit owed to you: salary, severance, pension, down to the last coin."

He paused just a moment to let the weight of what came next sink in.

"You will not, however, issue references. Your names will not be cleared, not until my investigation is complete, and even then, only if the evidence leaves me no choice. Understand this: most of you are suspected of a breach so severe it falls under high-security classification. If I find proof, you will face trial, not just dismissal with full rights."

No one moved. Even the ones who had scoffed at Windstone the day before stood stiff and silent now.

Trevor shifted his weight just slightly, the soft scrape of his slippers on the marble loud in the unnatural stillness. The image was infuriating for them, him standing there in house shoes, still more untouchable than they would ever be, dismissing decades of their service as if they were nothing.

He turned his head slightly toward the Fitzgeralt domain staff. "These people," he said, voice lighter now, "are replacing you. They have my trust. They will run this household in your place."

He let the silence stretch a few moments longer, then inclined his head toward Windstone. "Escort them out of my property. One by one."

The first to step forward was the butler, Alan Moore, his polished shoes clicking once against the marble before he stopped. His posture was perfect, chin high, the kind of stance that came from decades of service in houses that never dared question him.

"With all due respect, Your Grace," he began, voice clipped but not deferential, "you are treating an unfortunate mistake as though it were treason. We were not informed that the Duchess would be affected by the arrangements. Had we known..."

Trevor’s head tilted the barest fraction, his gaze not moving from the man’s face. "Had you known," he repeated softly, "you might have acted differently?"

Alan did not flinch. "Naturally. But without explicit instruction..."

"You work in the Fitzgeralt manor," Trevor interrupted, the evenness in his tone somehow worse than a shout. "The Duchess is my spouse. That is your explicit instruction."

The butler’s jaw tightened, a flicker of irritation breaking through the mask of professional calm. "We have always answered to the family, Your Grace, but..."

"But?" Trevor’s voice was still quiet, though the gold on his cufflinks caught the light when his hands slipped casually into his pockets.

Alan hesitated. "But the clergy has had influence in this household for decades. Cardinal Benedict..."

The name hit the air like a gunshot.

Windstone’s eyes narrowed. The Fitzgeralt domain staff stiffened. Even some of the dismissed Capital servants glanced at each other, uneasy.

Trevor’s expression did not change, but the temperature in the hall seemed to drop. "Cardinal Benedict," he repeated, his tone stripped bare of inflection. "A clergyman’s orders, in my house?"

Alan’s brows lifted, faint surprise showing at the question. "The Cardinal has always..."

"You’ve just confirmed two things for me," Trevor said, his voice sharpening only at the edges. "First, you have no idea who the master of this house is. And second, that I have been far too lenient with you."

He didn’t look at Windstone when he spoke next, but the order was absolute. "Arrest them. All of them. On or off shift. If they set foot in this building in the last month, I want them held until we’ve questioned them. Every. Single. One."

Windstone didn’t ask for clarification. His men moved immediately, black-suited shadows breaking off to collect names and restrain those who didn’t move quickly enough.

Trevor stepped forward, closing the space between himself and the butler until they stood nearly eye to eye. "House Fitzgeralt and House D’Argente have publicly withdrawn all support from the clergy," he said, voice pitched low enough that only Alan and those closest could hear. "If you thought Cardinal Benedict’s reach extended here, you’ve been living in a delusion. And now, you’ll have plenty of time to think about it... somewhere far less comfortable than my marble floors."

The butler’s composure finally cracked, his mouth parting as if to speak, but Trevor had already turned away.

"Windstone," Trevor called over his shoulder, "see to it that none of them so much as breathes toward the gates without my permission."

"Yes, Your Grace."

The sound of boots on marble and the muted scuffle of movement filled the hall. Trevor didn’t look back. The slippers on his feet made no sound at all as he left them to their fate.