Chapter 148: Chapter 148: Family

“You saw me pregnant,” Rafael said, dry, because if he didn’t make it a little sharp, he would start feeling things in front of people, and that was unacceptable.

Philip, who had been standing near the doorway like he wasn’t sure if breathing too loudly would get him executed, blinked at him.

“Yes,” he said slowly, like he was replaying the last months in his head and realizing none of it had prepared him for this. “But… I don’t think we processed it.”

Bruno nodded once, solemn, as if confirming a military report. “Accurate.”

Daniel’s gaze was fixed on Natalie, his expression caught somewhere between awe and disbelief, like he expected her to vanish if he blinked wrong. “It’s just…” he started, then stopped, because Daniel always tried to be the sensible one and was currently failing.

Rafael lifted a brow. “You processed me being an imperial secretary and surviving the court.”

“That was terrifying,” Philip said immediately.

Bruno added, without missing a beat, “Still terrifying.”

Catherine made a soft sound that was half laugh, half fond exhale, and stepped closer, approaching the bed with the careful respect of someone who understood wards and boundaries and new parents who hadn’t slept.

“You’re beautiful,” she said to Rafael first, voice warm and certain, as if that was the only acceptable truth.

Rafael’s cheeks heated. “Catherine…”

“No,” she said gently, cutting him off the way only she could, with sweetness that didn’t leave room for argument. “Let me have this. You did something extraordinary. And you’re safe. I’m very happy you’re safe.”

Rafael’s throat tightened in a way he didn’t like.

Gregoris’s hand stayed anchored on his thigh, a silent reminder that he wasn’t alone in this moment.

Natalie shifted, tiny and content, making a little sound like a complaint about being discussed, then settled again into the blankets.

Catherine’s gaze softened so much Rafael almost wanted to look away out of secondhand emotion.

“Oh,” she whispered, barely audible. “Hello, little Natalie.”

Philip leaned in a fraction, eyes wide. “She’s… small.”

Bruno, as if still filing this under tactical assessment, said, “Compact.”

Daniel finally found his voice, rough with disbelief. “Gregoris,” he said, like he was accusing him of a crime. “You… you actually did it first.”

Gregoris didn’t blink. “Yes.”

Philip looked personally offended. “You don’t even like gatherings.”

Gregoris’s eyes flicked to Natalie. “I like this.”

That simple sentence landed like a quiet earthquake.

Rafael’s mouth twitched, his chest warming again, because of course that was how Gregoris loved – direct, ruthless, and without decoration.

Catherine’s eyes shone, but she kept her composure like a queen.

She glanced at Gregoris, then at Rafael, and her voice stayed gentle. “May I?”

Rafael looked at Gregoris instinctively.

Gregoris’ jaw tightened in reflex, protective, territorial, not intended as an insult, but simply instinct.

Then he exhaled slowly and nodded once.

“Hands washed,” Gregoris said.

Catherine smiled like she’d been expecting exactly that. “Already done.”

Rafael carefully adjusted the blankets, shifting Natalie just enough to make room, and Catherine stepped in with the assurance that comes from raising sons.

When Natalie was placed in her arms, Catherine didn’t squeal.

She didn’t start talking too loudly.

She simply held her like she was something sacred.

Natalie blinked once, silver eyes opening briefly, unfocused but present, and Catherine’s breath caught.

“There you are,” Catherine whispered.

Natalie stared at her for a heartbeat, then yawned widely, her tiny mouth opening like an offended emperor, and fell back asleep.

Philip made a sound that was half laugh, half choked emotion. “She judged her.”

Bruno nodded once. “Approved.”

Daniel’s voice went quiet. “She has his eyes.”

Rafael, too tired to pretend he wasn’t pleased, murmured, “And my charm.”

Philip looked at Rafael in horror. “You’re going to make her sarcastic.”

Rafael smiled sweetly. “Someone has to.”

Gregoris’s hand squeezed Rafael’s thigh once, like a silent agreement.

Catherine looked up at Rafael over the sleeping baby, eyes warm and firm. “You did well.”

Rafael swallowed, his voice softer than he meant it to be. “I know.”

—

A few hours later, the manor had quieted again.

Not because Catherine hadn’t tried to fill every corner of the wing with warmth and practical help – she had, in the way only she could, with broth and soft bread and a blanket folded just right and a kiss to Rafael’s forehead that felt like approval given gently, not demanded.

Not because the brothers hadn’t hovered like stunned bodyguards, staring at Natalie as if she might start speaking in full sentences any moment and accuse them of incompetence – because they had, until Philip had been politely escorted out by his own mother for being too loud near a sleeping infant.

But eventually even family left.

They were sensible about it, which was its own miracle.

Catherine had held Natalie until her arms ached and then handed her back as if transferring a crown, making sure Rafael had her securely before letting go. She had squeezed Rafael’s hand once, warm and wordless, and promised she would return tomorrow with more food and less chaos.

Bruno had nodded at Gregoris like he was acknowledging a promotion.

Daniel had looked at Rafael as if he’d developed a new kind of respect and didn’t know what to do with it.

Philip had whispered, scandalized, “She yawned at me like I was beneath her,” and Rafael had whispered back, “Because you are.”

And then they were gone.

The wing returned to its soft hum – ether threaded through the walls like a quiet pulse, guards posted far enough away to be invisible, and staff moving in silence.

Rafael had eaten.

Gregoris had made sure of it, sitting there and watching Rafael take each bite as if broth was a medical procedure and Rafael was suspiciously uncooperative.

After that, Rafael had dozed into the drifting rest his body took when it finally believed nobody would attack it in the next ten minutes.

When he woke again, the room was dimmer with late afternoon light.

And Natalie was furious.

Not screaming in pain.

Not wailing in panic.

Just… offended.

A sharp, repetitive cry that sounded like a complaint lodged with the universe.

Rafael blinked, disoriented, and immediately felt his chest tighten because the sound did something ancient to his nerves.

“What…” he started, voice rough.

Gregoris was already up.

He stood near the foot of the bed with Natalie in his arms, moving with the awkward carefulness of a man who could dismantle an enemy in under a minute and was still figuring out how to convince a newborn that life was acceptable.

Natalie did not care about his combat record.

Natalie cared about being displeased.

Rafael watched Gregoris pace once, a slow, controlled line across the carpet, murmuring something low that sounded like a threat directed at the concept of discomfort.

Natalie cried harder.

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