Chapter 152: Chapter 152: Back to the right father

“It appears she disagrees.”

Rafael’s jaw flexed like he was considering suing biology.

Alexandra watched him with the bright, merciless delight of someone who had never once been burdened by restraint. “She’s clinging like he’s a holy relic,” she whispered, scandalized and thrilled. “I’m going to tell everyone she’s already pledged allegiance.”

“You are going to tell no one anything,” Rafael said, voice low.

Gabriel, traitor, adjusted Natalie closer with a movement so practiced it bordered on unfair. He simply held her with a steady grip, and Natalie responded like she’d been waiting her whole short life to find a chest that didn’t shake with nerves.

Arik leaned forward again, curious, his attention caught by the tiny hand gripping Gabriel’s collar. His brows pinched, the same expression Damian wore when he decided a war was personal.

He reached.

“Arik,” Gabriel said softly.

Arik froze.

Gabriel didn’t scold him. He only looked down at him, patient, like a man teaching a storm how to be civilized.

Arik’s hand hovered, then slowly withdrew again, and he made a small offended noise that sounded like, ’this is corruption.’

Alexandra patted his back, soothingly. “Yes, sweetheart, the world is cruel. You’re not allowed to steal other people’s babies.”

Rafael’s gaze snapped to her. “He wasn’t…”

“He was,” Alexandra said immediately. “He’s imperial. He was definitely considering it.”

Gabriel’s mouth twitched.

Rafael saw it and became personally offended by the concept of Gabriel finding anything amusing while holding Rafael’s child.

Natalie made another tiny sound, a soft, dissatisfied squeak that lasted half a second.

Rafael’s body reacted instantly – arms twitching, ready to take her back, ready to correct whatever discomfort had dared to exist in his child.

Gabriel noticed the shift.

He didn’t move away. He didn’t tighten his hold possessively. He simply shifted Natalie a fraction higher, supporting her neck more snugly, and murmured something too low to be fully heard.

Natalie quieted.

Then, slowly, she paused.

It was the strange, instinctive stillness of a newborn whose body had learned to recognize patterns before her mind could identify them.

Her cheek rested against Gabriel’s collar. Her fingers still clutched the seam.

And then she pulled back, just a little.

Natalie’s face turned, searching.

Her tiny nose pressed against Gabriel’s throat again, then slid, confused, toward the side of his neck, as if looking for something she’d expected to find there.

A scent.

That warm, deep undertone that didn’t belong to perfume or cloth but to biology – milk and blood and the particular comfort of the body that had carried you.

She didn’t find it.

Natalie’s brows pinched, minuscule and offended.

She made a sound, sharper than before, then wriggled, suddenly restless, her hand loosening on Gabriel’s collar as if the fabric had betrayed her.

Rafael’s breathing went shallow.

Alexandra blinked, amusement faltering into fascination. “Oh.”

Gabriel looked down, attentive immediately, and adjusted his hold again, trying to settle her.

Natalie did not settle.

She turned her face away from his collar completely now, head twisting, searching the room with unfocused urgency until her gaze landed, instinctively, on Rafael.

Her mouth opened, a small, hungry movement that was not about food.

Her little hands flexed in the air, reaching not for Gabriel anymore, but for Rafael.

Rafael became still, the kind of stillness that comes just before violence or surrender.

Gabriel felt the change, and his posture softened in a different way, careful and acknowledging.

“She wants you,” Gabriel said quietly, as if stating an obvious truth and giving Rafael permission to accept it without pride.

Rafael moved immediately.

He stepped forward and took Natalie back into his arms, fast but controlled, as if afraid that if he hesitated for one more second, his heart would show on his face.

The moment Natalie was against his chest again, she settled with a visible exhale, her tiny body loosening, her cheek pressed under Rafael’s chin like she’d returned to the only correct place in the universe.

Her fingers curled into his shirt, not into a collar she couldn’t understand, but into fabric that carried the scent she recognized: her home, her father, the man who had been there for every cry and every breath and every late-night terror.

Rafael rocked her once.

Natalie quieted fully.

Alexandra’s lips parted, awed. “She just…”

“Identified the correct parent,” Rafael said, flat.

Alexandra blinked. “I was going to say ’she just broke Gabriel’s heart,’ but sure, that too.”

Gabriel didn’t look offended. He didn’t look hurt. If anything, his expression softened with something like approval, because the baby’s instincts weren’t an insult; they were a truth, and Gabriel had always respected truth more than sentiment.

“She’s perceptive,” he murmured.

Rafael’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t praise her for rejecting you.”

“I’m praising her for knowing what she needs,” Gabriel replied calmly. “That’s not rejection.”

Alexandra made a small, dramatic sigh. “Why is every conversation in this wing a philosophy lecture?”

“Because you keep talking,” Gabriel said without looking at her.

Arik babbled loudly as if offended by the shift in attention away from him, then slapped Alexandra’s cheek again, satisfied with his timing.

Alexandra stared into the distance. “I’m being abused in my own home.”

“You are in my home,” Gabriel said, calm and unimpressed, “and you let Arik get away with everything.” He collected his cup of coffee, now cold, and took a sip anyway, like bitterness was simply another daily ritual.

Alexandra’s head snapped toward him. “Excuse you. I am teaching him confidence.”

“You’re teaching him that consequences are a myth,” Gabriel replied, and his eyes flicked briefly to Arik, who was watching them with bright interest, as if he understood he was the topic and liked it. “There’s a difference.”

Arik made a pleased sound and slapped Alexandra’s shoulder this time, switching targets like a professional.

Alexandra inhaled sharply. “He’s escalating.”

Gabriel set the cup down carefully. “Arik.”

Arik froze instantly, hand hovering in midair like he’d been caught in the act of committing treason. His lashes fluttered. He offered Gabriel that sweet, diplomatic smile again, innocent enough to fool a saint, calculated enough to terrify an advisor.

Rafael watched it with a blank expression that hid the fact that he was, frankly, a little stunned. His own daughter had the decency to be tiny and asleep. Arik looked like he was already drafting policies in his head.

Alexandra leaned closer to Arik and whispered, “Do not look at him like that. He’s going to become insufferable.”

Arik blinked at her, then stuck two fingers in his mouth thoughtfully, never taking his eyes off Gabriel.

Gabriel’s gaze did not soften – Gabriel didn’t do soft in the same way that other people did – but the warmth in it sharpened, like a blade polished until gleaming. He reached out and tapped Arik’s wrist, gentle but final.

“No,” he said simply.

Arik frowned.

The frown was brief, offended, and very much Damian’s.

Alexandra’s eyes narrowed. “That face. That is Damian’s face.”

Gabriel lifted one brow. “He’s Damian’s son.”

“Yes,” Alexandra said, scandalized, “but he didn’t have to inherit the attitude.”

Rafael adjusted Natalie under his chin, keeping his rocking subtle and automatic. Natalie’s tiny fist remained curled into his shirt as if she’d decided fabric was sacred and fathers were non-negotiable. He didn’t look up when he spoke, because the moment he did, Alexandra would see too much in his eyes.

“He’s not being rude,” Rafael said flatly. “He’s being… efficient.”

Alexandra stared at him. “You are defending him.”

Rafael met her gaze with the dead stare of a man who had been awake for a month. “I am identifying a threat.”

Gabriel’s mouth twitched faintly, because he heard everything and because he enjoyed people being honest when they didn’t realize they were.

Arik, apparently satisfied that his assault had been acknowledged, leaned back against Alexandra’s chest and babbled something that sounded like a victory speech.

Alexandra patted his back with exaggerated tenderness. “Yes, yes. Your reign begins in the nursery. Terrifying.”

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