CHAPTER 48 – THE KING'S DAUGHTERS
L U C I A N
The estate had been quiet when we arrived, but the moment I stepped out of the SUV carrying the girls, that silence broke like glass.
Every staff member who saw me froze for half a heartbeat because it wasn't often I brought anyone here, let alone two children.
"My office," I told Silas, low and clipped. "Now."
He followed without question as I led the twins inside.
The housekeeper Mrs. Crane appeared from nowhere, her face softening the moment she saw the girls clinging to me, their little heads resting on my shoulders.
"Prepare two rooms," I said. "Connected, large enough for them to play. I want them completely redone tonight."
Mrs. Crane blinked once but nodded sharply, already making notes.
"Anything specific, sir?"
"Everything," I said. "I want those rooms to look like they've been waiting for them since the day they were born. Call in the designers, have them bring options. Toys, books, clothes everything."
"Yes, Mr. Dreven."
I crouched and gently set the girls down. They looked around, wide-eyed but not frightened curious, taking in the massive hallways, the tall windows spilling morning light across the marble floor.
"Where are we?" one of them whispered.
"Your new home," I said quietly.
They beamed, like I'd just told them I'd bought them a secret castle.
Silas cleared his throat from behind me, but wisely said nothing.
In my office, I loosened my tie and reached for the phone.
"Get me Dr. Hall," I told my assistant on the line. "Pediatric specialist. I want a full medical workup for both girls today. Immunizations, dietary needs, developmental milestones everything."
I hung up before she could stammer a response.
"Certified nannies?" I asked Silas.
"Already calling," he said. "Top three agencies in Arden are sending their best candidates."
"Good. Have them ready for interviews within the hour."
I stood by the window, staring out at the estate's gardens the same gardens I'd walked through a hundred times in silence, never imagining two small voices would be echoing across them.
"They were happy to come with you," Silas said after a beat.
I didn't turn. "They thought it was an adventure. Something their mother planned."
Silas hesitated. "And you didn't correct them?"
"No." My voice was quiet, dangerous. "They've lost enough today. They don't need to see their mother cry on a sidewalk while I take them away."
There was a pause, heavy with the unspoken.
"She'll come for them," Silas said finally.
"I know," I said. "That's why they're here."
By the time noon came, the east wing of the estate was alive with motion decorators, carpenters, florists, and staff all moving like a well-oiled machine.
I stood in the doorway of what would be their room, arms folded as swatches of pastel fabric, soft rugs, and canopy bed designs were presented to me.
"No cartoon prints," I said. "Classic, timeless. They're not just children they're my children. I want this room to grow with them."
Within hours, the plain guest rooms transformed into bright sanctuaries pale blush walls, white bookshelves filled with storybooks and puzzles, two identical beds with embroidered initials on the pillows.
The girls ran between the rooms, laughing, their little hands reaching for toys and plush animals that hadn't been there minutes ago.
Their laughter echoed through the hallways, filling a space that had been silent for too long.
It didn't take long for the first problem to appear.
"Sir," Mrs. Crane asked delicately as she prepared to take the girls upstairs, "which one is which?"
I blinked.
The twins stood side by side, identical little faces staring up at me, waiting.
Silas useless, grinning in the background had the audacity to chuckle.
I looked from one girl to the other. "Which one of you is Lila?"
"I am!" they both said at the same time, then giggled.
I pinched the bridge of my nose, exhaling slowly. "You." I pointed at the one on the left.
"I'm Isla," she said brightly.
The other one giggled so hard she nearly tipped over. "Daddy got it wrong!"
"Apparently," I muttered, straightening.
"Color-coded bracelets?" Silas suggested mildly, clearly enjoying himself.
I shot him a look sharp enough to cut glass. "Do it."
"Yes, boss," he said, smirking.
By the time they'd settled into their rooms, Dr. Hall had arrived for a full pediatric check-up.
"She's a little shy," Isla whispered as the doctor prepared the stethoscope.
"I am not!" Lila protested, then giggled when Dr. Hall smiled.
I stood at the back of the room, arms crossed, silently evaluating every word the doctor said. Their diet. Their growth. Their development milestones. Nothing would be overlooked.
And when Silas appeared with the list of nannies for interviews, I waved him forward.
"Only the best," I said. "If they're not perfect, send them away."
I found myself watching them more than I should memorizing the way they tilted their heads when they asked questions, the way they giggled when Silas tried to act serious.
They were so alive.
And so trusting.
When one of them came running to me, tugging at my sleeve, I knelt automatically.
"Daddy, look!" she said, holding up a stuffed bear almost as big as she was.
The word hit me like a punch Daddy and I froze for a second, before nodding.
"Do you like it?"
She grinned. "It's perfect."
I let out a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding.
Later, after they'd finally tired themselves out and fallen asleep in their new beds, I stood in the hallway outside their rooms.
Silas joined me there, his usual stoic expression softer than usual.
"You're really doing this," he said quietly.
"Yes."
"She's going to hate you for it."
"She already does," I said, my jaw tight.
I turned, looking once more at the small figures curled up under the covers.
"She can hate me all she wants. She can scream, she can fight me, she can never forgive me, I don't care."
I looked at Silas, my voice low, steady.
"But she will not run. Not with my daughters."