The match was only three days away, but Leon had to spend every waking hour at the training center. Lucien had other plans. He pulled up a map of the city on his phone, scrolling through tourist spots.

"Going alone is boring," Leon muttered, his brow furrowing as he leaned over Lucien's shoulder. "I'll go with you."

"Focus on your training," Lucien said, giving Leon's arm a firm, encouraging pat. "Winning is the priority."

Leon hesitated, his grip on Lucien's waist tightening. "Keep your phone on. Answer when I call, mon petit ange. Understood?"

"Yes, yes. Go train," Lucien promised.

Leon reached into his pocket and slid several black cards across the table. "Buy whatever you want. They have no limit."

"I'm going to bankrupt you today," Lucien joked, puffing out his chest.

Leon caught Lucien's earlobe between his teeth, a dark smirk playing on his lips. "If you don't spend at least a million, don't bother coming home."

Lucien talked a big game but ended up wandering a pedestrian street with a single ice cream cone. He found a bench in a quiet square and snapped a selfie to show Leon the view.

His phone buzzed two seconds later.

"Leon? You're supposed to be in the ring," Lucien said, leaning back to watch the pigeons.

"It's freezing out, baby," Leon's voice was a low, protective rumble through the speaker. "Don't sit out there eating ice cream. You'll get sick. I'm sending a car."

"I'm fine! Stop micromanaging—"

Lucien stopped. He heard a chaotic shouting match in the background of the call.

"What's going on over there?"

"Bert showed up," Leon sighed, his tone turning murderous. "I'm having security throw him out."

Lucien's heart did a frantic somersault. Bert.

He remembered the ridiculous story he'd spun at the pool—the runaway bride, the secret pregnancy, the hacker toddler. Lucien bolted upright, his ice cream nearly sliding off the cone.

"I have to go! See you later!" Lucien hung up and sprinted toward the training center.

"Leon! I just want to see my nephew!" Bert shouted, struggling against the trainers holding him back.

Leon's jaw tightened. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Lucien told me everything!" Bert looked genuinely moved. "You two have been through so much. The runaway years... the child..."

Leon went dead still. His gray-blue eyes narrowed into lethal slits. "Lucien told you what?"

Lucien's legs were burning by the time he reached the facility. He was drenched in sweat and gasping for air. The security guards didn't recognize him and blocked the entrance.

"Leon! Get down here!" Lucien wheezed into his phone.

Leon appeared minutes later, a heavy coat in his hand. He draped it over Lucien's trembling shoulders. "How did you get here?"

"I ran," Lucien admitted, looking like a guilty, ruffled bunny.

"You didn't think to call a cab? Or me?" Leon's face was a mask of cold frustration.

Lucien shrunk into the oversized coat. "I forgot."

Leon pulled the coat tighter, nearly lifting Lucien off his feet. "Are you cold?"

"No, I'm hot from the running."

"Shut up," Leon commanded, though his grip softened.

Lucien peeked out from the black fabric. "Is... is the 'nephew' still here?"

Leon looked down at him, his gaze unreadable. "Bert? Yeah. He's inside."

Lucien bit his lip. "Oh."

"He told me all about it," Leon murmured. He slid a large hand over Lucien's flat stomach, his touch light but possessive. "I didn't know you'd given birth to my son, baby. Why didn't you tell me?"

Lucien's face went nuclear. He swallowed hard. "Bert's... Bert has a very active imagination."

Leon let out a dry, mirthless laugh. He didn't push it—not yet. He led Lucien inside the gym.

Bert was sitting on a bench, waving enthusiastically. "Lucien! I'm here to meet the little guy!"

Lucien wanted to vanish into the floorboards.

Leon sat Lucien down on the bench. "Thanks to Bert, I've realized our relationship is much more... dramatic than I thought."

"It's called adding flavor to life," Lucien whispered, his voice thin. "It's a narrative arc."

"Go wait in the lounge," Leon commanded, ruffling Lucien's hair. "I have a sparring session."

By lunch, Lucien and Bert were sitting in front of a screen, button-mashing on a console.

"Don't hit me! Wrong guy! Turn around!" Bert yelled.

"I'm trying! Oh no—I'm dead," Lucien pouted.

Leon walked out of the showers, steam still clinging to his skin. He didn't say a word; he just bent down and scooped Lucien up, controller and all.

"Leon! Put me down! I'm hungry!"

"I'm taking you to eat," Leon said, ignoring Bert's protests.

"I haven't even had breakfast!" Bert begged, following them like a stray dog.

Leon gave him a look that could freeze a furnace. "Get lost."

Lucien tugged on Leon's shirt. "Let him come. We were playing together."

Leon huffed. "You're too soft on him." But he didn't send Bert away.

They sat in a quiet Chinese restaurant. Bert stared at the two of them across the table, his expression puzzled.

"So, when's the wedding?" Bert asked.

Lucien choked on his tea. Leon just smiled, draping an arm over Lucien's shoulders. "Whenever he says so."

"We just started dating!" Lucien hissed.

"You've been through a pregnancy and a secret exile, Lucien," Bert sighed. "You should secure the bag early."

"Bert," Lucien said with terrifying sincerity. "Eat your garlic and shut up."

Night fell, and the "King" was ready to settle the score.

Lucien was curled in Leon's lap, sobbing into the man's chest. His skin felt like it was on fire. "Leon... please... you didn't..."

"I didn't use protection," Leon admitted, his voice a low, rough scrape against Lucien's ear. "How else are you going to get pregnant like you promised Bert?"

Lucien shook his head frantically, his eyes red and wet.

Leon let out a dark chuckle. He pulled Lucien's wrists together and snapped his leather belt around them, cinching them tight.

"In your story, you said I kept you in a dark room with chains," Leon whispered. "I don't have chains on me, but the belt will have to do. I have to satisfy my baby's tastes, don't I?"

"No! That was a lie!" Lucien wailed.

Leon ignored the plea, pressing Lucien down into the mattress. "You also said I was boring. You should have just told me, Lucien. I can be as 'interesting' as you want."

The next morning, Bert knocked on the hotel suite door. He'd been kicked out of the gym and wanted to play more games.

Lucien cracked the door open an inch. He was wearing light blue silk pajamas, his collar sagging to reveal a neck covered in dark, fresh bite marks.

"Lucien! I brought the—" Bert stopped. He stared at the marks, then at Lucien's exhausted, hollow expression.

Lucien glared at him with a ferocity that made Bert step back. "Go away. I hate looking at you."

The door slammed shut.

Bert rubbed his nose, looking at the heavy wood of the door. "Merde... the locked-room thing was real."