When he entered, only his wife remained. The midwives had left after cleaning the room, leaving Cedric alone with the body of the woman he had loved with the greatest of all emotions – love.
His eyes filled with tears, which in an instant overflowed, streaming down his cheeks.
He stood there, collecting himself. When he finally did, he approached the bed where Isolde lay.
He looked at her, and bitterness flooded him again as he saw the traces of pain on her beautiful face. Yet he couldn't tear his gaze away. On her body was the incision from the cesarean section.
He shifted his focus to her lips, which were slowly losing their color. Thoughts swirled in his mind: Aaa, you wanted so badly to see this child… and I looked at him like…
Swallowing the lump in his throat – though it didn't truly exist – he took her hand in his, intertwining their fingers. "You wanted to name him Aiden. I thought it was a strange name," he said, his voice breaking.
He studied her face once more, still delicate despite the pain. "I'll give him that name," he declared.
For a moment, he reminisced about the trivial and significant moments they'd shared. Finally, he returned to the words he needed to say, as much for himself as for her: "I know you'd have loved him more than life itself. Probably more than me… and that's why my heart aches."
He steadied himself and added, expecting no reply: "So I'll love him too."
He released her hand and trailed his fingers along her arm, up to her face. With the back of his hand, he brushed her now-cool skin, closing her eyes one after the other.
When he straightened, he spoke with resolve, though sorrow lingered: "I plan to give Aiden the first level of 'RAVEN'."
He leaned close to her ear and whispered words meant only for her, tinged with melancholy and longing: "I LOVE YOU." He kissed her forehead, stood, and left the room.
In the hallway, he glanced at the family members and approached his father, Sebastian, surrounded by his three wives:
Vivienne has beautiful blond hair reaching her shoulder blades. She is the first wife, proud, with deep blue eyes full of warmth. Her athletic frame wears an elegant dress embroidered with leaf motifs. She and Cedric share their first child.
Marielle is a woman of average height, her hair cascading to her shoulders. Her striking light-blue eyes seem to see through people. Her slender figure is draped in pastel robes. She bore Cedric's second and third children.
Selene has sleek, jet-black hair and analytical, icy light-blue eyes. Her toned physique is clad in a leather jacket. She is the mother of Cedric's fourth child.
Sebastian stared into his eyes, searching for any hint of threat to the child. Cedric met his gaze, silently conveying: I'm fine now… Thank you.
Sebastian raised his hands slightly to pass him the son who hadn't cried once since birth. Cedric gazed at the child, his eyes longing – the boy had inherited only his mother's eyes. Those deep, dark eyes, which on others might seem hollow, on him held an innocent sweetness.
"Aiden," Cedric said, addressing no one in particular.
Silence gripped the room for ten seconds before he repeated, firm and final: "Aiden. That's the name he'll carry. Isolde wanted it, strange as it is."
Sebastian chuckled, proud despite this not being his first grandson: "Aiden? Strange, but I like it. He'll be strong – I'll make sure of it."
Cedric smiled wistfully: "Yes. She wanted that too."
Cedric's expression hardened as he handed the child to Vivienne. Everyone followed him out. In the corridor stood Sebas – the majordomo, steward, and head of staff. His role was overseeing the servants, coordinating all departments, and answering directly to the estate's master. A man of average looks, middle-aged, with deep blue eyes and black hair swept back, now streaked with white at the temples. He wore a black tailcoat with a golden clip engraved "SEBAS" on the chest, a white shirt, and a half-top hat.
The first thing he heard after the doors opened was Cedric's voice: "Sebas, you know the situation?"
He replied instantly: "Yes, I've been briefed."
Cedric continued: "Then summon Wolter and Anastasia."
Sebas answered like clockwork: "I've already notified them. They'll arrive shortly."
Cedric turned to his majordomo: "Sebas, come see. This is Aiden, the newest member of House Alveron."
Sebas removed his half-top hat, pressed it to his chest, and bowed: "Greetings, young master Aiden. I've served your father for years, and from today, I serve you."
As silence fell, hurried footsteps echoed. Wolter and Anastasia arrived, speaking in unison: "How may we serve you, Lord Alveron?"
Wolter resembled Sebas – tall, composed, with dark hair neatly combed back to his nape. He wore a similar tailcoat but with a silver clip bearing his name.
Anastasia, past forty, had faint wrinkles that lent her a calm warmth. Her green eyes and chestnut hair tied in a bun complemented her tailored suit.
The head of the house commanded all three: "Prepare everything for the funeral."
Their competence meant no further details were needed, but he added: "Anastasia, Wolter – arrange the most beautiful coffin and memorial. Anastasia, budget is unlimited. Prepare the banquet hall for the wake. Invite only our closest kin. Keep Isolde's death private for now."
He glanced at his brothers and father: "Handle the details. I'll choose her coffin and memorial."
Dorian stepped forward, gentle yet resolute: "You can count on us. All of us. It'll be done right."
Cedric began walking, tossing to Sebas without looking back: "Follow me."
Without a word, Sebas obeyed.
On the second floor, before massive wooden doors, Cedric turned to him, voice low and grave: "Bring me 'Raven'."
Sebas's eyes widened briefly, but he steadied himself: "I know you planned to give it to Aiden. But I must warn you – there will be consequences."
It was bold, but as majordomo, he alone could speak so freely. Cedric trusted him enough to know this came from concern.
Sebas continued without pause: "The midwives reported complications. Aiden's development may be delayed. Even for a healthy adult, 'Raven' strains the mind and body."
He inhaled deeply: "For a newborn, especially one with birth trauma, it could drastically hinder – or halt – his growth."
Cedric scanned the corridor: "Let's continue in the study."
Inside, Cedric surveyed the book-lined room, half the titles unknown to him, and approached an ornate desk.
At his gesture, Sebas pressed on: "You intended to give it to one of your children, but only if they met the classification criteria."
"If I recall, you said you'd grant it in their teens, contingent on academic merit and combat prowess."
Cedric met his gaze: "I'm aware. It sounds reckless, but hear my reasons."
He paused for emphasis: "First, I want him to lead this family someday. Unorthodox, yes, but I believe it's right."
He took a shallow breath: "Second, because he's Isolde's son."
"Third, if he survives the hardest trials, he'll surpass all expectations."
Sebas absorbed this, unconvinced but loyal: "If Lord Sebastian learns of this…"
Cedric cut him off: "I'm aware. That's why we're alone. No one knew whom or when I'd choose. Or if I ever would."
He ordered coldly: "Bring the vial. Tell no one."
Sebas bowed slightly and left, conflict in his eyes.