"Congratulations on your divorce, Madam." Gregor said warmly. Even his deep voice sounded satisfied after waiting for a long time to say those words. "We have confirmed that Mr. Vasiliev’s secretary filed all the documents the day you signed them in the hospital."

"In just another three weeks, we expect to receive the divorce decree." Thalia said as she smiled brightly.

Cecilia nodded. "That’s a relief. Let’s lay low for a while. Make sure the divorce is finalized without a hitch."

"About your team members, Madam..." Thalia said, growing more cautious. "It seems they have heard about your divorce. They saw your belongings cleared out from the lab."

"Is that so?" Cecilia hummed, her eyes thoughtful. "It will be better if they start contacting us about the patent. But even if they don’t, we don’t need to worry. I have other plans prepared."

Oathran finished serving the last of the dishes he had been preparing, a spread of roasted vegetables, seared meat, and a light, fragrant soup that steamed gently in its bowls.

He wiped his hands on a kitchen towel and settled into the chair beside Cecilia, his eyes fixed on her. "Tell us about your plans. We might not be able to help much, but it doesn’t hurt to tell us."

"What do you mean?" Cecilia chuckled, turning to face him fully. "You are always part of the plan." Her gaze swept across the table, including Arkai and Eastiel in the statement. "And you two."

The three men, seeing her complete lack of hesitation as she assumed their involvement as naturally as breathing, suddenly looked excited. Eastiel’s lion ears perked forward, his golden eyes brightening with hope. "You want to involve us...?"

"Will that be okay? Wouldn’t it complicate things... and..." Arkai said hesitantly. "...ruin your reputation?"

"Ruin my reputation?" Cecilia blinked. "How?"

She looked honestly bewildered. Why would involving her husbands ruin her reputation?

"In the meantime," Cecilia lifted her cutlery, her eyebrows creased, "investigate how Father passed. Even if I’m sure we have been thorough, entertain the possibility that Elara and Arzhen might have killed him."

She paused, her knife and fork hovering above her plate. "Now, let’s pray and dedicate our food for his memory tonight."

But Gregor and Thalia had frozen. Their faces, which had been warm with victory and relief only moments before, had gone pale.

They knew Anton Vasiliev’s rapidly declining health had been surprising. Shocking, even. After all, he had been almost fine one month and diagnosed with terminal cancer the next. But for him to possibly have been killed by his own wife and son?

"What’s wrong?" Cecilia turned to them. She noticed that even her husbands had fallen quiet.

"You are uncharacteristically very matter-of-fact," Oathran said slowly, his eyes studying her face, "about the possibility of your father-in-law being killed by your ex-husband and your mother-in-law."

"What can I say?" Cecilia said calmly, although also seriously. "I might have suspected it for a while."

She didn’t know about AU!Cecilia. But she knew Elara and Arzhen in the real world. She knew they had tried to kill Anton with poison, and when Anton had tried to escape, Arzhen had tried to finish the job with his own claws.

Perhaps in this alternate universe, AU!Cecilia had not connected those dots yet. But it was good to connect them sooner now that she was here.

"Is this... the other plan you mentioned earlier, Madam?" Gregor asked, voice unsteady, his fork dangling forgotten from his massive fingers.

"No." Cecilia’s lips curved into a gentle smile. "Let’s say I have a plan for more inventions."

Thalia gasped and Gregor’s fork clattered to his plate. Meanwhile, Oathran, Arkai and Eastiel froze completely, their eyes wide and fixed on her.

Everyone was stunned. They had just been reminded that the woman they loved was, among other things, a genius.

"M-more inventions?!"

"This way," Cecilia’s smile widened, "my team members might want to return to me, right?"

***

The morning after was a Sunday. No one had to wake up early and no one had to rush out the door.

Sunlight poured through the floor-to-ceiling windows, pale and golden, catching the dust motes that floated lazily in the air. The city glittered below, indifferent to the domestic chaos unfolding fifteen floors above it.

The men had declared that the guest room needed to be transformed. It was no longer a guest room, they insisted. It was her room.

And as her room, it needed to reflect her. With her belongings, her taste, and her presence.

The fact that she had been sleeping in a borrowed space for over a week was almost like a tragedy to them.

So they hauled boxes and unpacked. They arranged and rearranged and debated the optimal placement of furniture. Even the new custom shoe rack Oathran ordered with Cecilia had also arrived, waiting to be installed.

Thalia’s boxes, it turned out, contained more than just Cecilia’s salvaged personal belongings.

There were baby supplies too. Ones that wouldn’t expire, at the very least. Tiny clothes folded in tissue paper, soft blankets in pale, gender-neutral colors, cream and sage green and gentle grey of a winter sky.

A mobile with little wooden stars dangling from delicate strings. A collection of board books with titles like ’Goodnight, Little Dragon’ and ’The Very Hungry Wyrmling’.

Cecilia scrunched up her face when she saw them, trying not to laugh and cry. "Thalia... Gregor... pfff—"

They were all very high quality and tasteful too. For heaven’s sake, they were the kind of baby supplies that came from boutiques. Gregor and Thalia, she realized, had not merely been shopping for baby things. They had been on a mission.

Oathran held up a tiny onesie, cream-colored, impossibly small, embroidered with a single silver star over the heart. His eyes traced the stitching.

Arkai had frozen mid-unpack, a set of miniature socks dangling from his fingers, each one no bigger than his thumb.

While Eastiel was cradling a plush dragon toy tenderly. The man was screaming without sound as he shook the toy. Cute aggression was no joke.

"I don’t think the apartment would be good enough," Oathran said contemplatively. "When the day comes, it might not be sufficient."

"I do think we need a baby room." Arkai’s eyes swept across the apartment, already calculating square footage and wall placement and the optimal distance from the other bedroom. "A proper one. With a door. And soundproofing. And—"

"It will be delivered as an egg." Eastiel’s eyes were still fixed on the plush dragon in his hands. "It might need a special incubator, too. Temperature control, humidity regulation—"

"Yes. A dragon egg needs specific conditions," Oathran finished, nodding. "I will talk to Lazuardi. We can build something custom. I know people who work with this kind of equipment."

The three men frowned in unison.

Cecilia looked at them and tilted her head. "Well, this room can be the baby room. I can sleep with any of you in your room."

...

S...

Sleep with...

Oathran’s brain, which had been calculating incubator specifications and temperature gradients, ground to a screeching halt. 𝒇𝒓𝒆𝒆𝙬𝒆𝒃𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝙡.𝒄𝓸𝒎

Arkai’s hands, which had been holding a set of baby socks, went slack, the tiny garments fluttering to the floor like leaves.

Eastiel’s mouth fell open, the plush dragon forgotten in his arms, his golden eyes going wide and glassy.

Cecilia. Sleeping with them. After giving birth. In their rooms. In their beds. Permanently.

The three men’s heads exploded into millions of galaxies. Their souls briefly vacated their bodies, ascended to a higher plane, and contemplated the vast, incomprehensible beauty of a universe in which this woman had just casually suggested she might share a bed with them.

Then their souls slammed back into their bodies, and the three of them turned to one another in unison.

They dropped into fighting stances. Oathran’s hand curled into a fist. Arkai’s wolf ears flattened, his eyes competitive. Eastiel’s lion tail lashed behind him like a predator preparing to pounce.

"Rock, paper, sci—"

"What are you guys doing?"

Cecilia’s hissing voice cut through the living room.

The three men froze mid-gesture.

Oathran’s fist was still raised. Arkai’s palm was still flat. Eastiel’s fingers were still contorted into what might have been scissors or might have been some kind of obscure lion combat technique.

They turned back to her sheepishly.

"Ah... umm..." Eastiel’s ears drooped. "Determining our turns... to have you sleep with which...?"

"Am I your grocery?" Cecilia’s eyes rounded, her hands planting on her hips, her glare sweeping across all three of them. "Something you three just divvy up and schedule like a meal plan?!"

The three men looked down, their ears drooped. Their tails tucked themselves between their legs.

They had been very soundly scolded.

But they were exactly where they wanted to be. Scolded by a hot lady. An extremely hot pregnant lady. With her, any man would feel like the luckiest creature in the universe.

Worth it.

Until they hit an epiphany—

"Let’s buy the largest bed money can buy and sleep together."