Shadow Unit Scandal: The Commander's Omega-Chapter 117: Dinner, Properly

When the office door opened again, the shift reached the sitting room before Catherine did.

Daniel looked up first, instantly alert. Philip straightened as if he’d been caught slouching in front of a superior officer. Bruno put his glass down and tried to look innocent, which only made him look guilty.

Then Catherine stepped in.

Her expression was composed, the sweetheart warmth returned to her eyes, but there was a trace of exhaustion under it. The look of a woman who had just loved a stubborn man through a conversation he didn’t want to have.

Damon followed a step behind.

Rafael had only seen him briefly before, but in the sitting room light he looked even more ’normal’ in that unsettling way. Clean suit, calm face, hands relaxed as if he wasn’t the chief of the imperial audit department and therefore capable of destroying a noble house with a signature. He didn’t radiate menace. He radiated competence.

Gregoris came last.

His posture was still controlled, still rigid at the shoulders, but there was something different in his eyes. Like someone had pressed on a hidden bruise, and he’d survived it.

Catherine’s gaze found Rafael immediately, and the warmth in it was steady and unforced. Something he found... stranger to him.

"Rafael," she said.

Rafael rose without thinking, then remembered he didn’t actually have to stand for anyone in this house and corrected himself by standing anyway because he wanted to, not because he was trained.

"Catherine," he replied carefully.

Her smile widened. "Thank you for waiting."

Bruno muttered, "We didn’t. We were terrified."

Daniel elbowed him.

Catherine didn’t even glance at Bruno.

Damon’s eyes shifted to Rafael with quiet interest, the calm appraisal of a man who valued facts over rumors.

"It’s good to finally meet you properly," Damon said.

Rafael inclined his head. "Likewise."

Damon’s mouth twitched, almost amused. "And congratulations."

The word landed differently from the palace announcement.

Rafael felt his throat tighten and hated it. "Thank you."

Catherine’s gaze dropped briefly; she looked back up, and her tone brightened with practical purpose. "Alright. Dinner."

Daniel moved immediately, relieved to have structure. "It’s ready."

Philip nodded like he’d been waiting all his life for the moment someone said "dinner" and meant it.

Bruno stood and offered Rafael an arm with exaggerated ceremony. "Shall we escort the dangerous duke?"

Rafael looked at him. "You’re not funny."

Bruno grinned. "I’m coping."

Before Rafael could respond, Gregoris stepped closer, slid his hand to Rafael’s waist, and guided him forward with quiet possession that made the entire room understand, instantly, who Rafael belonged to.

Damon saw it.

Catherine saw it.

The brothers saw it, and, to Rafael’s private satisfaction, all three of them looked slightly more obedient.

Catherine’s mouth twitched, fond. "Gregoris."

Gregoris didn’t look away from Rafael. "Mother."

Catherine sighed like she’d been given an immovable object and had decided to love it anyway. "Try to behave."

Gregoris replied evenly, "I am behaving."

Bruno whispered, "He’s lying."

Philip hissed, "Bruno."

Daniel muttered, "Please stop."

Rafael let Gregoris guide him toward the dining room because he was still deciding whether to bite anyone tonight, and it was useful to have a Shadow commander as a shield.

The dining room itself was warm and understated in the same way as the rest of the house: candles, soft light, and a table set with elegant simplicity, nothing ostentatious.

Catherine took her seat with effortless grace. Damon sat beside her like a man who could audit the cutlery if it offended him. The brothers arranged themselves quickly, instinctively, as if the real hierarchy in this family was not title or rank but mother at the table.

Gregoris waited until Rafael was seated before he sat himself.

That small act - so simple, so normal - made Catherine’s expression soften for half a second in a way Rafael caught and filed away.

’Good.’

At least one thing in this family dinner was going to be honest.

Catherine glanced around the table, then clasped her hands lightly and said, with gentle authority, "Now. Someone tell me how my son met his husband."

Gregoris went still.

Daniel looked like he’d like to leave the planet.

Philip stared at his plate.

Bruno’s eyes lit up like a child offered fireworks.

Rafael took a slow sip of water, then set the glass down carefully and smiled.

"Would you like the truth," Rafael asked, sweet as poison, "or the version Gregoris prepared for polite company?"

Gregoris’s hand found Rafael’s knee under the table and squeezed in warning.

Catherine’s smile widened. "The truth."

Damon’s eyes gleamed faintly. "Always."

Bruno whispered, "We’re going to die."

Rafael’s smile sharpened. "Wonderful."

Gregoris sighed like he was under torture - an exhausted, long-suffering sound that made Daniel flinch and made Philip stare even harder at his plate. Rafael knew him well enough to recognize it for what it was: Gregoris would rather take a bullet than sit in a warm dining room and be emotionally observed.

Then something shifted inside Gregoris. The moment he stopped bracing for impact and chose to steer the car into the ditch on purpose, just to control the fall.

He leaned back slightly, let the sigh finish, and said with calm resignation that somehow carried humor.

"Rafael poisoned me with home baked cookies."

Silence.

Bruno’s eyes widened in delighted horror.

Philip’s head snapped up. "He did?"

Daniel made a small strangled sound. "Please..."

Catherine blinked once, then looked at Rafael with startled amusement. "You poisoned my son."

Rafael lifted his chin, innocent enough to be criminal. "They were only mildly poisoned."

Gregoris glanced at him, entirely unrepentant. "They were very poisoned."

"They were educational," Rafael corrected. "You sent me a collar."

Catherine’s brows lifted. "A collar."

Bruno coughed, badly, trying to hide laughter. Philip looked like he wanted to crawl under the table. Daniel looked like he was regretting his entire birth.

Damon’s gaze slid to Gregoris, calm and focused. "You sent him a collar."

Gregoris’s expression didn’t change. "Yes."

Catherine stared at her middle son for a long beat, then pinched the bridge of her nose like a woman realizing she had raised this creature with her own hands.

"Gregoris," she said slowly, "is that how you... flirt?"

"It worked," Gregoris replied.

Rafael’s eyes narrowed. "It did not!"

"It did," Gregoris cut in smoothly, and there was a faint smugness in it that made Rafael want to bite him. "He chose poison. That is his love language."

Catherine’s smile returned, helpless and bright. "Oh, you’re perfect."

Rafael blinked. "Excuse me?"

"For this family," Catherine clarified warmly, like it was the simplest thing in the world. "If you’d arrived with flowers and a polite smile, I would’ve worried."

Bruno whispered, awed, "Mother is adopting him."

Philip hissed, "Bruno."

Damon leaned back slightly, studying Rafael with quiet approval. "So the cookies were retaliation."

"Yes," Rafael said, and then, because he refused to be the only one under examination, he nodded toward Gregoris. "He deserved it."

Gregoris shrugged, calm as a confession. "I did."

Catherine exhaled, then laughed. "Alright," she said, eyes bright with fond exasperation. "So my son flirted like a menace, and you poisoned him."

Rafael’s mouth curved. "Yes."

"And now you’re married," Catherine finished, like she was connecting numbers on a spreadsheet. "With a baby on the way."

Damon nodded once, satisfied by the clean conclusion.

Gregoris’s hand slid under the table and settled on Rafael’s knee again.

Catherine’s gaze flicked to that hand, then back to Rafael, and her expression softened again.

"Good," she said simply.

Rafael’s throat tightened in that inconvenient way it kept doing tonight. He covered it with dryness like a professional.

"Dinner," Rafael said, reaching for his fork. "Before someone asks about the collar again."

Bruno’s eyes gleamed. "I have questions."

Daniel looked like he might faint. "We are not discussing the collar."

Gregoris’s mouth quirked. "We absolutely are."

Philip muttered, "We’re all going to die."