Chapter 222: Quiet Guard

*Bael’s POV*

*Beautiful.*

That is the single word that forms in Bael’s mind as he looks down at his husband’s sleeping face.

He had heard somewhere that pregnancy takes a heavy toll on a person’s appearance—stories of dull skin and drained vitality. Yet watching the faint sunlight catch the curve of Runze’s profile, Bael finds those claims absurd.

If anything, Runze has only become more striking, his features relaxed with a soft, luminous warmth whenever he feels completely safe.

Runze is leaning sideways against Bael’s side, his head resting against Bael’s shoulder while their backs press into the plush cushions of the sofa. One of Runze’s hands rests loosely over his own stomach, where their child grows, while his soft dark hair brushes against Bael’s jawline.

Bael stays rigid, holding his breath whenever Runze shifts slightly, terrified that even the smallest twitch of his posture might disturb his husband’s rest. His thumb moves in a slow, continuous circle over Runze’s upper arm, keeping his touch light and steady.

Between medical consultations, the lingering fallout of past conflicts, and the physical strain on Runze’s body, moments like this, where the house is warm and uninterrupted, are rare.

Shen Rui appears near the base of the stairs, having just finished overseeing the estate staff and guards carry the last of the delivery boxes up to the nursery.

Holding a leather document folder neatly in front of him with both hands, his professional composure is fully restored. He catches Bael’s eye, his face calm and readable. Without saying a word, he steps back into the quiet shadow of the corridor leading to Bael’s home office, giving a brief, single nod.

Carefully, with practiced precision, Bael adjusts the soft throw cushion behind Runze’s lower back, ensuring his husband remains completely supported as he leans away. He slowly eases his shoulder out from under Runze’s head, lingering for a second to tuck a soft wool blanket around Runze’s shoulders before stepping away.

Once Runze settles back into the cushions with a quiet, contented sigh, Bael stands up. He adjusts the buttons of his shirt and follows Shen Rui down the dimly lit hallway.

The moment the door of the study closes behind them, the soft, domestic atmosphere of the estate vanishes entirely, replaced by the familiar, cold air of corporate warfare.

"The board review documents," Shen Rui says without preamble, opening the folder and laying three financial disclosures onto the desk. "Two senior directors from the audit committee—both former loyalists of your late uncle—have formally requested an emergency review of the overseas logistics acquisition."

Bael walks around the desk, standing tall over the paper printouts. He does not sit. He simply looks down at the sharp signatures inked at the bottom of the last page.

"They are claiming a conflict of interest?" Bael asks, his voice flat, stripped of any emotion.

"They are trying to," Shen Rui replies, his tone equally level as he stands at attention across from him. "Since Wuchen Ming’s death in prison, his remaining allies have realized they no longer possess any direct leverage within the core executive board. They know they cannot assemble enough votes to force you out, Mr. Wuchen. So instead, they are attempting to create administrative delays. They want to tie up the logistics division in regulatory reviews. They are hoping you react aggressively so they can accuse you of reckless leadership in front of the board before the summit."

A cold, methodical stillness settles over Bael.

His late uncle’s faction had harbored a foolish dream. They believed that after Wuchen Ming’s arrest and subsequent death, Bael would offer them olive branches—that he would buy their quiet loyalty with seats on sub-committees, generous severance packages, and diplomatic compromises.

They miscalculated his nature entirely. Bael does not bargain with dead men’s lingering shadows, nor does he hand out mercy to men who sought to tear his life apart.

"They are waiting for me to make a mistake," Bael states plainly, raising his eyes to meet Shen Rui’s gaze.

"Yes, sir. They are hoping you lose patience and bypass standard protocols to push the acquisition through."

"Let them wait," Bael says, tapping the crisp white corner of the folder with one finger. "Re-route the entire internal audit through the third-party Swiss compliance agency we retained last month. Ensure every single line item, invoice, and shipping manifest is pristine before the board meeting on Friday. Hand the report to them in front of the entire assembly. Give them zero ground to stand on."

"Understood, sir." Shen Rui takes the folder back, his tight expression relaxing just a fraction into silent approval. "I will have the compliance reports on your desk by eight tomorrow morning."

Before Shen Rui can step toward the exit, a low, buzzing vibration echoes through the quiet study.

Bael reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out his phone, checking the display.

*Jin Hao.*

The name lights up the glass screen in crisp black lettering. A sharp, instinctive tension tightens Bael’s jaw.

The last time this man called his private line, he had spoken with the sharp, entitled impatience of an Alpha used to demanding answers about his runaway Omega, treating Bael’s household as if it were an obstacle in his path.

Bael swipes the screen and brings the device to his ear, his tone dropping several degrees into something icy and clipped.

"Yes?"

There is a brief silence on the other end of the line, followed by the faint sound of a tired sigh. When Jin Hao finally speaks, the demanding edge that usually marked his voice is entirely gone.

"Mr. Wuchen," Jin Hao begins. His tone is measured, slow, and distinctly polite, almost painfully so. "I apologize for troubling you again on your private line."

Bael stands motionless behind his desk, his tone dropping into a dry, cold drawl. "Oh. Found your manners?"

"I... I wanted to apologize for my conduct during our previous call," Jin Hao says, his voice lowering into a gravelly tone, tinged with a heavy exhaustion. "I was out of line. I am not calling to demand anything or cause trouble. I only... I wanted to ask if your husband knows anything. If he has any idea where Ling Yue might be."

Bael pauses behind his desk, looking out through the floor-to-ceiling study window.

In the fading afternoon light, two estate guards walk their routine patrol along the stone driveway. A quiet, unexpected weight settles in Bael’s chest.

He recognizes the desperation in Jin Hao’s voice all too well. It was the exact same bitter realization Bael had faced after finally understanding his own feelings for Runze, knowing how easily his past coldness and arrogance could have destroyed everything.

Bael had been painfully lucky that Runze never truly ran away from him, that Runze had given him room to change. Jin Hao, however, was now reaping the full consequence of his own mistakes.

Jin Hao clears his throat softly, sounding thoroughly diminished. "I’ve searched everywhere, Mr. Wuchen. I haven’t slept in days... I just need to know if he is safe."

Bael turns back toward his desk, his tone remaining neutral, stripped of malice yet firm. "Ling Yue is fine."

A long, shuddering breath escapes Jin Hao over the receiver, heavy with sheer relief. "He is? Do you... do you know where he is?"

"No," Bael lies smoothly, maintaining his promise to his husband and guest without a flicker of hesitation.

Jin Hao quietens, the defeat in his tone evident even through the speaker. "I see."

Bael taps one finger against the smooth wood of his desk, offering a rare, solemn piece of advice from one transformed man to another.

"If you want your Omega to come back to you willingly, fix your mess. Resolve whatever drove him out in the first place, and stop handling him like something you own. That is the only advice I will give you."

There is a long pause on the other end before Jin Hao answers, his tone humbled and quiet. "I understand. Thank you, Mr. Wuchen. Truly."

"Good day." Bael ends the call before Jin Hao can say anything more, setting the phone face-down on the dark wood surface.

"Everything alright, sir?" Shen Rui asks quietly from near the door, holding the leather folder against his side.

"Nothing that requires my concern," Bael says, turning back toward the entrance of the study.

The Wuchen Group executives will continue their futile games until Bael systematically strips them of their power on Friday, and Jin Hao will have to clean up the ruins of his own relationship.

Neither of those things matters to Bael in this room.

He leaves the study and walks back down the corridor toward the main living area, eager to return to the quiet warmth waiting for him at the end of it.

When Bael steps back into the living room, he finds Runze shifting slowly on the sofa. Runze’s eyes are heavy with half-sleep, his dark hair ruffled against the fabric as he sits up slightly, his gaze wandering around the empty space.

The moment his amber eyes find Bael standing near the archway, the faint, unconscious tension in Runze’s brow melts away, replaced instantly by that quiet, familiar warmth that Bael lives to preserve.

"Where did you go?" Runze murmurs softly, his voice raspy and thick with sleep as he rubs a hand over his face.

Bael walks across the room and sits down beside him on the edge of the plush cushions. Leaning down, he presses a soft, lingering kiss to Runze’s forehead before gently guiding him back against his side.

He lets Runze rest his head on his shoulder once more, wrapping a steady arm securely around his waist.

"Nowhere," Bael whispers against the top of Runze’s head, resting his palm over Runze’s hand where it sits flat over his stomach. "I am right here."