Chapter 472

The suite at The Grand Marquis in Newport City was filled with the cheerful sounds of Pinky Pig playing on the television.

Adrian Lockhart sat cross-legged on the plush couch, his wide eyes fixed on the colorful animation.

Cassandra Delacroix approached with a bowl of freshly washed berries, her lips curved into a practiced smile. "Adrian, have some fruit. They're good for you."

The little boy beamed up at her, his cherubic face lighting up. "Thank you, Aunt Cassandra. You're so pretty and nice. No wonder Mommy likes you."

"You little charmer," Cassandra chuckled, though her fingers tightened slightly around the bowl.

Adrian popped a strawberry into his mouth. "It's true! Everything tastes sweeter when you prepare it. That's why my words are sweet too!"

Laughter bubbled from Cassandra's lips, genuine despite herself.

This child—this impossible, radiant child—was supposed to be nothing more than collateral damage. A necessary sacrifice to secure her place in the Blackwood dynasty. Yet every time those innocent eyes met hers, her resolve wavered.

She'd planned everything meticulously. Contact arranged. Location secured. All she needed was to deliver Adrian to the docks tonight, where a private yacht would take him far from Newport City.

But now, watching him giggle at the cartoon wolf's antics, her stomach twisted.

Cassandra sat beside him, studying his profile as he chewed. The way his cheeks rounded with each bite made her chest ache.

"Adrian," she began carefully, "do you really like Pinky Pig? Don't you think the wolf is... bad?"

The boy shook his head vigorously. "Nuh-uh. The wolf isn't bad. He pretends to be scary, but he never actually catches Pinky. I think maybe he doesn't really want to." His small hand patted Cassandra's knee. "Mommy says nobody's all good or all bad. Even mean people can change if they try."

Cassandra's smile froze.

How ironic that this child would unknowingly echo the very philosophy that had shaped her own mother's rise from mistress to matriarch. The same philosophy that now demanded Adrian's disappearance.

"Your mother is very wise," Cassandra managed. "But sometimes, people don't change. Some wolves... stay wolves."

Adrian tilted his head. "Are you a wolf, Aunt Cassandra?"

The question struck like a physical blow.

"Of course not!" Her voice came out too sharp. She forced another laugh. "I just want you to be careful. The world has real monsters, sweetheart. Never go with strangers. Never trust too easily."

Adrian's knowing gaze held hers a beat too long before he turned back to the screen. "Don't worry. I'm good at telling who's nice." He pointed at the cartoon wolf. "See? He's smiling now. Maybe he just needed a friend."

Cassandra's phone buzzed in her pocket—the final confirmation from the contact at Harbor Market.

Her fingers trembled as she reached for another strawberry.

Tonight. It had to be tonight.