Chapter 473

Good men were rare these days. Women had to be bold and cunning to claim them and hold onto them.

The harsher you were, the more secure your place in the household. Weakness only led to abandonment—even your children would suffer for it.

Cassandra Delacroix had no other skill but seduction.

She had fought ruthlessly for Sebastian Hunt, wrapping him around her finger with ease.

Sebastian believed she carried his child, but the truth was far darker—the baby didn’t even belong to the Blackwood bloodline.

Even if the child had been healthy, she would never have kept it.

Vivian Lockhart made the perfect scapegoat.

Nathaniel Blackwood was the man Cassandra truly wanted. She would do anything to become his wife.

"Adrian, darling, you must believe I’m a good person. I would never hurt you. You should be grateful your mother has a friend like me." Cassandra smiled sweetly, ruffling Adrian’s hair.

Her mind was made up.

The boy had no one to blame but his own mother.

Suddenly, Adrian turned away from the cartoon he’d been watching. His wide eyes locked onto Cassandra with unsettling intensity.

"W-What’s wrong?" Her pulse spiked under his piercing gaze.

He looked too much like Nathaniel. Those sharp, unblinking eyes—just like his father’s—seemed to see straight through her.

"Nothing. I just think you’re really nice. I like you a lot." His voice was soft, innocent. "I’m so happy I met you. Can I have a hug, Aunty Delacroix?"

Before she could react, his small arms wrapped around her neck in a tight embrace.

Cassandra froze.

He was warm, his tiny frame so fragile against hers. For a fleeting second, something in her chest tightened.

But she didn’t see the disappointment flicker across Adrian’s face.

He had given her a chance. She hadn’t taken it.

Now, she would face the consequences.

"Adrian, it’s late. Drink your milk and go to bed." After a long hesitation, she handed him the glass—laced with enough sleeping pills to knock him out cold.

"Okay. Thank you, Aunty Delacroix." He downed the milk in a few quick gulps.

Within minutes, he was unconscious. No amount of shaking would wake him.

"Don’t hate me, kid. This is your mother’s fault." Cassandra sat on the edge of the bed, staring at his peaceful face. Her expression hardened, though a sliver of regret lingered.

"You’re sweet. I do like you. But you’re Vivian’s son. And I can’t let you stay."

Just then, the doorbell rang.