Chapter 482

The sleek black car pulled up to the notorious Crimson Emporium. Rumors swirled about this place being a trove of wonders—rare artifacts, exotic relics, and curiosities from every corner of the globe.

Yet, the reality was far less imposing. The building itself was unremarkable, blending seamlessly with the surrounding structures. No heavy security, no grand facade—just an ordinary exterior hiding extraordinary secrets.

As the car rolled into the private underground garage, Quentin Blackthorn killed the engine and turned to Adrian. His voice was smooth, almost teasing.

"Last chance to back out. You do know that once you step inside the Crimson Emporium, your fate isn't yours to control anymore, right?"

Adrian blinked up at him, all wide-eyed innocence. "I'm just a kid. Nothing I say counts." He grinned. "And if you want control over my fate, you'll have to ask my mom first."

Quentin chuckled. The boy was sharp—far sharper than most adults.

"Your mom again, huh?" His fingers tapped rhythmically against the steering wheel. The delicate feather mask he wore couldn't hide the smirk tugging at his lips. "You've been singing her praises the entire ride. Is she really that incredible?"

"Of course!" Adrian's voice was fierce with pride. "Mom’s the best in the world. There’s nothing she can’t do. No one compares to her. I love her more than anything."

Then, his expression dimmed. His small hands clenched into fists. "But right now... she's fighting someone dangerous. I have to help her. I won’t let her carry this alone."

Quentin arched a brow.

Adrian met his gaze unflinchingly. "You’re probably wondering who this enemy is, right? Well, it’s not hard to guess. Mom says he’s the most ruthless, arrogant man in Newport City. Everyone wants him gone—including you, I bet. That’s why I came to you. Help her win, and she’ll reward you generously."

The air between them grew heavy. Quentin’s fingers stilled. His smile turned icy.

"Who is this villain, then?"

Adrian sighed dramatically, as if the answer were obvious. "Ethan Blackwood, of course! The CEO of Blackwood Group? Seriously, how do you not know?" He shook his head in disappointment. "I thought you were supposed to be smart."

Quentin’s grip on the wheel tightened. His voice dropped to a dangerous murmur. "And what does your mother think of him?"

"Mom says he’s the most cunning, heartless man she’s ever met. The one person she regrets ever knowing. He’s made so many enemies—half the city wants him dead!"

"Is that so?" Quentin’s jaw clenched. His mask hid his expression, but his voice was razor-sharp.

Then, abruptly, he leaned closer. His gaze locked onto Adrian’s face—the bright eyes, the stubborn set of his jaw.

"Tell me, kid," he murmured. "Did your mother ever tell you who your real father is?"