Fake Date, Real Fate-Chapter 104: A Step Away from Blood

ADRIEN’S POV

The study was silent, floor-to-ceiling windows shadowed by curtains that never opened.

A glass of whiskey sat untouched near me. I haven’t so much as glanced at it.

My father sat behind his massive desk, posture like a blade—straight, sharp and unyielding. Everything about him had always been calculated, even down to how many seconds of silence he allowed before speaking.

"I want to transfer Walton East Airport to Caden," he said finally, voice low and clipped. "Make sure the transition is clean."

I didn’t even look up. I was staring at the door.

"You’re not listening." His tone didn’t change. He never raised his voice. He didn’t need to.

I leaned back in my chair, jaw tight. "And why would I care what you’re handing him? Let him run it into the ground with the rest of his thug friends."

"Because I want you to transfer it to him."

"You want me to hand over an international hub to a man who rolls dice with gang affiliates?"

"He is your brother."

"He is not my brother," I said coldly, finally lifting my eyes to his. "He is not even your son."

His eyes narrowed slightly. The stillness in the room deepened, absorbing the sound of my words like velvet absorbs light. His calculated silence stretched, not seconds this time, but a full, suffocating minute.

I didn’t flinch. I met his stare, my own as cold and hard as river stone.

Finally, he said, his voice still low, almost a whisper, "That changes nothing."

"It changes everything," I countered. "It means he has no claim here. Not to the name, not to the company, and certainly not to anything."

A flicker passed across his expression. Not anger. Just... calculation. "I married his mother. That makes him family."

"No," I said, voice steel. "That makes him a liability. The only thing he’s built is a network of shady connections and party favors."

His gaze was like a frozen blade. "I didn’t raise you to choose pride over blood."

"You didn’t raise me at all."

He didn’t respond. He just studied me the way he always did—like I was a chess piece he hadn’t quite figured out how to trap yet. "You will do this."

"If you want to give away a part of your legacy to a liability, do it yourself. I’m not your executioner."

He leaned forward slightly, linking his fingers. "I put you in charge not because I believed you were entirely equipped," he continued, the words sharp and precise, "but because you are my legitimate son. There are expectations that come with that name."

I barely heard the rest – something about the expectations that demanded a certain posture, blah blah blah.

My mind was running on a different track.

Isabella.

Her number had gone straight to voicemail all morning. It wasn’t like her. I’d given my personal cell to Cameron, told him to call Aria Smith, her friend. If anyone knew where she was, it would be her.

My father kept talking. "...a certain posture...responsibility... uphold... family name..."I wasn’t hearing any of it.

My eyes were still on the door, willing it to open.

My father stopped talking. The silence, already heavy, became absolute. I felt his gaze on me, sharp and assessing. He hadn’t raised his voice, but the cessation of sound was more commanding than any shout.

"Are you listening to a single─"

A sudden, sharp knock on the door cut him off mid-sentence.

My father’s expression tightened with annoyance. "Enter," he commanded, his voice laced with impatience.

The door opened and Cameron stood there, my phone still in his hand. His usual easygoing demeanour was gone, replaced by a tight, anxious look. His eyes met mine, and in them, I saw something that made my blood run cold.

He addressed my father first, his voice formal but strained. "Mr. Walton, forgive the interruption. There is... an urgent matter Adrien needs to address immediately."

"Excuse us, Father." I said, the words automatic, barely directed at the man behind the desk. I was already on my feet, striding towards the door.

Cameron waited for me just outside the study, pulling the door shut behind me.

The moment the door clicked shut, I turned to him. "What happened?"

He handed me back my phone. "I called Aria."

"And?"

"She said Isabella and her brother were on their way to the market when a car nearly hit her. Fast. Out of nowhere but her brother pulled her back but she fell. Sprained her ankle." freēwēbnovel.com

My breath hitched. Relief, sharp and sudden it almost felt like pain, flooded me. She wasn’t hit. But then the sprain registered. And the nearly hit.

"A car? Nearly hit her?" My voice was tight, low with a sudden, cold edge. "What kind of car? Was it an accident?"

Cameron shook his head, looking as disturbed as I felt. "Aria didn’t get details on the car. She just said it came out of nowhere, going way too fast. Isabella’s brother apparently reacted instantly, yanked her out of the way, but she tripped and fell badly in the process. Aria met them at the hospital. She’s there now."

"Which hospital?"

"St. Jude’s."

St. Jude’s. It was on the other side of the city. I was already moving, turning on my heel, heading not back towards the study, but towards the main stairs.

"Wait," Cameron said, catching my arm lightly. "Your father–"

"Can wait," I snapped, shrugging him off.

"let’s go."

I didn’t wait for Cameron to agree or disagree. I was already moving, taking the grand staircase two steps at a time, the silence of the house amplifying the frantic beat of my own heart. Cameron was right behind me, his footsteps a rapid echo of mine.

"Keys," I barked, not stopping, holding out my hand as we burst through the main hall.

He fumbled in his pocket, producing the familiar weight of my car keys just as we reached the front doors.

The driver was already walking towards the car, alerted by Cameron’s earlier call, but I waved him off impatiently.

"I’m driving."

I slid into the driver’s seat, the cold leather a stark contrast to the heat coursing through me.

Cameron got into the passenger side without a word. The engine roared to life.

I pulled out of the drive, tyres gripping the asphalt a little too hard. My focus narrowed. Isabella. That was all that mattered.

"Did Aria say anything else?" I asked, keeping my eyes on the road, navigating the familiar streets as if for the first time, every traffic light a personal offence.

"No details on the car, like I said," Cameron replied, his voice tighter now that we were moving. "Just that the brother ─Leo, I think his name is – pulled her back the second before it would have hit her."

This is deliberate. Not an accident. Not someone losing control. Deliberate. If her brother hadn’t pulled her... God, if he hadn’t been there...

My grip on the steering wheel tightened, my knuckles turning white. Walton East. Caden. My father’s words from moments ago echoed in my mind, now laced with a chilling new context.

Was this connected? Was this... a message? A warning? Or just another example of the kind of chaos that Caden and his network brought with them?

"Did she say if Isabella or her brother recognized anyone?"

"No. It happened too fast. They just saw the car, then he acted. Aria said they were both shaken."

Shaken. Sprained ankle. Nearly hit by a car deliberately. My mind was filling in the blanks with the darkest possibilities. This wasn’t just a random near-miss. Not with the timing, not after that conversation with my father.

"Call Gray," I said, cutting off a slow driver and merging into a faster lane. "Tell him to meet me at St. Jude’s. And tell him to start digging. Everything. Traffic cameras, witness reports, anything near where she was this morning around the time it happened. Find that car. Find who was driving it."

"On it," Cameron said immediately, already pulling out his phone.

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