"Not all kings are crowned with mercy. Some are forged in fire, hungering for something they don't yet understand."
The Blackwell estate slept under the velvet hush of night, its windows glowing faintly from within like the eyes of a watchful beast. The gala had ended hours ago. The crystal chandeliers still glittered above the silent ballroom, forgotten wine glasses left half-full on silver trays, the scent of power still lingering in the air like old smoke.
But Cassian Blackwell wasn't asleep.
Barefoot, dressed in loose black slacks and a linen shirt too large for his growing frame, he moved silently down the marble corridor like a shadow. He didn't knock. He simply pushed open the heavy double doors of his parents' bedroom and stepped inside.
Vivienne Blackwell sat up at once in her bed, the silk sheets rustling around her. Adrian Blackwell remained seated at the far end of the room, still in his shirt and vest, swirling a glass of amber liquor in his hand. He looked up calmly, as if he'd expected this intrusion.
"Cassian?" Vivienne blinked at her son. "What is it? You should be asleep."
Cassian didn't answer her. His dark eyes, wild and serious, locked onto his father.
"I want her," he said bluntly.
Vivienne frowned. "What?"
"Sebastiano De Luca's daughter," Cassian said, stepping closer. "Valeria."
Adrian didn't blink. His fingers curled slightly around his glass, the only sign of surprise.
Vivienne gasped, clutching her robe around her chest. "Cassian—are you even listening to yourself? You're fourteen. She's a child!"
"I know what I said," Cassian replied, eyes never leaving his father's. "I want her."
Vivienne rose from the bed. "You don't even know what wanting someone means. She's ten. You're just a boy—"
"I'm not a boy." His voice was calm but cold. "I'm your heir. And I know what I feel."
Vivienne looked to her husband, eyes pleading. "Adrian, say something. He doesn't understand. He's a child—"
"No," Adrian said at last, voice slow and thoughtful. "He's not."
He stood, his broad frame towering over both of them, and walked toward his son. The air between father and son crackled with something heavy—like flint striking steel.
"You met her tonight?" Adrian asked.
Cassian nodded. "She's not like the rest. She's… different. And I want her."
Vivienne shook her head in disbelief. "You don't even know what that means. You think this is some game? Claiming a girl like she's a toy? She's not—"
"She's mine," Cassian interrupted, voice sharper now. "She will be."
Adrian studied his son in silence, then slowly set down his glass on the marble console.
"Good," he said.
Vivienne's head whipped toward her husband. "Adrian, no—"
"If he wants her," Adrian continued, eyes still on Cassian, "then he'll have to earn her. Not like a lover. Not like a boy chasing butterflies." His voice lowered. "You want to own something as wild and sharp as that little girl? Then you'll need to become more than a prince in name."
Cassian's fists clenched at his sides. "I will."
Vivienne stepped between them, her voice breaking. "She's just a child, Adrian—our son is just a child. You can't promise things like this. You're shaping him into a monster."
Adrian's face hardened. "He was born a Blackwell. Not a schoolboy. Not a poet. A Blackwell. He will take what he wants when he's strong enough."
Cassian's lips twitched into something close to a smirk. He liked the sound of that.
Vivienne turned to him now, desperate. "Cassian. You don't even know what love is."
"I don't care about love," he said, and the room went silent.
Vivienne's breath caught.
"I don't want to love her," Cassian continued, voice disturbingly calm for a fourteen-year-old. "I want her to belong to me. That's all."
Adrian chuckled, low and amused. "You hear that, Vivienne? Our son doesn't waste time with pretty words. He speaks like a king."
Cassian looked up at him. "Will you speak to Sebastiano uncle?"
Adrian took a moment, then gave a single nod. "Eventually. When the time is right. But listen to me, Cassian—wanting her is one thing. Earning the right to claim her… that's something else."
"I'll do whatever it takes."
Adrian moved closer, cupping his son's jaw. His hands were rough and cold. "You'll train. You'll study. You'll learn the politics of war, the cost of loyalty, the price of blood. And one day, when you're powerful enough, I'll call her father. And you'll take her, not as a suitor—but as a king taking his crown."
Vivienne stepped back, shaking her head. "You're both insane…"
"She belongs to no one," she added under her breath, voice shaking. "And neither of you understands what this will do to her…"
"She's strong," Cassian said, quietly. "She'll understand. One day."
"And if she doesn't?" Vivienne asked bitterly. "What then?"
Cassian met her gaze. "Then I'll make her."
Adrian laughed, loud and unrestrained.
Vivienne turned away, hiding the tears she didn't want either of them to see. "You're destroying him…"
But neither of them heard her. Not really.
Cassian turned back toward the door, heart racing with something unfamiliar—something hot and dangerous in his chest. Not love. Not even lust. Just hunger.
And from that moment on, Valeria De Luca became his obsession.
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