^
"Who's older?" Lord Lucas asked casually, though he already knew the answer.
"Della," Fredrick replied, offering nothing more.
"But she isn't your daughter to begin with," Lucas added, the words sharp despite his calm delivery.
Oliver, who had remained uninterested for most of the conversation, slowly sipped his tea at the sound of Della's name. His silence deepened.
"She is my adopted daughter," Fredrick replied, forcing a faint smile. He didn't appreciate the conversation shifting toward his children...especially not with this man.
"I'd like to adopt her from you," Lord Lucas said smoothly.
Fredrick's jaw tightened, unsure he'd heard correctly. "You want to do what?"
"You heard me," Lucas said without blinking. "I want to adopt her."
"That's... impossible," Fredrick said flatly, struggling to maintain his composure.
Lucas set down his cup and stood, brushing a speck of dust from his sleeve.
"Think about my offer," he said calmly. "There's no one better suited to protect a witch."
Fredrick froze. His eyes widened.
"You know?" he whispered. "You know what she is?"
Lucas smiled like a man holding all the cards. "Of course I do. I'm me."
Fredrick's heart pounded. He was already regretting inviting this vampire into his home.
Lucas leaned in just slightly, his tone soft and dangerous. "I imagine you wouldn't want our dear Della falling into the wrong hands. Witches are getting bolder. Someone needs to keep her safe. Someone... powerful."
And with that, Lord Lucas turned, his coat sweeping behind him as he strolled toward the door.
"Thank you for the tea. Though I do prefer blood," he said with a crooked smile before vanishing into the corridor.
Oliver stood slowly, gave Fredrick a polite nod, and followed.
Fredrick remained seated, stunned, mind racing. What had he just agreed to by opening that door?
⸻
Outside, Oliver caught up to Lord Lucas as they stepped into the hot afternoon air.
"How did you know she was a witch?" he asked. He had remained silent for long, but this... this shocked even him.
"I had a theory," Lucas said with a sly smile. "All I did was provoke him. He gave the rest away."
Cunning. Ruthless. Exactly as Oliver had always known him.
Lucas's expression grew distant. "Fredrick's too protective. The girl's background...too clean. Too perfect. That's always a sign of something buried. And now I'm certain... she's connected to the stones."
Oliver didn't reply. He glanced at his friend, trying to understand if this was still about strategy...or something more.
As their carriage pulled away, Oliver asked, "Will you contact Logan?"
Logan, the vampire heir of Gavion, had been chasing the legend of the stones for years. Stones said to possess world-ending magic—ancient relics of witches who had defied death itself.
"No," Lucas said. "Not yet. First, we find the stones. And for that...we need Fredrick's consent. She's the only one capable of finding them."
Oliver hesitated. "Do you still like her?"
Lucas's gaze flicked toward him.
"Yes," he answered truthfully. "I despise witches... but she's not like the rest."
Oliver exhaled slowly. Whatever feelings he might have harbored for Della, he'd have to bury them. Lucas never chased anyone seriously...until now.
"She's not a trifle, Oliver," Lucas added. "And these stones... she's tied to them. We just don't know how."
He picked up a crystal goblet of fresh blood and took a long sip.
"Patience," he murmured. "Let's not be reckless."
⸻
Back at the mansion, Fredrick sat with Della in the quiet study. The storm he'd feared had arrived.
"You lied to Lord Lucas," she said, stunned. "About the stones."
Fredrick ran a hand down his face.
"I had no choice. He's powerful, Della. And I didn't want you to end up on his bad side."
Della stared at the floor. "That's why you invited him over."
Fredrick hesitated.
"He wants to adopt you."
Della's head snapped up. "What?"
"And he knows what you are."
Her breath caught. Everything felt like it was collapsing—her identity, her safety, her place in the world.
"What are we going to do?" she asked, voice trembling.
Fredrick's eyes darkened with helplessness. "He's right about one thing, Della. The witches are coming. They want the stones. And I... I can't protect you from them."
Tears threatened his eyes as he whispered, "I've tried. But this...this is beyond me."
"You want me to go stay with someone dangerous?" she asked quietly. "After everything?"
"It's to protect everyone," he said softly. "It's your destiny, Della. You were born for this."
Della looked away. Her heart ached, but deep down, she knew... he was right. She wouldn't let harm come to the Harrisons...not for her sake.
"When am I leaving?" she asked, voice hollow.
Fredrick stood. "I'll send word to Lord Lucas."
Della rose too. She managed a faint smile through the storm inside her.
"Thank you, Father. For everything."
And she left the room without another word.
⸻
The next morning, Della dressed in silence. The maids packed her clothes. She didn't speak much...just nodded when necessary.
Her mother's old belongings were the only things she insisted on carrying herself.
Walking through the halls, she tried not to think. It was easier that way.
In the corridor, she met Oliver.
He gave her a slight bow. "I'm here to escort you, my lady."
She nodded, stiffly.
Before they could leave, a voice called from behind them.
"Well, well... who do we have here?"
They turned.
Beth strolled forward, all flirtatious confidence, eyes locked on Oliver.
"Good day, fine sire," she purred, ignoring how awkwardly their last encounter had ended.
Della blinked. Even now, Beth was still trying.
Oliver, unfazed, stepped closer to Della.
"We should go," he said quietly, gently placing a hand behind her back.
Della gave one last glance at the mansion...the home that took her in, the family she loved.
And then she walked away.