Chapter 99: In Hopes Of Never
ADRIEN’S POV
Yaya doesn’t break eye contact. His expression remains completely still.
"And not just him," I continue, the realization sharpening my voice as the picture becomes clearer. "You were testing Leon, too. You hijacked me directly from the people Leon paid to take me somewhere, probably to kill me and hide my body so his mother could clean up the mess."
A small, humorous nod slips from Yaya, his lips twitching as if acknowledging a clever trick performed by a pet.
I don’t stop. I lean in closer, ignoring the deep ache in my chest as the movement pulls on my ribs, letting my words cut through his quiet demeanor.
"You blew up those cars at the original engagement party for Leon and Louise," I state, my voice growing colder with every sentence. "You used Peter to point fingers directly at me. Your targets aren’t just Orion and Leon. You’re targeting both the Vassilis and Dubois families at the exact same time. You’re sabotaging everyone and everything just to get something."
The humor drains from Yaya’s face in an instant.
The casual lightness vanishes, replaced by a stillness so heavy it feels like the air has been sucked out of the room.
He sits there, staring unblinkingly at me for an entire minute. The silence stretches, thick and suffocating, while the distant roar of the casino floor below seems to vanish completely.
His pale brown eyes look eerie under the dim overhead lights, catching the soft glare and reflecting it like glass. A cold shiver snakes down my spine, tracing the line of my neck down to my bruised back.
It takes every ounce of my willpower not to pull away from his dead gaze.
I refuse to show any fear. I hold his gaze, pulling my shoulders back and masking the tremor in my chest behind cool confidence.
"Don’t be shy," I say softly, letting a faint, mocking smile touch my lips. "There’s nothing wrong with being seen through."
Yaya doesn’t blink. He doesn’t raise his voice or shift his posture. He simply picks up the ivory dice again, letting them rest in the hollow of his palm.
"I wonder if Orion knows how you betrayed him then?" he asks out of nowhere. "And if he somehow knows now, what do you think will happen?"
I still.
The air in my throat freezes. The faint smirk on my face vanishes before I can even catch myself, my jaw tightening until it hurts. The room feels suddenly colder, the dim light casting harsh shadows across the velvet table.
Yaya rolls the dice between his long fingers, his tone casual, almost conversational, as if he were discussing the weather outside the casino.
"Maybe it can’t be called a betrayal," he adds nonchalantly, watching the ivory blocks turn over in his hand. "Because you two hadn’t even put a label on what you were back then."
My mind spins backward, ripping through years of buried memories, forcing me straight back into the cold, oppressive walls of my family home.
I am seventeen years old again. Seven years ago.
I remember standing in my father’s quiet, wood-paneled study. I remember the heavy smell of old paper, leather books, and cigar smoke that always seemed to cling to the curtains.
I remember him— Father— sitting behind his massive desk, his expression hard and unyielding, looking at me not as a son, but as a tool to be used.
Alice stood beside him, her soft, tailored dress contrasting with the sharp, ruthless look in her eyes.
Father called me in for a private meeting after I was ’punished’ by him, shutting the heavy double doors behind me to make sure no servants were listening.
Then, Alice reached into her designer purse and pulled out a tiny, clear glass vial filled with a colorless liquid. She had placed it carefully on the desk between us, pushing it toward me with a manicured finger.
"Since you are so... close to Orion Vassilis," Alice said, her voice smooth with poisonous confidence. "We believe you can do a little favor for us. And for a very interested, very wealthy party."
I sit frozen in the leather chair of the VIP room, the dark memory washing over me with sharp clarity.
Back then, I thought it was just my mother and father pulling their usual manipulative strings, trying to use me as a pawn to gain leverage over the Vassilis family.
I thought it was just local greed, corporate spying, or family spite. But Alice explicitly mentioned a third party. Someone ridiculously wealthy. Someone who wanted Orion monitored, contained, or tested.
Was it Masamune? Was it Yaya’s syndicate all along? Or is Masamune connected to whoever gave my family that vial seven years ago?
My pulse races, a hot surge of anger burning through the cold shock in my veins. The betrayal wasn’t just mine.
My whole life has been manipulated by people sitting in shadowed rooms like this one, treating me and even Orion like chess pieces on a board. I glare across the table at the young man with the pale eyes and the snake tattoo, my voice dropping into a sharp, icy whisper.
"Who exactly is it that ordered that vial for me to use?" I ask coldly.
Yaya stops rolling the dice. He rests his hand flat on the green velvet table, hiding the ivory blocks completely.
"What will you give me if I tell you?" he responds, tossing the question right back at me with a soft, empty smile.
My patience snaps. The pain in my ribs, the exhaustion, the days of being hunted, dragged, and manipulated by every dark force in this city boil over into pure rage.
I’m tired of being locked in rooms, tired of cryptics, and tired of being played.
"Who the hell hired Masamune to keep an eye on Orion at that age?" I demand, my hands clenching into tight fists on the wooden trim of the table. "Who was pulling the strings back then?"
Yaya doesn’t flinch at my anger. He lifts his hand slowly and lets the dice drop from his fingers. They roll across the velvet, tumbling over each other before settling side by side in the center of the table.
A set of ones. Snake eyes.
"Why can a scientist not monitor his experiment?" Yaya asks softly, looking up at me with those unblinking, honey-colored eyes.
The word hits me like a physical blow. Experiment.
Before the words can process in my brain, before I can rear up, smash my hands onto the table, and ask what the hell he means by that, Yaya speaks again.
"Our time is up," he says calmly, his tone as light as a whisper. "For your sake, Adrien, I hope we never meet again."
In one swift move, Yaya reaches across the small green table. His movement is impossibly fast, a blur of honey-colored eyes and pale skin that cuts through the space between us before I can even react.
I try to pull back, try to throw my hands up to block him, but my bruised body moves far too slowly.
His fingers strike the side of my neck, pressing hard into a pressure point near my jaw.
A sharp shock flashes through my nerves, sending a violent ripple down my spine. The room, the green table, the pale eyes, and the sound of the casino below dissolve in a fraction of a second.
My vision cuts to solid black, and I fall forward into the dark.