He whispered a single, stunned word: “Mommy?”

The question struck Saskia like a physical blow. Her eyes widened, the pupils dilating in the bright light of the study. The altruistic facade she had clung to—the desperate claim that she had acted purely out of love and a desire to provide Dorian with a perfect family—shattered entirely. Dorian Ashcombe was not a man easily blinded by theatrics. He saw the cold, calculated ambition driving her every move.

“Is it a crime to secure my own future?” Saskia snapped, her voice turning venomous and shrill. The sophisticated polish of the shelter director vanished, replaced by the feral desperation of a cornered animal. “You are forty-five, Dorian! You live a life where a bullet could end your reign tomorrow! If you died without an heir, the syndicate would devour your assets. I would be left with nothing but a polite allowance!”

Flora gasped, pulling Ellis closer to her side. The sheer callousness of the woman was unfathomable. She had orchestrated a fake death and kidnapped a child simply as an insurance policy for a criminal enterprise.

Dorian did not flinch at her outburst. “Did you assume I would die soon enough for you to act as regent over my stolen son?”

“I assumed I needed a contingency plan!” Saskia yelled, stepping away from the bookshelf, her hands balled into fists. “The boy was the perfect asset. He is young enough to be molded, but old enough to survive without constant maternal care. Once we were married, he would be mine legally. If anything happened to you, the captains would fall in line behind the boy, and I would control the boy!”

Dorian’s jaw tightened, a subtle shift in the sharp angles of his face that signaled an apocalyptic fury kept meticulously under wraps. “Who else was aware of this grand contingency plan? Which of my captains gave you the confidence to execute such a treasonous maneuver?”

Saskia hesitated, her fair skin glowing with a sickly sheen of sweat. She realized she had said too much. By admitting her plan to consolidate power, she had implicated herself in a potential coup against the sitting boss.

“I acted alone,” Saskia lied, her eyes darting nervously toward the heavy mahogany doors. “I didn't need anyone’s help. I run the shelter. I have access to the city’s records. I forged the death certificate and the adoption papers myself.”

Flora’s expressive brows drew together in sharp disbelief. “You couldn't have done it alone. The police searched the river. The dive teams said the current dragged him under. Someone had to pay them to lie to me!”

Dorian turned his attention to Flora, his deep voice calm but probing. “Do you recall the names of the officers who commanded the search party, Flora?”

“Detective Vargas,” Flora answered immediately, the name burned into her memory from weeks of desperate phone calls. “He was the one who handed me the torn piece of Ellis’s jacket.”

Dorian looked back at Saskia, his observant eyes entirely pitch black. “Is it merely a coincidence that Detective Vargas is on the payroll of the Moretti family, our most aggressive rivals?”