Eighteen Again: The CEO's Wife Was A Delinquent

Dylan hisses at Cassidy, finding her preposterous.

"As if your bleeding heart will ever have the tenacity needed to govern a network as intricate as the mafia. Putting you in charge will be the worst mistake I'll ever make," he muttered, not buying her proposal. 

"Or the best..." she countered, keeping her voice steady.

"I'm stronger than my father will ever be. I may not be as smart, but you can train me. In return, you can hold Adrian's life in the palm of your hand. If I ever decide to tear the organization down, then you are free... to kill him."

His lips curl, and that's how she knows that he's considering her suggestion. She feels wretched, signing off her life to lead something as vile as a criminal syndicate, but she knows it must be done. Now, she just hopes that her decision will let Adrian live long enough to turn the tides.

"You're his one and only grandchild, and my one and only niece. Your life on the streets had also made you a capable fighter..." Dylan drawled, studying Cassidy intently.

"You were meant to become the successor if Grisham Donovan and Adrian Millicent didn't destroy us, anyway. Considering the fighting prowess you showed me last time as well as your unique thinking, you'll probably make do with proper training."

He puts away his blade then, much to her relief. She thought for sure she wasn't convincing enough. But it seems like he somehow found potential in it. 

"You would make for a fine leader," Dylan remarked after much deliberation. 

"Is that a yes?" Cassidy asked, frozen stiff.

"Not quite."

Then, all of the sudden, he strikes a blow to her head. She feels fatigue rather than pain seeping deep into her bones, and everything becomes fuzzy. Losing consciousness, she ends up collapses right before she realizes what's happening. 

The rest is unclear and blurry after that. 

---

Cassidy had woken up in that cell.

At first, she hadn't been able to tell, considering her prison has been stripped of all sources of light. She had tried groping around, feeling the walls for any indicators of an opening. But the surfaces she'd gone through had all been smooth.

Nobody comes around to give Cassidy any sustenance, either.

They've been starving her ever since she got here, though these days, she feels the weight of her heavy heart much more than the agony of having an empty stomach. They have, however, attempted to mend her injuries. She had felt gauze around her leg days prior, but recently, she had taken it off since it's starting to smell bad. The thin, filthy bandage is now rotting on the other side of the room where she doesn't have to smell it as much.

The only established connection this prison has to the outside world is a speaker that Cassidy suspects is located at the rightmost corner of the cell.

Through it, Dylan has spoken to her twice. Usually, there would be another man at the microphone, and this nameless man would speak to her with condescending overtones. He would talk about their history - that it is a decade-old organization that's bound to lead the criminal underworld. He also talks about their greatest feats, one of them being the setting-up of facilities all around the world as hotspots for human traffickers.

'How very repulsive. They're making me sick.'

Cassidy had been disgusted with his words.

She'd learned to tune him out at least. He never seemed to check if she was listening.

Unfortunately, Dylan's voice is not something she can tune out just as easily. So, when they had their exchange again after the last one that seemed like ages ago, she had to listen whether she liked to or not.

This time, though, it had cut deep. She won't be forgetting it anytime soon.

"Is your spirit broken yet, Cassidy?"

Dylan asked her that from the other side. He's mocking her. But she wouldn't give him the satisfaction.

"Is the darkness getting to you? Doesn't it remind you of how you got locked up with your mother before?" 

Cassidy badly wanted to curse at him.

She has a whole arsenal of profanities reserved only for him. But unleashing all her contempt for him would have only egged him on. She would have done nothing but let him know that he got to her.

"You should know that Adrian Millicent died in the hospital."

Then, he dropped the bomb.

Dylan had informed her quite cheerfully. Cassidy had been all too unprepared for that bit of news. It did more than stun her - she felt numb after the shock. 

"You're lying," she warily responded.

His answering cackle seemed to bounce across her entire cell, refracting against the walls in an endless echo of taunting madness. There'd been a subsequent crackling over the speaker, and then, she could hear a somber melody playing obnoxiously over the distinct murmuring of a gathered crowd.

Cassidy is hearing a eulogy -

For Adrian.

She had sat unmoving throughout the entire oration, her heart twinging when she heard Edward's rough, near-unrecognizable voice through the speakers. It went on as, "Adrian was a good brother."

Adrian was.

Adrian was.

Her lips trembled then, her fists shaking from their place against her lap. There are so many things wrong with that fragment. For one, there's the subject. For two, there's the tense. It shouldn't have been like that. 

Adrian was.

"N-No... I-It can't be..."

He can't be gone. He can't be dead.

Today's medicine is too advanced. They should've been able to save him. He should be alive.

That's unless Cassidy had overestimated her chances. Maybe she had acted too slow. Perhaps she'd been a moment too late.

"N-No, please... A-Adrian... Y-You can't b-be..."

Dylan had made Cassiy sit through the entire thing, watching her reaction with amusement.

She's sure he'd been waiting for an anguished outburst or a pitiful wail. He might've wanted her to cry - or perhaps, might've wanted her to swear vengeful allegiance to them. But he had miscalculated.

Cassidy didn't do any of that.

Instead, she brought herself to her knees, and she thought of all the ways she could make things right. Perhaps, Adrian can still be saved somehow - even if there is nothing to save but his defeated corpse.

"Ohhh, my poor little niece~"

Dylan had tried to incite Cassidy further.

But his words had become bland by then, and his taunts had fallen upon deaf ears. She had gone silent, as though losing her voice, and realizing that he'd stripped her off of her vocal chords – realizing that he'd stripped her off of her most powerful weapon.

When it's over, Dylan had pleasingly bid Cassidy, "Have a good day, my dear niece."