Chapter 1754:


    Years of searching, of not knowing, had worn grooves into him that hadn’t healed. Now that she was back, every perceived threatnded harder than it should, every slight felt more pointed than it perhaps was. When it came to Christina, emotion consistently outran logic.


    The Jones family had never stopped harboring suspicions about the Martels. Christina’s disappearance all those years ago had never sat right with them — it had never felt like ident or misfortune. Whenever Bain’s thoughts moved in that direction, his loathing for Alban sharpened into something almost visceral.


    Their encounters rarely ended quietly. There were always raised voices, always the heat of tempers poorly restrained, always the undercurrent of years of umted grievance.


    Alban adjusted his cufflinks with the same deliberate calm and turned his gaze back to Bain, something dismissive and cold settling into his expression. “I don’t operate the way you do. I don’t y dirty.”


    A few years earlier, someone had made an attempt on his life. Alban had never entirely released the belief that Bain had been behind it.


    They were ruthlesspetitors — that was simply the nature of what existed between their families. But ordering someone killed was a different thing entirely, a line he had never crossed, and the thought that Bain would go that far left a bitterness in him that hadn’t faded.


    “If anyone has made an art of ying dirty, it’s the Martel family,” Bain shot back, his voice clipped with contempt. “No one elsees remotely close.”


    The smile drained from Alban’s face. His expression turned to stone as he replied in a clipped, frigid tone, “We don’t lower ourselves to your family’s level.”


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    The Jones family had been scheming against him in secret, and yet here they stood, acting as though he were the one in the wrong.


    “Alban, don’t you dare—” Bain started, stepping forward, until Christina’s hand caught his arm.


    Bain looked at her, and the hard edge in his face softened. He turned back to Alban with a short, dismissive sound. “Fine. For my sister’s sake, I’ll let it go — this time.”


    Christina kept her hand lightly on his arm, then shifted her gaze to Alban.


    “Mr. Martel, it’s only dinner. I’ll pay for it myself. The three of us can go right now.”


    Alban’s actual goal had nothing to do with food or the Jones siblings. He wanted to see Gillian — and Adide.


    “Are you certain you don’t want to invite anyone else?” he asked, letting the suggestion hang in the air with deliberate care.


    Christina’s eyebrow lifted. She caught it immediately. He was talking about Gillian and the little girl.


    She had no intention of walking into that particr trap. And beyond that, it wasn’t her call to make — that decision belonged to Gillian alone.


    “Mr. Martel, if there’s someone specific you want to see, just say so. There’s no point in being indirect with me,” Christina said, cutting straight through it.


    Alban blinked. He hadn’t expected her to read him so precisely, nor to address it so inly. A beat of silence passed, and then a small, conceding smile crossed his face.


    “You’re right. I’ll be direct. I want to see Gillian.”


    His reasoning was simple: if Gillian came, Adide would almost certainlye with her.


    “What exactly are you after now, Alban?” Bain asked, his brow creasing with open suspicion.


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