Chapter 107:The Mission

Chapter 107: 107:The Mission

Nova smirked. "I won’t tell you," she replied, staring up at him with deliberate, wicked provocation dancing in her eyes.

Cassian took a slow, deep breath, his chest expanding as he fought to cage the beast thrashing inside him. "Darling... you aren’t hiding another man, are you?" he asked. Despite his desperate attempt to sound calm, the lethal edge in his voice betrayed his rapidly fracturing restraint.

Nova merely chuckled. "Jealous?" she teased, entirely unfazed by the suffocating, possessive aura rolling off him in waves.

Cassian’s jaw ticked. A low growl vibrated in his throat before he suddenly surged forward, sealing Nova’s lips in a fierce, bruising kiss. It was rough and entirely consuming, an unyielding assertion of dominance. He didn’t pull away until he felt the breathless hitch in her chest, signaling she was struggling for air.

When he finally broke the kiss, his arm remained locked like an iron band around her waist. He stared deeply into her blue eyes, his own swirling with dark obsession. "Maybe I should just lock her away in this mansion," he thought, struggling to conceal the toxic fire burning in his mind. "If I lock her up, she can finally avoid the gaze of all those annoying men."

Nova, breathing heavily, stared right back at him. She didn’t miss a single micro-expression flickering across his face. With her terrifyingly sharp intuition, she effortlessly guess his thoughts.

She smiled gently, reaching up to cup his cheek. "Don’t worry, I’m not hiding any man on the outside," she soothed.

Cassian let out a heavy, shuddering sigh of relief.

"...But if I do happen to fall for another man, I’ll just bring him home to live with us," Nova added seamlessly.

The relief vanished instantly. Cassian’s head snapped down, his eyes narrowing into deadly slits as he glared at her.

"Nova," he warned, his voice dropping to a dangerous, absolute zero. "You are not allowed to fall for any other man. The three of us are more than enough for you."

Nova laughed out loud, noting that he had used her actual name—a rare indicator that he was dead serious. "Alright, alright, I hear you," she giggled, patting his cheek. "Don’t be angry, dear husband."

Cassian continued to stare at her, the dark suspicion lingering in his gaze. "Do you promise?"

"I promise. Only you three," Nova replied, pressing a soft, placating kiss to his lips. "Happy now?"

Cassian cleared his throat, his posture finally relaxing as the tension dissipated from the room. "You promised not to take any more husbands. And if I catch any man bothering you, you are not to interfere with whatever I decide to do to them. Understood?"

Nova chuckled, thoroughly amused by his violent jealousy. "Yes, sweetheart."

Satisfied, Cassian nodded. "So, where are you actually going?"

"The Darson family," Nova replied casually. "I just want to have a little fun with them for a while."

Cassian’s brows knitted together slightly, but he didn’t pry further. He understood perfectly well that if Nova was targeting a family, she had her own ruthless reasons for doing so.

"Do you need me to do anything?" Cassian asked, his gaze unwavering.

"Just take care of Alan for me," she replied.

Cassian rolled his eyes playfully, the dark, obsessive husband instantly replaced by the doting partner. "He’s not a kid, why should I take care of him? Besides, we can just come visit you there."

"You don’t even know what I’m planning to do to them," Nova commented dryly.

"Hmph. Whatever you do there, or to them, they should consider themselves lucky that you’re handling it personally," Cassian replied with absolute loyalty.

Nova laughed, a bright, musical sound. "They are indeed lucky," she giggled. "Now, let’s grab some breakfast. I’m starving."

Cassian effortlessly scooped Nova into his arms, carrying her out of the living room and into the grand dining hall. He set her gently into her chair before a table already laden with a lavish, freshly prepared breakfast spread.

Nova eagerly pulled a bowl toward her and took a bite. "Mhm... your cooking is getting better and better," she praised warmly.

"Hold on." Cassian immediately whipped his phone out of his pocket, swiped to the camera, and pointed it at her. "Repeat what you just said, darling."

Nova raised an eyebrow, staring at the lens in confusion. "Your cooking is getting better and better?" she repeated.

"Perfect. I just want to keep it on record," Cassian chuckled. He immediately tapped a few buttons, forwarding the video directly to Raymond with an attached text.

"My darling just said my cooking is getting better and better. We don’t need a the almighty chef Raymond again."

Seeing the ’Delivered’ receipt, Cassian locked his phone and rested his chin on his hand, watching Nova eat with a soft, affectionate smile.

Nova lightly shook her head at his childish antics and finished her meal. Once done, she headed back upstairs to change into her new identity.

Evening — The Bilili Doll Shop

The sun had fully set, casting long, eerie shadows down the quiet street. Nova stood before the Bilili Doll Shop, dressed in a simple, knee-length purple gown. A plain medical mask covered the lower half of her face, her blue eyes was now black in colour, matching the original Jennifer’s appearance.

The shop itself was a narrow, dimly lit establishment packed floor-to-ceiling with dolls. Through the smudged glass of the front window, hundreds of unblinking glass eyes caught the reflection of the streetlamps outside. There were elegant porcelain figures in vintage lace, plush ragdolls, and rigid plastic mannequins, all crammed onto dusty wooden shelves. The atmosphere was incredibly suffocating—a silent, creeping tension that felt less like a toy store and more like a crowded graveyard of fake smiles.

"Jenifer?" a frail, raspy voice called out through the gloom.

Nova turned her head. Sitting in a cheap plastic chair just outside the shop’s entrance was an elderly woman, a thick shawl wrapped around her frail shoulders.

With a seamless mental command, Nova activated her System Vision. A translucent blue interface instantly hovered over the woman’s head.

[Information Report]

[Name: Mrs. Afreid]

[Age: 62]

[Status: Owner of the Bilili Doll Shop]

[Threat Level: None]

[Note: Jenifer usually addresses her as ’Granny Afreid’.]

"Granny Afreid," Nova called out softly, stepping forward and mimicking the timid demeanor of a battered girl.

Mrs. Afreid offered a sad, sympathetic smile. "Why are you late for the evening shift? Are those adopted parents of yours giving you trouble again?" she asked, her voice laced with genuine worry.

Nova shook her head gently. "You should go home, Granny Afreid. It’s getting dark. I’ll stay and watch the shop overnight."

The elderly woman sighed heavily. "They must have caused a scene again, otherwise, you wouldn’t be hiding out here all night. How about you come home with me instead? Have you even eaten?"

"Old woman, just go back to your house. Why the hell are you asking so many questions?" Nova thought, a surge of sociopathic annoyance flaring behind her eyes. But outwardly, her masked face remained calm.

"I’ve already eaten. I will just stay here," Nova insisted, keeping her voice soft and submissive.

Granny Afreid sighed once more, accepting defeat. "Alright, then. Make sure you lock the doors and keep yourself safe, okay?" She stood up slowly, leaning heavily on her cane, and shuffled off into the night.

Once the old woman was out of sight, Nova dropped the fragile facade. She pushed open the creaking door and stepped into the cramped shop. The heavy scent of old dust, aged fabric, and cold plastic hung thickly in the air. She walked past rows of pale, staring faces, her own cold eyes sweeping over the merchandise.

"Not bad," Nova murmured to the empty room.

She pulled a wooden stool to the center of the shop, sat down amidst the silent, watchful dolls, and folded her hands in her lap. The eerie quiet settled around her as she calmly waited for the Darson family to arrive and claim their ’long-lost’ daughter.

The International Airport

The cool night breeze swept across the tarmac as Clark stepped out of the terminal. He adjusted the collar of his tailored coat, his sharp eyes scanning the bustling arrivals curb. Pulling his phone from his pocket, he dialed a familiar number.

The call connected almost instantly. "I’m at the airport. Come fetch me," Clark ordered smoothly.

"Understood. I’m pulling up now," Trison’s voice echoed through the receiver before the line went dead.

Less than a minute later, a sleek black SUV glided to a halt beside the curb. The tinted passenger window hummed down, revealing Trison behind the wheel.

"Hop in," Trison said, nodding to the solitary figure on the curb.

Clark offered a curt nod. He tossed his leather travel bag into the back seat before sliding into the passenger side, pulling the door shut with a heavy thud. Without another word, the SUV pulled seamlessly back into the flow of city traffic, disappearing into the night.