Chapter 369: Forged In Defiance

"In a devil’s case, his personal royal crest would physically manifest on his mate’s flesh."

And just like that, the fragile glimmer of hope shining in Aliana’s eyes came crashing down.

Cillian noticed the shift immediately, but he had only been telling her the truth.

It was better she learned the full scope of reality now, before it was too late.

Or perhaps, seeing the raw heartbreak flash across her face, he wondered if it was already far too late.

But that was the cruel nature of life.

Fate had a bitter habit of playing twisted games, watching people struggle to untangle themselves from its web, only to realise they were already trapped too deeply to pull away.

Even so... there was still one factor Cillian could not completely discount.

He kept his eyes fixed on Aliana, who had lowered her head, struggling under the crushing weight of the revelation.

He hesitated.

Should he say it?

Should he risk giving her another sliver of hope, only for it to be crushed even more brutally if his theory proved wrong?

Or should he remain silent and allow that uncertainty to fester inside her?

The latter, he realised, could be far more damaging.

If Aliana walked away from this conversation believing that she and Gavriel’s bond had failed simply because she had not manifested the crest, that doubt could eventually find its way into their marriage.

So he spoke softly, "Aliana, I know this might not sound very reassuring, but you must remember that your body is human, and Gavriel is far from his former peak. Those factors could also interfere with-"

"Cillian." Aliana suddenly looked up to meet his eyes. There was pain in them, but also a quiet sense of understanding settling within her. "I know what you’re trying to do..."

She managed a faint, bittersweet smile. "As much as I’m grateful that you’re trying to give me hope... I think it’s better that we don’t do that."

Her eyes grew distant as she stared back down at her cup, her voice softening.

"I’m not naive enough not to understand that these things... they aren’t within my control, nor are they within Gavriel’s. Him being the Devil... me being born into this world... or the question of who might truly be his mate... it is all part of a vast game played by the cosmos, one that neither of us can stop. Even though..."

Her hands trembled in her lap. "Even though every fibre of my being wants to rewrite everything the way I wish it were. So... thank you, but let us not dwell on what-ifs."

A heavy silence descended upon the office.

Cillian sat momentarily speechless. He was taken aback by how easily Aliana had seen right through his attempt to comfort her.

Yet, he knew the possibility he had mentioned was still valid.

Even so, she was right... deluding themselves with hopeful speculations would only bring greater agony later.

Taking a slow, deep breath, Aliana broke the silence once more. "On that note, there are still things I need to understand. I hope you will continue to be completely honest with me."

"Ask away," Cillian replied gently.

"You said yesterday that only a fated mate can bear a devil’s child, and you just told me how exceptionally rare it is to find one," Aliana said, watching him closely. "Does that mean a devil must simply wait until his mate appears? What if she never does? Can a devil truly never have a child with anyone else?"

Cillian released a quiet sigh before meeting her gaze. "Now, that is where things get a little more complicated."

....

Meanwhile, at a high-end coffee shop opposite Van Empire, Jade walked in dressed in a black high-neck top paired with a high-waisted midi skirt that fitted her figure perfectly, complete with a tailored black long coat draped over her shoulders.

Her heels came to a stop near the entrance as a server approached. "Miss Ross?"

"Yes," Jade gave a crisp nod.

"Mr. Ross is waiting for you."

Jade glanced back at Winston, who promptly offered a respectful nod. "I’ll be nearby, Miss Jade."

"Alright. I won’t take long. Thank you," Jade replied softly before following the server to a private corner table by a floor-to-ceiling glass window. The view overlooked the bustling avenue and the majestic limestone facade of Van Empire.

Her eyes immediately locked onto a pair of cold, familiar green eyes... the very same eyes that had haunted her for years, ever since Owen had taken it upon himself to ’discipline’ her during their childhood.

The closer she drew to Owen’s table, the tighter her grip became around the strap of her handbag, her mind racing backwards into a wave of buried memories.

Twelve-year-old Jade sat inside a darkened room while on the other side of the door, young Owen stood waiting calmly.

"Is it done?" he asked through the wood.

Weakened after two days without food and surviving on a near-empty bottle of water, Jade swallowed hard. "Y-Yes... brother. You can check."

The lock clicked, and the door swung open.

Owen stepped inside carrying a small desk lamp before shutting the door behind him.

He took a seat at the small wooden table in the corner and ordered coldly, "Bring it here."

Trembling, Jade shuffled forward and carefully laid a white napkin in front of her brother.

Owen’s eyes fell on the fine, faint hair gathered on the tissue.

Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a pair of metal tweezers and began counting every single strand with quiet focus.

That was the task he had assigned her two days prior... to pluck exactly one hundred hairs from her arms. Not more than that or less. If the count was off by a single strand, she would be forced to restart the entire process and remain locked in the dark until it was finished. In his mind, this was how he taught her resilience.

Then there was the time he gave a thirteen-year-old Jade a needle, thread, and a strip of cloth, ordering her to embroider the words "I am sorry" two hundred times in the dark with perfect alignment. If her stitches strayed or tangled, she had to pull them out and start over. That was his method for teaching her humility.

Or the time she was tasked with sorting thousands of mixed grains of rice and lentils into separate jars using tweezers, ensuring not a single speck of dirt or chipped grain tainted the containers. That was meant to teach her patience.

There had been countless bizarre methods through which Owen had chosen to ’discipline’ his little sister.

Some were exhausting, some were absurd, and some had left small scars on her heart that took years to understand.

Yet, in his own strange and misguided way, Owen had always believed he was preparing her for a world that would not be kind enough to hold her hand.

And those years did forge an impenetrable shell around Jade’s heart. It was also the reason she refused to apologize for her sharp, outspoken nature today. It had taken her years to shatter those chains, and her defiance was the proudest victory of her life.