One Week Later, Nox Capital, Kyle's Office
Kyle watched the surveillance summary on the screen, expressionless.
Over the past seven days, Lily Thorne's life had been completely upended. Ava's daily reports detailed: 17 media interview requests, 43 calls from "long-lost friends and relatives," 9 letters from charities soliciting donations, 3 men claiming to be "ex-boyfriends," and at least 4 obviously fraudulent investment pitches.
She had also refused to move from the Bushwick apartment, declined all public appearance offers, even refused to hire bodyguards—despite James the advisor's strong recommendation.
Interesting.
He zoomed in on a candid photo. In it, Lily sat in a corner of a Brooklyn cafe, a laptop before her. She wore headphones, frowning slightly, fingers flying across the keyboard. On the table: a half-finished coffee and a bitten bagel.
She was working. Even with $85 million, she was still working.
According to Ava's intel, she wasn't dealing with wealth management but refining the next prototype of Bloom. She had even declined a $5 million investment interest from a Silicon Valley VC—because she didn't want to give up control too early.
"She held her first family meeting." Ava's voice came through the intercom. "Yesterday afternoon, at her apartment. Attendees: father Richard Thorne, aunt Patricia Thorne, two cousins, and a man claiming to be a distant uncle."
"Outcome?" Kyle asked.
"Based on directional microphone recordings from the building opposite..." Ava paused. "Not pleasant. Patricia demanded to 'borrow' $2 million for an oil drilling project. The cousins wanted to open a restaurant. The father remained silent until the end, saying Lily should decide for herself."
Kyle's fingers tapped the desk. "Oil drilling project. Background check?"
"Fake address, shell company registered in the Cayman Islands, principal has three prior fraud convictions." Ava's voice held a trace of contempt. "Didn't even do basic due diligence."
"Send the information anonymously to Lily's financial advisor." Kyle said. "Don't expose the source."
"Yes, sir. Also, Patricia Thorne met with a lawyer yesterday afternoon. We intercepted the call; she was consulting on how to petition for co-guardianship on grounds of 'lack of sound judgment.'"
A cold light flashed in Kyle's grey eyes. "Lawyer's advice?"
"Lawyer suggested needing medical proof. Patricia has already scheduled a psychologist to 'collect evidence of Lily's erratic behavior'—including her refusal to move, continuing to work odd jobs, associating with 'unsuitable low-income friends.'"
"Friends?"
"Marcus Chen, her startup partner. They communicate almost daily." Ava paused. "Need deeper investigation on him?"
"No." Kyle said, surprisingly. "Not for now."
He closed the surveillance feed and walked to the floor-to-ceiling window. From the 88th floor, New York spread out below like a circuit board. The human world, composed of desire, calculation, fleeting loyalty, and lasting betrayal.
His grandfather still slept in Switzerland, Sanguis Purity stabilized at 68.9%—still declining, but slower. Dr. de La Tour's new serum seemed to be working, at the cost of needing fresh blood transfusions every two weeks, from donors with a specific blood type.
Specific type: O Negative, RH Negative. Rare.
Lily Thorne's blood type, according to hospital records, was O Negative, RH Negative.
Coincidence? Kyle didn't believe in coincidence. In the Night Clan world, every "coincidence" was a knot in fate's web.
His phone vibrated. Encrypted line from the Swiss clinic.
"Mr. Night, a situation to report." Dr. de La Tour's voice was tense. "Last night, Mr. Elias spoke a few words in his sleep. We recorded it."
"What words?"
"'Sunshine girl... light in the blood... she is the key...'"
Kyle tightened his grip on the phone. "Anything else?"
"'Find her, but do not startle... moonlight will guide...' Then he returned to deep sleep." The doctor hesitated. "Do these words hold logic?"
"Yes." Kyle said shortly. "Continue monitoring. Notify me immediately of any changes."
After hanging up, he stood by the window for a long time. Night fell, city lights blinking on one by one.
Key. His grandfather called Lily "the key."
Key to what? The curse? Sanguis Atrophia? Or something older, more dangerous?
Kyle returned to his desk and opened an encrypted folder. Inside was the Night family genealogy, tracing back to 14th century Provence. On the margins of the lineage chart, a prophecy was written in ancient French, penned by the family's first cursed ancestor:
"When moonlight embraces sunlight, when roses bloom among thorns, when selfless blood awakens the slumbering vein, eternal winter shall meet its dawn."
For three centuries, each generation of the Night family had tried to decipher this prophecy. Some thought "moonlight embraces sunlight" referred to union between Night Clanand human, but the Council forbade such unions. Some thought "selfless blood" meant willing blood donors, but hundreds of attempts had failed.
Until now.
Until a girl who took off her coat for a stranger in the rain.
Until her blood type matched his grandfather's need perfectly.
Until she was called "sunshine."
Kyle closed the folder. His phone lit up, the screen showing Lily's real-time location—she had just left the cafe, heading towards the subway. Even with hundreds of millions, she still rode the train.
Observe. Continue observing.
But deep within, a part long frozen began to feel a strange warmth.
Like the first hint of dawn on a distant horizon.