Jacob's face was dark. He didn't want to say anything, but deep down, he knew the smart move was to get rid of the Natalie problem once and for all. So he clenched his jaw and forced the words out. "It's true." Lillian, standing beside him, smiled quietly to herself. God, I'm brilliant. Just a few lines, and she'd severed their ties with Natalie and dumped a pile of dirt on Scarlett's grave. Perfect. She smirked, thinking, It's the apocalypse, who's gonna run a paternity test now? What I say goes. Cassian stared at the two of them—so smug, so shameless—and his expression grew even colder. Now he understood why Natalie had always kept people at arm's length. If even her own father could hurt her like this, how could she ever trust any man with her heart? His chest tightened painfully. She must be hurting so badly right now. He curled his hand into a fist, about to speak, but before he could, a voice rang out from the crowd. It was sharp and righteously angry. "The woman's dead! Have some respect! How can you drag her name through the mud when she's not even here to defend herself?" It was Whitney again. Lillian immediately scowled. Ugh. This sanctimonious little witch again. Does she have to show up every time I open my mouth? "Ms. Jensen, everything I said is true. If you don't believe me, that's your problem. What do you want me to do—bring you a paternity test in the middle of the damn apocalypse?" Lillian snapped. Just then, a lazy voice chimed in from nearby, "Paternity test? That's not hard at all." It was Theodore. Leg crossed, popcorn in hand, he looked positively entertained. "Seriously, it's just a paternity test. I've got the equipment lying around. Just hire a tech from down the hill, easy." Lillian and Jacob's faces immediately turned sour. What the hell? It was the apocalypse, and the Mervyns still had access to that kind of equipment? So what—only the rest of them were suffering while the Mervyns were living like nothing had changed? Just as their frustration started to show, Rosalie was quick to jump in. "How would we even afford to hire a technician right now? We've already gone through most of our food stores. We even had to let our housekeeper go. We don't have a single extra grain to spare," she said, voice sharp with urgency. That's when Cassian finally spoke. "I can help you find someone," he said, calm and direct. Jacob and Lillian both went silent. They got to be kidding. The Mervyns and the Hollands teaming up, one bringing the gear, the other bringing the expert, and they're not going after Natalie? They're coming for them? Lillian felt a sharp pressure in her chest, like someone had just sucker-punched her. She forced herself to smile and shifted her tone, trying to play it down. "Fine. We're open to doing the paternity test. Once the results are out, the truth will speak for itself. But right now, is this really the time to focus on old family drama?" She swept her gaze across the room. "Let's not get distracted. We were all here for a reason, remember?" Cassian shot her a cold look, then walked over and dropped onto the couch beside Theodore. "You all came here ... for what exactly?" he asked, voice flat. The same group of brownnosers who'd been cozying up to Theodore earlier now quickly turned their attention to Cassian. After all, Theodore might've been rich, but he was unpredictable—moody, chaotic, and straight-up unhinged half the time. Cassian, on the other hand, was composed and rational. "Mr. Holland, you didn't read the notice?" one of them asked, eager to please. Cassian pressed his lips into a tight line. "The handwriting was awful. Couldn't get through it." Lillian, standing in the crowd, was fuming. Was Cassian deliberately trying to make her look bad? She'd spent years perfecting her handwriting—elegant, fluid, and refined. Ugly? How could he call it ugly? Meanwhile, a few of the others quickly gave Cassian a full explanation. "Basically, we're trying to kick Natalie out of the Hillside Villa District. She doesn't know how to follow the rules." Cassian's face stayed unreadable. Expression flat, no reaction. Theodore, of course, immediately tossed another handful of popcorn into his mouth. Oh, nice. Brown-nosing little suck-up. Go on, say more. Let's see if you can actually piss him off. Cassian swept his gaze slowly across the room. "And whose idea was it to pool food and hire a hitman?" Someone started to answer, "It was kind of a group—" "Oh?" Cassian tapped his fingers meaningfully against the arm of the couch. "Very creative." That was enough to make the person who first came up with the idea shoot to his feet, cheeks flushed with excitement. "Mr. Holland, it was me! I came up with it!" Not because he wanted to take the blame, but because getting on Cassian's good side was worth its weight in gold. Just look at Roderick. The guy had been a glorified employee—sure, making a seven-figure salary, but still just a high-level worker. Now? He was living it up in the Hillside Villa District, same as the rest of them. All thanks to Cassian's protection. Even in the apocalypse, the Hollands and the Mervyns still held more power than the rest of them combined. And his family's food stores weren't going to last much longer. If there was ever a time to latch onto a power player, this was it. Cassian gave him a measured look and confirmed, "So this plan was your idea?"