"Now that that's done," Nathaniel Rockefeller muttered, his voice laced with a dry satisfaction as he watched the Blackwell girl step out of the apartment, escorted by two of the guards he'd summoned. Their instructions were clear: take her to Barbara, keep her safe, and above all—keep her under watch.
He hadn't intended to grant her request. In fact, his initial instinct had been a firm rejection. Caroline Blackwell was emotional, too curious, and too naive to be of any use to him. But then, as he considered her again, a thought had wormed its way into his mind like smoke curling through the cracks: she was useful.
Having the next generation Blackwell indebted to him? Under his influence?
That was a move worthy of Rockefeller blood.
And so, after ensuring every variable was contained—after calling the Longbottoms, informing Them of the visitor, smoothing every wrinkle—he agreed.
Now, with that piece moved into place, Nathaniel turned back toward the cause of this entire mess.
