My Stepmom Is A Vampire & Her Entire Bloodline Wants To Breed Me

Chapter 234: The Boy In The Garden

"These are my twin daughters, Sienna and Lyra."

At the sound of their names, the girl with longer hair gently pushed the other forward. Only then did Mark realize the second twin was seated in a wheelchair.

Even though their faces were nearly identical, he could tell them apart instantly. The difference lay in their expressions. They looked physically around eighteen, tall with mature curves, yet something about them still felt unmistakably like children.

Perhaps it was the dresses adorned with excessive ribbons. At that age, noble daughters would usually abandon such childish ornaments, remove the oversized bows from their collars, and prepare for their debut in society.

These two are still dressed like porcelain dolls.

"Good evening, Mr. Addams. My name is Sienna," the standing twin said politely. Her right eye was crimson, her left golden.

Lyra’s eyes were the opposite, though her expression remained blank.

"She is my younger sister," Sienna continued smoothly. "She is the quiet type, so please do not mistake her silence for rudeness."

"Oh, of course not," Mark replied with a restrained smile.

Silence was far preferable to arrogance. Most vampires he had encountered lacked even basic courtesy.

"That’s a relief." Sienna’s smile brightened. "We are all siblings here. Even the children in the garden. Though Father does have a special son."

"Ah, how careless of me," Robert said lightly, as if remembering something trivial. "Flynn, come here. I would like you to meet someone."

A boy stepped away from the group of playing children and approached. He was thin, almost fragile-looking, with black hair and striking emerald eyes.

But what stood out most was the look in his eyes when Robert called him, admiration and trust.

Robert treated him well. That much was obvious.

"Yes, Father?" the boy asked.

"This gentleman will be taking care of you for a time," Robert said. "His name is Mark Addams. Show him proper respect."

The boy straightened slightly. "My name is Flynn Latros. It is a pleasure to meet you, sir."

Mark did not respond immediately. Instead, he looked at Robert with narrowed eyes.

"Taking care of him?" Mark asked. "And his name is Latros? What exactly are you planning?"

Without thinking, he stepped closer and instinctively positioned himself slightly in front of the boy, shielding him. Flynn blinked in confusion at the gesture.

There was no doubt Flynn was human.

For a vampire house to grant a human its surname meant something significant. A family name like Latros was not given lightly. It was their pride.

So why give it to a human child?

There was only one logical answer. The boy was valuable.

Mark knew the structure of the Human Farms too well. At the lowest tier were humans treated like livestock, barely surviving, their blood harvested daily for lesser vampires.

The middle tier consisted of those allowed to form families, breeding to sustain the system, their blood taken weekly for mid-rank vampires.

At the highest tier were the mistresses. They were ornamental prisoners, often reduced to nothing more than sexual property. The fortunate ones became concubines.

The very fortunate might even be elevated to the wife of a patriarch or another high-status vampire, meaning they would turn into a vampire and they would give the House a last name.

And standing in front of him was a human boy carrying the name Latros.

’Did Robert try to build a human farm with those children?’

Mark’s grip tightened unconsciously.

Whatever Robert was planning, it was not kindness.

Robert only chuckled. "What do you mean? He is just a little boy."

"You would never give him your last name if he were just a little boy," Mark replied coldly. "And even if I am naive, like you said, I am not a fool."

The atmosphere tightened instantly. The twins glanced at their father with curiosity, sensing the tension. Before Mark could speak again, Flynn slipped out from behind him and stepped forward.

"Lord Latros never harmed me," the boy said firmly.

"He saved me from the slums and brought me here. This house is better than where I lived before. So please don’t accuse him of things he didn’t do."

His eyes were steady, filled with genuine conviction.

Mark knew the boy was not lying.

But kindness today did not guarantee safety tomorrow. Mark finally understood why Robert had pushed cooperation with Caduceus so insistently.

"Boy, stand behind me," Mark said quietly. "The fact that you are not hurt yet does not mean you won’t be in the future. You don’t understand who they are. What this family represents. What they are capable of."

But Flynn didn’t listen. He stepped back instead, instinctively moving closer to Robert.

Mark’s gaze sharpened. "What did you do to him?"

"He already answered you," Robert replied calmly. "I have done nothing. Yet."

A faint curve touched his lips, subtle but deliberate. "Are you curious about what he is?"

Mark met his eyes. "Explain. And prove that you truly want vampires and humans to coexist."

Robert’s tone shifted slightly. "Have you ever heard of Crimson Nectar?"

Mark froze.

Of course, he had. The term appeared only in restricted archives of the Vampire Hunter Association. It described a rare human whose blood could accelerate a vampire’s evolution.

Evolution defined everything in vampire society. Status, authority, and even their survival. Many vampires lived decades without evolving at all, remaining stagnant and weak.

Those who failed to evolve were despised, even if they belonged to one of the Seven Great Covenants.

But imagine a blood capable of shortening decades of evolution into years, or less. Such blood would be priceless. Wars could be waged over it.

Mark’s eyes shifted slowly toward Flynn.

"Don’t tell me," he said quietly.

Robert nodded. "Yes. He is Crimson Nectar."

The words weighed heavily in the air.

"Under normal circumstances," Robert continued, "he would be hunted. Captured. Drained repeatedly until nothing remains."

His gaze returned to Mark. "But if you become head researcher for his blood, you can protect him. You can control how far things go."

Mark remained silent.

Robert was clever. Ruthlessly clever.

He knew Mark’s morality would not allow him to walk away. If Flynn fell into the hands of Caduceus without supervision, there would be no restraint.

"So?" Robert asked calmly. "Are you interested?"

Mark finally nodded.

He told himself he would set limits. That he would stop when research crossed a line. That he would never allow cruelty.

But promises are fragile things when placed beside knowledge powerful enough to change the world.

And even Mark Addams was not immune to temptation.