Father's back. I'm going to talk to him.

Felix stared at his phone as he woke, feeling cold and alone in his bed. He pinched his nose. This day had been inevitable, but need it have come so soon?

Brigitte had brought over soup the night before. She had said that in order for Adrien to get back to the diet his body needed, he'd have to start small and light. Then she would gradually bring more solid food and more meat, until his stomach was no longer sensitive. Adrien was already looking so much healthier.

Now, the boy would be forced to return home, to the cold, famished environment of the Agreste mansion.

Felix readied himself for work with dread brewing in his gut and anger pinching his brow. Gabriel Agreste had no right to treat Adrien like a puppet. He hadn't wanted him in the first place, but as soon as he found out that the boy was useful, he'd changed his mind. Adrien was his dearest possession, on display for the world to see—but not to touch. No, he belonged only to Gabriel Agreste, who had control over everything in his life while playing at being a father.

A tickle of anger tugged at Felix, and he froze in his steps, blazer half-on. Everything was magnified: his resentment for his father, his irritation that he could do nothing... And he suddenly felt powerful—or, at least, power was in his reach, if he would only accept it. He had a right to be angry! And Gabriel Agreste deserved to be punished. If Felix could just give in, he'd have the ability knock the bastard off of his throne of self-interest.

Felix's phone buzzed with a text, snapping him back to reality. He trembled, breath coming in gasps as he tried to collect himself. That spiteful anger was so foreign to him; he'd felt like he couldn't control himself. And he had liked it.

Shaking away the dark thoughts, he shrugged on his blazer and glanced at his phone. There were five texts in a row from Adrien:

I just finished talking to Father. Heading to school now.

See you later!

_;;;^._.^;;;_

^^^ Do you like it? Brigitte taught me how to do that.

It's a cat by the way.

A weight fell from Felix's shoulders. Adrien was sounding surprisingly chipper for having just had a confrontation with Father. And he said "see you later"; did that mean he would be staying with Felix? How had he managed that?

Filled with renewed hope, Felix set off for the Prefecture.

That same hope was soon dashed by terrible news: another child had been kidnapped, straight out of the parking lot of her family's apartment, leaving behind only a single shoe. Her parents were at the Prefecture, and her mother was grasping Anna's hands, pleading with her.

"You have to find my baby. I never told her I was proud of her—if anything's happened to her—" The woman broke down in tears and had to be escorted away.

Anna turned a grim eye on Felix. Things like this shook him to the core, but the older woman had seen thousands of these cases, so she kept herself calm.

"They're estimating that it took place yesterday afternoon, when the girl was walking back from school," she began, tossing the file onto Felix's desk. "There's a photograph of the shoe in there, just the way they found it at the scene."

Felix peered at the photograph. The shoe's laces were undone and pulled wide. It would have been easy for the shoe to fall off of the girl's foot, without any struggle. She could have simply been carried off by someone she trusted.

"I want to get a list of every tenant of this apartment," he told Anna. If his hunch was correct, the perpetrator had been in front of them this entire time.

Marinette arrived at school fifteen minutes early. Her new-found motivation—namely, making breakfast for Adrien—had her out of bed in the wee hours and rushing out the door with enthusiasm.

Now, to locate her query.

"Hey girl! Look who's early for once! And what smells so good?" Alya dropped an arm around Mari, leaning in to get a whiff of the specially prepared breakfast.

Marinette pulled away from her. "It's for Adrien! Have you seen him?"

Alya wiggled her eyebrows. "Oh? This is an interesting development." She nodded to the corridor by the lockers. "He's moping over there. Nino tried to talk to him but he gave him this creepy smile and changed the subject. Definitely in a bad mood, I'd say."

Marinette slouched, wondering what could be bothering her ray of sunshine. Was it about his brother again? Perhaps he had found out...? No, no; if it was what she thought it was, Adrien would probably be happy—after all, he was a huge fan of Chat Noir.

She approached him carefully, holding the bundle of food in front of her like a shield. However, she failed to remember that there were low-lying benches between her and Adrien, and tumbled right over them. The breakfast went flying through the air, straight towards him.

Nonchalantly, the blonde boy turned, saw the projectile, and caught it. He seemed to do this unconsciously, and he stared down, puzzled, at the box in his hands. Then, he realized what had happened and jumped to his feet.

"Marinette! Are you alright?"

The girl feebly held up a hand. "I'm alive..."

The next thing she knew, Adrien was helping her to her feet, concern written across his features. Handing the box back to her, he sat her down on one of the benches. Mari stared at him, taken off guard by his closeness and the fact that he looked like he had been crying. Who had made Adrien cry? Apparently, Marinette had someone to punch.

"Are you sure you're alright?"

She started, blinking rapidly and noticing the box in her hands. "Oh! You caught this. You're so attractive. I mean! Attentive! You're so attentive. Why were you crying?" Marinette's ears turned strawberry red as her mouth ran on without her permission.

Adrien touched the back of his neck self-consciously. "Oh, this? It's just allergies. Um. There were a lot of pigeons on the steps this morning, and, you know, I'm allergic to feathers."

Mari eyed him suspiciously but didn't press for the truth. "Oh. Well, this is for you," she said, holding the box out to him. "It's food. I mean, the kind of food that you eat in the morning. I guess you can eat it at other times too, but it's morning now, and it's edible. But I understand if you don't like it; you can just throw it away. You won't hurt my feelings. Not that I have feelings for you—wait! I do have feelings for you! No! Oh goodness, forget what I just said—"

Adrien patted the top of her head, silencing her. "Thank you, Mari," he said, and the smile that graced his face was not unnatural or faked; it was soft and genuine, and when he opened the box and sniffed at the contents, his entire countenance was transformed.

Out of the darkening clouds, the sun had returned.

"Mari, how did you know I love croissants?"