Her phone buzzed several times in her hand, and an unknown number kept calling her: "You can't ignore this forever, Emma." Her stomach tightened. Three weeks ago, she had been living peacefully in Florence, as an interior designer for wealthy Europeans who didn't know her past. Three weeks ago, the names Ethan Blackwood and Damon Knight were memories she had carefully folded away like old letters kept in a dusty cabinet. And then the black envelope arrived with no return address and no explanation; inside was a single card with a message , "Blackwood Manor. Saturday, 8 PM. Come alone." She didn't need a signature. There was only one man arrogant enough to assume she would obey without question (Ethan Blackwood). A sleek black car pulled up in front of her, as if summoned by just thinking of him. The tinted window rolled down smoothly. The driver's voice was neutral. "Miss Francis?" Emma hesitated only a second before nodding. "Mr. Blackwood is expecting you.""Of course he was." She thought to herself while rolling her eyes before getting inside the car.
Blackwood Manor stood like a fortress at the edge of the city, all dark stone and iron gates, illuminated by soft golden lights that disguised its severity. It had always felt less like a home and more like a kingdom; Ethan's kingdom. As the car rolled through the gate, Emma felt her pulse start to race and memories flooded her head uninvited. The car stopped , and the door opened before she could steady herself. And there he was, he hadn't changed either. Tall, broad-shouldered, impeccably dressed in a tailored black suit that seemed stitched to his body. His dark hair was slicked back, revealing sharp cheek bones and eyes that burned with an intensity that had once undone her completely. Those eyes found her now. For a breathless moment, neither of them spoke; the air between them was thick, not with romance, but with unfinished war. Ethan's voice was low against her ear, his hand was gripping her waist. The way he looked at her was like she wasn't a woman, but something he had conquered. "You came," he said finally, his voice smooth as aged whiskey . "You sent a car,"Emma replied evenly. "You always did hate being told no." A faint smile curved his mouth. God, that smile. It was dangerous, calculated, and he was entirely aware of its effect on Emma. "I see Florence didn't tame your tongue," he said. "And I see power still feeds your ego," Emma replied with a smirk. His gaze darkened with amusement. "I've missed that." Emma folded her arms. "You didn't bring me here to reminisce." "No." His eyes flicked briefly to the main doors. "I didn't." He stepped aside, gesturing for her to enter. The movement was subtle, but commanding as always.
Inside, Blackwood Manor was unchanged, with its luxury crystal chandeliers, marble floors,and velvet drapes the color of deep wine. Everything exuded wealth, dominance, and legacy. But something else lingered tonight: tension. Emma felt it immediately as she walked in: she wasn't the only guest. Her heels slowed. "You didn't tell me this was a gathering," she said coldly. Ethan didn't answer right away, instead he guided her toward the grand hall, and as soon as she stepped through the arched doorway, her breath caught. Because leaning casually against the far wall,with a drink in hand, was the last man she had ever expected or wanted to see again, Damon Knight. If Ethan was fire, Damon was steel. He wore a charcoal suit, no tie, the top buttons of his shirt undone just enough to reveal the inked edge of a tattoo at his collarbone. His hair was slightly longer than before, falling carelessly over his forehead. His jaw was shadowed with stubble, and his eyes ... they locked onto her with something that wasn't surprise. It was hunger. "Emma," Damon said softly, pushing off the wall. Her pulse stumbled."Oh, hello Damon." The room shrank instantly. Two alphas, one woman. History crackling like electricity between them. Ethan stepped closer to her side, not touching her, but near enough that the message was clear, and softly uttered " mine." Damon noticed, of course, he did. His lip curved faintly. "Still territorial, Blackwood?" Ethan's tone was smooth but edgy. "Still interfering in things that don't belong to you?" Emma inhaled sharply. "Enough!" Both men looked at her. The power in the room shifted. "I didn't fly across continents to be part of your testosterone contest," she said with a cool tone. "Can both of you explain why I'm here?" Silence fell. Damon glanced at Ethan. " You didn't tell her?" Ethan's jaw tightened. That was answer enough. Emma's gaze sharpened. "Tell me what?" Damon took a slow step forward. "There's going to be a merger," he said calmly. "Blackwood Enterprises and Knight Holdings ." Her eyebrows lifted. "That's impossible. You've hated each other for years." "Yes," Ethan said flatly. "And now we don't have the luxury of hate." Emma's mind raced. "What does this have to do with me?" Both men hesitated. That terrified her more than anything. Damon spoke first. "The board wants stability." Ethan's eyes never left her face, "and legacy."Realization dawned, slow yet horrifying. "No," she whispered. "Yes," Ethan said. Emma laughed, but it was hollow. "You cannot possibly be suggesting what I think you're suggesting. " Damon's gaze softened, but not enough. "They believe," he said carefully, " that a public alliance would secure investor confidence." Emma's heart began to pound violently, "A public alliance?" she repeated. Ethan's voice dropped "marriage." The word hit Emma like a gunshot; her breath vanished . "You're insane." Damon clarified quickly, "Not to each other, to you." Emma stared at him, "To me?" Ethan's tone turned dangerously calm, "You were always the common ground." "I am not property to be negotiated,"Emma said angrily. "No," Damon said quietly. "You're the only woman either of us ever wanted." The admission hung in the air like something forbidden. Emma stepped back, shaking her head. "You think you can drag me back here after two years and present me like a business strategy?" Ethan moved closer, too close. "You left," he said softly. "without explanation.
" I left because you tried to control my entire life!" "And you ran straight into his arms." Damon's expression darkened. Emma's chest rose and fell rapidly . "I ran away from both of you." Silence filled the room, and the tension thickened until it felt suffocating.
Then, there was a faint movement in the doorway. Emma's eyes flicked over instinctively. A woman stood partially in the shadow. She was slim, pale, with dark hair pulled into a low bun, dressed in a simple black uniform. A maid, but the way she watched them...it wasn't neutral, it wasn't professional, it was intense and possessive. Her gaze lingered on Ethan, not Emma or Damon. "Ethan," for a split second, their eyes met and something cold slid down Emma's spine. "Who is that?" she asked quietly. Ethan didn't turn."Staff." The maid quickly lowered her gaze and disappeared down the corridor. But Emma couldn't shake the feeling of being studied , measured, and hated.
"Let's be clear," Emma said finally, regaining control of her voice. "I'm not marrying either of you." Damon stepped closer, lowering his voice so only she could hear, "What if this isn't about business anymore?" Her heart skipped. "What do you mean?" "I never stopped loving you." Ethan's jaw flexed, "and I never stopped wanting you," Ethan countered. The words collided between them,which left Emma's composure slightly cracked. This was the problem, they weren't just powerful...they were persuasive, dangerously so. "You don't get to decide my future," she whispered. "No," Ethan said. "You do." He stepped back, "for now." Damon studied her carefully, "You don't have to answer tonight." "Answer what? " Ethan's eyes burned into hers . "Which alpha do you choose?" The words sent a strange thrill through her, unwanted and electric.
Choose? As if it were that simple, as if loving one wouldn't destroy the other. "I'm not choosing anyone,"she said firmly. Ethan's expression turned unreadable. "We'll see." Later that night, as Emma stood alone on the manor balcony trying to breathe, she felt it again.That sensation of being watched. She turned slowly, looking down below, near the side gardens, partially hidden by darkness, the maid, Teressa. Emma remembered hearing her name whispered by one of the house staff earlier. Teressa wasn't looking at the moon , she wasn't admiring the garden. She was staring up at the balcony, precisely at Emma. Her expression wasn't anger,it was something worse...obsession. And when their eyes locked again, Teressa's lip curved into the fairest smile. Not friendly nor shy. But knowing. Emma's pulse quickened. Behind her, the balcony doors slid open. Ethan stepped out. "You shouldn't stand alone out here." She didn't look at him. "Your staff member," she said carefully. "Teressa. How long has she worked for you ?" Ethan frowned slightly. "A few years.""She looks at you like she knows you." "She doesn't," he said dismissively. Emma wasn't convinced. Inside the manor, Damon's silhouette appeared at the top of the staircase, watching them. Two powerful men and one silent observer in the shadows, with Emma caught in the center of it all. She had the strangest, most unsettling feeling that tonight was only the beginning. That something had already been set into motion long before she arrived. And somewhere inside Blackwood Manor...Someone was already planning how this would end, with love or with blood.