Chapter 4

The next day, Ethan received a call he was expecting. It was Mr. Blackwood. The patriarch's voice was smooth, but edged with steel.

"Ethan, my boy. I think we need to have a talk. There seems to be some... misunderstanding."

"I don't think there is, Mr. Blackwood," Ethan replied, his tone final.

"Now, now, let's not be hasty," the old man said. He was trying to be reasonable, but Ethan could hear the panic underneath. "I know Seraphina can be... passionate. But you made a commitment to this family. You gave me your word that you would look after us."

"I gave my word to a man I respected," Ethan said. "And I made a commitment to a woman I thought I knew. I was wrong on both counts."

He ended the call before the old man could respond.

An hour later, his apartment buzzer rang. It was Seraphina. He let her in. The moment she saw him, her face contorted with rage.

"How dare you!" she shrieked, storming into his living room. "How dare you speak to my grandfather like that! Who do you think you are?"

"I'm the man who has been funding your entire life," Ethan said calmly. "And that's over."

"Over?" She laughed, a harsh, ugly sound. "You can't do this to me! We have an agreement! We're getting married!"

She lunged at him then, her nails scratching at his face. "You're a monster! You're trying to control me, just like you always have! You're the abuser here!"

Ethan easily caught her wrists, his grip firm but not bruising. He looked down at her, at the wild, desperate anger in her eyes, and felt nothing but a cold, empty pity. "Stop it, Seraphina. It's pathetic."

He let her go, and she stumbled back.

"Fine," she hissed, her eyes narrowing. "You want out? Fine! We're done. But our agreement stands. You leave with nothing. The company, the assets, the penthouse-it all belongs to the Blackwood family. It was part of the deal you made with my grandfather when you begged to marry me."

She was trying to twist the past, to paint him as the desperate one.

"And I'm going to marry Liam," she added, a triumphant, spiteful smile on her face. "My true love. The man you tried to ruin."

This was her endgame. To take everything from him and leave him broken while she rode off into the sunset with her partner in crime.

Ethan felt a strange sense of calm settle over him. She had just handed him the perfect weapon.

"Fine," he said, his voice shockingly agreeable. "You can have it all."

Seraphina stared at him, momentarily stunned by his quick capitulation. She had expected a fight, a long, drawn-out legal battle. His easy agreement made her suspicious.

"What's the catch?" she asked, her eyes narrowing.

"No catch," Ethan said. "You want to break the engagement, you want to marry Liam, you want the assets tied to the Blackwood name. You can have it. I'll sign whatever papers my lawyer and yours agree on."

A slow, cruel smile spread across her face. She thought she had won. She thought he was broken, defeated.

"There is one more thing," she said, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. She stepped closer, her eyes gleaming with malice. "Liam and I... we want to have a family. But there were some... complications from his youth. He can't have children."

Ethan waited, his blood turning to ice.

"But you," she continued, her gaze dropping to his waist, "are perfectly healthy. We want you to make a donation. A sperm donation. It will be your final contribution to the Blackwood family. An heir. After we take everything from you, we'll take that, too."

She turned and walked to the door, pausing to look back at him. "I'll have my assistant schedule the appointment at the clinic. Don't be late."

The door clicked shut behind her, leaving Ethan in stunned silence. The sheer audacity, the absolute cruelty of her plan, was breathtaking. It wasn't enough to take his money. They wanted to take his future, to force him to father a child for his own betrayer and her lover, a child who would be raised to inherit his stolen fortune. They wanted to emotionally castrate him in the most literal way possible.

He looked down at his hands. He noticed a faint red mark on his collar, a smudge of lipstick she must have left when she lunged at him. It was a cheap, garish shade, nothing like the subtle, natural tones she usually wore for him. It was the color of a woman who had just come from a secret, passionate meeting.

The last piece of the puzzle clicked into place. The anger, the pain, it all receded, replaced by a crystalline, chilling focus.

She thought she was in control. She thought she held all the cards.

She was about to find out how wrong she was.