The city had not changed at all; it still smelled like ambition and betrayal. Emma Francis stood at the edge of Blackwood Avenue, her heels clicking softly against the marble pavement as headlights sliced through the night like silent accusations. The skyline glittered above her, sharp and unforgiving, crowned by the towering silhouette of Blackwood Tower. She did not want to come back to this place, but some invitations weren't invitations at all, they were summons!
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.
Emma did not sleep that night, not even for a moment. Blackwood Manor was too quiet, too vast, too aware, silence didn't settle here, it watched. Each hallway stretched longer than it should, every shadow lingered too deliberately, every door felt like it concealed something waiting. She lay in the guest bed for hours, staring at the ceiling she didn't recognize, listening to the faint hum of a place that never truly rested. The walls held secrets, old ones, heavy ones, and now she was inside them again.
Emma turned onto her side, pulling the silk sheets tighter around her, but it didn't help. Nothing did, beacuse the word still echoed and lingered on her mind, "Marriage." Not a proposal, not a choice ; a strategy, a weapon, a trap. She exhaled slowly and pushed herself upright, sleep was pointless. She stepped onto the unforgiving, cold marble floor with her bare feet. The chill climbed through her body, grounding her just enough to stand still, she moved toward the window. The sky outside had begun to lighten-faint streaks of gold bleeding through the horizon. A beautiful morning, but it didn't feel like a new beginning to Emma, it felt more like the opening move in something she hadn't agreed to play. A soft, precise and controlled knock disturbed her thoughts but Emma didn't turn. "Miss Francis." Teressa called for her. Emma's jaw tightened. "Come in." The door opened quietly and carefully in a measured manner, then Teressa entered carrying a polished silver tray which had coffee, croissants, scrambled eggs, and fruit salad. Very prefect and predictable, her black uniform was immaculate, with no crease, not a flaw in sight. Her expression matched it, very composed and neutral but her eyes moved too quickly .
They flicked toward the bedside table, towards Emma's phone, just for a second then back again. Emma noticed, of course she did. "I hope you are well rested," Teressa said softly.
Emma turned slowly. "I didn't. " With no softness, no politeness, just truth. Something flickered across Teressa's face, very brief and controlled. But there, not concern, something closer to satisfaction. Emma stepped closer, not intimidated, not uncertain but filled with curiousity. "How long have you worked here?" she asked. Teressa adjusted the tray slightly before answering. "Three years." Emma's eye s narrowed just slightly. Three years, that meant after she left, after everything ended, after Ethan. "Mr . Blackwood values loyalty," Teressa added quietly with a slight smile. The words lingered, not information, a message, a warning. Emma held her gaze. "Does he?" Teressa didn't respond. But something in her st illness...did. By noon, the manor felt different, alot more alive and charged. The quiet had shifted into something sharper, something more eerie. Emma sat in the private conference room, her posture composed, her expression unreadable. Across from her, power sat; Ethan stood at the head of the glass table with his jacket off, sleeves rolled. The control in his aura barely contained. Damon leaned back in his chair opposite him, relaxed, too relaxed ; the kind of ease that wasn't natural, the kind that was calculated. Between them, tension stretched thin like a wire ready to snap. Behind them, the television screen flickered with headlines. BLACKWOOD ENTERPRISES STOCK VOLATILE: KNIGHT HOLDINGS UNDER INVESTIGATION RUMORS OF HOSTILE TAKEOVER. Emma's stomach tightened as she read the headlines, this wasn't just business, this was war and she was sitting right in the center of it. "This isn't just about profit ," she said slowly. "No," Damon replied. His voice was calm, too calm. "It's about survival." Ethan's jaw flexed. "Our competitors want blood," he said.
A pause. "Separate, we're vulnerable." "Together..." Ethan began."We're untouchable,"Damon finished. Emma let out a quiet breath. "And I'm what exactly?"There was an awkward brief silence."Not a distraction,"Ethan said."Then what?"His gaze locked onto hers."A symbol."The word landed heavily."A symbol of what?" she asked."Unity.""Stability.""Legacy."Damon leaned forward slightly."The board believes if one of us marries you , the merger becomes permanent. "Emma laughed once, short, sharp." So I'm a contract with a pulse and a heartbeat."Ethan stepped closer."You're the only woman either of us would agree on."The air shifted, not subtle, not quiet but real, Emma remained composed and still."Which means," Damon added, his voice lower now, "neither of us trusts the other with anyone else ."That hit, it hit harder than it should have, because it wasn't just strategy. It was history, it was betrayal, it was something deeper, still unresolved.
Later that evening, the manor transformed, lights, music , endless voices. The city's elite filled the halls, dressed in power, speaking in whispers, watching everything. A "private engagement announcement."Emma stood in front of the mirror admiring her figure, the red silk gown clung perfectly, backless, elegant, and dangerous. Armor disguised as beauty.
She didn't recognize herself or maybe she did. Someone knocked, before she could answer...the door opened. Damon, his gaze moved slowly over her from head to her silver heels, unapologetic, unfiltered."You look lethal."Emma met his eyes in the mirror."Good."A pause."I feel like prey."He stepped closer. "You were never prey, Emma."His voice softened."You were the storm." Her pulse betrayed her upon hearing those words, fast and unsteady."Don't," she said quietly."Don't what?""Make this harder."His expression shifted, something real broke through."I never stopped loving you."The words hung between them, heavy and lethal. Before she could say anything, the door opened again. Ethan walked in and he took in the scene instantly, the distance, the tension, the history. His expression didn't change, but the room got colder."Guests are waiting," he said smoothly.
With no emotion, no reaction, but everything beneath it moved. The party began, champagne flowed, laughter echoed in every corner of the room but beneath it... relentless whispers, sharp and curious."Which one?""Is it Blackwood?""Knight looks furious."Emma stood between them, exactly where they wanted her, cameras flashed, capturing a moment that wasn't real but would become real; very soon. For one dangerous second, she imagined stepping away. Choosing neither, and just walking out, ending it. Then Ethan's hand brushed the small of her back, very possessive, grounding and claiming. Seconds later, Damon's fingers grazed hers in a very subtle but intentional. A different kind of claim, a different kind of war. Emma inhaled slowly trying to remain calm infront of the million cameras in front of her. Because this wasn't just about business anymore, this was personal and it was escalating. Across the room, near the staircase Teressa stood still, watching, not the guests, not the merger but Emma. Her gaze was sharp, calculating, too aware. And then she faintly smiled. Later that night the noise became too unbearable, the pressure was too much for Emma. Emma slipped away, down the quiet hallways, into the library. Dark, still, safe or so she thought. The door clicked shut behind her, she didn't turn immediately. "You always run when it gets real."Ethan. Her shoulders stiffened."I left because loving you felt like losing myself."Ethan moved took a few steps closer to her"And loving him didn't?"Her breath hitched."Damon never tried to own me." Ethan's voice darkened."No."He took one more step closer."He just waited for me to break you."The words cut deep."You think this is about ego?" she demanded ."It's always about power.""And what about love?"Heavy silence filled up the library and neither of them answered because the truth was complicated, messy and unfinished.
Then, there was a sudden violent, loud crash followed by a scream coming from outside the library. Emma froze, Ethan didn't react, he instantly moved. By the time they reached the grand hall, chaos had already begun. The chandelier above swayed violently, with glass scattered across the marble floor. Guests murmured in shock and panic, fear spread quickly, but no one was hurt, not yet. Emma's eyes lifted, the rope was severed, cleanly, deliberately.Not an accident, not a malfunction but a clear message.
Her gaze shifted upward to the balcony, a shadow moved, too fast to catch, gone in an instant.
But she felt it, she felt watched, targeted and this time it wasn't subtle. This time, they wanted her to know. Someone wasn't just observing anymore, they were escalating. And then Emma saw her on the second floor, standing perfectly still, Teressa. Watching, not alarmed at all, not afraid but interested and intrigued by the fear in the room. Her lips curved just slightly, as the fear spread through the room, as chaos unfolded below, as Emma stood in the center of it. Realizing something she hadn't before, this wasn't just about power, this wasn't just about the merger, this wasn't just about Ethan or Damon. This was something bigger, something hidden, something already in motion and she had just stepped directly into it. The game isn't starting, it already has and Emma is already being watched and targeted.
The chandelier incident was ruled an accident before the sun rose, faulty wiring, old and structural fatigue. Three clean explanations, delivered with crisp efficiency over breakfast as though they were discussing weather patterns instead of a near-fatal collapse. Emma didn't believe a word of it. She stood alone on the east balcony the next morning, a silk robe wrapped tightly around her tiny hourglass waist as cool air lifted strands of her hair.
Below, the side gardens stretched in precise geometry...manicured hedges, symmetrical gravel paths, and at the center, the marble fountain shaped like a fallen angel. The statue's wings curved inward as if shielding itself from judgment or hiding shame . Blackwood Manor did not have accidents. The estate was too meticulously maintained, too controlled and too curated. Behind her,the glass doors slid open with quiet elegance. "You're thinking too loudly," Damon said. His voice was low, composed. Always composed. She didn't turn. "The rope was cut." Emma confidently said. "Yes ."Damon agreed, "And no one seems concerned."Emma said with confusion and worry on her face ."They're concerned," Damon replied calmly, stepping beside her. "They're just trained not to show it ". Emma folded her arms tightly across her chest. "Who would sabotage Ethan's event?" "Plenty of people want him embarrassed." Damon's gaze scanned the grounds below. "More want him ruined." "And you?" she asked quietly. His jaw tightened slightly. "If I wanted him ruined, I wouldn't need a chandelier." Her eyes flicked to him. Truth lived there. Dark, ruthless truth but truth none the less. Before she could respond, a scream tore through the morning air. Sharp, panicked female, not from inside the manor; from the gardens. Emma's stomach d ropped. They ran towards the direction of the scream.
Gravel crunched under their shoes as they reached the angel fountain. A junior house staff member knelt near the hedges, trembling, hands covered in red. Blood streaked across pale stone like a violent brushstroke. Emma's pulse spiked. A white rose bush had been slashed apart, petals littered the gravel like fallen snow but the blood didn't belong to flowers.It belonged to a man; Security dragged a disheveled trespasser toward the gates. His nose was broken, face swollen, shirt stained. "I just needed money!" the man shouted hoarsely. "They said I'd be paid to scare him!" Ethan's voice cut through the chaos as he approached. Controlled fury radiated from him like heat from steel. "Who said that?" Damon stepped forward, eyes sharp. "Name." The man spat blood onto the gravel. "A woman." Emma felt it before she saw her. Teressa stood still at the edge of the terrace steps, observing everything. Her hands were folded neatly in front of her apron. Her expression wasn't shocked, it was . Ethan's gaze snapped back to the man. "Describe her." "I don't know!" he rasped. "She met me outside the employment office two weeks ago and said she worked here, so it would be easy. Just cause panic." That's what she ordered me to do. Silence rippled across the garden. Emma's eyes locked with Teressa's. For half a second just a flicker, something dark passed through the maid's gaze. Then Teressa lowered her eyes demurely. "Ridiculous," Ethan said coldly. "Securit y, Handle it," Ethan commanded. The man was dragged away, no police were called, no further questions asked, just erased. Emma's unease sharpened into something harder. She stepped closer to Ethan. "You're not even going to question your staff? "I protect my household," he said evenly. "By ignoring red flags?" Damon's voice slid between them. "Or by hiding them?" Ethan's eyes flashed. "Careful." The tension between the two men vibrated like a live wire. Emma stepped back, feeling unsettled. This wasn't random, someone was surely probing the walls, testing weaknesses.And she couldn't shake the feeling that the attack wasn't meant for Ethan's reputation, it was meant for her.
The rest of the day unfolded with a very weird energy lingering. The staff replaced the ruined rosebush before lunch. The fountain was scrubbed until there was no trace of blood. Guests from the previous night were assured the chandelier malfunction had been "fully investigated." Blackwood Manor absorbed chaos the way silk absorbs perfume without visible stain.But Emma noticed things others didn't ; the way Teressa lingered in doorways, the way security guards avoided her gaze, the way Ethan 's office remained locked all afternoon. And Damon watched everything. By evening, the house felt quieter than usual, too quiet. Emma skipped dinner and retreated to her room early. She stood by her window, staring down at the garden now glowing under soft landscape lights and the angel fountain shimmered eerily. She kept replaying the trespasser's words in her mind . "A woman." Said she worked in the manor and met him outside an employment office. It could all be a lie, a deliberate misdirection. But something inside her whispered otherwise. While she was still deep in her thoughts, a soft creak echoed from the hallway. Emma's breath stilled. Her bedroom door was slightly ajar. She knew she had shut it. Slowly; deliberately. She crossed the room in silence. The corridor outside was empty, long, dimly lit by wall sconces casting elongated shadows across polished floors. She stepped out, and the air felt colder. At the far end of the hallway, near the staircase...a shadow moved, long, feminine, watching. "Hello?" Emma called, her voice steady despite her heartbeat racing rapidly. There was no response, but the shadow shifted. Emma followed and each step felt louder than it should. Halfway down, she paused. Voices drifted up from below. "...keep her inside ," Ethan was saying. "She isn't a prisoner," Damon replied. "She's leverage whether she likes it or not." Emma's chest tightened upon hearing that. She slowly walked down the remaining steps. Both men looked up. "You were discussing me," she said calmly. Ethan's expression softened immediately. "We were discussing security ." "You mean control." Emma smirked faintly. Damon leaned back against the banister. "You shouldn't be walking alone .""And you shouldn't be deciding where I walk," she shot back . Ethan approached her slowly. "The trespasser wasn't random." "I know." "He wasn't targeting me." "I know that too." The three went silent while exchanging glances. Damon's voice dropped. "He was watching your balcony." Emma's stomach turned. "He never asked about Ethan's schedule," Damon continued. " He asked about yours." Ethan's jaw tightened. "So," Emma said quietly , "someone wanted me frightened ." "Or vulnerable," Ethan added. "Or removed," Damon said. The word echoed through the room walls; removed. Emma struggled to swallow her saliva. "Why?" Neither man answered immediately. Because they all knew that she was the only unpredictable variable in a merger built on dominance and strategy, emotion complicated power, and she was the emotion.
Later that night, after both men reluctantly agreed to increase patrols without confining her, Emma returned up stairs. She didn't turn on the main lights, as the moonlight filtered through all the windows, casting silver across the corridor. She reached her door, and it was closed; properly closed. She hesitated upon that realization but entered her bedroom anyway. Nothing looked disturbed; her bed remained untouched, her vanity organized, her suitcase in the corner. Everything looked normal, but something felt... altered. She approached the vanity slowly, her reflection stared back at her pale, alert, unsettled. Then she noticed something on the polished wooden surface. A single white rose petal;fresh from the garden, stained with red at the edges. Emma slowly exhaled and picked it up carefully. It was from the destroyed rose bush near the fountain. Which meant someone had entered her room. After the incident, after security had swept the grounds and after she had locked her door . A knock startled her . She spun around. "Emma?" Damon's voice came through softly. "Are you alright?" She hesitated at first, then opened the door. He scanned her face immediately. "What happened?" She held up the petal. His expression hardened. "I locked this room." "I know." He stepped inside, scanning the corners, the closet, beneath the bed with swift precision and nothing was alarming. "Who has master keys?" she asked. "Head of security, Ethan." with a pause. "And senior house staff." They both thought about it. Teressa. Emma crossed her arms tightly. "She was watching in the garden." Damon's gaze darkened. "You're not imagining that?" "No." He stepped closer. "Stay in my wing tonight." She hesitated. "I'm not asking because I think you're weak," he added quietly. "I'm asking because whoever this is wants proximity." "And you think they won't approach if I'm near you?" His lips curved faintly ."They'll think twice." A long silence passed between them.
Then...footsteps echoed faintly from the stairwell again. Both of them went rigid, and Damon moved first, stepping into the corridor silently. Emma followed despite being scared. At the far end, a figure stood near the linen closet; too still and composed. Teressa. She looked almost ghostly in the moonlight. "Is something wrong, Miss?" Teressa asked gently. Emma studied her carefully. "You tell me." Teressa's eyes flicked briefly to Damon, then back to Emma. "I heard movement, so I came by to ensure all guests were comfortable." "At midnight?" Damon asked."I take my duties seriously." Emma stepped forward. "Did you enter my room tonight?" Teressa slowly blinked once. "Of course not." Emma held up the petal . "Then how did this get there?" Teressa's gaze dropped to it, her lips curved almost imperceptibly. "It's just a flower." "No," Emma said scornfully . "It's a message." The maid's posture remained perfectly straight. "And what message would that be?" Emma held her gaze. "That I'm being watched." Silence thickened,Teressa's expression didn't crack, but something shifted in her eyes. Possessiveness, cold and unsettling. Her gaze drifted past Emma, towards the closed door of Ethan's private office down the hall then back. "Some things," Teressa said softly, "grow better when they are carefully." A chill crawled down Emma's spine. "And some weeds," Damon replied evenly, "need removing." Teressa dipped her head slightly. "Good night, Mr. Knight and Miss Francis ." Then she walked away, her movement was unhurried and intentional. Emma stood frozen in the corridor long after she disappeared. "This isn't about business," she whispered. "No," Damon agreed. Below them, in the darkened garden, the angel fountain gleamed under the moonlight. Its marble hands were stained faintly pink despite the cleaning, because some marks...even in Blackwood Manor, refused to disappear. And somewhere in the silence of the estate, someone was already planning the next move.