CH.3

ELISE

Silence hangs in the study.

My father stands before me expressionlessly.

He moves toward his desk, fingers hovering over something beneath the mahogany surface.

"I've only ever tried to keep you safe, Elise," he mutters.

His gaze fixes on a point beyond my shoulder, unwilling to meet my eyes. "Even from yourself."

A cold sensation creeps up my spine, settling between my shoulder blades. The hair on my arms rises despite the warmth of the room.

"What do you mean?" My voice comes out smaller than intended, betraying the fear building inside me.

"It means I've decided." His finger presses down with a quiet click.

The heavy oak door swings open almost immediately.

Two men enter. They are company security, their dark suits immaculate and their expressions professionally blank. I recognize Mathew, the head of security and his deputy whose name escapes me. Their presence transforms the study from sanctuary to trap in an instant.

"Dad?" I step backward instinctively, bumping against a leather chair. "What's going on?"

"Elise needs to leave," my father orders without emotion. "She isn't well."

"Not well?" Disbelief sharpens my tone. "I came here for help!"

"And this is my way of helping." He turns away, reaching for the crystal decanter on the sidebar.

The amber liquid gurgles softly as he pours another measure. "You need professional care, Elise. These wild ideas about Alexander and Natasha have gone too far."

Mathew steps toward me and his eyes scans me for signs of resistance.

"Ma'am, please come with us," he says, extending his hand.

"Don't touch me!" I retreat further, colliding with a bookshelf. Several leather-bound volumes wobble precariously. "Dad, you can't be serious. They're manipulating you!"

He exhales slowly, swirling the scotch in his glass. "This is exactly the problem. You sound paranoid." He takes a small sip before continuing. "Your mother struggled with similar thoughts before the end."

"Mom had cancer!" Hot tears spring to my eyes.

The comparison feels like a violation of her memory. "How can you twist that into this?"

"Her illness affected her mind too." His voice remains steady and clinical. "Doctors warned me to watch for signs in you."

The second guard positions himself near the door while Mathew continues his slow approach.

The room suddenly feels smaller, the air thicker.

"Ms. Blackwood, let's do this the easy way," Mathew urges, his hand still extended. "There's a car waiting."

"A car?" My heart pounds against my ribs. "Where are you taking me?"

My father finally turns to face me. "Pinewood Wellness Center. They help people in high positions who need... privacy," he explains.

His tone suggests he's discussing a business arrangement rather than my freedom.

"You're locking me up?" The realization hits with stunning force. "You're actually sending me away."

"It's only for evaluation," he responds. "Alexander and I agreed it's necessary."

"You and Alexander?" A bitter laugh escapes me. "Of course. You've been working with him all along."

Mathew seizes the moment of distraction to close the distance between us. "Please, ma'am. Let's not make this difficult."

"I'm not going anywhere!" My hand finds a heavy crystal paperweight on the nearby table. I grab it, feeling its substantial weight. "Not until my father tells me why he's betraying me."

"Put that down, Elise," my father's voice hardens. "You're only proving my point."

"Oh, really? I'm crazy just because I discovered the truth?" My fingers tighten around the smooth crystal.

Before he can answer, the door opens again.

Natasha glides in, wearing a form-fitting black dress that hugs every curve. Her hair cascades over her shoulders in perfect waves. Even at this late hour, her makeup remains flawless.

"Is everything alright?" she asks, concern dripping from her voice like honey. "I heard raised voices."

"Everything is fine, Natasha." My father gestures for her to keep her distance. "Elise is just upset."

"Upset?" I laugh sharply. The sound bounces off the wood-paneled walls. "Is that what we're calling this?"

Natasha 's face arranges itself into an expression of sympathy. She tilts her head slightly, eyes widening.

"Oh, Elise. I told Daddy we should have intervened sooner. Alexander mentioned you weren't sleeping." She sighs dramatically. "He worried about your... behavior."

"Don't pretend you care!" I lift the paperweight, pointing it in her direction. "You've wanted me gone since your mother married my father."

"That's not true." Natasha places her hand gently on my father's arm. Her red nails stand out against his dark sleeve. "Daddy, she's worse than we thought. Maybe we should call Dr. Mercer now?"

"Dr. Mercer?" My eyes narrow. "Who is that?"

"The head psychiatrist at Pinewood," my father explains. "He's expecting you."

The truth crashes over me like ice water. This entire scenario. The guards, the wellness center… everything was arranged before I arrived. My father, Alexander, Natasha planned this together.

"You can't do this." My voice trembles with equal parts fear and rage. "I'm not delusional. I caught them!"

"Caught us doing what?" Natasha asks. "Reviewing financial reports? That's all Alexander and I were doing that night."

"In secret? On our anniversary?" The paperweight grows heavier in my hand. "Do you really expect anyone to believe that?"

"See what I mean, Daddy?" Natasha sighs theatrically. "She thinks everything is some grand conspiracy."

My father's expression hardens. The lines around his mouth deepen. "I've heard enough. Take her to the car."

The security guards move forward simultaneously. Mathew reaches for the paperweight while his partner grabs my arm.

"No!" I swing wildly. The crystal misses Mathew ' head by inches, connecting instead with a framed photograph on the wall.

Glass shatters, raining tiny shards on the carpet. "Let go of me!"

"Hold her down," my father orders. "Carefully."

The larger guard locks my arms behind my back.

I struggle against his grip, but his strength overwhelms mine. Mathew reaches into his jacket pocket and produces a syringe, removing the plastic cap with practiced ease.

"What is that?" Panic surges through me.

I twist violently against the restraining arms. "Dad, please stop this!"

"It's just a mild sedative," Mathew explains calmly. "Standard for transport."

"Transport? I'm not cargo!" I kick backward, my heel connecting with the guard's shin.

He barely flinches.

Natasha steps closer with satisfaction gleaming in her eyes. "This is for your own good, Elise. You need help."

"The only thing I need is for you to stay away from my husband and my company!" I thrash harder, but the guard's hold remains unbroken.

"Husband?" Natasha releases a soft, melodic laugh. "Alexander was never truly yours. We've been together since college. The marriage? It was merely business."

I freeze, her words penetrating deeper than any physical blow could.

"What?" The question emerges as barely a whisper.

"Natasha!" My father's tone carries a sharp warning.

"Why keep it secret?" Natasha shrugs, completely unfazed. "She's going away anyway. Might as well tell her the truth."

"What truth?" My voice sounds hollow, drained by shock.

Natasha 's smile transforms into something predatory. "Alexander and I planned this for years. The wedding, the gradual transfer of your shares, everything. We simply waited for the perfect moment to remove you."

"Enough!" my father snaps. His knuckles whiten around his glass.

I hold his gaze, a strange calm settling over me. "No, let her finish. I want to know exactly how deep this betrayal goes."

Natasha moves even closer, savoring her victory. Her eyes never leave mine. "Your father needed capital to rescue Blackwood Tech after his disastrous venture in Asia. The Westfields offered financial support, but only if a Blackwood married into their family. Alexander's parents wanted the Blackwood connections and prestige. The arrangement benefited everyone."

"And where did you fit into this equation?" I ask, my voice steadier than expected.

"I was supposed to be the bride." Natasha 's eyes darken with resentment. "But the Westfields insisted on a true Blackwood. They wanted their dynasty built on authentic bloodlines."

My father slams his glass on the desk. Liquid sloshes over the rim. "That's enough, Natasha!" he shouts.

She ignores him completely, focused entirely on delivering her final blow. "Alexander married you, but he never loved you. Every night he spent in your bed, he returned to me afterward."

Mathew approaches with the syringe. I barely register his presence. My entire world narrows to this moment, this revelation.

"And you knew about it, right, Dad? You chose Natasha over your own daughter?" I demand, searching his face for any trace of remorse.

"Natasha is every inch my daughter because she followed my path!" he answers. "She understands what it takes to preserve this legacy!"

I stop struggling against the guard's hold. The fight drains from me, replaced by a cold clarity. "Now I understand the truth. You never wanted a daughter. You wanted a reflection—someone cold, calculating, willing to sacrifice lives for profit."

His eyes narrow. For a moment, I glimpse something like regret before it vanishes behind his mask of authority.

The needle pricks my skin.

A cold sensation spreads from the injection site.

My limbs grow heavy almost immediately and the room begins to blur around the edges.

"You won't get away with this.” My tongue feels thick, uncooperative. "People will ask questions."

"Who? Your friends? Your colleagues? They work for me now." Natasha 's voice reaches me through the encroaching darkness.

Her words float above me, the last thing I hear before consciousness slips away.