Chapter 3

London always knew how to hide its secrets behind a thick shroud of fog. Inside the majestic stone mansion on the outskirts of Belgravia, I no longer felt like the pitiable Elaine Vance. Here, under the heavy shadow of Alistair Blackwood, I was a masterpiece being meticulously restored.

  A week had passed since Adrian discarded me in the Black Forest during our journey to a private resort. He thought the silence of the woods would swallow my corpse. But fate had other plans when his father, Alistair—a man who had spent twenty years in self-imposed exile from his son's scandals—found me on that freezing asphalt.

  "Stand tall, Elaine. A Blackwood does not bow their head, not even before the Angel of Death."

  Alistair’s voice shattered the silence of a dressing room larger than my old apartment. He stood in the doorway, clad in a perfectly tailored three-piece tweed suit. In his hand, he idly fiddled with a gold pocket watch—a symbol of ancestral power.

  I stared at my reflection in the massive gold-leaf mirror. Alistair’s personal stylists had transformed me. My honey-blonde hair, once a tangled mess, was now cut into a sharp, cold bob that framed my face like a blade. A burgundy silk gown clung to my body, concealing the bruises beneath fabric that cost thousands of pounds.

  "Adrian is celebrating his triumph at The Savoy tonight," Alistair continued, his footsteps echoing on the marble as he drew closer. "He just signed the documents to transfer Vance Global’s assets. Sienna Montgomery is by his side, wearing the diamond necklace that should have been yours."

  Heat surged through my chest. It wasn't sadness anymore; it was pure, distilled hatred. "He stole my father’s legacy. He killed my parents with the slow poison of stress, and then he threw me away like trash. By what right does he get to celebrate his engagement to that girl using everything that belongs to me?!"

  Alistair stopped directly behind me. He placed his large hands on my shoulders. The touch was heavy, possessive, and brimming with control. Through the mirror, his steel-grey eyes locked onto mine. "He thinks he has won because he believes I will never return to England. He thinks he is the new king of Blackwood Enterprises."

  Alistair leaned down slightly, his face hovering beside my ear. The scent of oakmoss and expensive leather filled my senses. "Tonight, we give him a surprise, Elaine. I will introduce you not as his dead fiancée, but as my personal partner. The woman who holds the reins to all my shares."

  I swallowed hard. My heart hammered against my ribs, not out of nerves for Adrian, but because of Alistair’s intimidating proximity. "Why are you doing this, Alistair? Why destroy your own flesh and blood for a stranger you found on the side of the road?"

  Alistair turned me around so I was forced to face him fully. His finger traced my jawline slowly—a gesture that was intensely intimate yet felt like a subtle threat.

  "Because Adrian is a mistake I allowed to grow too large," he whispered hoarsely. "And because I like your eyes, Elaine. They hold a storm. I want to see you break him, and I intend to have a front-row seat when it happens."

  A dark hunger flickered in his gaze. This wasn't just a business alliance. There was a thick, suffocating sexual tension between us—something wrong, something forbidden. He was the father of the man I had almost married, yet in this room, he was my only sanctuary.

  "Are you not afraid of the scandal, Alistair?" I whispered, challenging him. "The world will talk. A father and his son’s former fiancée."

  Alistair smirked, an expression that made him look ten years younger and a thousand times more dangerous. "I am the scandal, Elaine. I don't follow the world's rules. I write them."

  He gripped my waist, pulling our bodies together until no air remained between us. I could feel the hardness of his chest and his unnervingly calm heartbeat, as if destroying lives was merely a daily routine.

  "Tonight," Alistair said, handing me a black masquerade mask encrusted with crystals. "We dance on the ruins of his ego."

  Meanwhile, the grand ballroom of The Savoy was alive with revelry. Adrian Blackwood stood proudly, a champagne flute in one hand and Sienna Montgomery’s waist in the other.

  "To a new future," Adrian declared loudly to his business associates. "To Blackwood and Vance, finally becoming one."

  Sienna laughed daintily, leaning her head on his shoulder. "Poor Elaine. If only she wasn't so 'unstable' and hadn't run away, she might have seen your success, darling."

  Adrian smiled sinisterly. He remembered the moment he pushed Elaine into the ravine. He was certain no one would find her; the forest was too vast, and the coming snow would bury the truth. He was free. He was rich. He was the new master of London.

  But suddenly, the massive double doors of the hall swung open.

  The orchestral music faltered. Every eye turned toward the entrance.

  A tall man with an aura of absolute sovereignty stepped inside. Alistair Blackwood had returned to London after a ten-year absence. But it wasn't Alistair's appearance that made Adrian’s breath hitch or his glass nearly slip from his hand.

  It was the woman on Alistair’s arm.

  She wore a striking blood-red gown, her face half-hidden by a mysterious black mask. But the way she walked, the curve of her neck, and the flash of hatred in her eyes visible behind the mask... it was a silhouette Adrian knew all too well.

  "Daddy?" Adrian murmured, his voice trembling violently. "And... who is that woman?"

  Alistair walked toward the small stage, each step sounding like a death knell for Adrian. He stopped directly in front of his son and smiled—a smile that made everyone's skin crawl.

  "Adrian," Alistair’s voice boomed through the room. "I heard you were celebrating. Allow me to introduce my new companion, and the new CEO who will oversee the restructuring of Vance Global."

  Alistair looked at me, his eyes giving the signal. I slowly removed the black mask before hundreds of pairs of eyes, including Adrian’s, which were now wide with a terror as if he were staring at a ghost.

  "Hello, Adrian," my voice was calm, as cold as arctic ice. "You look surprised. Did you think I was lost in the woods?"

  The silence in the hall was so absolute that a pin drop would have sounded like thunder. Adrian stumbled back, his face as pale as a corpse. Beside him, Sienna Montgomery let out a stifled shriek.

  The revenge had only just begun. And beside me, Alistair Blackwood gripped my hand possessively, ready to burn the whole world down just to keep me by his side.