Chapter Twenty-One: The Viper in Pearls

She was waiting for us.

Standing at the end of the long hallway, still as a statue carved from frost and judgment, in a cream silk dress and a strand of pearls so pristine they might’ve been made from the teeth of her enemies.

Dominic’s mother.

Lydia Blackwood.

Her gaze swept over me slowly, like I was dirt tracked in on the soles of her son’s designer shoes.

“What are you doing here, Mother?”

She didn’t say a word until we were just a few feet away. Then she spoke, and every syllable sounded like it had been soaked in venom.

“Humph! I see the scandal finally comes home.”

I stiffened, but I didn’t speak.

Dominic didn’t, either.

Jules just glared like she would love to show Mrs Blackwood a thing or two about respect.

She took a step forward, her heels clicking against the marble like gunshots in a church.

“I wasn’t sure what kind of woman could seduce a man like my son,” she continued, folding her arms. “Now I understand. Not a woman. A parasite. You climbed out of one man’s bed and crawled directly into another’s bank account. Are you not ashamed?”

I didn’t move.

Didn’t flinch. Just stared at her, utterly unimpressed.

Her words hit like darts, but they didn’t pierce. Not this time. Never again.

Lydia tilted her head slightly, studying me with the same expression I’d seen on the faces of the Reynolds. Dismissal. Disgust. Something even colder than hate.

“You think that bastard baby in your womb makes you family?” she asked softly. “It makes you leverage. And leverage,” she leaned in, voice a whisper now, “gets people killed.”

Dominic still hadn’t spoken.

I was trying—trying—to stay quiet. To be respectful. She was his mother. His family.

But when she took another step forward, when her eyes flicked down to my stomach like it was a stain…

“I’d advise you,” she said, “to consider what terminating this pregnancy could do for the Blackwoof legacy. No bastard has ever been born to this family.”

Something inside me snapped.

It didn’t shatter.

It snapped.

I stepped forward.

Slowly. Carefully.

My hands were steady.

My voice even.

But my soul?

On fire.

“I’ve survived more in the last six months than most women survive in a lifetime,” I said, low and quiet. “I’ve been broken, humiliated, stripped of everything I had. I bled alone in a hospital bed while my first husband discussed my funeral arrangements with his mistress after pushing me to my death.”

Her eyes narrowed.

I kept going.

“I was thrown out like trash. Told I was worthless. Left for dead by a family I served with everything I had. And I rebuilt myself. Alone.”

My voice didn’t rise.

It didn’t need to.

“I didn’t need your son to become strong. I didn’t need his money. I didn’t need this house or your pearls or your last name. I became strong because I had to be. Because if I wasn’t, I would have died.”

The air between us sizzled.

She said nothing.

So I did.

“I’m not here to be liked. I’m not here to play tea party with your friends or smile at the cameras. I’m here to win. And if you think threatening me will break me, then you’ve clearly never met the woman your son married. I will take anything from you, but the next time you talk about my unborn child again, I will forget whoever you think you are to my husband and I will not show you any mercy.”

Silence.

She stared at me for a long moment.

Then she smiled.

It wasn’t warm.

It was war.

“Then you’d better survive the gala first,” she said coolly, turning on her heel. “Let’s see how far that fire takes you when the knives come out. Also never forget that I will never accept you into this family.”

She disappeared around the corner without a word to Dominic.

The house felt colder the moment she left.

I let out a slow breath.

Dominic was silent beside me.

I turned toward him.

And something in me cracked.

“You arrogant psycho, why don’t you ever say anything?” I asked, voice rougher than I meant. “You just let her say those things to me? First during our wedding, and now? Are you really on my side, Dominic Blackwood?”

His jaw tensed. But he didn’t respond.

I stepped closer. “You defended me against the Reynolds. Against Blake. Against the entire board. But when it comes to her…”

I shook my head, chest tight.

“I know she’s your mother and that is the only reason I still respect her as much but she wants me gone, Dominic. You heard what she said.”

“I did.”

“Then why the hell didn’t you say anything?”

He looked at me then.

Really looked.

And what I saw in his eyes wasn’t cold.

It was… respect?

“Because if I defend you from her,” he said slowly, “then you’ll expect me to do it again. And again. And again.”

My brows drew together.

“If I fight her battles for you, Scarlett… she’ll own you. Just like the Reynolds did.”

His voice was quiet. But sharp.

“You’ve already survived worse. You don’t need me to jump in every time someone throws words like daggers.”

I stared at him.

He wasn’t being cruel.

He was… teaching me?

He stepped closer, his tone softer now. “She’s testing you. Measuring you. If I step in, you lose the round. But if you bite back like you just did? You win.”

I blinked.

“You’re not angry that I’m biting back at your mother?”

He shrugged. “My mother knows better than to be a monster. You did well, she will think twice before being rude to you next time.”

I let out a breathless laugh, still stunned. “So this is what, a mentorship?”

“It’s war, Scarlett. And you’re winning. Keep it up.”

He turned and walked down the hall without waiting for me to follow.

And for the first time in a long time, I didn’t feel small after an attack.

I felt taller.

Because if Lydia Blackwood wanted to play war?

She had no idea who she’d just provoked.