Chapter 2: The Obsidian Manor

​The limousine glided through high wrought-iron gates, its tires crunching softly over crushed gravel before coming to a stop in front of the grand entrance of Blackwood Manor.

​Evelyn sat motionless as the driver opened the rear door. The cool night air rushed in, carrying the scent of pine, damp earth, and ocean salt.

​Lucian stepped out first. Evelyn heard the soft rustle of his coat as he turned back, extending a broad, calloused hand toward her.

​"Watch your step," his deep voice cut through the quiet.

​Evelyn reached out slowly, letting her fingers touch his palm. His grip was warm, firm, and overwhelmingly strong, sending a sudden spike of electricity through her skin. She deliberately let her foot wobble on the edge of the running board, playing the fragile, visually impaired bride.

​Lucian caught her instantly, his arm wrapping around her waist to steady her against his chest.

​Evelyn’s ear pressed lightly against the crisp fabric of his suit jacket for a fraction of a second. She heard it instantly: his heart dropped into a heavy, fast rhythm—a brief, involuntary reaction to her sudden proximity.

​His pulse spiked, Evelyn noted, her mind registering every detail. He acts like an unfeeling monster, but his body reacts like any man’s.

​"Careful, Evelyn," Lucian murmured right near her ear, his breath warm against her skin. "I won't always be here to catch you."

​"I am used to falling, Mr. Blackwood," she replied softly, letting her voice sound small and fragile. "People usually push me."

​Lucian went rigid for a split second before stepping back, pulling her hand onto the crook of his arm to guide her up the wide marble steps.

​The grand front doors swung open silently. The foyer was vast, the acoustic echo telling Evelyn that the ceilings were at least twenty feet high with marble floors and heavy velvet drapes absorbing the sound near the far walls.

​"Welcome home, Sir," an elderly, crisp voice greeted them.

​"This is Mrs. Blackwood," Lucian announced flatly, his tone formal and cold. "Evelyn, this is Mr. Vance—no relation to your family. He is the head butler of the estate. Whatever you need, speak to him."

​"It is an honor, Young Mistress," the butler said, his shoes making a distinct, soft leather squeak against the polished marble as he bowed.

​Before Evelyn could reply, heavy, hasty footsteps echoed down the grand staircase.

​"Lucian! You actually went through with it?!" a sharp, dramatic female voice rang out.

​Evelyn’s hyper-acute hearing mapped the newcomer instantly: light, high-heeled steps, a heavy trail of synthetic rose perfume, and a rapid, erratic pulse that smelled of anger and jealousy.

​It was Victoria Blackwood—Lucian’s distant cousin and the woman whom the high-society tabloids had rumored to be his intended bride.

​"Victoria," Lucian said coldly, not turning his head. "You were supposed to be back at your apartment."

​"I waited for you," Victoria hissed, her heels clicking rapidly as she stopped just three feet away from Evelyn. Her eyes scanned Evelyn up and down, her breath heavy with irritation. "Is this her? The blind girl from the bankrupt Vance family? Lucian, this is absurd! The press is going to mock the Blackwood name!"

​Evelyn kept her eyes pale and unfocused, gazing softly into the empty air between them.

​‘Oh, look,’ Evelyn’s internal voice mused with calm, sharp precision. ‘The envious cousin who thought she had the CEO wrapped around her finger. Let’s see how far she pushes this.’

​"Victoria, leave," Lucian ordered, his voice dropping into a dangerous, icy register that made the butler step back slightly. "You do not question my choices in my house."

​"I am family!" Victoria snapped, her voice rising in pitch. She stepped closer to Evelyn, her perfume practically choking the air. "She’s useless to you, Lucian! She can’t even look you in the eye! Look at her—she’s standing there like a mindless doll!"

​Victoria raised her hand, intending to grab Evelyn’s shoulder to spin her around.

​To anyone else, it would have been a sudden, unpredictable move. But Evelyn heard the rustle of Victoria’s silk sleeve, the shift of her weight onto her left heel, and the sharp intake of breath a full second before her hand even moved.

​Evelyn didn't wait. She took a small, innocent step to the right, pretending to adjust her gown, causing Victoria’s hand to swipe harmlessly through thin air.

​Victoria stumbled forward on her high heels, losing her balance with a sharp gasped "Oh!" before catching herself against the edge of a mahogany side table.

​Clatter! A crystal vase wobbled dangerously on the wood.

​"My apologies," Evelyn said instantly, her voice filled with soft, breathy panic as she held her hands out into the empty air, acting entirely clueless. "Did someone step near me? I... I heard a noise."

​Lucian’s eyes narrowed as he looked at Victoria, his pulse steadying into a dark, lethal calm.

​"Victoria," Lucian said, his voice dropping into an absolute, terrifying whisper. "If you ever put your hands near my wife again, I will have your family's allowance cut by midnight. Get out."

​Victoria’s breath hitched in sheer horror. She glared at Evelyn with venomous rage, but the threat of losing her fortune forced her to yield. "You'll regret this, Lucian," she spat, turning on her heel and rushing out the front doors, her heavy steps fading down the driveway.

​The foyer returned to a tense, heavy silence.

​"Take Mrs. Blackwood to the master suite," Lucian commanded the butler softly. "She needs rest."

​"Yes, Sir."

​"Lucian?" Evelyn called out gently, turning her head toward the sound of his breathing.

​He paused, looking down at her fragile, pale face. "What is it?"

​"Thank you," she whispered, giving him a small, incredibly sweet smile that seemed entirely vulnerable. "For defending me."

​Lucian stared at her for a long, quiet moment. He reached out, his broad, warm fingers briefly brushing against her jawline before pulling back.

​"Don't thank me, Evelyn," Lucian murmured, his deep voice carrying a dark, mysterious warning. "In this house, being protected by me just makes you a bigger target."

​He turned and walked down the long corridor toward his private study, his heavy, rhythmic footsteps echoing off the stone walls.

​Evelyn allowed the butler to guide her up the sweeping staircase. But as she walked into the luxurious master bedroom, her sweet, helpless smile slowly faded, replaced by a cold, brilliant glint in her eyes.

​A bigger target? Evelyn thought, listening to the faint distant murmur of Lucian’s phone calls echoing through the mansion's air vents. Good. Let them all come.