CHAPTER 2. REJECTED HEIR

"I’ll do it," Claire stated firmly, meeting Natalie’s gaze, once mocking, now slightly tense. "I will marry anyone, as long as it is not Arthur."

Silas Blackwood nodded in approval, though lines of exhaustion were clear on his aged face. "The decision is made. Arthur, you will marry Natalie in a private ceremony next month with no public celebration. And Claire, you will remain the bride of honor at the reception the day after tomorrow. As the wife of Julian Blackwood."

"Grandfather! You can’t be serious!" Natalie shrieked, stepping forward until she nearly bumped Silas’s desk. "I’m carrying Arthur’s child! How can you still choose Claire to stay in the core family when she has clearly rejected Arthur? If you need a bride to save the family’s face, I’m right here! I am far more worthy than she is!"

Silas stared at Natalie with eyes as cold as ice, and the woman fell silent at once. "You are forgetting one thing, Natalie. This business agreement is not just about the Blackwood name, it is about an alliance with the legitimate legacy of Claire’s late mother. You? You are merely Eleanor’s daughter from a previous marriage. You do not have a single drop of the blood that Claire’s mother’s shareholders expect. Marrying you in a grand ceremony would only destroy our contract’s credibility in the eyes of the world."

"But Father," Alistair, Arthur’s father, interrupted in a voice full of unhidden anxiety. "Julian? He has not set foot in the company building for ten years. He works odd jobs, lives in questionable surroundings, and his appearance. Father knows what he looked like in the last photo our informant sent us. Marrying Claire to that ‘cast-off grandson’ is like handing a lamb to a wolf."

Claire could only stand frozen in the corner of the room. Her heart beat so fast it rang in her ears. The name "Julian Blackwood" sounded like a curse in this mansion. She had often heard whispers from the staff that Julian was the eldest grandson who had been "mentally broken" since his parents died, a rough, unkempt man with no future.

"Claire," Silas called, his voice slightly softer but still authoritative. "Come closer."

Claire walked hesitantly toward the large wooden desk. Silas opened a drawer and handed her a physical photograph, its edges slightly faded.

"This is Julian. He is ten years older than you. I know this is difficult, but he is the only remaining Blackwood with legal standing strong enough to replace Arthur without canceling the invitations we have already sent out widely."

Claire took the photo with trembling hands. The moment her eyes fell on the paper, her breath caught. In the image, a man stood before an old warehouse that looked like an illegal workshop.

His hair was long and unkempt, a thick beard covered most of his face, and he wore a dirty black tank top stained with oil. His sharp eyes stared at the camera with a wild, dangerous look, more like a street brawler who often got into fights than a respectable Blackwood family member.

"He, he looks very different from what I imagined," Claire whispered, trying to find the most polite words to describe the frightening-looking man.

"He is a mess, Claire. He is trash!"

Natalie laughed mockingly behind her, her voice shrill with triumph. "Congratulations, my dear sister. You have just traded a wealthy prince like Arthur for a street wolf who might hit you every night. Isn’t this a wonderful end for Father’s precious golden child?"

Eleanor, Claire’s stepmother, covered her mouth with her hand, pretending to be sad though her eyes gleamed with pleasure. "Oh Claire, what a terrible fate you have. But this is Grandfather Silas’s decision, we can do nothing about it, can we? At least you will still be a ‘Mrs. Blackwood’, even if you might have to live in a small apartment that smells of cigarette smoke and oil."

Claire clenched her hands, looking at Julian’s photo again. Fear crept up her spine as she imagined sharing a bed with the rough man. Still, when she turned and saw Arthur’s smug smile and Natalie’s face that looked as if she had just won the lottery, her self-respect flared up fiercely.

"I accept this decision, Grandfather Silas," Claire said in a steady voice now. "I would rather marry the man in this photo than go back to a traitor like Arthur. At least, this man does not hide his true face behind an expensive suit."

Silas nodded approvingly, ignoring Alistair’s muttering of anger. "Good. My secretary will arrange everything. You do not need to meet him until the wedding day. Julian has agreed after I sent an urgent message to him, though he made a condition that his personal affairs not be disturbed."

After that suffocating meeting, Claire walked toward the pool area at the back of the mansion. She needed air. But she had only stood by the water a few moments when a rough hand pulled her arm with surprising strength.

"Let me go, Arthur!" Claire pulled her arm away, turning to find her former fiancé standing there with a frustrated face and ragged breath.

"Claire, don’t be crazy! You can’t do this!" Arthur tried to grab Claire’s shoulder again, but she stepped back. "You don’t know who Julian really is. He is dangerous, Claire. He used to beat people until they were hospitalized when he was still a teenager. Do you want to spend the rest of your life with a day laborer who might not even bathe every day?"

Claire stared at Arthur with a look colder than the pool water beside them. "And you want me to come back to you? After you slept with my own sister? Do you think I am that low, Arthur? Do you think I am stupid enough to go back to the same garbage dump?"

Arthur changed tactics quickly. He put on a pleading face, his eyes looking tearful, a performance Claire had seen many times before. "I made a mistake, Claire. Natalie tempted me constantly. I am just a normal man who can make mistakes when he is lonely. But Julian, if you marry him, Grandfather might start letting him back into the company. You know what that means? My position as sole heir could be at risk!"

"Oh, finally the truth comes out," Claire laughed bitterly, her voice full of contempt. "So this has nothing to do with my safety? It is about your fear that Julian will take your throne?"

"That’s not it! I’m worried about you!" Arthur shouted, though his voice sounded hollow. "Claire, go to Grandfather now. Tell him you are willing to forgive me. Say the wedding will still go ahead with me. I promise I will keep Natalie away once this scandal dies down. I will make you the only queen in this family."

"You truly have no shame," Claire hissed, staring at Arthur with disgust she could no longer hide.

"You talk about casting Natalie aside when she is carrying your child. Do you think I would trust a man like you? Julian might look like a thug in that photo, but at least he does not pretend to be an angel like you do."

"You will regret this, Claire Adeline!" Arthur’s voice rose, his face twisting into something frightening with rage. "Julian is asexual, he hates women. You will waste away beside him and never be treated like a wife. You will be the laughingstock of the entire city!"

"Let them laugh," Claire challenged. "I would rather be ignored by Julian than be touched by dirty hands that have just been on Natalie."

Claire turned and walked away with steady steps, leaving Arthur to kick a patio chair until it fell into the pool. On the second-floor balcony, Alistair and his wife Ratna watched with tense faces.

"We must make sure this wedding becomes a disaster," Alistair whispered to his wife. "If Julian manages to get back on Silas’s radar because of Claire, Arthur’s position will be finished. We must do something before the wedding day arrives."

Ratna smiled slyly, her eyes following Claire’s retreating figure. "Do not worry, my husband. I will make sure Claire knows exactly how terrifying the man she is about to marry really is. And for Julian, we will see if he can withstand the pressure we are going to bring."

Claire returned to her room, locked the door, and sank to the floor behind it. She pulled out Julian’s photo again, staring at the wild man’s face under the dim desk lamp.

"Who are you really, Julian Blackwood?" she murmured softly to the photograph. "Please, let the rumors be wrong. At least, don’t let me regret this decision."