บททั้งหมดของ WICKED INHERITANCE: บทที่ 1 - บทที่ 10

Chapter 1 - Ashes & Ownership

The casket was lowered at exactly 11:17 a.m.Ivy Blackwood noted the time without meaning to. Her mind clung to numbers when feelings threatened to surface—dates, balances, margins of error. It was easier to measure grief than to feel it. Easier to stand still in black silk and diamonds and let the earth swallow her husband while the world watched, hungry for spectacle.Julian Blackwood, CEO. Visionary. Philanthropist. Beloved tyrant.Dead.The priest’s voice drifted over the crowd, words dissolving before they reached her. Ivy kept her chin lifted, shoulders squared, gloved hands folded neatly at her waist. Her veil was sheer enough that cameras could still see her face—calculated transparency. The widow as icon. Grace under devastation.She did not cry.She had practiced this.The cemetery in Forest Lawn rolled outward in manicured perfection: white marble headstones, trimmed hedges, the city smog softening the hills into something almost romantic. Three hundred mourners stood in di

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Chapter 2 - The Will Is a Weapon

The reading of Julian Blackwood’s will took place at 9:00 a.m. sharp, because Julian had always believed punctuality was a form of dominance.The drawing room at the Blackwood estate had been converted into a theater of restraint. Mahogany paneling gleamed under crystal chandeliers. Heavy drapes muted the California sun, turning morning into something more funereal. Chairs were arranged in careful rows, close enough to invite conflict, far enough apart to prevent outright violence.Ivy arrived five minutes early.She wore black again, but sharper this time, tailored wool, clean lines, no veil. Her hair was pulled back in a low, severe knot. Diamonds remained at her throat, though smaller than yesterday’s. Mourning, refined.She chose the chair at the center of the front row without asking permission.Ownership, even symbolic, mattered.Behind her, the room filled quickly. Julian’s relatives filtered in like carrion birds: cousins who had smiled too hard at the funeral, an aunt who had

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Chapter 3 - Thirty Minutes of Ownership

Three years earlier.Blackwood Tower smelled like money and restraint.Italian leather. Polished steel. Old ambition sealed into marble and glass. Ivy Valmonte had learned the building quickly after her engagement—where the cameras thinned, which elevators ran private, which doors were locked more out of habit than necessity.Tonight, she stood on the executive floor with her back against a wall of glass, staring out at Los Angeles as if it might offer an escape route.It didn’t.Seven forty-two p.m.Downstairs, the rehearsal dinner glittered—Julian holding court, investors laughing too loudly at his jokes, champagne flowing like absolution. Ivy had smiled until her cheeks hurt, then excused herself under the pretense of a headache.It wasn’t a lie.The ring on her finger felt heavier by the minute.She turned at the sound of ice clinking in crystal.Sebastian Blackwood stood in Julian’s office as if he owned it.Suit jacket discarded. Tie loosened. A glass of Macallan cradled loosely

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Chapter 4 - The Night the Gunshot Sang

The hunting party had been Ivy’s idea.Julian loved symbolism—rituals that made him feel primal and powerful—so she framed it that way. A night in the Sonoma vineyards. Antique shotguns. Good whiskey. Important men pretending they still knew how to survive without assistants and stock portfolios.He’d loved it immediately.“Like Hemingway,” Julian had said, already pouring himself a drink. “Only with better wine.”Ivy smiled and kissed his cheek, already planning the rest of the board.By sunset, the estate buzzed with curated masculinity. Twenty men in tailored jackets and expensive boots roamed the vineyard paths, laughing too loudly, guns slung over shoulders like props. The air smelled of crushed grapes and gun oil. Floodlights illuminated the rows just enough to feel dangerous.Julian was drunk by the time the first shot rang out—wild, celebratory, fired into the dark to mark the beginning of the hunt. Applause followed. Someone whooped.Ivy stood on the terrace and watched them

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Chapter 5 - What Survives the Morning

Morning arrived without permission.Sunlight crept into the Blackwood estate like an intruder, pale and indifferent, illuminating what the night had tried to hide. The vineyard lay quiet beyond the windows, dew clinging to the leaves, the crushed grapes already beginning to rot where Julian’s blood had soaked into the earth.Ivy woke to the sound of voices.Not Julian’s. Never again Julian’s.These were sharper. Official. Measured.She lay still for a moment, staring at the ceiling of the guest bedroom she’d been guided into sometime before dawn. She remembered fragments—hands at her shoulders, a blanket draped over her, a glass of water pressed to her lips. Remembered screaming herself hoarse, remembered the weight of eyes on her grief.She swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood.Her dress from the night before lay in a crumpled heap on the floor, stained dark at the hem. She stepped over it and pulled on a robe instead, tying it tight, armor disguised as silk.When she op

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Chapter 6 - The First Move

The first board meeting after Julian Blackwood’s death felt less like corporate governance and more like a quiet declaration of war.Blackwood Global headquarters stood exactly as it always had—forty-two stories of glass and steel cutting into the Los Angeles skyline—but the atmosphere inside had shifted. Power had become unstable, like a chandelier hanging by a single thread.Everyone could feel it.Ivy arrived precisely at 8:55 a.m.Not early enough to appear eager. Not late enough to appear careless.The executive conference room stretched along the eastern side of the building, a cathedral of glass with a table long enough to seat twenty. The skyline burned gold beyond the windows as the morning sun rose over the city.Ten board members were already present.They stood when she entered.Not out of affection.Out of calculation.“Mrs. Blackwood,” one of them said.Ivy acknowledged the greeting with a small nod as she walked to the head of the table—the seat Julian had occupied for

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Chapter 7 – The Knife Behind the Smile

The problem with war was that it rarely announced itself with explosions. Most of the time, it arrived quietly. Like a text message. Ivy was halfway through her second cup of coffee when her phone buzzed against the marble kitchen counter. She had slept exactly two hours. Sebastian’s kiss still burned on her mouth like a bruise she couldn’t see but couldn’t stop touching either. The memory of it had followed her all night—violent, reckless, unforgivable. She hated that her body remembered it so vividly.

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Chapter 8 – The Woman Who Doesn’t Blink

Detective Elena Cruz didn’t rush. People who rushed usually wanted something. Cruz preferred to let people wonder what she already knew. The lobby of Blackwood Tower gleamed with the sterile perfection of billionaire ambition—white marble floors, chrome fixtures, quiet security guards pretending not to watch everyone who walked through the doors. She paused just inside the entrance and looked up. Forty-two floors. A monument to power. Also, she suspected, a monument to secrets.

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Chapter 9 – The Man Who Knew Too Much

The first mistake people made when they thought a murder was solved too quickly… was believing the silence afterward meant safety.Sometimes silence meant someone was waiting.Ivy didn’t sleep that night.The city outside her bedroom window glittered with the indifferent calm of Los Angeles after midnight, but inside the Blackwood mansion the air felt heavy.Like something had shifted.Detective Cruz reopening the investigation had changed the rules of the game.But what Sebastian had said before leaving lingered in her mind far more dangerously.Someone knew where we were.Someone had known about the vineyard.About the Aston Martin.About them.Ivy sat at the small desk in her bedroom, scrolling through a list of names on her tablet.Every man who attended the hunting party.Twenty guests.Twenty potential witnesses.Twenty potential enemies.Most were investors.A few were politicians.Two were old friends of Julian’s from before Blackwood Global became an empire.But one name caug

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Chapter 10 – London Doesn’t Forgive

The jet took off at 2:40 a.m.Ivy didn’t sleep.She sat by the oval window of the Blackwood private jet, watching Los Angeles disappear beneath the clouds while the quiet hum of the engines filled the cabin.Across from her, Sebastian Blackwood sat with his long legs stretched out, reading something on his tablet like they were flying to a routine business meeting.Not chasing a man who might know who murdered his brother.Not running toward a truth that could destroy both of them.Ivy hated how calm he looked.“You planned this,” she said.Sebastian didn’t look up.“Planned what?”“You already knew Marcus was in London before we spoke last night.”He finally raised his eyes.“Yes.”“And you didn’t tell me.”“You would’ve gone anyway.”“That’s not the point.”“No,” Sebastian replied quietly.“It’s exactly the point.”Ivy leaned back in her seat, crossing her arms.“You don’t trust me.”Sebastian gave a small humorless smile.“I trust you exactly as much as you trust me.”Which meant—

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