All Chapters of The Substitute Bride Of The Blackwood : Chapter 91 - Chapter 100

POV: CharlotteThe board call was at seven.Damien had been on other calls since five thirty, Oliver and Lucas moving in and out of the study, the house running on the particular energy of a crisis being managed rather than experienced, and I had stayed in the room because staying in the room was what I could do, being present and quiet and not requiring anything from anyone while they worked.At six fifty five Damien looked at me across the desk.“You can sit in if you want,” he said. “okay” I said.I pulled my chair to the back corner of the study while Lucas set up the video call on the screen at the far end of the desk, board members appearing in their boxes in the grid format of a call assembled in the early morning, some of them clearly at their desks in offices, some in what looked like home studies, all of them wearing the expressions of people who had been awake since the article broke and had been forming opinions in the hours since.

POV: SebastianThe press conference ran forty two minutes.I watched every second of it from my office, the tower visible through the window behind my screen the way it always was, and I watched Damien stand at that podium and deliver a non-denial so precisely constructed that by midday the market had pulled back from eleven percent to eight, institutional investors deciding that a CEO who spoke with that quality of controlled certainty was not a CEO on the immediate verge of collapse.He was good.I turned off the screen and stood at the window and looked at the tower for a long moment, and then I picked up my phone and called Whitfield’s office.His assistant answered on the second ring. Professional, slightly wary, the specific wariness of a gatekeeper fielding unusual calls all day in the wake of the morning’s news.“My name is Sebastian,” I said. “I’m an associate with information relevant to the board’s current considerations. I’d like to re

POV: VictoriaSebastian called on a Wednesday evening.An actual call, not a message, which was different from how we’d been communicating, and I answered on the third ring and he said can you meet me tonight and I said what happened and he said I’ll tell you when I see you, same place.The hotel bar was quieter on a Wednesday. Sebastian was already at the far end when I arrived, same seat, same untouched drink in front of him, except something about him was different from the previous times, something in the way he sat, less watchful, more settled, the difference between someone waiting for something and someone who has stopped waiting.I sat down.“You’ve done something,” I said.He looked at me. “Why do you say that?”“Last time you looked like someone with a plan,” I said. “Tonight you look like someone executing one.”Something moved at the corner of his mouth. “You’re perceptive.”“I’ve had to be,” I said.He told me.

POV: CharlotteI waited until we were home.Not because I wasn’t going to tell him. I’d made that decision in the elevator. The car wasn’t the place, and neither was the entrance hall. I wanted him to have room to react instead of swallowing it down.We ended up in the kitchen.He was pouring water while I sat at the table. The house was quiet after a long day, the faint hum of the refrigerator mixing with the soft clink of glass against the counter. I watched the water rise in the glass.“Oliver said something to me after the meeting,” I said.Damien set the glass down and looked at me.I told him exactly what Oliver had said, word for word, the conversation still fresh in my mind from the elevator.He paused.His hand stayed on the counter, fingers resting beside the glass. My words had caught him off guard. I could see it in the way his eyes stayed on mine a second longer than usual, as if something I’d said had landed on a thought that wa

POV: Charlotte She arrived forty minutes later. The sound of tires rolled up the driveway, the low rumble growing louder before fading as the car came to a stop. A car door slammed. By the time Helen opened the front door, Eleanor was already stepping inside. I was in the entrance hall when she came in. For a moment, she didn't see me. Her coat hung loose over one arm. Strands of hair had slipped free, and her breathing was uneven from hurrying. There was a faint flush across her cheeks, and the sharp rise and fall of her chest made it obvious she hadn't taken the time to compose herself before coming inside. She looked frightened. Her eyes swept the hall before settling on me. She pressed her lips together, drawing a slow breath as if trying to steady herself. Her fingers tightened slightly around the coat draped over her arm, the fabric shifting beneath her grip. Damien stepped out of his study at the sound of the door. They looked at each other across the hall. Neither of