Cast Of The Blackwell Ghost Novels & Stories

But then he spoke, in that deep alluring voice of his, pulling me out of my trance. "It nice to see you again Miss Ayanna, I look forward to seeing you again," he ignored Alex's hand gesture instead he brought his hand in my direction with a devilish expression on his face. My breath hitched seeing as everyone's attention fell on me. Murmurs began to echo, "Mr.Blackwell seem to be quiet close to Mrs Gregford, I wonder how they knew each other." "Mrs.Greyford is a super model after all, beautiful and elegant, it's not surprising for Mr.Blackwell to know her. If she wasn't married, I would have shipped the both of them together they look so good together."

But instead, my breath caught in my throat. Seated casually on the leather sofa, legs crossed, a glass of whiskey in hand, was him. The stranger. The man from the lobby. He looked far too comfortable, far too entertained. His smirk spread slow, deliberate, as his eyes locked on mine. “Babe, I think we entered the wrong room…” I whispered, already backing a step. But Nicholas shook his head and grinned. “Good evening, Mr. Blackwell. I hope you didn’t wait long.” My stomach dropped. Mr. Blackwell? Nicholas knew him?

Before she could respond, a sound broke through the night — footsteps, slow and deliberate, echoing from the other end of the pier. Adrian moved instinctively in front of her. “Stay behind me.” From the shadows, a new voice spoke — smooth, controlled, with a hint of mockery. “Well, isn’t this poetic? The loyal assistant protecting the queen of the empire.” Marcus Blackwell stepped into the light. Elena’s heart slammed against her ribs. “Marcus.” He smiled faintly, the picture of calm malice. “Mrs. Cross. You’re braver than I thought. Or perhaps more desperate.”

“Then I’m coming too.” His lips curved faintly. “Of course you are.” --- That evening, they arrived at the Blackwell estate. The mansion loomed in silence, lights glowing faintly through tall windows. Richard Blackwell was waiting in the library, sitting by the fire like a king on his throne. His silver hair glinted under the warm light, his expression calm — too calm. “Adrian,” he greeted, standing. “And Elena. To what do I owe this… unannounced visit?”

Even a blind squirrel found an acorn now and then—law of statistics—was his opinion. And if Ashley Price wasn’t psychic… Blackwell had to be somehow behind her convincing little play. He walked around, trying to figure out their game. As he passed by the bank of windows, he caught sight of a dark figure outside, illuminated by moonlight at the edge of the trees, and the last small doubts he might have had disappeared. Blackwell. Instantly, his entire body was alert. “I need some air. You stay inside.” She still had her eyes closed. She didn’t even acknowledge him, too busy to be pretending to be off in her own little world of dire visions.

What familiarity has he earned that I have not? The thought is unwelcome. Unacceptable. I step forward before I can reconsider. She senses me immediately. Her shoulders shift. Her laughter cuts off mid-breath as she turns. Our eyes meet. She rises at once….instinctive, unthinking. That restores some balance. “Mr. Blackwell,” she says, composed but alert. “Ms. Vale,” I reply, tone neutral. The man beside her stands too. “Sir.” I nod, offering no warmth. “Good afternoon.”

"Father?" ​The man turned the chair slowly. ​He looked exactly like the photos, but with a web of fine scars across his temple. His eyes were the same piercing blue as Xavier’s—the Blackwell eyes. ​"Hello, son," Arthur Blackwell said. He turned his gaze to Scarlett. "And hello, Ms. Voss. Or should I call you the 'Beautiful Liar'? I must say, the performance you put on for Richard was... exquisite. Even I almost believed you loved him."

They were safe behind steel and stone. ​But as Roman looked up at the stars, he realized that the Ghost had finally found what he was looking for. He had found a way to vanish completely. Because without Vivienne, there was no Roman Volkov. There was only the wind, the stone, and the silence of a girl who had traded her life for a promise. ​In the city, Arthur Blackwood would spend the rest of his days screaming at the walls of a mansion he couldn't afford to heat. Julian Montgomery would be a footnote in a financial scandal.