Constance Blackwood Novels & Stories

Wham! Granny Blackwood’s limbs were all tied up. She couldn’t move at all. The stick landed on the parts of her body that hurt the most, and she couldn’t even dodge the attack. Most importantly, Granny Blackwood wasn’t a woman with unyielding integrity. More than anything, she hated Madame Joanne from the Assex family for setting her up. After being hit a few times, Granny Blackwood immediately confessed. “I’ll tell you! I’ll tell you! Joanne Carlton made me do this,” she cried.

The scent of five thousand white lilies competed with the metallic tang of expensive champagne and the underlying, electric hum of three hundred security cameras. As we descended the grand staircase, the room fell into a practiced, sycophantic silence before erupting into a wave of applause. I stood by Daniel’s side, my face a mask of ethereal, distant grace. I was the “Perfect Wife,” the “Miracle of Recovery,” the woman the Blackwoods had “saved” from the brink of insanity. Michael Blackwood stood at the base of the stairs, his silver-headed cane planted firmly on the floor. He looked at us with the satisfied gaze of a rancher watching his prize cattle. He didn’t see a daughter-in-law; he s

Momo muttered, blood oozing from his mouth. I gazed at Billy and Kate, who slowly crawled out of the layers of blocks. Their eyes were all white, pleading for a way out of their calamity. “Everyone get behind me.” Pastor Timothy commanded. They scrambled, hoping to get themselves next to the high and mighty Pope Timothy. Kate got herself out of the block, her bones making crackling sounds as she lay on the floor. They stepped back, wondering how a child had managed to crawl all the way out despite the layers of concrete weighing them down.

And if Jackson couldn’t find it, Damian might be lost forever. Diana pulled out a chair, the scraping sound jarring in the silence. “Shall we begin, Mr. Hayes? Time is of the essence, and Mrs. Blackwood is quite eager to resolve this... unfortunate situation.” Jackson met her gaze, seeing the same calculated coldness he’d come to associate with everything connected to Serena Blackwood. He smirked. “And what maes you think you are worthy?” She adjusted her glasses before speaking. “Mr. Hayes, I am a professional.”

The Blackwoods were the ones organising it this year, a prestigious duty that only served to fuel my stepmother's ego. ​It was, predictably, another avenue and opportunity for Vivienne Blackwoods to throw her weight around. She was everywhere, moving with theatrical purpose, ordering everyone and giving instructions to a host of hired help and socialites as if she was the undisputed matriarch of the Blackwoods clan. Her voice, sharp and high, grated on my nerves.

Something wild and ancient. Professor Blackwood sits behind a wooden desk that looks hand-carved. She's younger than I expected, maybe thirty-five, with silver-streaked hair and eyes the color of storm clouds. When she looks at me, I feel like she sees everything. Every secret. Every fear. Every desperate hope. "Evangeline," she says, and my name sounds different in her mouth. Stronger somehow. "Please, sit down." I sink into the chair across from her desk. My legs shake with relief at not having to stand anymore.

Why had Leonardo explaining himself made me feel… better? I pushed open the hallway leading toward the maid quarters— Then slowed as I heard Clarisse's voice. “…I’m telling you,” Clarisse said quietly to another maid. “Miss Natalia will become Mrs. Blackwood eventually.” The maid looked uncertain. “But Mr. Blackwood—” “Madam Blackwood loves her,” Clarisse interrupted smoothly. “And she doesn’t want another woman for him.” My stomach dropped. Clarisse lowered her voice further. “It’s only a matter of time.”

The response effectively ended that topic as well. Mr. Blackwood finally turned toward me. "And this young lady?" Alexander's hand tightened slightly around mine. "This is Vivienne Sinclair." Understanding immediately appeared on Mr. Blackwood's face. He smiled politely. "Miss Sinclair. It is a pleasure to meet you." I returned the greeting with equal courtesy. However, I could feel his eyes lingering on our joined hands. He was observing us carefully. I already knew who he was. Cole Blackwood. Isabella's uncle. The elder brother of her father.

"Keep your distance from her I turned but he was already heading up the stairs. No reason. No explanation. Just a closed door I hadn't been invited through. I searched her name on the bus home. Selene Blackwood. Ashford Security, our VP of Operations Lycan aristocracy. A society photo from two years ago, standing next to Matthias at some fundraiser. She's tall, blonde, and just naturally beautiful, like someone who's always had a silver spoon in their mouth and never had to work for it.

and what was with that tone? My smile remained in place automatically even though every instinct in me screamed to leave. “And you are?” I asked politely. The woman walked closer before extending her hand toward me. “Camilla Blackwood.” I swear to God all I heard was static for a few seconds. She had just introduced herself as a Blackwood. My brain stalled for half a second before it resumed again and the smile on my face almost cracked. “Taking his name even before you wre married.” I said befpre I could stop nyself, taking her hand.