Father Blackwood Novels & Stories

I’ll be seeing them this Sunday at our annual weekly dinner. “And your father?” I frown. “My father left a long time ago,” I say with such finality I give him no room to ask more questions about the sperm donor. “What do you do when you’re not flipping houses or singing?” “Sometimes I volunteer with a couple of charities but otherwise, I work at The Bar” I don’t know why I don’t tell him I own it. “My family run a foundation, which charities have won your heart, Miss Blackwood,” he asks, his curious hazel eyes intent on mine.

I replied. While working as a maid for Adrian Blackwood, the uncle you know, I had a one-night stand with him. That night, I uncovered a shocking secret about his family and their connection to my late parents. My father was a knight, part of a group they called the Shepherds, who were sworn to protect one another. My father was best friends with Adrian Blackwood's grandfather. To solidify their friendship, they arranged for me to marry the Blackwood grandson. After a tragic plane crash that claimed the lives of the entire Blackwood family, only the grandfather and Adrian remained.

"The Blackwood Project was never about wolves. It was about making a body to hold the Void.. Your little boy? He is the body." The Shadows closed in on Leo. The library doors shut behind them. They were locked in with the ghost of a King and a truth that was scarier than the darkness outside.

Cyrus Blackwood The soft aroma of rotisserie chicken swirled in the air as the maid set out another dish on the table. The soft clink of utensils rang around the room as candles flickered. A vintage gramophone played jazz music only my parents would listen to. I was at The Blackwood Manor for the day as my parents held a celebratory dinner for my brother. I always dreaded these dinners, as nothing ever came good out of them. I was savoring the silence on the table before Sebastian opened his mouth to talk about how he had achieved that success at his workplace.

Marcus unlocked the front door. “We’re safe here.” Amelia looked around. “You’ve used this place before?” Ethan nodded. “My father bought it years ago.” The words caught Amelia’s attention. “Your father?” He gave a slight nod. “He believed every family needed one place no one else knew about.” Amelia remembered the hospital records. Richard Blackwood. The man she had been taught to suspect. Yet every new clue painted him in a different light. Was he really a villain? Or another victim? ⸻

I mumble. “Who?” Rita asks. I glance at her, shaking my head. “How much do you know about the Blackwoods?” “Nothing detailed enough,” Rita sighs, rolling her eyes. “Do they have a criminal record or something? What are the chances they could be a mafia family?” I mumble. I hear Rita sigh. “The chances are close to zero. The Blackwood family submerges itself in business.” I know that. They go back generations of wealth: great-grandfather, oil business; grandfather, law firm; father, tycoon; and there’s Dominic, who inherits it all and is still the most feared man in the city.

“This is silly! Blackwood is gone, just like his pack. He can't come back.” “No, Balor,” Darius replied, his voice strong but serious, emphasizing the weight of his message. He stood tall, looking directly at each elder one by one. “You can't forget our past. We can't just brush this aside. Bolton Blackwood used to be with us. He was a greedy young wolf, a killer who took his father’s life to become Alpha. Blackwood wanted to take over all the packs, spreading fear everywhere he went.” A shiver went down my back at Darius's words. The old stories about Blackwood came rushing back, tales I once thought were just myths but now seemed very real.

He just hadn’t known it at the time. Because now he knew whose son he had taken. Blackwood. The name alone was enough to make even the most battle-hardened mercenaries hesitate. But this wasn’t just any Blackwood. It was him. The one whose reputation didn’t come from politics or tradition, but from raw, unchecked power. The kind of Alpha who didn’t lead by words but by dominance, by fear, by sheer bloody force. The one who once dismantled an entire underground syndicate in a single night just because one of their agents threatened a pack child. That was the man whose son now slept three feet away from where he stood.

(Dante's POV) The atmosphere in the Blackwood mansion was suffocating. Don Salvatore Blackwood sat in his high-backed chair, his face a mask of cold fury. At fifty-eight, he'd seen it all, but he never imagined his own sons would bring such shame upon the family. Across the long table, Dante’s older brother, Vincent, scowled at a stack of newspapers. Every front page was a variation of the same story. "Chicago Mob Family Implicated in Bullying Scandal."

The Kate Vance in her wanted vengeance, but the soft and caring Jane Blackwood knew that her father's life was the only currency that mattered. The drive to the Blackwood mansion was filled with a wave of silent tension. The journey through the heart of the city was a stark contrast to the chaos of the past few days. As they got closer to the familiar, imposing gates, Jane felt a wave of silent shiver over her body—a knot of nostalgia and dread tightened in her chest. The Blackwood mansion, once a symbol of her sheltered, privileged life, was now a monument to her trauma. It had been turned into a stage for the final act of her revenge.