Novel & Cerita Faustus Blackwood

She says, taking a chair and sitting in front of me, “it shocked me when she refused to call you to come home. She was always a suspicious old bat with me.” I look at her, surprised. “Mum said nothing.” “Of course, she wouldn’t. She’s Esther fucking Blackwood, mother of the goddamn year. The moment I showed up, she was suspicious. Fucking cunt.” She leans back in her seat. “Once the jig was up, I cut to the chase and told her we needed you to get the money. Still, the tough bitch wouldn’t call you.” She stands and circles me. She whispers in my ear, “And fucking tough she was.” I flinch away from her.

Walker stood there and wondered why Frederick suddenly decided he would be the one to go to Russia and also hoped he would return with Julian but unknown to him, Frederick was not going to Russia but rather leaving their lives for good. Walker still stood outside the main entrance into the house when he received a call from his hidden spy within Xavier’s men. “What is the update?” Walker asked. “Apparently Xavier has been secretly managing the production of some new substance, it is called GB-3” the spy said. “Production of a new substance?” Walker asked. “Yes but rumors has it that he is not the direct owner of production, there is someone else above him. Someone named Mr Blackwood.” the sp

"Call out the captains. We claim the docks tonight. And anyone who stands in our way…" His eyes drifted off to nowhere, "We stain the waters red." The men rose, a dark tide unspooling at his words. Harrison Blackwood was a billionaire. He was a king of the underground, tempered in blood and bound in fear. And in that moment, it was sure—he'd burn the world to ashes and dust first before he'd allow it to die.

Felice and Jules stood by the bar talking in low tones to the wood nymph bartender, Kris. I walked up to them and tapped their shoulders. They turned around, looking up at me. "Well, if it isn't the man we've been looking for," said Jules. Felice gave him a pointed look, before focusing back on me with a strained smile. "Mr. Blackwood. It's good that you came right now." "What is it this time?" I slid my hands into the pockets of my shorts. "Well, we have just a little problem." "And what does it have to do with us?"

Standing this close I saw the red swollen eyes, runny nose, and pale skin. "Husband" she whispered in a raspy voice. I grunted back to her balling my fist tighter. Could I just choke the life out of her here? This whole plan went to shit so fast. What was I even thinking? I was Ace Blackwood, a powerful man, one of the most powerful, yet even this was a bit out of my reach. Fernando had a hundred people under his order and hundreds of workers that would kill for him. Not to mention the acres of drugs that would take days to burn.

The one that told in the sweetest way how Callisto - the king of the entire underworld and lower plane - fell madly in love with the purest being ever created. The story said many things about that love, but among them was a truth that would probably never be accepted by the faithful few left in the place where the mortal world had once been: it was not the Black King's fault that everything happened. It was God's. "Ma'am?" The maid called me again, and I forced myself to smile.

A smirk crawled unto his features as he stretched out a hand for me and I just stared in awe, his words sinking in. Damon Blackwood, as in Black Empire Blackwood. The self made billionaire, that's impossi- I quickly slid my hand into his, realising I had left him hanging. Bad first impression Jasmine! You idiot!! I mentally scolded myself, I needed this job. Don't fuck it up! Don't fuck it up! I played those words in my head like a song on repeat. 𝐃𝐀𝐌𝐎𝐍 Her skin felt like velvet against mine. I had to resist the urge to take her hands to my lips to kiss them and appreciate her effortless beauty.

Blackwood never mentioned another child. Never. “Send her in,” Xavier finally said. The assistant nodded and stepped out immediately. The silence that followed was thick like never before. “Xavier, You’ve heard that name before?” I asked carefully. Xavier shook his head slowly. “No… but Blackwood isn’t a name people use lightly.” My instincts sharpened. Something was wrong. Very wrong. A moment later, the door opened again. And she walked in slowly. She was calm. That was the first thing I noticed.

I kept my head down and tried to push my way through the bodies toward the safety of the building’s big stone steps. But then, through the horrible noise, my ears caught words. Sharp, clear, terrible words that cut through the crowd’s roar and stabbed right into my gut. “...Victor Blackwood…” “...the huge fire last night…” “...ten people deceased…” “...mafia connections…” I stopped dead in my tracks. My feet froze to the sidewalk. My blood ran cold. Victor Blackwood. That name. That cursed, hated name.

And underneath it all, a single memory looped on repeat: "Prepare for a darkness unlike any you’ve confronted." Her eyes landed on her closed laptop. She hadn’t touched it since that call. It sat quietly now, too quietly. She stared for a long second, then walked over and flipped it open. The screen glowed to life, casting her face in the blue light that had become so familiar, it felt ritualistic. Her encrypted email still sat open. Marcus Langford is a symptom. The disease is deeper. Blackwood is the key. Adrian Blackwood. Even the name sounded fictional. A billionaire recluse. Whispers in Parliament. Donations to mental health causes. No scandals. No leaks. No profile. Just a curated myth