Housemates With The Blackridge Heirs Novels & Stories

“Victoria wants the heirs. That helps us only if the heirs come here without Serena attached. If they come with her, we become decoration.” The word heirs had been Victoria’s favorite tool. It sounded like law. In this room it sounded like a doorway the three of them might not survive walking through. Children in Blackwood under Serena’s eye would not restore a marriage. They would turn three wives into a background arrangement in a house that had already lost the argument on a field.

“And the letter.” “Yes.” Zoe swallowed. “But we still don't know what happened to your father.” Julian's expression became hard. “No.” He looked toward the dark hallway behind them. “But we're going to find out.” They continued walking. Neither of them spoke again. They had entered the security office with six minutes. They had left with something far more important than they expected. Proof. A connection to Vantage Holdings. A letter about Julian's father. And a question that had just become impossible to ignore. What had really happened during Julian Blackwood's father's final months? And how far was Marcus willing to go to keep that truth buried?

Blackridge was a city built on industry and secrets, and the harbor was the place where those secrets came to be buried. Ruan hadn't wanted me to come. We had fought for an hour in the cedar-scented hallway of the cliff house, his voice a low, terrifying growl and mine a sharp, unyielding blade. In the end, it was the leather vest—the one with the heavy Phantom patch—that won the argument. I wasn't just a nurse. I was the mother of his heir, and I wasn't going to sit in a glass tower while the man who had tried to sell us out still drew breath.

Near dawn the house received a controlled version of the truth. Not a hall announcement. Not theater. Tristan’s father was informed first, in the corridor outside, and whatever he said to Tristan left my mate silent for a long moment before he came back in with his face composed and his eyes not. My mother handled the senior household with practical sentences. Mira handled the elders and the formal residual with the kind of severity that discouraged sentimental processions. By the time the sky lifted into a thin autumn pale, Blackridge knew it had an heir, a daughter, a living continuity that did not require a blade to prove itself. Messages would come. Gifts would come. Politics would try,

“We’re in our house, in our goddamn living room.” “In your house?” Her voice cracked like a whip. “In case you’ve forgotten, this isn’t yours anymore. None of this is. It belongs to her now. To Hailey Vale, the stripper heiress who just hosted a softcore orgy in our ancestral estate and made the cover of three tabloids.” She flung a rolled-up paper across the room. It slid to a stop in front of Marcus. “STRIPPING HEIRESS CLAIMS THE LACHLAN THRONE.

Only now, it didn’t look broken. Without thinking, he grabbed his keys. It was just past sunset when the black car rolled up the long driveway. Luca appeared at my side instantly. “Uninvited guest,” he murmured. “Adrian Blackwood.” My stomach twisted. “Let him in.” “Are you sure?” “Yes.” When the doors opened, Adrian stepped out. He looked stunned by the size of the estate…by the guards, the gates, the quiet power that surrounded it. “Evelyn,” he said slowly. “So it’s true. You’re a Hartman.”

Iris's POV "You there yet?" "Yeah." The key worked on the first try, and I stood in the doorway for a second, with my suitcase in one hand, phone pressed to my ear in the other. "God, Chloe. It's so quiet." I looked around, the Blackridge Mansion was exactly as I remembered it, marble floors, high ceilings, the kind of house that screamed wealth. "Well no one is home," Chloe laughed through the phone. "So stop thinking and go find the pool."

Upon arriving at the Blackwood main house, it felt deserted. Not empty—but eerily quiet, in an overly orderly way. The main building stretched out, flanked by north and south wings separated by a stone garden and a long glass corridor. Not to mention the other buildings, also grandly constructed—residences of Mr. Arthur's children, grandchildren, and in-laws. "The north wing," said Damian, pointing to the shadier building. I immediately followed Damian as he headed toward the north building of the Blackwood estate. Uncle Jasper and Aunt Amira lived there. So did Lily.

I whispered as I ran my hand over the back of the couch. “Your roommate took the liberty of decorating.” I left the living room for the kitchen and was amazed at the top-of-the-line stainless steel appliances. I opened the refrigerator and gawked at the abundance of fresh fruits, vegetables, and meats. “W-who is my roommate again?” “Let’s see,” Julian said as he typed away on his phone. “Ms. Sabrina Blackwell is your roommate. Ms. Blackwell’s family is one of the wealthiest families in the country because they own multiple mineral and precious gem mines worldwide. The Blackwells are the largest producers of diamonds in the world.”

And of course I promised her I would. A middle-aged housekeeper named Mrs. Hargrove greeted me at the door and showed me around. The mansion was enormous , it had marble floors, expensive art peice on the walls, and so many rooms I knew I would get lost at first. My own quarters were small but clean, located on the third floor near the servants’ area. “You’ll mostly be tending to Mr. Blackwood’s personal needs,” Mrs. Hargrove explained. “Cleaning his study, preparing his evening tea, and keeping his private areas spotless. He values discretion and perfection.”