Mrs Blackwood Novels & Stories

"I want to know everything about this woman. Her background, her intentions, her family—everything. No son of mine is going to rush into a marriage without my approval." "Very well, mistress," Mr. Santiago replied, bowing slightly before retreating from the room to carry out her orders. As the butler exited, Mrs. Blackwood sank back into her chair, her jaw tightening. "A flower shop owner," she muttered to herself, shaking her head. "What on earth is Adrian thinking?" ~~~~~~~

"It's not just about that. There's so much more on there, things that could ruin everyone involved. We have to be careful." But Rachel how did you know all these things, Rachel took a deep breath and held my hand "Emma, I've been Mr. Blackwood's personal maid for a very long time," she began, her eyes searching my face for understanding. "I've seen and heard things that no one else knows. The USB contains evidence of his betrayals, his business deals, his... appetites." And also I never told you this but Harrison took me,I've worked for Mr blackWood before working here. Mr blackwood was Harrison's father's friend,and Mr blackwood was the one who killed Harrison's parents in a car accident an

She walked out of my house like a stranger. I had to connect the dots. I had to think. Blackwood Corporation. My uncles' company. My own family. The most ruthless, powerful family in the country. They did not just take a third of my company for fun. They did it on purpose. Clean. Fast. And who was marrying into the Blackwood family tomorrow? I didn't know....but remembering the boxes she received. My heart sank. My knees almost gave out. No. That was impossible. Evelli was just an heiress. She did not know anyone in the Blackwood family. She was supposed to marry me. The church was booked. The wedding was tomorrow.

"And she doesn't know, Isla. She's in Millbrook. She reads design pages, not the front. She hasn't the faintest idea about any of it, the stage or Julian or the rest. As far as she knows, you're a brilliant woman who got cheated out of a staircase." Across the room the light had moved and laid a long pale rectangle on the concrete where one of the press beds used to be. I watched the dust turn in it. "That's not wrong," I said. "No," Margo said gently. "But it isn't all of it, either."

"Don't worry yourself, dear. Go and rest." My eyes drifted back to the door. Something about it still felt wrong, like a word you couldn't stop turning over on your tongue. "But who watches a movie at this hour?" I pressed. She looked at me for a moment, like she was measuring how much to give me. Then she sighed. "That is Mr. Blackwood's private room. He has insomnia, he finds it difficult to sleep, so he stays up late." "Oh." I nodded slowly. That made sense. Kind of.

They opened before he could knock. A woman stood in the doorway...older, maybe sixty, with steel-gray hair and sharp eyes. She wore a simple black dress and an expression of practiced neutrality. "Miss Chen," she said. "I'm Mrs. Blackwood, the house manager. Welcome to Blackwood Estate." The name registered. "You're related to...?" "No," the woman interrupted smoothly. "Blackwood is simply the surname I've used for thirty years in service to this family. Come inside, please."

5 didn't belong in Blackwood Manor. Maya Vance stood in the dimly lit foyer, her hands trembling slightly as she adjusted the sleeves of her simple, home-knitted sweater. On the mahogany dining table behind her, a five-course gourmet meal sat untouched. The candles had burned down to stubs of wax, and the expensive vintage Bordeaux she’d spent three hours decanting was now as cold as the house itself. It was 1:05 AM. Their third wedding anniversary was officially over. The heavy oak doors swung open, admitting a gust of freezing night air and the man who had been her entire world for 1,095 days. Lucian Blackwood, the titan of the shipping industry, looked as striking as ever in his charcoal

Then, in a broken whisper: “Thank you.” She hung up. The war had taken another victim. Marcus Bennett was gone. And Mrs. Blackwood was still lost — grieving, broken, and trying to find her way in a world that no longer made sense.

Three years into their marriage, Vivian Cole was thrown into the basement for the ninety-ninth time. Half her face was swollen, and a bruise darkened the corner of her eye. Before she could struggle, a bodyguard roughly forced her into a chair. “Last month, you sneaked into bars three times and went street racing once. You ended up bedridden for a week. Haven’t you learned your lesson?” Disappointment weighed heavily on Alexander Blackwood’s face. “When will you finally learn to behave and become a proper Mrs. Blackwood?” Vivian glanced at the restraints wrapped around her arms and gave him a faint smile. “So this is how a Mrs. Blackwood is supposed to be treated? I’m living worse than

The gunshot echoed in my ears, a deafening roar that seemed to shake the very foundations of the shop. I squeezed my eyes shut, bracing for the impact of the bullet. But the pain never came. I opened my eyes, my chest heaving. Julian was standing in the doorway, his arm still raised, a smoking police-issue revolver in his hand. Elena was on the floor, screaming in agony, clutching her bleeding shoulder. "Julian?" I whispered, completely stunned.