THE BLACKWOOD INHERITANCE

Upstairs in the grand ballroom, the panic had reached a fever pitch.

The emergency generators had kicked in, bathing the white marble and silk decorations in an eerie, low-voltage amber glow. Guests huddled near the tall windows, whispering anxiously, while private security guards stood shoulder-to-shoulder blocking every exit, their hands resting menacingly on their utility belts.

Daniel Blackwood stood in the center of the room, completely ignoring the frightened chatter around him. His jaw was clenched so tight a muscle ticked in his cheek. He pulled the black keycard from his pocket, turning it over in his palm. The magnetic stripe was encoded with a high-level administrative pass—the kind only the estate’s chief operations officer or the head of security possessed.

He didn't trust his brother. He never truly had, but he had dismissed Marcus’s ambition as harmless sibling rivalry. Now, looking at the empty dais where Victoria Hale stood with her hands trembling, Daniel realized how deeply he had underestimated them.

"Victoria," Daniel said, his voice dangerously quiet as he walked toward her.

She flinched, stepping back until her silk gown brushed the floral archway. "Daniel... please. The security team says there’s an electrical fault. We just need to wait until—"

"Stop lying," Daniel interrupted, stopping two feet away from her. His presence was towering, overwhelming the space around him. "Where is Marcus?"

Before Victoria could answer, a heavy set of double doors at the front of the ballroom swung open. Two security guards marched in, and between them, wrists bound with industrial zip-ties, walked Sarah. Her lip was split, and a dark bruise was forming along her cheekbone, but her eyes burned with fierce defiance as she locked eyes with Daniel.

"Daniel!" Sarah cried out, straining against her captors. "Don't sign the merger! It's all a trap! Marcus and the Hales drained the corporate reserves—they planned to frame you for embezzlement and leave you to take the fall while they skipped the country!"

A murmur of shock rippled through the assembled guests and investors. Several prominent journalists near the front raised their phones, recording every second.

Victoria gasped, covering her mouth with her hands. "She's lying! She's just a disgruntled employee—"

"Shut her up!" a cold, commanding voice echoed from the entrance.

The crowd parted. Marcus walked into the ballroom, his suit jacket draped over one arm, his expression calm, triumphant, and utterly merciless. Behind him, two more armed guards dragged a disheveled, mud-stained figure whose uniform was torn at the shoulder.

Emily.