Chapter 9 - THE FINAL DAWN
Winter arrived at the Blackwood estate with a quiet grace, blanketing the grounds in pristine white snow. Inside the mansion, fireplaces crackled, filling the massive rooms with warmth and the scent of cedar. It was Christmas Eve. The first real Christmas they had ever celebrated as a family. In the grand parlor, a massive pine tree touched the ceiling, adorned with thousands of twinkling lights and handmade ornaments Lily had crafted. Ethan sat in a leather armchair, a glass of cider in his hand, watching his wife and daughter. Amelia was sitting on the floor, laughing as Lily tried to wrap a disproportionately large present in shiny silver paper. The scars on Amelia’s face had faded considerably, but Ethan loved them regardless. They were proof of her survival, of her unbreakable spirit. "Daddy, hold the tape!" Lily commanded, pointing a small finger at him. Ethan chuckled, setting his drink down and dropping to his knees beside her. "At your service, Miss Blackwood," he said, pressing his finger on the ribbon. As they worked, the front doorbell chimed. Marcus, who had been promoted from head of security to estate manager, walked into the room. "Sir, a delivery for you," Marcus said, handing Ethan a small, plain wooden box. Ethan frowned, taking the box. It bore no return address. He exchanged a look with Amelia. He stood up, walking over to the fireplace, and carefully popped the latch. Inside, resting on a bed of black velvet, was a silver pocket watch. Ethan’s breath caught. It was Victor’s watch. The one he always wore. But beneath the watch was a handwritten note on expensive, heavy cardstock. Ethan, The board may have abandoned my brother, but the family legacy is vast. Enjoy your holiday. We will be watching the markets closely next year. — S.B. Ethan stared at the initials. S.B. Silas Blackwood. Victor’s estranged son, who had been living in Europe for the last decade, far removed from the company politics. Until now. A chill ran down Ethan’s spine. The war with Victor was over, but the game of thrones within the Blackwood dynasty was never truly finished. He closed the box with a sharp snap. "What is it, Ethan?" Amelia asked, walking up behind him and resting a hand on his arm. Ethan looked at the box, then turned to look at his beautiful wife and the daughter who was now happily tearing open an early present on the rug. He wasn't the grieving, broken man he was a year ago. He had everything to lose now, which meant he had everything to fight for. He tossed the wooden box directly into the roaring fire. The flames licked at the wood, quickly consuming it, watch and all. "Nothing," Ethan smiled, pulling Amelia into his arms and kissing her deeply. "Just ghosts." He walked back over to the tree and scooped Lily up, spinning her around as she squealed with delight. Let Silas watch the markets. Let the rest of the world scheme and plot. Here, in this house, Ethan had built an impenetrable fortress of love and loyalty. Lily wrapped her arms around his neck, resting her head on his shoulder. "I love you, Daddy," she whispered. Ethan closed his eyes, holding his world in his arms. "I love you too, Lily. Forever." The snow continued to fall outside, burying the past, and leaving only a bright, unblemished future ahead.
