Chapter 3
Three days after the wedding, we were summoned to the Blackwell estate.
No warning. No explanation. Just Victor's clipped message: "Family meeting. Non-negotiable."
The second we walked in, Serena launched herself at Ezra like a heat-seeking missile.
"Ezra! I've been waiting all morning!" She latched onto his arm, pressing herself against him. "I made your favorite tea—do you remember? We used to drink it together every Sunday."
Ezra extracted his arm like he'd touched a live wire.
"Don't."
One word. Glacier-cold.
Serena's hand floated in the air, rejected and trembling. But before the humiliation could fully land, Victor and Margot swept in.
"Iris! Ezra! Wonderful—sit, sit!"
Victor guided Ezra to the best seat like he was a king visiting his subjects.
I stayed standing.
Nobody offered me a chair.
"Iris, darling." Margot floated over, all silk and performative warmth. "We've been meaning to discuss the trust arrangement with you. Now that you've married Ezra—officially connected the Blackwell name to Wolfe Enterprises—we can finalize the transfer."
My pulse quickened.
This was it. The deal.
The whole reason I'd agreed to this marriage.
Three weeks ago, Victor had cornered me in his study.
"Marry Ezra Wolfe—secure this alliance—and we'll release your mother's trust. Five million. Enough for whatever treatment you need."
I'd stared at that number and seen freedom.
Not luxury. Not greed.
A clinic in Morenvia. The only facility in the world that could repair my vocal cords before the damage became permanent.
The doctor's words haunted me: "Every month you wait, your chances decrease by twelve percent."
Victor produced a folder from his desk. My fingers itched.
"Sign here," he said, "confirming the marriage has been consummated—"
"Actually," Serena interrupted sweetly, sliding between us, "can I speak to Dad privately for just a moment?"
She leaned in and whispered something in Victor's ear.
His expression shifted. Anger melted into cold, calculating satisfaction.
When he looked at me again, his eyes were empty of anything resembling fatherhood.
I felt ice crawl up my spine.
Serena smiled at me—the kind of smile a cat gives a mouse it's already cornered.
---
No warning. No explanation. Just Victor's clipped message: "Family meeting. Non-negotiable."
The second we walked in, Serena launched herself at Ezra like a heat-seeking missile.
"Ezra! I've been waiting all morning!" She latched onto his arm, pressing herself against him. "I made your favorite tea—do you remember? We used to drink it together every Sunday."
Ezra extracted his arm like he'd touched a live wire.
"Don't."
One word. Glacier-cold.
Serena's hand floated in the air, rejected and trembling. But before the humiliation could fully land, Victor and Margot swept in.
"Iris! Ezra! Wonderful—sit, sit!"
Victor guided Ezra to the best seat like he was a king visiting his subjects.
I stayed standing.
Nobody offered me a chair.
"Iris, darling." Margot floated over, all silk and performative warmth. "We've been meaning to discuss the trust arrangement with you. Now that you've married Ezra—officially connected the Blackwell name to Wolfe Enterprises—we can finalize the transfer."
My pulse quickened.
This was it. The deal.
The whole reason I'd agreed to this marriage.
Three weeks ago, Victor had cornered me in his study.
"Marry Ezra Wolfe—secure this alliance—and we'll release your mother's trust. Five million. Enough for whatever treatment you need."
I'd stared at that number and seen freedom.
Not luxury. Not greed.
A clinic in Morenvia. The only facility in the world that could repair my vocal cords before the damage became permanent.
The doctor's words haunted me: "Every month you wait, your chances decrease by twelve percent."
Victor produced a folder from his desk. My fingers itched.
"Sign here," he said, "confirming the marriage has been consummated—"
"Actually," Serena interrupted sweetly, sliding between us, "can I speak to Dad privately for just a moment?"
She leaned in and whispered something in Victor's ear.
His expression shifted. Anger melted into cold, calculating satisfaction.
When he looked at me again, his eyes were empty of anything resembling fatherhood.
I felt ice crawl up my spine.
Serena smiled at me—the kind of smile a cat gives a mouse it's already cornered.
---