Chapter Three: The Family Clause
1041 Words
I didn’t sleep that night.
Damien offered me the guest room again—his way of pretending things were normal—but the walls felt thinner than ever. I lay on the expensive mattress, staring at the ceiling, every inch of me buzzing with unease.
Was I really doing this?
Was I really going to stay?
By morning, I had my answer.
Damien found me in the kitchen, barefoot, holding a cup of coffee like it could anchor me. He looked the same—pressed suit, clean lines, unreadable eyes—but something in his posture was tighter.
“Get dressed,” he said simply. “We’re going to see my family.”
I nearly choked on my coffee. “What?”
“You’re my fiancée,” he said, like that explained everything. “And my mother is hosting a brunch. She’s expecting you.”
I blinked. “Are you trying to punish me?”
“No,” he said. “I’m trying to protect you.”
“You keep saying that, and yet here I am, being dragged into a billionaire family brunch hours after your ex showed up pregnant.”
He looked me over once, his jaw tightening. “You’re strong enough.”
That wasn’t comfort. That was a challenge.
Still, I found myself in his closet an hour later, where a dress lay waiting—navy silk, delicate and clearly expensive. When I emerged, his eyes lingered on me a second too long.
“You look the part,” he said.
I wasn’t sure if that made me feel powerful… or bought.
---
The Blackwood estate sat on the edge of the city like a fortress. Iron gates. Stone walls. A circular driveway wide enough to land a helicopter.
Inside, the atmosphere was even colder.
His mother—Genevieve Blackwood—stood at the center of it all like a queen carved from ice. Her cheekbones could cut glass. Her pearls probably had a trust fund.
“So this is the fiancée,” she said, her voice dripping skepticism.
I offered my hand, but she merely looked at it.
“I’ve heard… very little about you.”
“I’d imagine,” I said politely. “It was a whirlwind.”
She arched a perfectly sculpted brow. “Whirlwinds don’t last, dear.”
Damien stepped forward. “Mother.”
“Don’t worry,” she said. “I know my place. I’m just the matriarch of the family. What do I know about marriage contracts and impulsive engagements?”
I froze. “She knows?”
“She knows everything,” Damien muttered. “She helped write the contract.”
My head snapped toward him. “Excuse me?”
Genevieve smiled. “Darling, do you really think my son makes moves without consulting me? This isn’t about love. It’s about legacy.”
The word settled in my chest like a stone.
Legacy.
Not marriage. Not partnership. Not even convenience.
This was about bloodlines, image, and empire.
We were served delicate plates of salmon mousse and microgreens. I couldn’t taste a thing.
Damien sat rigid beside me, and I realized something else—he hated being here. The coldness in him wasn’t just learned. It was inherited.
Across the table, Genevieve sipped champagne like it was oxygen. “So, what happens now, Damien? The press will start asking questions. A former fiancée, a current fiancée. A baby.”
He didn’t flinch. “We’ll manage it.”
“Oh, I know you will. But what about the girl?” She glanced at me. “She’s not trained for this.”
“I can speak for myself,” I said calmly.
Her eyes lit up. “Can you?”
“I may not have been born into this world, but I’m learning fast. And I’m not leaving. So if you’re hoping to scare me away, you’re wasting your time.”
Damien glanced at me, the ghost of a smile on his lips.
Genevieve tilted her head. “Well. She’s got teeth.”
“And a brain,” I added. “Which I’ll be using to read the fine print on that contract from now on.”
Her smile didn’t falter, but her eyes sharpened. “You should. Clause 14 might interest you. The one about annulment in case of paternity scandal.”
I froze. “What?”
Damien’s voice was like steel. “That clause is irrelevant.”
Genevieve turned to him. “Is it? Because if Elara’s child is yours, your marriage to this girl will be void. Immediately. Publicly.”
No one spoke.
The air had turned heavy, thick with unspoken truths.
I looked at Damien. “Is that true?”
He didn’t answer right away.
“I never expected her to come back,” he said. “And I never expected to care what happened next.”
My heart caught on the edge of those words.
“You care now?”
His eyes met mine. “Yes.”
It was the first honest thing he’d said all day.
And just like that, I wasn’t sure what scared me more—the truth… or how much I wanted to believe him.
---
That night, back at the penthouse, I sat on the balcony overlooking the city. Lights glittered like stars on earth, but all I saw was darkness.
Damien joined me, two glasses of wine in hand.
“I never meant to hurt you,” he said.
“You did.”
“I know.”
I sipped the wine, heart still tangled. “If the baby is yours, what happens to this… marriage?”
“I don’t want to lose you,” he said softly. “Contract or not.”
“But you will if the clause is triggered.”
He looked at me.
Then, slowly, he said, “Then I’ll rewrite the rules.”
My breath caught.
But before I could answer, my phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
I hesitated—then answered.
A voice on the other end, soft and slithering.
“If you think you know Damien Blackwood, you don’t. He’s lied to you. And soon, everyone will know.”
The line went dead.
I stared at the screen, cold dread creeping in.
This wasn’t over.
It was just beginning.
- Writer
