HIS TO RUIN

HIS RUIN

CHAPTER ONE

BEFORE EVERYTHING CHANGED

The Blackwood mansion stood proudly behind tall iron gates, its magnificent architecture reflecting the wealth and influence of the family that had called it home for generations.

The building was enormous, with wide balconies, tall windows, and carefully maintained gardens that stretched across the grounds. A stone pathway wound through rows of flowers and trimmed hedges, leading to a spacious garden where the afternoon sunlight filtered through the branches of an old oak tree.

Despite the grandeur of the house, there was nothing particularly formal about the gathering taking place that Saturday afternoon.

The garden was filled with the sounds of laughter, conversations, and the occasional complaint from Adrian Brent, who appeared determined to make himself the centre of attention.

The Brent and Blackwood families had gathered together, as they often did, to spend an afternoon away from business and other responsibilities. To outsiders, they were two wealthy families whose friendship had survived the pressures of money, influence, and competition. To the people involved, however, their bond went much deeper than that.

Richard Blackwood and Vincent Brent had known each other since childhood. They had grown up together, survived the awkwardness of adolescence together, and eventually built successful businesses while maintaining the friendship that had brought them so far.

Their wives, Eleanor Blackwood and Catherine Brent, had become equally close over the years.

And their children?

Well, their children had inherited the friendship whether they had asked for it or not.

"You're telling me you actually fell into a swimming pool during a business meeting?" Catherine asked, laughing as Vincent finished recounting one of his old stories.

"It wasn't a swimming pool," Richard corrected from his seat beside him. "It was a decorative fountain."

Vincent pointed at him. "A fountain that shouldn't have been there in the first place."

"It had been there for twenty years."

"Exactly. Poor planning."

Eleanor laughed, shaking her head at the two men.

"You're both grown men with children, and somehow you still behave like boys whenever you sit together."

"That's because Vincent never matured," Richard replied.

Vincent placed a hand over his chest. "I am deeply offended."

"No, you're not," Catherine said.

Everyone laughed.

For a moment, the world seemed perfectly ordinary.

There were no urgent phone calls, no tense meetings, no discussions about contracts or financial reports. There were only old friends enjoying each other's company beneath the afternoon sky.

Or at least, that was what it appeared to be.

A few metres away, Adrian Brent was leaning back in his chair with the confidence of someone who had never experienced a serious problem he couldn't laugh away.

At nineteen, Adrian had already inherited the easy charm that made people gravitate towards him. He was handsome, talkative, and far too comfortable teasing anyone who gave him the opportunity.

Unfortunately for Marshal Blackwood, he had spent years providing Adrian with that opportunity.

"You're not listening to me," Adrian complained.

Marshal didn't look up from his phone.

"I heard you."

"Then what did I say?"

"Something unnecessary."

Adrian stared at him.

Then he burst out laughing.

"You're actually unbelievable."

Marshal slipped his phone into his pocket and leaned back in his chair.

"Yet you keep talking to me."

"Because somebody has to make sure you don't die of boredom."

"How thoughtful."

Adrian shook his head. "One day, I'm going to discover what goes on inside that head of yours."

"Don't waste your time."

"See? That's exactly what I'm talking about."

Marshal's expression barely changed, but a faint trace of amusement appeared in his eyes.

He was nineteen, the same age as Adrian, but the two boys couldn't have been more different.

Where Adrian wore his emotions openly and rarely thought twice before speaking, Marshal was observant and reserved. He could spend an entire afternoon in a room full of people without feeling the need to join every conversation.

He wasn't rude, and he wasn't incapable of having fun.

He simply preferred choosing when to speak and whom to speak to.

Adrian, unfortunately, had never respected that preference.

"You're coming with me tomorrow," Adrian announced.

Marshal raised an eyebrow.

"Am I?"

"Yes."

"Where?"

"The club."

"No."

Adrian groaned. "You didn't even let me finish!"

"I heard enough."

"There's going to be a party."

"Congratulations."

"Girls."

"Even better. You can talk to them without me."

Adrian leaned forward, lowering his voice dramatically.

"Sometimes I genuinely wonder why we're friends."

Marshal glanced at him.

"Because you have terrible judgment."

Adrian threw a cushion at him.

Marshal caught it without difficulty and placed it on the empty chair beside him.

"Immature," he remarked.

"You are the most annoying person I know."

"And yet you keep inviting me places."

Before Adrian could respond, a voice interrupted them.

"Are you two fighting again?"

Both boys turned.

Amelia Brent stood a short distance away, holding a glass of orange juice.

At thirteen, she was the youngest person in their little circle and had spent most of the afternoon moving between the adults and the teenagers, hoping to find something interesting to do.

Adrian grinned at her.

"No, sweetheart. I'm educating your favourite person."

Amelia frowned.

"You're educating yourself?"

Marshal let out a quiet laugh.

Adrian's mouth fell open.

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me," she replied, taking a sip of her drink.

"Look at you. Thirteen years old and already disrespectful."

"I'm just being honest."

"Your honesty is going to get you into trouble one day."

Amelia shrugged. "At least I'll be honest."

Marshal watched the exchange with mild amusement.

Amelia noticed.

She always noticed when Marshal reacted to something, mostly because he rarely did.

"What's funny?" she asked him.

"Nothing."

"You're laughing."

"I'm breathing."

"Marshal!"

Adrian burst into laughter.

"Please don't encourage her," he said. "She's already becoming too powerful."

Amelia rolled her eyes and pulled an empty chair closer to them.

"Can I sit here?"

Adrian gestured towards the chair. "Of course. It's a free country."

She sat down, carefully placing her glass on the small table.

For a few minutes, she listened to the boys argue about football, occasionally offering an opinion that neither of them had asked for. Adrian challenged everything she said, while Marshal mostly remained quiet.

Eventually, she turned towards him.

"Do you ever get tired of him?"

Marshal looked at Adrian.

"Every day."

"Hey!"

Amelia laughed.

"Me too."

Adrian stood abruptly.

"That's it. I'm leaving. Both of you have betrayed me."

"Goodbye," Marshal said.

"Don't look for me when you need something."

Marshal reached for his phone again.

"I won't."

Adrian stared at him for another second before shaking his head and walking towards the refreshment table.

Amelia watched him go, smiling to herself.

Then she looked back at Marshal.

"You're mean to him."

"He'll survive."

"You're mean to everybody."

That made him pause.

His gaze shifted towards her, and for the first time that afternoon, she had his full attention.

"Everybody?"

She nodded.

"Well, not everybody. Just people who try to talk to you."

"Perhaps they should stop trying."

Amelia frowned.

"Why?"

"Because I don't always feel like talking."

"That's a terrible reason."

"Is it?"

"Yes."

Marshal studied her for a moment, apparently trying to decide whether she was serious.

She was.

He looked away first.

"You ask too many questions, Amelia."

"And you don't answer enough."

A faint smile touched his lips.

"Perhaps that's why we get along."

Amelia blinked.

It was such an unexpected thing for him to say that she wasn't sure whether she had heard him correctly.

Before she could ask, Marshal stood and walked towards the drinks table.

She watched him leave, a small smile spreading across her face.

It wasn't much.

But from Marshal Blackwood, even a little attention felt like an achievement.

---

By late afternoon, the adults had moved from stories about their younger days to discussions about the businesses they had built.

Amelia had returned to the garden table to get another drink when she noticed that the atmosphere had changed.

Richard and Vincent were still speaking in low voices, but the laughter had disappeared.

She didn't think much of it at first. Adults discussed boring things all the time, especially when money was involved.

Then she heard her father's name.

"Vincent, we need to settle this before the end of the month," Richard said quietly.

Vincent glanced towards the children before lowering his voice further.

"I told you I'm handling it."

"That isn't what we agreed."

"Plans change, Richard."

"Not when other people's livelihoods are involved."

Amelia slowed her steps.

She wasn't trying to listen.

At least, that was what she told herself.

Vincent leaned back in his chair, his expression tightening.

"You need to trust me."

Richard's gaze remained steady.

"I trusted you when we started this."

"And you can continue trusting me."

For a moment, neither man spoke.

Then Richard looked away and reached for his glass.

"I hope you know what you're doing."

Vincent's smile returned, but it didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Of course I do."

Amelia stood there for another second before Catherine called her name from the other side of the garden.

She turned immediately.

"Coming, Mum!"

When she looked back, the men had resumed their conversation with expressions that gave nothing away.

Whatever they had been discussing, they clearly didn't want anyone else involved.

Amelia forgot about it almost as quickly as she had noticed it.

She was thirteen. Her concerns were schoolwork, friendships, and whether Adrian would finally let her join him and Marshal when they went out.

Business disagreements belonged to adults.

She had no reason to believe that one quiet conversation could matter to her future.

---

As the afternoon drew to a close, Eleanor suggested that everyone come inside for refreshments.

The families began gathering their belongings, and Adrian immediately started complaining that the day had ended too soon.

"You always say that," Amelia told him.

"Because it always ends too soon."

"You've been complaining since we arrived."

"And I'll continue complaining until someone listens."

"That might take a while," Marshal remarked.

Adrian pointed at him.

"You. Stop talking."

Marshal's expression remained perfectly calm.

"Make me."

Adrian shook his head, muttering something about impossible people.

Amelia laughed as she followed them towards the house.

Inside, the mansion was just as impressive as it had been from the garden. Sunlight streamed through the tall windows, illuminating the polished floors and the portraits that lined the walls.

Amelia had visited so often that she barely noticed the grandeur anymore. To her, the Blackwood mansion was simply another home—a place where Adrian argued with Marshal, where Eleanor always remembered her favourite snacks, and where the adults could spend hours talking about things the younger generation didn't understand.

She didn't know that she would one day remember these ordinary afternoons with a kind of longing she couldn't yet imagine.

She didn't know that the laughter filling the house would one day be replaced by silence.

And she certainly didn't know that the friendship between the two families rested on secrets neither she nor Marshal had ever thought to question.

That evening, as the Brents prepared to leave, Richard walked Vincent towards the front entrance.

"One more thing," Richard said.

Vincent stopped.

Richard reached into his jacket pocket and took out his phone. He glanced at the screen, and his expression changed almost imperceptibly.

"I received another message from the bank."

Vincent's face stiffened.

"Not here."

Richard studied him.

"We can't keep postponing this conversation."

"I said we'll discuss it privately."

There was something in Vincent's voice that made Richard fall silent.

For several seconds, the two men regarded each other.

Then Richard put his phone away.

"Tomorrow, Vincent. No more delays."

Vincent gave a brief nod.

"Tomorrow."

They returned to the others wearing the same expressions they had worn all afternoon.

No one asked questions.

No one suspected that anything was wrong.

And when Amelia climbed into the car beside her mother, she was still thinking about Adrian's ridiculous jokes and the rare smile she had managed to draw from Marshal.

It was an ordinary day.

A happy day.

A day she would remember long after she had forgotten the small details that made it special.

Because before the year ended, the Blackwood family would be struck by a tragedy that would change the course of Marshal's life forever.

And somewhere beneath the wealth, the friendship, and the carefully maintained appearances, a secret had already begun to take root.

Neither family knew how much it would cost them.