Tangled Loyalties

3.Behind Mansion Walls

📍 Brooklyn Heights — Wednesday Evening

School was over, thank God. I don’t know if it was the algebra or Clare’s fake laugh in the cafeteria, but I was seconds away from staging my own dramatic faint.

Danny pulled up in front of my house, the engine of his sleek black car purring like it belonged in a Fast & Furious movie.

“Home sweet home,” he said, one hand lazily resting on the steering wheel.

“Thanks for the ride, chauffeur.” I unbuckled, smirking.

He shot me a look. “Call me that again and walk next time.”

“Aw, don’t be grumpy. You love me,” I teased, stepping out.

Danny leaned slightly toward the open window. “Text me when you’re inside.”

“I always do.” I grinned, clutching my bag. Then, lowering my voice, “Don’t miss me too much.”

His jaw flexed, and for a second—just a second—his eyes softened. Then the mask snapped back. “Go, Sammy.”

I rolled my eyes but waved as I jogged up the steps. Behind me, his car didn’t pull away until I was fully inside. Classic Danny—protectives even when he pretended not to be.

(Third POV)

By the time he reached his own home, the contrast couldn’t have been sharper. Sammy middle-class house was cozy. Danny’s family mansion looked like it had swallowed half of Brooklyn. The kind of place with gates, guards, and chandeliers that probably cost more than my dad’s annual salary.

The butler opened the door before Danny even touched it. “Welcome home, sir. Your parents are in the dining hall.”

Of course they were. Always in position like chess pieces.

George Blackwood—Danny’s father—sat at the head of the long table, a glass of scotch in hand. His presence filled the room like a storm cloud. Amelia, his mother, was pristine as always, diamond earrings glinting under the chandelier light. Audrey, Danny’s older sister, scrolled on her phone until she noticed him and smirked.

“Finally,” George said. “Football practice, I assume?”

“Yeah.” Danny slid into his seat, tone clipped.

“Good,” George nodded. “Discipline builds legacy.”

Danny stayed quiet. He’d heard that speech a hundred times. Legacy, empire, expectations—words his father threw around like bullets.

Amelia reached for the salad bowl, her voice softer. “How was school, dear? Did you see Samuel today?”

Danny blinked. “Yeah. Why?”

Her lips curved. “He’s such a sweet boy. So polite. Tell him to visit soon, won’t you?”

Audrey leaned her chin on her palm, smirking. “Honestly, I like Sammy more than your parade of girlfriends, little brother. At least he doesn’t look bored every time you’re around him.”

Danny’s fork froze mid-air. “Drop it, Audrey.”

She laughed but didn’t push further.

George didn’t even look up from his glass. “If this Samuel boy keeps you grounded, fine. But remember, Daniel—you carry the Blackwood name. Don’t get distracted.”

Danny’s jaw tightened. Distracted? If only his father knew. Sammy wasn’t a distraction. Sammy was the only thing keeping him sane.

He finished dinner in silence, but the thought followed him long after he left the table.

Danny slammed his bedroom door shut, shutting out the echoes of his father’s voice. The silence of his room felt like freedom compared to the suffocating dining hall. Posters lined his walls, trophies gleamed on the shelves—yet the only thing that mattered was the phone buzzing on his nightstand.

One new message.

Sammy: Survived dinner? Or do I need to send rescue pigeons? 🕊️

Danny smirked despite himself. Leave it to Sammy to know exactly when to check in. He dropped onto the bed and typed back.

Danny: I’m alive. Barely. Don’t think pigeons could break through these gates though.

Seconds later, Sammy replied.

Sammy: True. They’d probably get recruited into your dad’s army.

Danny let out a low laugh, running a hand over his hair.

Danny: Don’t joke. He’d actually try.

Sammy: Then good thing you’ve got me. I’ll distract him with my “boy-next-door” charm. 😏

Danny’s heart stuttered in that annoying way it always did. He typed slowly.

Danny: He already likes you more than me, you know.

Sammy: Obviously. I’m adorable. You’re just… tall.

Danny rolled his eyes, shaking his head, but the corners of his mouth tugged upward.

Danny: Go to sleep, i***t.

Sammy: Only if you do. Night, Danny.

Danny stared at the screen for a long second before replying.

Danny: Night, Sammy.

He tossed the phone aside and lay back, staring at the ceiling. The mansion might have been filled with gold and glass, but the only thing that felt real—the only thing that felt his—was on the other end of that phone.

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