CHAPTER SIX - Upon The Hour
1390 Words
Serena had learned long ago that fear made people careless.
She couldn’t afford to be careless.
She wasn’t sure what Damien was searching for; his head remained slightly tilted, his hands perfectly still, his gaze fixed on her face as though every blink and every breath were pieces of a puzzle.
She rested her hands lightly on the table, refusing to fidget beneath the weight of three pairs of eyes.
Then, almost apologetically, she tilted her head and feigned polite confusion.
“I’m sorry…” she said. “…I’m not entirely sure what you’re accusing me of.”
Damien remained silent, studying her the way a man studies a chessboard after an unexpected opening move.
Victoria Blackwood let out a quiet, humorless laugh.
“Very well. Let’s get into it.”
She reached for the documents and withdrew the first page.
Sliding it across the polished table, she stopped it directly in front of Serena.
“Every significant client you’ve worked with over the last two years has business dealings with Blackwood Group. Every single one. Why is that?”
Serena glanced down briefly before looking back up.
“I’d be worried about my career if they didn’t.”
Victoria’s brows drew together.
Serena smiled politely.
“I run a luxury event planning business, Mrs. Blackwood.”
“My clients recommend other successful clients. That’s how businesses like mine grow.”
She tapped the paper lightly with one finger.
“Wealth attracts wealth.”
A brief silence settled over the table.
“Can you point out one influential person in this city who hasn’t done business with Blackwood Group…” she asked calmly.
“…or doesn’t hope to someday?”
The question lingered in the air.
The lawyer adjusted his glasses but wisely remained silent.
Victoria studied Serena for a long moment before smiling—a colder smile that made her resemble Damien more than ever.
“I expected a better lie.”
Serena’s smile never faltered.
“I have no reason to lie to you, Mrs. Blackwood.”
A knock sounded against the private dining room door.
James stepped inside carrying another slim folder.
The moment he sensed the tension, he slowed to a stop.
His eyes flickered briefly between Damien and Victoria.
“Sir…”
Damien barely looked in his direction.
“Come in.”
James approached the table, leaned toward Damien, and quietly placed the folder beside his untouched glass of water.
Without another word, he stepped back a few feet and folded his hands behind his back.
Victoria pulled out another document.
“This one interests me more.”
She slid it toward Serena.
This document landed harder than Serena had expected.
For the briefest second, her pulse stumbled.
She felt Damien’s attention sharpen—not on the document itself, but on every tiny change in her expression.
She forced herself to remain perfectly still.
“You’ve attended nearly every Blackwood charity gala over the last two years,” Victoria said.
“You were never officially invited. Someone always gave up their invitation.” She leaned forward.
“Why?”
Serena didn’t answer immediately.
Instead, she looked at Victoria with quiet curiosity.
“Mrs. Blackwood…”
Victoria’s expression hardened.
“Have you ever missed a gala event?”
The question caught her off guard.
“What?”
“Have you?”
Victoria hesitated. Suspicion flashed across her face.
Only after Damien turned toward her, silently waiting for an answer, did she finally murmur,
“Yes.”
“And when you couldn’t attend…”
Serena continued softly,
“…did someone attend in your place?”
“Yes. My stylist.”
“Was she unhappy about it?”
“No.”
“So she was excited?”
Another pause.
“…Yes.”
“And how many times has your stylist represented you?”
“That’s irrelevant.”
“I’m afraid it isn’t.”
Victoria’s jaw tightened.
“Twice.”
Damien’s voice cut in, quiet and precise.
“I’m fairly certain it was six.”
Every head turned toward him, but he didn’t elaborate. He simply looked at his mother.
“I remember congratulating her after the last one.”
Victoria’s lips pressed into a thin line as color rose high on her cheeks.
Serena nodded once.
“Exactly.”
She folded her hands together, confidence slowly returning.
“Substitute invitations exist because empty seats don’t photograph well. They’re opportunities. People don’t waste time questioning why opportunity knocks. They simply open the door.”
For the first time, the corner of James’s mouth almost twitched.
It vanished before anyone else could notice.
Anyone except Victoria.
Her composure cracked.
She snatched the surveillance photograph from the envelope and slapped it onto the table.
Crystal glasses rattled softly.
“Then explain this.”
Serena looked down.
The blood drained from her face.
Blackwood Group headquarters. Three nights earlier.
She stood outside the building, staring at it with unmistakable hatred.
Her thoughts raced.
One explanation after another formed…
…and collapsed.
She slowly looked up. Opened her mouth—
Nothing came.
Damien noticed immediately.
Not the silence, but the hesitation before it. The almost imperceptible delay.
Victoria leaned forward triumphantly.
“Go on. You always seem to have an answer, so tell us. Why were you watching my son’s company?”
Serena forced herself to breathe.
“I—”
The photograph disappeared from the table and into Damien’s hands.
He folded it once before slipping it back into the envelope.
“That’s enough.”
His voice was calm.
Victoria stared at him in disbelief.
“Damien—”
“I said enough.”
The authority in his tone settled over the room like steel.
Silence followed.
He turned back to Serena. His expression, as always, revealed nothing.
“I don’t know if you’re lying.”
The words landed gently.
“I also don’t know if you’re innocent.”
He paused. “But I don’t make decisions based on circumstantial evidence.”
He slid the contract across the table until it stopped in front of her.
Then he looked at his mother.
“You’ve done enough for one day.”
Victoria didn’t move.
“I think it’s time you left, Mother.”
Anger and frustration flashed across her face.
“You’re choosing to ignore all of this?”
“I’m choosing not to convict someone without proof.”
For several long seconds, mother and son simply stared at each other.
Then Victoria rose gracefully and picked up her handbag. Before leaving, she looked directly at Serena.
“There are two kinds of women who enter powerful families.”
“The lucky ones…”
“And the dangerous ones.”
A faint smile touched her lips.
“I wonder which one you are.”
Without waiting for a response, she turned and walked out.
The door clicked shut behind her.
The lawyer cleared his throat quietly.
Damien rested his forearms lightly on the table.
“If you’re still interested in becoming my wife, you have only a few hours left to decide.”
Serena drew in a slow breath.
“You still doubt me?”
“Oh, I do doubt you.”
He met her gaze steadily. “I know you’re hiding something… I just don’t care what it is.”
He paused.
“I don’t care about anything in this world except one goal.”
“And as long as you help me achieve it…”
“…you could be a tiger wearing a cat’s skin for all I care.”
Her fingers hovered over the pen. “May I ask what that goal is?”
“Unfortunately not.”
His voice remained calm. “But I can assure you it has nothing to do with you.”
Serena closed her eyes for a brief moment.
Damien knew she was hiding something.
That much was obvious.
For a man as logical as he appeared, he should have been reconsidering the marriage instead of asking her to sign.
So why was marrying her so important?
What exactly was at stake?
And how badly did she want revenge?
When her eyes opened again…
The uncertainty was gone.
Only resolve remained. She reached for the pen.
“Mr. Blackwood!”
The voice came from outside the private dining room, firm and urgent.
Every head turned toward the door.
Serena’s fingers froze just inches above the pen.
- Writer
