Chapter 3: Blood That Cuts
1039 Words
I sat at the long dining table, staring at the silver cutlery I didn’t even know how to hold properly. The chandelier above cast golden light over the polished plates, but none of it warmed me. I felt like a guest in my own life. Or worse—a prisoner dressed in silk.
Adrian wasn’t here tonight. He had left earlier with barely a word, only muttering something about “business.” His absence should have brought relief, but it only made the silence heavier.
The butler had told me someone was coming. I didn’t ask who. Part of me already knew.
The door opened, and my mother walked in. My heart stopped.
“Mother?” My voice cracked.
She looked just as she always had—elegant, collected, her eyes sharp as needles. But instead of embracing me, instead of even smiling, her gaze flicked over me with a cold assessment.
“Elena,” she said, settling into the chair across from mine. “You look… presentable.”
My throat tightened. “You came. I—I wasn’t sure you would.”
She took the glass of wine the servant poured and swirled it lightly. “Of course I would. Do you think I’d let my own daughter sit in this house without guidance? You’re a Blackwood now. That name is worth more than anything you could ever offer.”
Her words stung, though I tried not to flinch. “I never wanted this marriage. You know that.”
Her eyes snapped up, cold as glass. “What you want has never mattered, Elena. What matters is what this union brings to our family.”
I clenched my hands in my lap, nails digging into my palms. “To our family? Or to you?”
For the first time, a smirk curved her lips. “To both. Don’t be ungrateful. Do you think you’d be sitting here in silk, with servants at your call, if not for me? You’d still be rotting in that little room, dreaming foolish dreams.”
Tears burned at the back of my eyes, but I blinked them away. “I thought you’d at least… care how I feel. You sold me, Mother. You didn’t even ask.”
“Ask?” She laughed, sharp and humorless. “Child, the world doesn’t ask you before it crushes you. You obey. You survive. And if you’re clever, you take advantage.”
Her words sliced deeper than I wanted to admit. I lowered my head, my shoulders trembling. “So that’s all I am to you. A pawn.”
“You’re my daughter,” she said, sipping her wine. “Which means you’ll play the role I give you. That’s the duty of family.”
I wanted to scream. To cry. To beg her to see me—not the pawn, not the bride, not the pretty doll in a cage. Just me. Her daughter. But her eyes told me nothing I said would matter.
The air shifted, and I heard footsteps. When I turned, my breath caught.
“Camila?”
My younger sister walked in, dressed in a gown far too fine for her age. She was only nineteen, but her smile carried the confidence of someone who had never been denied.
“Elena,” she said warmly, crossing the room to hug me. For a moment, my heart lifted. I clung to her, desperate for comfort.
But when she pulled back, her eyes flicked toward my dress, the jewels at my throat. “You look beautiful. I almost didn’t recognize you.”
I managed a weak smile. “You came. I’ve missed you so much.”
Her expression softened—then shifted, subtle but sharp. “It’s strange, isn’t it? You were never meant to be here. Isabella was. But now…” She tilted her head, her lips curving. “Now it’s you.”
Something uneasy settled in my chest. “Camila…”
Mother spoke up then, her voice calm but firm. “Camila has been helping us. She’s been speaking with Isabella’s family, making sure our alliance remains strong.”
I turned to my sister, my pulse racing. “With Isabella’s family? Why? She ran away.”
Camila shrugged, her smile too sweet. “Because someone has to clean up the mess you’re in. Do you think Adrian will ever really want you, Elena? You’re just a reminder of what he lost. But I…” She paused, her gaze glittering with ambition. “I could be more useful here. To him. To this family.”
Her words hit me like a slap. I stared at her, my chest heaving. “You’re my sister. How—how could you say that?”
“Because it’s true,” she said softly, almost kindly. “You were never meant for this. You’re too soft, too weak. You cry too easily. Adrian won’t respect that. He’ll never love you. But maybe he could love someone else.”
“Enough, Camila,” Mother warned, though her tone lacked real reprimand.
I shook my head, tears spilling down my cheeks. “You’re supposed to be on my side. Both of you.”
Mother leaned forward, her gaze sharp. “Stop acting like a child. This is survival, Elena. Stop clinging to your silly feelings. If Camila has to step in to keep this marriage steady, then so be it.”
The room blurred through my tears. My chest felt hollow, carved out. First my mother, now my sister. The two people who should have defended me were the very ones tightening the chains.
I stood, my chair scraping the floor. “I can’t… I can’t do this.”
Camila’s voice followed me as I stumbled toward the door, trembling. “Don’t take it so personally, sister. It’s just the way things are.”
Her words echoed in my mind long after I left the room.
By the time I reached my bedroom, my body was shaking. I locked the door and collapsed against it, pressing my hands over my face.
They didn’t see me. Not as Elena. Not as a family. Only as a piece on their board.
For the first time, I realized the truth: I was utterly alone.
- Writer
