Chapter Two — The Condition
1733 Words
The room went silent.
Amara stared at Julian Cross.
Then at Damian Blackwood.
Then back at the lawyer.
“You said marry.”
“Yes.”
The word landed like a stone.
Amara gave a small, disbelieving laugh. “You want me to marry him?”
“I am not asking you to marry anyone, Miss Vale,” Julian said. “I am reading your late benefactor’s final instructions.”
“Those instructions are insane.”
Across the table, Damian finally moved.
His jaw tightened.
“My father was not in his right mind.”
Julian didn't blink. “Your father was examined by his physician two days before his death. He was declared mentally competent.”
“That doesn't explain this.”
“No,” Julian said. “It doesn't.”
Adrian Blackwood leaned back in his chair, watching the exchange with an expression that was almost amused.
“Well,” he murmured. “This is certainly unexpected.”
Damian shot him a warning look.
Adrian immediately stopped smiling.
Amara looked at Julian.
“I've never met Victor Blackwood.”
“I know.”
“I don't have any relationship with him.”
“I know.”
“So why would he leave me anything?”
Julian opened another folder.
“Five hundred million dollars.”
Amara stopped breathing.
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
“I'm sorry,” she said finally. “How much?”
“Five hundred million dollars.”
The number was too large to feel real.
Amara's mind automatically tried to turn it into smaller numbers.
Five million.
Fifty million.
One hundred million.
It didn't help.
She looked at Damian.
His expression had become even colder.
“You're serious?”
Julian nodded.
“Mr. Blackwood left Miss Vale cash assets, investments, several properties, and a controlling interest in a private trust.”
Damian's eyes narrowed.
“Why?”
Julian looked at him.
“That is the question everyone should be asking.”
Amara's heart began beating faster.
She didn't want the money.
At least, she didn't think she did.
But five hundred million dollars could change everything.
Her mother's debts.
Their house.
The years of worrying about bills.
Every problem she'd ever had seemed to suddenly have a price.
And Victor Blackwood had apparently decided to pay all of them.
There was only one problem.
She had to marry his son.
“No.”
The word came immediately.
Julian looked at her.
“No?”
“I don't want it.”
Damian's eyebrows lifted slightly.
Amara noticed.
“You look surprised.”
“I am.”
“Why?”
“Most people don't reject five hundred million dollars.”
“Most people aren't being asked to marry a stranger for it.”
Damian's expression hardened.
“Believe me, I'm not interested either.”
“Good.”
Their eyes met.
Something passed between them.
Not attraction.
Not yet.
Something closer to irritation.
Julian cleared his throat.
“There is another condition.”
Amara closed her eyes.
“Of course there is.”
Julian slid a document across the table.
“The marriage must remain legally valid until the circumstances surrounding Victor Blackwood's death have been uncovered.”
Amara looked down.
“His death?”
Damian's face changed.
“What exactly does that mean?”
Julian answered calmly.
“It means that if either of you initiates a divorce before the circumstances of Mr. Blackwood's death are officially resolved, certain portions of the estate will be placed under court-controlled trust.”
“Which portions?” Damian asked.
“Your father's controlling shares in Blackwood Group.”
The room became silent again.
Damian stared at the lawyer.
“My father tied the company to this?”
“Yes.”
“And if I refuse to marry her?”
“You lose control of the shares.”
Damian looked toward Amara.
She could almost see the calculation happening behind his eyes.
He hated this.
She could tell.
But he wasn't the only one trapped.
Amara looked back at Julian.
“And if I agree?”
“You receive the inheritance outlined in the will, subject to the terms.”
“So we're both trapped.”
Julian said nothing.
That was confirmation enough.
Amara pushed the document away.
“This is absurd.”
“No,” Damian said quietly.
She looked at him.
“This is exactly the kind of thing my father would do.”
There was bitterness in his voice.
Amara studied him.
“You knew he was capable of this?”
“I knew he never made a decision without a reason.”
“Then why me?”
Damian didn't answer.
Neither did Julian.
That silence bothered her more than anything else.
Amara stood.
“I need to leave.”
Julian nodded.
“You have seventy-two hours to make your decision.”
“Seventy-two hours?”
“Yes.”
She picked up her bag.
“And if I say no?”
“You walk away.”
Amara almost smiled.
“That sounds easy.”
Julian's expression remained serious.
“It will be.”
He paused.
“You will simply walk away from five hundred million dollars.”
The smile disappeared.
Amara turned toward the door.
Her phone vibrated.
She looked down.
MOM: WHERE ARE YOU?
A second message followed.
CALL ME NOW.
Amara frowned.
She typed:
At the Blackwood office. Why?
The reply came almost instantly.
LEAVE.
Then another.
Do not accept anything from Victor Blackwood.
Amara's fingers went cold.
She called.
Celine answered on the first ring.
“Where are you?”
“I told you. The Blackwood office.”
“Amara, leave.”
“Why?”
“Just come home.”
“No.”
Silence.
Amara's voice hardened.
“Mom, why are you afraid of Victor Blackwood?”
Celine didn't answer.
“You told me you never knew him.”
“I never said that.”
“You did.”
“I said—”
“You said you'd never met him.”
Another silence.
Amara's stomach tightened.
“You knew him.”
Celine finally whispered, “Yes.”
The single word changed everything.
“How?”
“I worked for him.”
Amara stared through the glass doors of the building.
“What did you do?”
“I was his assistant.”
“For how long?”
“Several years.”
“And you never told me?”
“I was trying to protect you.”
“From what?”
Celine's breathing became uneven.
“Amara…”
“From what?”
Her mother didn't answer.
“Did you know he put me in his will?”
“No.”
“But you knew he was looking for me?”
Celine went silent.
Amara's heart stopped.
“What did you just say?”
“I didn't say that.”
“You didn't have to.”
“Amara, listen to me. You cannot trust that family.”
“Why?”
“Because there are things you don't know.”
“Then tell me.”
“I can't.”
“You can.”
“I can't!”
Celine's voice cracked.
Amara froze.
Her mother almost never raised her voice.
“Why not?”
Celine spoke so quietly that Amara nearly missed it.
“Because the truth could put you in danger.”
The call ended.
Amara lowered the phone.
She felt suddenly disconnected from everything around her.
Her mother knew Victor.
Her mother had worked for him.
And somehow, twenty-four years of Amara's life had been built around a secret she hadn't even known existed.
“Your mother?”
Damian's voice brought her back.
She turned.
He stood several feet away.
“You followed me?”
“No.”
“Then why are you here?”
“I wanted to ask you the same thing.”
His gaze dropped to her phone.
“What did she tell you?”
“That's none of your business.”
“My father knew your mother.”
Amara went still.
“What?”
“I found her name in his records.”
“When?”
“Before you arrived.”
“You investigated her?”
“Yes.”
“And you didn't tell me.”
“I didn't trust you.”
Amara gave a bitter laugh.
“That's becoming a family tradition.”
Damian ignored the comment.
“What did she say?”
“She said I shouldn't trust the Blackwoods.”
His expression darkened.
“Did she say why?”
“No.”
Amara slipped her phone into her bag.
“But I intend to find out.”
She started walking.
Damian followed.
“Amara.”
She stopped.
“What?”
“My father chose you for a reason.”
“I know.”
“And whatever that reason is…”
He looked toward the street.
“…someone else may know it too.”
Her phone vibrated again.
Unknown number.
Amara opened the message.
YOU SHOULD HAVE LISTENED TO YOUR MOTHER.
Her blood ran cold.
Another message appeared.
THE BLACKWOODS DON'T LET THEIR WIVES LEAVE.
Amara looked up.
Across the street, a black car sat with its engine running.
Its windows were tinted.
Someone was inside.
Watching.
She blinked.
The car pulled away.
Damian saw her face.
“What happened?”
Amara handed him the phone.
He read the messages.
His expression changed instantly.
“Get in my car.”
She stared at him.
“Why?”
“Because whoever sent this knows where you are.”
He stepped closer.
“And if they know where you are, I need to know who they are before they get to you.”
Amara looked at the road.
Then at Damian.
The man she had met less than an hour ago was the son of the billionaire who had left her five hundred million dollars.
He was also the man she was supposed to marry.
And now someone was threatening her because of it.
Amara swallowed.
“Take me home.”
Damian nodded.
But as they walked toward his car, neither of them noticed the black vehicle waiting at the end of the street.
Inside it, someone watched them leave.
Then made a phone call.
“They know about the marriage.”
A pause.
“No. She doesn't know the truth yet.”
Another pause.
The caller looked toward Damian's car.
“Not yet.”
The line went dead.
And the car disappeared into traffic.
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