Chapter 7
1130 Words
The sky was overcast the day Elena left the hospital.
She stood quietly beside the sliding glass doors of the main entrance, a small duffel bag in hand which was not even half full.
Her entire life had been reduced to a few clothes, a worn-out journal, and a folder of test results she no longer wanted to read.
Across the drive, a sleek black car waited.
A man in a crisp black suit approached, bowing slightly.
“Miss Morgan,” he said. “Mr. Blackwood sent me. I’m Nolan, his assistant.”
Elena gave a small nod. “Nice to meet you.”
He offered to take her bag, but she clutched it tighter. “I’ve got it.”
Nolan didn’t argue. Just opened the door.
As she settled into the plush interior, her fingers tightened around the strap of her bag. This wasn’t home. It wouldn’t be.
It was an agreement. A contract. A carefully built illusion.
But it was also protection.
And that mattered now more than anything else.
The Blackwood estate was nothing like she expected.
Elegant, yes but not flashy. The gates opened to a long driveway lined with cypress trees, and at the end stood a massive stone house with dark windows and ivy crawling up its sides like veins.
It looked more like a fortress than a mansion.
Nolan led her inside, explaining things as they walked. Left was the west wing, mostly unused. Right held Damian’s private office and meeting rooms. Upstairs was the family floor.
Elena didn’t absorb much of it.
She felt like a visitor in a stranger’s life.
“Your room is this way,” Nolan said, pausing at a staircase. “You’ll be staying in the east wing, near the garden. Mr. Blackwood thought it would be quieter.”
“Thank you,” Elena said softly.
As they turned the corner, soft footsteps padded across the marble floor.
Elena looked up.
A small girl stood at the end of the hall.
Emma.
Her hair was neatly brushed, her dress pale blue. She held a stuffed rabbit in one hand and stared with wide, unblinking eyes.
Elena froze.
Emma blinked once, twice. Then she turned and disappeared around the corner.
“She remembers you,” Nolan said gently.
Elena’s throat tightened. “I didn’t expect to see her so soon.”
“She spends most of her time with either Mr Blackwood or his grandmother,” Nolan said.”
Elena didn’t answer. She didn’t know what to say.
Her room was beautiful. Large windows, soft cream walls, a sitting area, and a bed that looked far too elegant to sleep in. Fresh flowers sat in a vase beside the window.
Elena turned towards Nolan who was standing outside and said “Thank you.”
And for the first time since her diagnosis, she unpacked her bag with hands that didn’t shake.
*Damian's POV*
He watched the security feed from his office. Not out of paranoia, but because he needed to be sure.
That she was really here.
When she stepped out of the car, her posture was straight. Shoulders slightly tense but she wasn’t fragile.
She looked like a woman holding herself together with sheer will.
He respected that.
Leo’s voice crackled over the speakerphone.
“So, you did it. She’s moved in.”
“I told you I would.”
“You know what this means, right? Veronica won’t let this go. The board will have questions. And your grandmother?”
“Let me handle them,” Damian said coldly. “We’ve done worse for deals far less important.”
Leo paused. “You’re not doing this for a deal.”
Damian didn’t answer.
He ended the call.
A knock at the office door broke his focus.
It opened slightly. Emma peeked in.
She said nothing, as always but her eyes were clear.
He stood and walked over to her, kneeling slightly.
“You saw her?,” he said gently. “The lady from the hospital.”
Emma tilted her head.
“Why didn't you say hello to her?”
No reply.
“Would you like to see her?”
A long pause.
Then a nod.
*Elena's POV*
The soft knock startled her.
She crossed the room, pulled open the door and there she was.
Emma.
The little girl stood quietly, her stuffed rabbit clutched to her chest. No words. Just wide, knowing eyes.
Elena crouched slowly. “Hi.”
Emma didn’t move but she didn’t run either.
Elena reached out, palm up.
To her surprise, Emma stepped forward. Just a little. Close enough for the tips of her fingers to brush Elena’s.
It was enough.
The housekeeper arrived moments later, calling Emma for lunch.
Elena watched as the little girl turned and walked away but not before glancing back once.
She closed the door and leaned against it.
Later that evening, Damian stood at the door.
He didn’t knock, just waited until she opened it.
“Elena,” he said, eyes unreadable. “I wanted to check if you needed anything.”
She looked at him, unsure. “I’m fine.”
He glanced past her into the room. “You met Emma.”
“I did.”
“She likes you.”
Elena smiled faintly. “She didn’t say a word.”
“She doesn’t need to.”
Damian looked tired, like someone who hadn't slept in days. But there was something softer around his edges tonight.
Not warmth, exactly. Just presence.
“I’ll have the formal documents delivered tomorrow,” he said. “My lawyer will walk you through everything.”
She nodded.
“And after that, you’ll need to be seen publicly with me. Just once or twice, to settle any rumors.”
“Of course,” Elena said quietly. “This is your world, Damian. I understand.”
His jaw twitched. “It’s not just mine anymore.”
She blinked, surprised.
Then he turned and walked away.
Leaving her alone with the sound of her own heartbeat echoing too loud in the silence.
Downstairs in the quiet garden, Beatrice Blackwood sat in her wheelchair beneath the soft glow of a hanging lantern.
Her shawl was wrapped neatly around her shoulders, a porcelain teacup resting in her lap. She stared out toward the east wing where the lights in Elena’s room glowed faintly.
The night was calm, until soft footsteps approached.
A maid bent beside her, head lowered.
“Old Madam. Mr Damian brought a lady, named Elena home.”
The old woman said nothing for a long moment.
Her fingers gently tapped the side of the cup.
“And Damian?” she asked quietly.
“In his study. Alone.”
The grandmother smiled faintly.
“Let’s see if she’s strong enough to stay.”
- Writer
