Chapter 3: The Grandfather's Test
793 Words
Evelyn stood in front of the mirror, barely recognizing herself.
Mrs. Lee, the housekeeper, had laid out a midnight blue gown on the bed. The silk clung to Evelyn's curves like a second skin, the neckline dipping just low enough to make her uncomfortable. Her hair had been pinned up, exposing the delicate line of her neck.
This isn't me, she thought. This is the woman Ethan wants everyone to see.
A sharp knock made her jump.
"Seven o'clock," Ethan's voice came from behind the door. "Don't make me wait."
Evelyn took a deep breath and opened the door.
Ethan stood in the hallway, dressed in a perfectly tailored black suit. His eyes swept over her from head to toe, lingering for a moment on her exposed collarbone. For a split second, something flickered in his gaze—surprise? Approval? Desire?
Then it was gone, replaced by his usual cold mask.
"Acceptable," he said flatly. "Come."
He didn't offer his arm. He simply turned and walked away, expecting her to follow like a trained dog.
Evelyn clenched her jaw and hurried after him, her heels clicking against the marble floor.
---
The dining hall was even more intimidating than the foyer.
A long mahogany table stretched across the room, set for three. Candles flickered in crystal holders, casting dancing shadows on the walls. At the head of the table sat an old man with silver hair and Ethan's same sharp eyes.
Arthur Blackwood. The founder of the Blackwood empire.
"So this is her," the old man said, his voice surprisingly warm. He studied Evelyn over the rim of his wine glass. "The girl who finally tamed my grandson."
Ethan pulled out a chair for Evelyn—not gently, but not roughly either. "Sit. Don't speak unless spoken to."
Evelyn sat, her hands folded in her lap to hide their trembling.
"Tamed?" Ethan laughed coldly as he took his seat. "Hardly. This is a business arrangement, Grandfather. Nothing more."
Arthur raised an eyebrow. "Is that so?" He turned his attention to Evelyn. "And you, dear? Do you also see this as merely business?"
Evelyn felt Ethan's warning gaze burning into her. But something in the old man's eyes made her want to tell the truth.
"I see it as survival," she said quietly.
The room fell silent.
Then Arthur laughed—a deep, genuine laugh that filled the hall. "Survival! I like her, Ethan. She has backbone."
Ethan's jaw tightened. He picked up his wine glass and took a long sip, his eyes never leaving Evelyn's face. "Backbone can be broken, Grandfather."
"Or it can be strengthened," Arthur replied smoothly. He raised his glass toward Evelyn. "Welcome to the family, my dear. Whether my foolish grandson admits it or not, you are a Blackwood now."
Dinner passed in a blur of polite conversation and silent tension. Evelyn barely tasted the food. She was too aware of Ethan sitting beside her, his knee occasionally brushing against hers under the table.
Each time, he didn't pull away.
And each time, Evelyn's heart raced a little faster.
---
After dinner, as they walked back through the moonlit garden toward the main house, Ethan suddenly stopped.
"You did well tonight," he said, his voice low. "Better than I expected."
Evelyn looked up at him, surprised. "Was that a compliment, Mr. Blackwood?"
"Don't get used to it." He stepped closer, his tall frame blocking out the moonlight. "But Grandfather likes you. That's useful to me."
"Useful," Evelyn repeated, the word bitter on her tongue. "Is that all I am to you? Useful?"
Ethan tilted his head, studying her like she was a puzzle he hadn't yet solved. "What else would you be?"
Before she could answer, he reached out and tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear—just like he had done earlier. But this time, his fingers lingered. They traced the edge of her jaw, feather-light, sending shivers down her spine.
"Careful, Evelyn," he whispered, his face inches from hers. "You almost sound like you want more."
Evelyn's breath caught in her throat. She should step back. She should say something cold, something to push him away.
But she didn't move.
Ethan's eyes dropped to her lips for the briefest moment. Then he pulled away, his expression hardening once more.
"Don't forget the rules," he said, turning toward the house. "You're not here to fall in love with me. And I'm not here to catch you."
He walked away, leaving Evelyn alone in the garden, her heart pounding and her lips still tingling where his gaze had lingered.
What have I gotten myself into? she thought.
But deep down, she already knew the answer.
She was falling. And there was no one to catch her.
- Writer
