The Last Hope_Bound To Him

Betrayal

Years ago...

The Blackwood Manor echoed with hurried footsteps.

Ten-year-old Damian sat on the edge of the grand staircase,

his right arm scraped raw and blood trickling down his elbow.

Alexander stood a few feet away, breathing hard.

"You pushed me!" Damian shouted.

"I didn't."

"You did!"

Arthur Blackwood descended the staircase, adjusting the cuff

of his suit.

His eyes swept over the two boys.

"What happened?"

Before Damian could answer, Alexander spoke first.

"He fell."

Arthur looked at Damian.

"Is that true?"

Damian shook his head.

"He pushed me."

Arthur said nothing.

Instead, he turned to Eleanor.

"What do you think?"

His mother didn't even look at him.

"If Alexander says he fell..."

"...then he fell."

The words landed harder than the injury itself.

Damian stared at her.

Waiting.

Surely she would look at him.

Surely she would notice the fresh scrape, the torn sleeve,

the tears he was desperately trying to hide.

She never did.

"Go clean yourself up," she said calmly.

Then she walked away with Arthur.

Leaving Damian standing alone in the middle of the

staircase.

That day...

He stopped expecting justice.

The memory dissolved as Damian entered his private office

within the manor.

Unlike the rest of the estate, this room belonged entirely

to him.

Minimalist.

Orderly.

Cold.

He loosened his tie and poured himself a glass of whiskey.

He had a lot on his plate

The Dubai International Port project.

For what it was worth, he had to see to it success.

Not because he wanted his father to praise him or fill proud.

Those didn't bother him and he didn't work had for that.

Knowing fully well the Blackwood fortune was craved by many,

even paternal uncle's still had their eyes on it.

Although non ever made an open move as they wouldn't want to

arouse suspicions.

Damian had long started putting up his own company.

This fact wasn't known as his father forbid them from having

personal properties.

This was the leash he put on them.

So they had to depend on him and run his business for him

with all their might as they hope to inherit it someday.

It wasn't easy for Damian to pull that off. But he did.

Elsewhere in Blackwood Manor, Alexander stood in the garden

with a drink in hand.

A woman entered gracefully.

Sophia.

The second wife of Arthur Blackwood.

Unlike Eleanor's composed elegance, Sophia carried herself

with effortless charm.

She smiled as she approached.

"So..."

"He's back."

Alexander sank into one of the chairs.

"He just spoke with Mother."

"And?"

"He refused."

Sophia laughed softly.

"I expected nothing less."

Alexander swirled the amber liquid in his glass.

"He thinks he owns everything."

"He owns enough."

Sophia corrected gently.

"But not the empire."

She leaned closer.

"Your father hasn't chosen an heir."

"Not yet."

Alexander's jaw tightened.

"He never will."

"He enjoys watching us compete."

Sophia smiled knowingly.

"Then give him a better performance."

Alexander looked toward the window where Damian's office

lights glowed in the distance.

"I've spent my entire life competing with him."

"And yet..."

"...he's always one step ahead."

Sophia rested a hand on his shoulder.

"Then stop thinking like a brother."

Alexander looked up.

"Think like a Blackwood."

A slow smile spread across his face.

One that looked remarkably similar to Damian's.

Only crueler.

Outside, thunder rolled across the evening sky.

Within Blackwood Manor, another battle had quietly begun.

Not one fought with fists.

But with secrets...

Power...

And patience.

Because in the Blackwood family...

The deadliest wars were always fought behind closed doors.

The rain had stopped by the time Damian stepped onto the

east balcony.

The manor lay quiet beneath the moonlight.

Quiet on the surface.

It always was.

He lit a cigarette, though he rarely smoked. It was an old habit—one he only indulged when something refused to leave his mind.

Sophia's words lingered.

"Then stop thinking like a brother".

He had just stepped

into the balcony close to the garden while she made this sentence.

An odd choice of words.

Too intimate.

Too familiar.

His instincts rarely ignored details.

They had kept him alive for thirty-two years.

A faint laugh drifted through the garden below.

Damian frowned.

At this hour?

He stepped closer to the stone railing and looked down.

The estate gardens stretched beneath him, silver under the

moonlight.

Near the old fountain, hidden beneath the branches of a

flowering magnolia tree…

Two figures stood facing one another.

Alexander.

Sophia.

Damian's eyes narrowed.

The conversation appeared casual.

Too casual.

Sophia reached up and brushed something from Alexander's

lapel.

Neither of them moved away.

Alexander caught her wrist.

Not forcefully.

Comfortably.

Like a man who had done it many times before.

Sophia looked around instinctively before stepping closer.

Far closer than a stepmother ever should.

Then…

She kissed him.

Not a hesitant kiss.

Not a mistake.

The kind born from familiarity.

From repetition.

From months…

Perhaps years…

Of secrecy.

Damian didn't move.

He simply watched.

Alexander's hand settled against the small of Sophia's back.

She smiled against his lips.

"You worry too much," she whispered.

"If Arthur finds out—"

"He won't."

Alexander interrupted with quiet confidence.

"He never sees what's right in front of him."

Sophia laughed softly.

"And Damian?"

Alexander's expression darkened.

"He only sees business."

"He doesn't notice people."

Damian almost smiled.

How ironic.

His own brother had underestimated him.

Again.

Alexander tucked a loose strand of hair behind Sophia's ear.

"When Father finally names me successor…"

"…you won't have to hide anymore."

Sophia's eyes sparkled.

"I've waited long enough."

They kissed once more before walking in separate directions

through the gardens.

Never once suspecting they had been watched.

Damian remained on the balcony long after they disappeared.

The cigarette burned quietly between his fingers.

Then, with deliberate calm, he crushed it against the stone

railing.

No anger.

No disgust.

No surprise.

Only calculation.

So…

Alexander wasn't merely stealing contracts.

He was sleeping with Arthur Blackwood's wife.

That wasn't just a******y.

It was treason within the Blackwood family.

A secret powerful enough to destroy Alexander.

Powerful enough to destroy Sophia.

Perhaps even Arthur himself.

Most men would've exposed them immediately.

Damian wasn't most men.

Information was currency.

Secrets were weapons.

And a weapon revealed too early…

Lost its value.

Now it made sense.

When Alexander knew of stuff only there father meant to

know.

How he succeeded to do just what Arthur expected in several

cases.

Now it made sense.

Sophia was the little spy he had planted beside his father.

Sophia have been their fathers favorite wife.

She was beautiful and elegant and resourceful and also

cheerful. She had the personality their father liked.

He slipped his hands into his pockets and walked back

inside.

There would come a day when Alexander believed he had

finally cornered him.

When escape seemed impossible.

When every path had been cut off.

That…

Would be the day Damian pulled the trigger.

Not with a bullet.

But with the truth.

A slow smile appeared on his face.

Cold.

Patient.

Predatory.

"Enjoy your happiness while it lasts," he murmured to the

empty hallway.

"One day…"

"…I'll collect interest on this secret."

Behind one of the upstairs windows, Eleanor Blackwood stood

silently in the darkness.

She had seen Damian watching the garden.

She had seen Alexander and Sophia leave moments apart.

Her fingers tightened around the curtain.

For the first time in years…

Fear flickered in her eyes.

Not because of the affair.

But because she knew her second son.

Damian Blackwood never forgot.

And he never wasted a weapon.

.

Friday arrived with a mountain of unfinished work.

Most of the editorial staff had already gone home by six.

Only a handful of lights remained on across the publishing floor.

Elena was sorting returned manuscripts when Greg stepped out of his office.

"Still here?"

She looked up.

"I wanted to finish filing these before Monday."

Greg smiled approvingly.

"I admire dedication."

He glanced toward the corridor.

"I need a few archived contracts from the storage room

downstairs."

She nodded.

"I can get them."

"Thank you."

Without thinking much of it, Elena followed his directions.

The archive occupied an older section of the building.

Unlike the bright editorial offices upstairs, this corridor was quiet.

Dim.

Almost deserted.

Rows of steel cabinets stretched along the walls.

The only sound was the faint buzzing of fluorescent lights.

Greg unlocked one of the archive rooms.

"They're on the top shelf."

Elena stepped inside.

"I'll get them."

She reached for the ladder leaning against one cabinet.

Before she could climb it—

The door clicked shut behind her.

She frowned and turned.

Greg was still smiling.

Only...

It wasn't the smile she had become accustomed to seeing.

Something about it made her stomach tighten.

"You work very hard, Elena."

She gave a polite nod.

"I just want to do my job well."

"I know."

He took a slow step closer.

"And that's one of the things I like about you."

Something inside her immediately went on alert.

She instinctively stepped backward.

"Sir..."

"I've noticed you for weeks."

His voice had softened.

"You don't flirt."

"You don't gossip."

"You don't ask anyone for favors."

"You've been through difficult things."

"I can tell."

Elena forced a small smile.

"I should get those files."

"No rush."

Another step.

The distance between them disappeared.

He reached out.

His fingers brushed a loose strand of hair away from her face.

Elena froze.

Then immediately pulled back.

"Please don't."

Greg's smile faltered.

"I've been very patient."

"I don't understand."

"You will."

His hand landed lightly on her shoulder.

She removed it at once.

"I said don't touch me."

For the first time...

His pleasant expression disappeared completely.

"You know how many girls would be grateful for my attention?"

"I don't want it."

"You don't mean that."

"I do."

She tried walking around him.

He blocked the doorway.

Her heartbeat quickened.

"Move."

Greg sighed.

"You've made this harder than it needed to be."

Before she could react—

He grabbed her wrist with one hand and her waist with the other.

Hard.

Elena gasped.

"Sir!"

He pulled her toward him.

Attempting to kiss her.

She turns away.

His lips lands on her neck.

"You'll thank me later."

Panic exploded inside her.

She shoved against his chest with all her strength.

He barely moved.

"I'm going to scream if you don't leave me alone"

Instead, his grip tightened.

"You think anyone will believe you?"

His voice had become cold.

"You're new."

"I'm management."

"Be sensible."

Fear became anger.

Raw.

Blinding.

Elena drove her knee upward with every ounce of strength she possessed.

Greg cried out.

His hands released her instantly.

He staggered backward, clutching himself in agony.

"You little—"

Elena didn't wait.

She grabbed the nearest folder and threw it toward him.

Papers exploded across the room.

"You disgust me!"

Her voice shook.

"If you touch me again, I'll report you!"

Greg's face twisted with pain—and something even uglier.

Hatred.

"You'll regret this."

Elena ran.

She burst through the archive door.

Down the corridor.

Into the elevator.

Out of the building.

She didn't stop running until the office had disappeared behind her.

That night...

Sleep never came.

She sat curled against the wall of her tiny room.

The bedside lamp remained on until dawn.

Every time she closed her eyes, she felt his hand around her waist again.,

Elena stared at the ceiling.

She replayed everything.

Again.

And again.

Should she report him?

Would anyone believe her?

Greg had worked there for years.

She had been there only a short while.

Still...

If she stayed silent...

He might do it to someone else.

By sunrise, she had made up her mind.

She would tell the management.

No matter what happened afterward.

She arrived at work later than usual the next morning.

The building felt strangely quiet.

People glanced at her as she walked through the office.

Some quickly looked away.

Others whispered after she passed.

A knot formed in her stomach.

Nora hurried toward her.

She looked anxious.

"Elena..."

Before she could continue, someone called from behind.

"Miss Morgan."

The Human Resources manager stood outside his office.

A sealed envelope rested in his hand.

His expression was carefully neutral.

"Could you come in for a moment?"

Elena's heartbeat slowed.

Then quickened again.

Something...

was terribly wrong.

The office door closed softly behind her.

The HR manager gestured toward the chair opposite his desk.

"I'm afraid this won't take long."

He slid the envelope across the polished wood.

Elena looked at it without touching it.

"What is it?"

He exhaled heavily.

"A letter regarding your employment."

Her fingers trembled as she opened it.

The first line blurred before her eyes.

Notice of Immediate Termination.

For several long seconds...

The words refused to make sense.

"I..."

"There must be some mistake."

The manager lowered his gaze.

"A complaint was filed against you first thing this morning."

Elena slowly looked up.

"What complaint?"

He hesitated.

Then quietly answered,

"Mr. Greg Lawson has accused you of inappropriate conduct,

insubordination, and attempting to blackmail your supervisor after he rejected

your advances."

The room spun.

Elena felt the blood drain from her face.

Greg...

had struck first.