The Last Hope_Bound To Him

Blackwood Blood

The Blackwood family had never been a family.

It was a battlefield disguised as a dynasty.

From the outside, people saw wealth.

Power.

Influence.

A legacy stretching across generations.

What they didn't see were the knives hidden behind smiles.

The betrayals.

The accidents that weren't accidents.

The brothers who destroyed each other's companies.

The wives who poisoned one another with rumors.

The children raised to believe that love was weakness and inheritance was everything.

Arthur Blackwood built an empire worth billions.

Along the way, he built something else.

A house full of enemies.

Three wives.

Numerous children.

One fortune.

And far too many people willing to kill for it.

Among them stood Damian Blackwood.

The second son of the first wife.

The child nobody expected to survive.

Growing up in the Blackwood estate taught Damian one lesson very early.

Trust nobody.

Not your father.

Not your mother.

Not your siblings.

Especially not your siblings.

His mother, Eleanor Blackwood, barely acknowledged his existence.

She loved her firstborn son.

Protected her youngest.

But Damian...

Damian learned to survive without affection.

Without comfort.

Without kindness.

At eight years old, he stopped expecting praise.

At twelve, he stopped seeking approval.

By sixteen, he had become something far more dangerous.

Independent.

His elder brother saw him as a rival.

Damian returned the favor.

The competition between them started with childish arguments.

Then sabotage.

Then betrayal.

Then something darker.

Because in the Blackwood family, children inherited more than wealth.

They inherited ambition.

And ambition was often deadlier than hatred.

More than once, Damian found himself targeted.

More than once, he returned the favor.

The details remained buried beneath years of silence and expensive cover-ups.

But one thing became clear.

The Blackwood brothers would never coexist peacefully.

Not while an empire waited at the end.

Arthur Blackwood never intervened.

Never protected anyone.

Never chose sides.

His philosophy was brutally simple.

The strongest heir deserved the throne.

The weak deserved nothing.

So Damian learned.

He learned how to negotiate.

How to manipulate.

How to intimidate.

How to survive.

And eventually...

How to win.

The boy who once searched for affection became a man who no longer needed it.

Or so he believed.

At thirty-two years old, Damian controlled nearly half of Blackwood Holdings.

Executives feared him.

Competitors avoided him.

Even family members measured their words carefully around him.

Not because Damian shouted.

Not because he threatened.

But because everyone knew one thing.

If Damian Blackwood decided someone was a problem...

That problem rarely remained a problem for long.

He sat behind the massive desk in his office overlooking the city.

A billion-dollar acquisition proposal rested untouched before him.

His attention was elsewhere.

Across from him stood Ethan Hayes.

The only person Damian trusted enough to keep around for more than a few years.

"You found something?"

Ethan placed a tablet on the desk.

"Yes."

Damian's eyes lifted.

"The hotel footage."

Immediately, the room became colder.

Ethan tapped the screen.

"Most of the recordings were erased."

"No surprise there."

"But the deletion wasn't perfect."

Damian remained silent.

Ethan enlarged a timestamp from the hotel's main lobby.

The footage showed Vivian entering Grand Crescent Hotel.

Time: 3:12 A.M.

Damian's expression hardened.

According to Vivian's story...

She had already been inside his suite for hours.

The footage proved otherwise.

She arrived at the hotel long after midnight.

Long after whatever happened in Suite 2801 had already happened.

Long after the woman from his fragmented memories had entered his room.

For several moments, Damian stared at the screen.

Expressionless.

Dangerously expressionless.

Ethan knew that look.

Someone was about to suffer.

"Should we confront Miss Vivian?"

Damian's fingers tapped once against the desk.

"No."

The answer came immediately.

Too immediately.

"Continue digging."

"Sir?"

"There is a reason she lied."

His eyes remained fixed on the footage.

"And I intend to discover it."

A faint smile appeared on his lips.

One devoid of warmth.

The smile of a predator catching the first scent of blood.

"Let her think she's safe."

Ethan almost pitied Vivian.

Almost.

Because anyone foolish enough to deceive Damian Blackwood rarely understood one thing.

The most dangerous moment was never when Damian discovered the truth.

It was the period afterward.

When he pretended he hadn't.

Across the city, inside the Blackwood Estate, dinner was rarely about food.

It was about power.

The long dining table could seat thirty people comfortably.

Tonight, barely half the seats were occupied.

Yet the atmosphere remained suffocating.

At the head of the table sat Arthur Blackwood.

Seventy years old.

Silver-haired.

Sharp-eyed.

The man who built an empire and expected his children to tear each other apart fighting for it.

To his right sat Eleanor Blackwood.

The legal wife.

Elegant.

Cold.

Untouchable.

A woman whose face revealed little and whose thoughts revealed even less.

Damian arrived late.

As usual.

No one questioned him.

No one dared.

He took his seat without greeting anyone.

Across from him sat his elder brother, Alexander Blackwood.

The firstborn.

The son everyone once believed would inherit everything.

Alexander raised his wine glass slightly.

"Nice of you to join us."

Damian didn't bother looking at him.

The deliberate dismissal drew a flicker of irritation from Alexander.

Good.

Damian preferred his enemies irritated.

They made mistakes when angry.

"Father," Alexander continued, "I heard the Singapore deal was delayed."

Arthur lifted his eyes.

"And?"

"I was simply wondering if Damian had finally met a negotiation he couldn't bully into submission."

A few people chuckled.

Damian remained unmoved.

His attention stayed on his meal.

The silence stretched.

Alexander's smile began fading.

Then Damian finally spoke.

"I heard your energy project lost another thirty million."

The table became quiet.

Several family members suddenly found their food very interesting.

Alexander's expression hardened.

"It was a temporary setback."

Damian cut a piece of steak.

"Of course."

The two words landed like a slap.

Arthur watched silently.

Amused.

As always.

To him, this wasn't conflict.

It was entertainment.

A test.

Another opportunity to measure which son deserved his empire.

Farther down the table sat the youngest son of Eleanor Blackwood.

Lucas.

Twenty-six years old.

The youngest of the three full brothers.

Unlike Alexander and Damian, he rarely involved himself in family politics.

Which was probably why he was still alive.

Lucas glanced toward Damian.

"Mother mentioned you're spending more time in the city lately."

Damian took a sip of wine.

"So?"

Lucas shrugged.

"Just making conversation."

Damian returned his attention to his meal.

Conversation over.

Lucas sighed.

No matter how many years passed, Damian always kept everyone at arm's length.

Especially family.

After dinner, Damian stood alone on one of the estate's balconies.

The city lights shimmered in the distance.

The night air was cold.

A welcome change.

Behind him, footsteps approached.

He didn't need to turn around.

He already knew who it was.

Alexander.

"Still investigating things that don't concern you?"

Damian smirked faintly.

"Still sticking your nose into my business?"

Alexander stepped beside him.

The brothers stood shoulder to shoulder.

Neither trusting the other.

Neither liking the other.

A dangerous silence stretched between them.

Then Alexander laughed.

"You know, one day all this will belong to someone."

Damian's eyes remained on the horizon.

"Hopefully not you."

Alexander's smile disappeared.

"There was a time when you were actually funny."

"There was a time when you were actually competent."

For a brief moment, genuine hostility flashed between them.

Raw.

Dangerous.

Years of resentment hidden beneath polished suits.

Alexander stepped closer.

"You think Father favors you."

Damian finally looked at him.

Cold gray eyes meeting cold gray eyes.

"No."

His voice was calm.

"I know he doesn't."

That surprised Alexander.

Because it was true.

Arthur Blackwood didn't love any of his children.

He valued usefulness.

Nothing more.

Nothing less.

The following morning.

Blackwood Tower.

Ethan entered Damian's office carrying another folder.

Damian looked up immediately.

"What now?"

Ethan placed several photographs on the desk.

"We tracked Vivian's movements."

Damian's eyes narrowed.

"And?"

"She met someone before arriving at the hotel."

Ethan slid one photograph forward.

A young woman.

The image was grainy.

Captured from a distance.

The woman wore simple clothes.

Nothing expensive.

Nothing memorable.

Yet Damian's attention fixed on her immediately.

Something stirred inside him.

Not memory.

Not recognition.

Instinct.

The same instinct that had built empires.

The same instinct that had kept him alive inside the Blackwood family.

"Who is she?"

Ethan shook his head.

"We don't know yet."

Damian continued staring at the photograph.

The woman's face wasn't entirely visible.

Yet somehow...

he couldn't look away.

"Find her."

The order came quietly.

Ethan hesitated.

"There are thousands of women in this city."

Damian's gaze never left the image.

"Then start searching."

His voice lowered.

"Because she's the reason Vivian erased those recordings."

The room fell silent.

Outside the glass walls of Blackwood Tower, millions of lives moved forward unaware.

But somewhere in the city...

Elena Morgan was unknowingly becoming the center of a storm.

A storm powerful enough to shake the Blackwood family itself.

And Damian Blackwood had just begun hunting for the truth.

***

The days following the funeral passed in silence.

Not peaceful silence.

The kind that slowly consumed a person from the inside.

Elena barely left the storage room she called a bedroom.

The tiny space felt emptier than ever.

Her mother's urn sat on the small table beside her bed.

The only thing she had left.

Sometimes she would wake up forgetting.

For one brief second she would think her mother was still in the hospital.

Still alive.

Still waiting for her.

Then reality would crash back down.

And the grief would begin all over again.

The money from Vivian was gone.

Every cent had gone toward hospital bills, medication, and the funeral.

Now there was nothing left.

No savings.

No job.

No future.

And a house full of people who wanted her gone.

One morning, Elena emerged from her room to find Victoria seated in the dining room drinking coffee.

The older woman watched her approach.

Slowly.

Carefully.

Like a hunter studying wounded prey.

"You've been sleeping all day again."

Elena ignored her and reached for a glass of water.

Victoria clicked her tongue.

"Grief doesn't pay bills."

Still no response.

Victoria smiled.

"Neither does hiding in that storage room."

Elena's hand tightened around the glass.

"What do you want?"

The question seemed to amuse Victoria.

"At least you're speaking now."

She set down her cup.

"What I want is simple."

Her expression hardened.

"You are twenty years old."

"You eat here."

"You live here."

"You contribute nothing."

Elena looked at her.

Coldly.

"My mother just died."

"And mine died when I was fifteen."

Victoria replied without sympathy.

"The world didn't stop for me."

The room fell silent.

A few moments later, Richard entered.

He immediately sensed the tension.

Unfortunately, as always, he chose the safest option.

Silence.

Victoria turned toward him.

"Tell her."

Richard hesitated.

"Tell her what?"

"That she needs to start earning her keep."

Elena laughed bitterly.

A humorless sound.

Her father looked away.

Again.

Victoria folded her arms.

"If you cannot find work, perhaps we should find you a husband."

Elena froze.

Victoria continued casually.

"As far as I'm concerned, marriage would solve everyone's problems."

"One less mouth to feed."

"One less burden."

The words struck harder than any slap.

Chloe, sitting nearby, snorted with laughter.

"Who would marry her?"

Victoria shrugged.

"There are plenty of men."

"Old men."

"Rich men."

"Desperate men."

"As long as they can provide."

Elena felt something cold settle inside her.

Not sadness.

Not pain.

Something else.

Something sharper.

Something dangerous.

For weeks she had allowed herself to grieve.

Allowed herself to cry.

Allowed herself to break.

But standing there, listening to Victoria discuss her future as though she were livestock being sold at auction...

Something began changing.

Slowly.

Quietly.

The same way ice forms over deep water.

Victoria noticed the change immediately.

The tears were gone.

The hurt was gone.

Elena simply looked at her.

Calm.

Expressionless.

And somehow...

That frightened Victoria more than anger ever could.

Because broken people could be controlled.

But people who had nothing left to lose?

Those were the ones who became dangerous.