One Night With My Fiancé Ruthless Uncle

Chapter Nine: Don't Insult Me

The text came in while Jennifer was going through the second folder of financial documents Carter had left on the kitchen counter that morning, a stack of numbers and projections she was slowly teaching herself to read fluently.

Her phone buzzed against the marble countertop, and she almost ignored it, assuming it was Gerald again, some new variation on the same tired apology he'd been sending in waves since he'd shown up uninvited at the penthouse. But the name on the screen stopped her cold.

Sylvia.

Jennifer stared at it for a long moment before she made herself open the message.

I know I don't deserve to hear from you again. But I miss you, Jen. Can we talk?

Something cold and sharp settled in Jennifer's chest, entirely different from the raw, bleeding hurt she'd felt walking in on Gerald and Sylvia together. This was quieter. More calculated. The kind of anger that didn't need to shout to be felt.

She read the message three more times, searching for whatever sincerity Sylvia clearly wanted her to find in it. She found none. Just the same practiced, performative vulnerability Sylvia had always been good at, the kind that had fooled Jennifer for the better part of a decade.

"Bad news?"

Jennifer looked up to find Carter leaning against the doorway of the kitchen, still in yesterday's shirt, sleeves rolled to his elbows, a mug of coffee in one hand. He had an unsettling habit of appearing silently in rooms, like he'd been standing there the entire time and she'd simply failed to notice.

"Sylvia texted me," Jennifer said, setting the phone face down on the counter like that might somehow undo it.

Carter's expression sharpened slightly, interest flickering behind his usual composure. "What did she want?"

"To talk. Apparently she misses me." Jennifer's laugh came out short and humorless. "After weeks of radio silence, she suddenly misses me."

"And you don't believe her."

"Of course I don't believe her." Jennifer crossed her arms, irritation flaring at the mere suggestion that she might. "She helped destroy my engagement, disappeared the moment the scandal became inconvenient for her, and now, out of nowhere, she wants to reconnect? Don't insult me by asking if I think that's genuine."

Something that might have been approval flickered across Carter's face, there and gone too quickly to be certain. "Good," he said simply, taking a slow sip of his coffee. "I was worried you might be more forgiving than you should be."

"I'm not an i***t, Carter." Jennifer's voice sharpened. "I know exactly what people like Sylvia are capable of. I lived it."

"I know you're not an i***t," he said, his tone quieter now, almost careful. "But grief makes people do strange things. Desperate people forgive faster than they should, simply because being angry all the time is exhausting."

Jennifer studied him for a moment, caught off guard by the unexpected gentleness beneath the observation. "Is that experience talking?"

Something flickered behind his eyes, guarded and quick, the same look she'd seen the night he'd mentioned the family not knowing the full truth of what happened ten years ago. "Something like that," he said, deflecting without quite lying.

She let it go, filing the reaction away for later, another small thread in the growing tangle of things Carter Blackwood clearly wasn't ready to explain.

"So what do I do?" she asked instead. "Ignore it? Block her?"

"That depends," Carter said, setting his mug down on the counter, "on what you actually want out of this."

"I want her to disappear."

"Do you?" He tilted his head, studying her with that same unreadable expression he wore so often, the one that made her feel like he could see straight through whatever composure she was attempting to project. "Or do you want to know why, after weeks of silence, she's suddenly decided now is the perfect moment to come crawling back?"

Jennifer paused, the question landing somewhere she hadn't expected. She hadn't considered timing. She'd been too consumed by the sting of seeing Sylvia's name again to think past the immediate wave of anger.

"You think this is connected to you," she said slowly. "To the deal. To all of this."

"I think," Carter said, voice dropping into something more serious, "that Margaret Kane doesn't do anything without a reason, and I think it's a remarkable coincidence that your former best friend reaches out precisely when the family is scrambling to understand what I'm building against them."

Jennifer's stomach turned, the pieces sliding into place with an unpleasant clarity. "You think Margaret sent her."

"I think it's worth finding out," Carter said. "Rather than assuming."

"So what, I'm supposed to just, what, play along? Pretend I believe her apology while she reports everything back to Margaret?"

"If that's what's happening," Carter said, something sharp and strategic entering his voice now, "then yes. That's exactly what you're supposed to do." He watched her carefully, gauging her reaction. "Sylvia thinks she's the one manipulating you, Jennifer. Let her keep thinking that. There's no better way to learn exactly what Margaret is planning than to let her own weapon walk straight through your front door."

Jennifer stared at him, something uncomfortable twisting in her chest at the coldness of the strategy, even as some colder, more practical part of her recognized the sense in it. "You want me to use her."

"I want you to protect yourself," Carter corrected. "Using her is simply the most efficient way to do that."

Jennifer picked her phone back up, staring at Sylvia's message again, weighing every angle Carter had just laid out in front of her. A week ago, she would have deleted the message without a second thought, would have blocked the number and told herself that was the end of it. But a week ago, she also hadn't understood yet just how deep the rot in this family actually ran, how many hidden agendas were quietly circling each other beneath every polite conversation and carefully worded text.

"Fine," she said finally, thumbs hovering over the screen. "I'll talk to her."

"Careful," Carter said, something almost like warning in his tone now. "Sylvia's better at this than you might think. Don't underestimate how convincing she can be, even when you already know she's lying."

"I know exactly how convincing she can be," Jennifer said quietly, memory flashing briefly to years of friendship she'd trusted completely, right up until the night it all came apart in the worst possible way. "That's precisely why I won't make the same mistake twice."

She typed her response carefully, each word chosen with more precision than the message probably deserved.

I'm surprised to hear from you. Coffee Thursday?

She hit send before she could second-guess herself, then set the phone down, meeting Carter's gaze across the kitchen counter.

"Well," she said. "Let's see what she's really after."

The reply came back almost instantly, faster than Jennifer expected, like Sylvia had been sitting there the entire time, phone in hand, waiting.

Thursday's perfect. I've missed you so much, Jen. There's actually something else I need to tell you too. Something about Gerald's mother. I think you deserve to know the truth before it's too late.

Jennifer's stomach dropped straight through the floor.

She looked up slowly, holding the phone out toward Carter, watching his expression shift the moment he read the words for himself, all trace of easy composure vanishing from his face in an instant.

"She knows," Jennifer whispered. "She already knows something. About Margaret."

Carter's jaw tightened, something dark and unreadable moving behind his eyes.

"Then Thursday," he said quietly, "just became a great deal more important than either of us realized."