Chapter 85
Sienna's pov
Getting summoned to Blackwood Villa alone was never a good sign.
My argument with Catherine at the hospital still wasn’t resolved, and I had no idea how Harrison had framed it to her afterward. Two days after I was discharged, she was already asking to see me again, and the timing made the reason feel obvious. Elena and Adrian lived at Blackwood Villa; if Catherine had been hearing anything about me, it wouldn’t have been balanced.
“Did she give a reason?” I closed my eyes and drew a slow breath. “And she asked for just me?”
“Mrs. Blackwood only said she wanted to see you alone.”
I gave a short, bitter laugh. “Tell her I’m not feeling well. I don’t want to add to her troubles.”
Blackwood Villa was the place where Nora Everly had taken her own life. I could still picture the sterile brightness of that day, the way every corridor seemed to amplify whispers. As long as Elena hadn’t paid the price, I wasn’t stepping into that house. And yet Catherine hadn’t called me herself—she’d sent Martha to deliver the message, as if distance could soften whatever she intended to say.
Before I could decide how to refuse again, a voice came from the doorway. “Mrs. Sienna Price, Mrs. Catherine Blackwood is already downstairs.”
I sat up abruptly, anger rising faster than I expected. “She’s already here, and she still wanted me to go to Blackwood Villa?” It felt like another small reminder of who was allowed to set terms in my life, and who wasn’t.
There was no point hiding now. I went downstairs.
Catherine sat alone in the living room, hands folded as if she were in her own home, not mine. Her posture was flawless, her expression cool enough to make the air feel thinner. Elena wasn’t with her, which surprised me—though maybe Catherine had come precisely because she didn’t want witnesses.
I stopped a few steps away and, after a beat, said, “Mom.”
Catherine’s gaze sharpened. “At least you still recognize your place. You haven’t rushed to marry into the Vane family.”
“If I wanted someone else, I’d divorce first,” I said, keeping my voice even. “I wouldn’t cheat.”
Her smile didn’t reach her eyes. “Julian protects you and helps you so much. Who would believe there’s nothing between you two?”
“It’s his choice to protect me,” I replied, calm on the surface, tightly controlled underneath. “That doesn’t mean I have to feel anything for him.”
Catherine stared at me, as if weighing whether I deserved patience. “Sienna, I thought you were someone who valued relationships. But now you seem cold and heartless.”
“Does it matter?” I lifted one shoulder. “Why are you here today? Just say it.”
She straightened, chin slightly raised, every inch the Blackwood matriarch even while sitting on my couch. “It’s simple. I want you to drop the lawsuit and live peacefully with Harrison. The status and money you want—the Blackwood family can give you all of it.”
The offer was so blunt it almost sounded rehearsed. I laughed, not because it was funny, but because it was too familiar: money as balm, money as leash. “Mrs. Blackwood, I call you ‘Mom’ out of respect. That doesn’t mean I have to listen to you. And whatever your family can offer, I can earn myself.”
“Ungrateful.” Catherine’s temper finally broke through her polish. She slammed her palm on the table and stood, the motion sharp enough to rattle the teacup. “Do you really think you’re special? If Arthur hadn’t favored you, Harrison would have divorced you long ago.”
Arthur’s name stopped me. My throat tightened, not from fear, but from the complicated weight of obligation. “Did Grandpa send you?”
“Who else?” Catherine sneered. “I know you wouldn’t step foot in Blackwood Villa if I asked, so I came in person. Isn’t that enough respect for you?”
Her voice turned cutting. “Your scandal with Julian is all over New Haven. If it weren’t for Arthur, the Blackwoods wouldn’t tolerate you.”
I kept my hands still, because any tremor would have satisfied her. “What happened with Julian isn’t my fault. Blame Harrison for cheating first, and blame Elena for interfering in our marriage. Don’t punish the victim.”
Catherine’s eyes flashed, but I didn’t stop. If she wanted obedience, she’d come to the wrong woman. “If you want me to stay in the Blackwood family, I have one condition.”
I watched her face tighten as if she already knew what was coming. “Send Elena to jail,” I said, each word clean and deliberate, “and I won’t raise Adrian.”
For a second, Catherine looked as if she might strike me. Her mouth opened, then closed, her composure shaking with fury. “You…” She drew a breath, and her voice dropped into something colder than anger. “Fine, Sienna. We’ll see about that.”
She left with a violent slam of the door. The sound rang through the room long after her footsteps were gone. I rubbed my forehead, forcing myself to breathe through the aftershock, until the silence stopped feeling like a threat.
Martha approached with a cup of hot water, her expression pinched with worry. “Mrs. Blackwood… do you really have to divorce Mr. Blackwood?”
“Yes.” I didn’t hesitate, because hesitation was how people talked you out of your own life. “From the moment he brought Elena and her son into our home, I made my decision.”
Martha’s eyes lowered, as if she were searching the floor for the right words. “There’s no man who doesn’t cheat, Mrs. Blackwood. Take a step back, and you’ll see the bigger picture. You’re his rightful wife. Let it go… I can tell he cares about you.”
I looked at her, and the gratitude I felt was real, even if I couldn’t accept her conclusion. “Martha, you’ve seen how I’ve lived these past few years. From now on, I want to live for myself. Please don’t try to persuade me.”
Being Mrs. Blackwood—wealth, status, the name—was a fantasy for a lot of women. But fantasies didn’t keep you warm at night. Money was reliable; love, in my experience, was negotiable and easily replaced. I had been proud once, and then I’d spent five years proving I could be patient, forgiving, accommodating. In the end, I’d only learned how to disappear inside someone else’s family.
That evening, when Harrison came home, I brought it up the moment I heard him.
His expression tightened immediately. “Arthur’s health isn’t good. Don’t upset him.”
“His health?” I asked, caught off guard. “Since when?”
Harrison’s mouth twisted into something close to a sneer. “Arthur’s throat has been bad since Nora Everly passed away. It’s been getting worse.” His eyes moved over me with a faint, mocking disbelief. “You still care about Grandpa? That’s surprising.”
I felt the sting, because it wasn’t entirely unfair. I’d kept my distance from the Blackwoods for so long that any concern sounded performative. Still, Arthur had been the one constant kindness in that house, however complicated his motives might have been.
“Mom said Grandpa doesn’t want us to divorce,” I said quietly. “I don’t want to hurt him. I’d rather he hear it from us than from rumors.”
Harrison’s frown deepened, but not in the way I expected. “Our matters are none of her business,” he said, clipped and final. “Don’t get too close to her.”
He turned and went upstairs without offering more, leaving the warning behind like a door closing in my face. He didn’t explain, but it confirmed what I’d suspected: whatever Harrison and Catherine had between them wasn’t a normal bond, and it certainly wasn’t trust.
I stood there for a moment, then looked toward Martha. “How much do you know about the Blackwood family?”
If I remembered correctly, Catherine had a biological son—someone she never spoke of when I was in the room.