Chapter 97
Sienna's pov
The scariest part was that the people closest to me were the ones I could no longer trust, even the ones I’d once relied on without question.
Harrison’s voice was low and final. “Stay away from Julian.”
The car rolled into the garden parking area. Harrison took my hand and helped me out, then lifted me into his arms again.
This time, I didn’t fight. I let my cheek rest against his chest, listening to his breathing.
Struggling was pointless. As long as Harrison wasn’t hurting me, staying quiet at his side was, for now, the safest choice.
But I wasn’t going to let it end there.
Julian…
After I left the Price Villa, Agnes—my grandmother—and I were under his care. He arranged meals to be delivered every day, claiming he was afraid I’d exhaust myself and that it would help me look after her.
Back then, I was barely holding myself together. I didn’t have the energy to question every kindness, so I accepted his help.
Had there been abortion drugs in that food?
There was no way to prove it now.
The Price family, the Vane family, and Jess… maybe they’d all had a hand in it.
And I’d been kept in the dark, foolish enough to thank them.
In the end, Harrison was the only one who, for all his cruelty, hadn’t tried to destroy me.
How bitterly ironic.
After a trip through hell, I was back at Blackwood Estate.
Harrison carried me upstairs, heading straight for the room we used to share.
“Put me down,” I said. “I can go to my own room.”
He didn’t slow. “That was always our room.”
“But you’re the one who kicked me out,” I snapped. “I don’t want to share a bed with you.”
I’d regained some strength, but it meant nothing against him. In the end, he brought me inside anyway, though he didn’t throw me onto the bed like he used to.
“From now on, you stay here,” he said, setting me down. “You don’t need to go back to your old room.”
Then he turned toward the door.
“If you really can’t stand it, you can go back,” he added without looking at me. “But don’t even think about divorce.”
The door shut softly.
I looked around, unsettled. I’d slept in this room for five years, and too many memories in it were sharp-edged.
“Mrs. Blackwood, I’m coming in.”
Martha stepped in with a stack of clothes, smiling. “Mr. Blackwood asked me to buy these for you. They’ve already been washed. If you need anything else, just tell me.”
I flipped through them. Underwear. Of course.
“I want to shower,” I said. “Bring me toiletries.”
After she placed them in the bathroom, I gathered the clothes and paused. “Did he go out again?”
“Yes. Mr. Blackwood has been very busy lately,” she said. “There seems to be trouble at headquarters. And I heard Mr. Zach Blackwood returned to the country a few days ago. His flight should land tonight.”
Zach meant nothing to me.
“Mrs. Blackwood, take your shower first,” Martha urged. “I’ll explain more later.”
Under the hot water, my thoughts wouldn’t settle. More trouble at the Blackwood Group—was that Julian’s doing? I didn’t know what he’d been doing these past few days, but I wasn’t going to reach out to him yet.
If Julian was one of the people who’d harmed my child…
I got dressed, the fabric soft against skin that still felt too sensitive.
Martha returned with a cup of medicine. The smell alone turned my stomach.
“This is for me?” I asked, covering my nose.
“It is,” she said. “Mr. Blackwood had someone send it over. You haven’t rested properly since the miscarriage, and your body is still weak. He insisted you take it on time.”
“Is he coming back tonight?” I asked, forcing my voice steady. “And who is Zach?”
“It’s complicated,” Martha said. “There’s a branch of the Blackwood family that stayed in Europe years ago. By lineage, the current head of the European Blackwood Group is Mr. Damon Blackwood. He’s the same generation as Mr. Blackwood, but a few years younger than Ms. Chloe.”
I stared. “Doesn’t Europe fall under headquarters?”
“Not fully, not yet,” Martha said. “But Mr. Damon and Mr. Blackwood are close. It’s only a matter of time before Europe returns under headquarters.”
Then she pushed the cup toward me again. “Drink it before it gets cold.”
After she left, I leaned back against the headboard. Drowsiness came fast—maybe exhaustion, maybe the medicine. I meant to ask about Agnes, but my thoughts blurred, and I fell asleep with the light still on.
I didn’t know how long I’d been out when I felt the mattress dip. Half-awake, I opened my eyes and saw Harrison beside me.
“Did I wake you?” he asked quietly.
I made a small sound and turned over. Without thinking, I drifted closer to the warmth behind me. I didn’t understand it; I only knew his presence made the room feel less dangerous.
His body went still.
Before I slipped under again, I felt his hand settle against my back, then his arm slide around my waist, holding me there.
When I woke, morning light spilled across the floor. The space beside me was cold and empty.
So he had come back last night.
I sat up and checked the time. Ten in the morning—work hours.
Outside, the sun looked almost kind. Maybe I could go see Agnes. The thought lifted me, fragile and brief.
My phone buzzed with a new message—an image.
I tapped it open.
The world tilted. A scream ripped out of me, and I flung the phone away as if it had burned my hand.
Martha burst in. “Mrs. Blackwood! Are you okay?”
I couldn’t answer.
Because the woman in that photo—completely naked—was me.