Chapter 176

Willow's POV

Silence filled the car as Sam navigated through evening traffic. Damian sat beside me in the backseat, his attention focused on his phone. We had just left the hospital after checking on Beckeet one last time for the day, and the emotional weight of everything hung heavy between us.

I stared out the window at the passing city lights, my hand unconsciously resting on my still-flat stomach. Inside me, a life was growing—Damian's child. Our child. The reality of it still felt surreal.

Damian's phone buzzed, breaking the silence.

"Grandmother," he said after checking the screen, then answered. "Yes?" A pause. "We're on our way back now." Another pause, his expression shifting slightly. "I see. We'll be there shortly."

He ended the call and turned to me. "Grandmother has arranged a special dinner at the estate. She insists we join her immediately."

"Tonight?" I asked, suddenly feeling exhausted. "I was hoping to just go straight to bed when we got back."

"She was quite adamant," he replied, his tone suggesting this wasn't negotiable. "Robert has prepared her favorite roast. Apparently, she has something important to discuss."

I sighed, too tired to argue. "Fine. But I'm not exactly dressed for a formal Blackwood dinner." I gestured to my simple jeans and the borrowed hospital gift shop sweatshirt I'd changed into after my original clothes had been ruined during the warehouse chaos.

"You look perfect," Damian said, his eyes softening as they met mine. "Besides, it's just family tonight."

Family. The word hung between us, loaded with implications neither of us was ready to address.

---

Blackwood Estate came into view as we rounded the final curve of the private drive—massive, elegant, imposing. Even after living here for weeks, I still felt a flutter of disbelief each time I returned. The pristine gardens surrounded the sprawling mansion, subtly lit by carefully positioned landscape lighting.

The contrast between this palatial residence and my former modest apartment in Angelino Courts couldn't have been starker. This was Damian's world—a world I was still adjusting to, and now one I was connected to through the tiny life growing inside me.

Robert greeted us at the entrance, as perfectly composed as ever despite the late hour.

"Good evening, Mr. Blackwood, Ms. Clark," he said with a respectful nod. "Mrs. Ava awaits you in the dining room. May I take your bag?"

I handed him my small purse, noticing how his eyes lingered briefly on me with what seemed like satisfaction. Did he know about the pregnancy? Was I imagining the knowing look in his eyes?

"Thank you, Robert," Damian said, placing his hand lightly on the small of my back as we entered.

Despite having lived in the estate for some time now, I still wasn't fully accustomed to the grandeur—the soaring ceilings, the museum-quality artwork, the generations of wealth and power that seeped from every surface. My suite of rooms on the east wing felt like my own little sanctuary, but the rest of the mansion still sometimes felt like I was walking through a museum after hours.

"You okay?" Damian asked quietly as we approached the dining room.

"Just tired," I replied, forcing a small smile. "It's been a long day."

"We won't stay long," he promised, his hand warm against my back.

If only I'd known what was waiting for us behind those dining room doors.

---

Ava Blackwood sat at the head of the massive table, looking remarkably vigorous for a woman who had recently suffered heart episodes. Her silver hair was perfectly styled, her posture impeccable as she sipped from a crystal water glass.

"There you are," she said warmly as we entered. "I was beginning to think you'd gotten lost in your own home."

"Good evening, Grandmother," Damian said, bending to kiss her cheek.

"Willow, dear, you look exhausted," she observed, gesturing for me to sit beside her. "How is the Wildfire business today?"

"It's going well," I said carefully, settling into the chair. Damian and I had decided not to tell Ava about the warehouse incident or Beckeet's shooting—her heart condition made us cautious about sharing stressful news.

"I'm glad to hear it. It seems that my investment choice was correct" she said approvingly. "You have good business instincts."

"Thank you," I replied, genuinely touched by her praise.

Servers appeared with the first course—a delicate mushroom soup that smelled divine. I suddenly realized how hungry I was and began eating with perhaps less refinement than the setting called for.

"The soup is exceptional," Damian commented, clearly trying to keep the conversation light.

"Yes, Chef Marcel outdid himself tonight," Ava agreed. "I told him we had cause for celebration."

I paused, my spoon halfway to my mouth. "Celebration?"

Ava smiled, her eyes twinkling with a satisfaction that immediately set me on edge. "Indeed. Which brings me to the reason I insisted you both join me tonight."

The main course arrived—perfectly roasted beef with seasonal vegetables arranged like an artwork. I set down my spoon, my appetite suddenly deserting me as Ava's expression grew more self-satisfied.

"I've taken the liberty of making some arrangements," she continued, her tone casual as if discussing the weather. "For October. The gardens will be at their peak then—not too hot, not too cold. Perfect for an outdoor ceremony."

Damian set down his fork. "Grandmother, what are you talking about?"

"The wedding, of course," she replied, looking genuinely surprised at his confusion. "Your wedding to Willow."

The room seemed to tilt slightly. I gripped the edge of the table, struggling to process her words.

"You've... arranged our wedding?" I managed, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Someone had to take initiative," Ava said matter-of-factly. "With the baby coming, there's no time to waste on unnecessary delays."

I felt the blood drain from my face. "You know about—"

"The pregnancy? Of course, dear. I have excellent contacts at Angeles Heights Medical. Besides, a woman my age recognizes the signs." She smiled, apparently oblivious to my mounting horror. "I've already spoken with your parents—Thomas and Maria. Lovely people, very sensible. They're delighted, of course."

My chest tightened, memories of Richard forcing me to terminate my previous pregnancy flooding back. Different circumstances, different intentions, but the same awful feeling of having my choices stripped away.

"Grandmother," Damian's voice cut through the fog in my brain, his tone glacial. "You had no right to make these arrangements without consulting us."

"Nonsense," Ava dismissed his objection with a wave. "I'm simply handling the practicalities. The Blackwood heir must be born within wedlock—that's non-negotiable."

"That decision isn't yours to make," Damian countered, his jaw tightening.

"The child is a Blackwood," Ava insisted. "Certain traditions must be maintained."

I found my voice at last. "And what if I haven't decided to keep the baby?"