Chapter 4: The Blackwood Code
The safe house wasn’t a mansion; it was an isolated stone cabin nestled deep in the pine forests of the county ridge, smelling of damp cedar and woodsmoke. There was no electricity running through modern grid lines here—only a generator buzzing faintly in the cellar and a heavy iron woodstove radiating dry heat into the single large living space.
Victor sat at a scarred wooden table in the center of the room, a laptop open before him. The black suit jacket was gone, replaced by a dark wool vest over a white shirt with sleeves rolled up to his forearms. His leather gloves lay beside the keyboard, dark and worn at the knuckles.
I stood near the door, holding Ethan against my chest. The toddler had finally stopped crying, fascinated by the flickering shadows cast by the oil lamp on the wall.
“Why?” I asked, my voice cracking slightly. The word felt too small for the magnitude of what was happening. “Why help us, Victor? If Serena finds out you brought us here—”
“Serena is currently entertaining the board of directors, assuring them that family matters are under control,” Victor interrupted without looking up from the screen. His fingers clicked rhythmically against the keys. “She cares about three things: the Blackwood Foundation’s public IPO next month, her position on the philanthropic council, and maintaining the illusion that our household is a modern fairytale.”
He stopped typing and finally looked up. His dark eyes were dead serious, carrying an exhaustion that matched my own. “Ethan isn’t just a child to her, Lily. He’s the legal key to the trust fund left by my grandfather—a trust Serena tried to restructure three months ago without my signature. When I found out, she threatened to ruin me publicly. But when she threatened your life in the foyer that night... she crossed a line I didn't expect her to cross.”
May you like
“You’re just as ruthless as she is,” I said, though my voice lacked its earlier bite.
“Maybe,” Victor replied quietly, standing up and walking toward the fireplace. “Or maybe I’m the only one willing to break the glass.”
