The doors of the Blackwood mansion had barely closed when Emily turned. Her movement was sharp, controlled, and direct. Her expression wasn't angry. It was cold, steady and decisive.
Henderson, the butler, stepped aside quietly. He knew better than to interrupt whatever was about to happen.
Emily didn't spare him a glance. Her eyes were fixed on Timothy. who stood in the entryway with his hands in his pockets.
"You should know better than to believe anything that comes from Stephanie's mouth," she said. Her voice held no room for debate.
Timothy met her eyes. His gaze was unreadable as ever. She expected a cutting remark or some cold demand.
Instead, something faint shifted in his expression, a brief softening that vanished as fast as it came.
"Okay," he said. His tone was calm, almost bored, as if the entire matter was beneath his attention. "I won't."
Emily blinked. She had prepared arguments and explanations. His easy acceptance threw her off balance. The old her might have felt relief, but the woman she was now understood that his response carried more weight than he let on.
She continued anyway. She needed clarity. She needed to draw lines.
"When I was younger," she said carefully, "I did have a foolish crush on Benjamin. I can't change that. But I'm not that person anymore. I am your wife now, Timothy. And I will clear every rumor about me until there's nothing left to question."
Timothy straightened his cuff. "You don't need to clear anything for me, Emily." He started up the stairs, his footsteps silent. "Your reputation is yours. Fix it if you want. But the only opinion that matters in this house" he paused at the first step and looked back, his gaze suddenly sharp "is mine. And I already know what is mine."
Then he walked away, leaving her in the quiet foyer.
"He already knows what is His"
What does that mean?
The words settled over her like a claim she hadn't agreed to. Timothy wasn't just wealthy. He was the kind of man people didn't challenge. Standing in his home, bound to him by name and law, she felt the ground shift beneath her.
But she pushed the thought aside. She had other battles to fight. Some people needed to be buried before she could focus on the man upstairs.
----------------------------------
Stephanie Smith slammed her bedroom door so hard a crack appeared near the hinge. She barely cared.
She tossed her designer bag across the room. It hit the mirror before falling to the floor with a dull thud.
Her cheeks were still red, not from embarrassment—but from rage.
Being dragged out like trash. By a butler. A servant.
In front of people.
It was the kind of humiliation she hadn't felt since she was a child, and the sting cut deeper than she expected.
"The nerve!" Stephanie shouted as she stormed across her room. "The absolute nerve! I only wanted to embarrass her a little so she'd know her place! And that stone-faced robot didn't even blink!"
Grace Smith sat at the vanity, filing her nails with her usual practiced calm. Her reflection in the mirror didn't show a woman surprised by her daughter's outburst only a woman tired of hearing it.
"Lower your voice," Grace said dryly. "The maids don't need to hear your screaming."
"A tantrum?" Stephanie spun around. "You think this is a tantrum? Emily had me thrown out of the Blackwood mansion like some stray dog! Call Father. Tell him to go there and demand she come home. She needs to learn her place!"
Grace set her nail file down and finally looked at her daughter.
Her expression wasn't cold just defeated.
"Stephanie," she said slowly, "your father can't do anything."
Stephanie froze. "…What?"
"Your father has spent months trying to get Blackwood Corporation to approve his company's construction proposal," Grace explained. "He's been hoping for their investment, their signature, their support."
"And so?" Stephanie snapped.
"So," Grace continued, "if he confronts Timothy about Emily even accidentally, we lose everything."
Stephanie stared, mouth slightly open.
"What are you talking about? Why would he defend her? She's nothing. She has no power."
"Emily doesn't," Grace agreed. "But her husband does. And Timothy Blackwood is not someone your father can challenge. Not socially. Not financially."
Stephanie's throat tightened. "So you're saying she gets away with it?"
"I'm saying," Grace corrected, "that Emily is married into power. You are not. And if you value the life we currently have, you will stop provoking her."
The words landed like a slap.
Stephanie felt her chest rise and fall rapidly. Her hands trembled not with fear, but with the kind of frustration that borders on madness.
"It's not fair," she whispered hoarsely. "You didn't see the house, Mother. You didn't see how they treated her. They served her tea on a silver tray. They had staff lined up like she was royalty. And the way he looked at her…"
Stephanie swallowed hard.
"He looked at her like she was someone important."
Grace's fingers paused mid-air.
Stephanie continued, voice dropping into something dark and bitter.
"That girl grew up eating leftovers and wearing hand-me-downs. She used to flinch when I looked at her. I left bruises on her wrist once, and Father didn't even blink. She was nothing."
Her eyes hardened.
"And now? She gets that mansion? That husband? That life?"
Stephanie sat on the edge of her bed, fingers curling slowly into fists.
"I should have married him," she said quietly. "I should have been the one with that ring. That name. That house."
Grace watched her daughter in silence.
"I took Benjamin from her," Stephanie murmured, voice barely above a whisper. "She cried for days and still did nothing. It was easy. Effortless."
Her breathing steadied as her anger moved from wild to focused.
"If I took her first love without even trying… I can take her husband."
Grace stood a little straighter. "Stephanie"
"I mean it," Stephanie said, interrupting sharply. "I will take Timothy Blackwood from her. And when I do…"
Her lips curled.
"…she'll lose everything she just gained."
Grace exhaled slowly.
The sound held no comfort only resignation.
She knew her daughter.
She knew that tone.
She knew the damage it could cause.
But she also knew this:
Timothy Blackwood wasn't Benjamin.
And Emily Smith wasn't the helpless girl she used to be.
But she couldn't tell her daughter what she woreies about.
Let's see how it goes.
"Men are all the same"
"Who knows , maybe she'll succeed"