Part 3: The Reckoning
Back at the Blackwood mansion, the atmosphere was thick with impending doom. Marcus, Victor’s most loyal enforcer and head of security, stood on the grand marble staircase watching two maids toss expensive silk dresses, fur coats, and diamond-encrusted vanity cases over the second-floor banister.
Thud. Crash. Clatter.
Luxury items rained down into the foyer, piling into a humiliating heap of velvet and gold near the front door.
Serena’s silver Mercedes pulled up the circular driveway twenty minutes later with a screech of tires. She stepped out, dressed to the nines, expecting to find Victor waiting with an apology for leaving her stranded at the hospital. Instead, she pushed open the front doors and gasped.
“What is the meaning of this?!” Serena shrieked, her voice echoing off the vaulted ceilings. She rushed forward, swatting a Louis Vuitton suitcase away from her path. “Marcus! Have you lost your mind? Call Victor immediately!”
Marcus didn’t even blink. He stood immovable like a monolith in a tailored charcoal suit.
“Mr. Blackwood has rescinded your invitation to the estate, Ms. Montague,” Marcus said flatly. “Your belongings have been packed. You have five minutes to load them into your car before we have them hauled to the municipal dump.”
“You can’t do this!” Serena’s face contorted, her polished facade cracking instantly, revealing the hysterical, vicious woman beneath. “I am going to be his wife! I am the mistress of this house! Victor! VICTOR!”
“He isn’t here,” a cool voice echoed from the top of the stairs.
Serena whipped her head up. Victor stood on the landing, looking down at her like she was a stain on a rug. He wasn't yelling. He wasn't throwing things. He was entirely, terrifyingly calm.
“Victor, darling, please,” Serena whimpered, immediately switching tactics, letting her voice tremble as fake tears welled in her eyes. “It was that wretched nanny! She poisoned your mind! She dropped Ethan and tried to frame me because she’s obsessed with you—!”
“Save your breath, Serena,” Victor interrupted, descending the stairs slowly, his boots clicking against the marble. “The medical report from Dr. Wells is on my desk. The X-rays show a pattern of repeated abuse. The blood toxicology report confirms sedatives administered over a period of three months. My son was being poisoned in his own nursery.”
Serena froze. All the color drained from her face, leaving her looking hollow.
“I... I don’t know what you’re talking about...” she stammered, backing away until her spine hit the heavy oak front door.
“You thought because I was busy running an empire, I wouldn't notice the details,” Victor whispered, stopping just inches from her. The sheer intimidation radiating from him made her shrink. “You thought you could break my flesh and blood. You made a fatal miscalculation, Serena.”
“My father will destroy you for this!” she screamed, dropping the act entirely as desperation took over. “The Montague shipping lines fund half your operations! Without us, you lose the port contracts!”
Victor let out a cold, humorless chuckle.
“Let me enlighten you, Serena. Your father’s shipping lines have been under federal investigation for money laundering for six months. I was the one feeding the evidence to the FBI. I kept him afloat only because I was tolerating you. As of five minutes ago, I pulled my protection. By morning, your family is going to be bankrupt and in handcuffs.”
Serena stared at him, her eyes wide with absolute terror. She realized then that she hadn't just lost a wealthy fiancé; she had declared war on a ghost who had decided to show her hell.
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“Get out,” Victor said softly.
Marcus grabbed her by the arm with unyielding strength and hauled her out the front doors, tossing her onto the pile of designer luggage before slamming the heavy oak doors shut.
