I knew exactly what I was asking of him. I was asking him to defy the very people who were already sharpening their knives, waiting to strike. But I didn't care. I was ready for war.
Because if I didn't step up, Uncle Garry or someone just like him would seize the position. And I knew exactly what would happen next.
They would come for my mother.
They would destroy her.
They would make sure she never posed a threat to them.
But me?
They wouldn't dare touch me.
They had already taken my father. They thought I was too young, too naive to put the pieces together. But I did.
He had died suddenly. No illness. No warning. Just gone. And the world moved on like he had never existed.
Everyone except me.
And my grandfather.
And my mother.
I saw it in her eyes every day—the unspoken grief, the lingering fear.
She knew, just as I did, that his death wasn't natural. It was convenient.
And I had no doubt that the killer was still close.
I clenched my fists beneath the table, forcing myself to breathe.
My father had been set to inherit the company before he died. My grandfather, drowning in grief, had thrown himself into work instead of retiring. And now, when he was finally ready to hand over the reins, they wanted to strip my mother of what was rightfully hers.
All because they didn't consider her family.
To them, she was just the wife.
But to my grandfather, she was his daughter.
He exhaled slowly, rubbing his temples. "I'll think about this, Avery. By the weekend, you'll have my answer. You'll know when I call for a board meeting."
A victorious smile tugged at my lips. "Thank you for listening to me, Grandpa."
I stood, walking around his desk. He remained seated, but his eyes followed me, filled with something close to pride. I leaned down, pressing a kiss to each of his cheeks before turning and heading toward the door.
Let them all be ready.
Because I was coming for them.
One. By. One.
I walked into my mother's room, my chest tightening as I saw her asleep.
She looked fragile beneath the dim glow of the bedside lamp.
But I knew better.
She was strong. A survivor. But even the strongest needed protection.
I sank onto the bed beside her, watching the slow rise and fall of her chest. They had already taken my father. I wouldn't let them take her, too.
I wasn't in the country when my dad died. But now I was back.
And they would soon regret ever thinking I was weak.
I stood, pulling the covers up to her shoulders before stepping out of the room and quietly closing the door behind me.
"Agnes."
My voice was sharp as I stepped into the hallway.
My mother's maid, a middle-aged woman with a nervous disposition, came scurrying forward. "Yes, Miss Blackwood?"
I folded my arms, my gaze cold. "Why hasn't my mother been taking her medication?"
Her eyes darted around, panic creeping into her features. "I-I was..."
I raised a hand, cutting her off. "Save the excuses."
She swallowed hard. "I do not tolerate incompetence," my voice was like steel, each word deliberate. "If you can't do your job, tell me now. I'll find someone who can."
Her face paled. "No, ma'am! I-I'll make sure she takes them."
I took a step closer, watching her shrink beneath my gaze.
"This is the last warning you'll get," I said, voice dangerously soft. "If the doctor so much as hints that my mother has missed a dose again, it will be the last day you work here. Understand?"
She nodded quickly, head bowed. "Yes, ma'am."
"Good. Now get out of my sight."
She practically stumbled over her feet in her hurry to leave.
I exhaled, rolling my shoulders.
There was no room for error.
Not when my mother's life was at stake.
AUSTIN'S POV
"So, let me get this straight," Quinn said, tapping her manicured nails against the table. "The old man offered you a job as his daughter's assistant?"
I nodded, taking a slow sip of my coffee.
We were seated at a small café, our usual spot just a few blocks from the office. The scent of fresh pastries and espresso lingered in the air, but Quinn's expression was anything but relaxed.
"Wow," she said, shaking her head. "And you signed the new contract without questioning it?"
I bit into my burger, chewing thoughtfully before answering, "Yeah."
She narrowed her eyes. "The contract that says you can't quit no matter what?"
"Yep."
She exhaled sharply, giving me an exasperated look. "And that didn't set off any red flags for you?"
I smirked, stealing one of her fries. She swatted my hand away.
"Quinn, relax. Mrs. Blackwood isn't some fire-breathing dragon. She's always been polite. Easygoing." I shrugged. "I worked for her husband. If I could handle him, I can handle her."
Quinn didn't look convinced. "Something about this doesn't sit right with me."
I waved her off. "Come on, it's a job. Not a death sentence."
She huffed, crossing her arms. "You'd better hope so."
I didn't see any reason to worry. Mrs. Blackwood was about to be officially announced as the CEO on Monday, and from everything I knew, she was reasonable.
Everything would go smoothly. At least, that was what I thought.
But deep down, I couldn't shake the feeling that I had just signed up for something far more complicated than I realized.
And soon, I would find out exactly how right Quinn was to be suspicious.
AVERY'S POV
The driver parked my Bugatti in front of the company, the sleek black beast gleaming under the morning sun. Before the engine had fully silenced, the door was opened for me. I stepped out, my designer heels clicking against the pavement, the sound crisp, authoritative. The moment my feet touched the ground, a surge of power coursed through me.
It was time.
Time to bring them down.
All of them.
The air around me shifted as I approached the entrance of Blackwood Corporation. My presence alone was enough to command attention. The doormen straightened, the receptionist stilled, and the security guards averted their gazes. The world inside these walls was about to change, and they could feel it.
The sound of my heels echoed through the vast marble-floored lobby as I stepped inside. Conversations faltered. Heads turned. I felt the weight of their gazes, the hushed whispers that followed me like shadows. They didn't recognize me.
Not yet.
But they had heard of me.
Stories circulated in this company—some true, some exaggerated, all terrifying. They called me the ruthless granddaughter. The one who showed no mercy. The only people in this world worthy of my time, my attention, my smile were my mother and my grandfather. To the rest of the world? I was cold, calculated, untouchable.
And I lived up to that reputation flawlessly.
I moved with purpose, each step deliberate, each movement controlled. Power radiated from me in invisible waves, suffocating those too weak to stand in my presence. Employees scrambled out of my way, their eyes darting toward me, searching for some indication of what was to come.
And then, I saw her.
The moment my gaze landed on the woman, I froze.
The first thing I noticed was her hair. It looked like she had rolled out of bed and barely ran a comb through it before tying it back haphazardly. My lips curled in distaste as my eyes roamed downward.
Her clothes—if one could call them that—were an atrocity. Mismatched, ill-fitting, and utterly uninspired. Her pants were so tight it was a miracle she could breathe, while her blouse looked like it had been crumpled at the bottom of a laundry basket for weeks. And then, her shoes—the most offensive part of her entire existence. Scuffed, battered, and appearing as though she had trekked through a thunderstorm and never bothered to clean them.
How did this creature find her way into my company?
She was traumatizing to look at.
"You," I called out, my voice slicing through the hushed atmosphere.