(The 1st person POV wasnt working out. Too many things were going unwritten.)
The front door banged open so hard that it rattled the hinges, a squeal of protest echoing down the narrow hallway of their little duplex.
"Ma! I'm off!" Sera called, breathless with the sort of excitement that made her cheeks ache from smiling.
From inside came her mother's predictable reply,
"Sera, for God's sake—take it easy before you knock the whole building down!"
Sera rolled her eyes. You say that every time I breathe too loud, Ma.
It was early morning in Crestwood—a town where everyone knew everyone and the gossip flowed faster than the river that split the valley. The sunlight wasn't the usual pale, sleepy kind either; it was gold and alive, like it had been waiting just for her.
Maybe it had. Because today wasn't just another chore or errand. Today was freedom.
Her heart thudded in her chest. For the first time in nineteen years, her mother had let her go out alone.
Of course, "freedom" was a bus ride across town—but for Sera, it was a taste of everything she'd been missing.
She had spent her whole life watching from behind curtains—other girls laughing, flirting, sneaking out of windows while she was locked behind one. Her mother's rules were carved in stone: no visitors, no parties, no phones. And absolutely no men.
She was the girl next door who never went next door. The ghost in the window.
"Remember to keep your head down," her mother's voice cut through her thoughts. Sera turned, startled. Her mother stood behind her, wrapped in a faded robe, hair still pinned from sleep.
"Don't talk to strangers. And when you get to the Blackwood Estate, ask for Benedict. He's the one to handle the payment."
The Blackwood Estate. Even the name carried weight. The people in town spoke of the Blackwoods in whispers.
Her mother's gaze hardened, as if reading her thoughts.
"Do not go inside," she said firmly. "Collect the money, and come straight home. I'll ask Lina to meet you at the bus stop."
Lina. Her one and only friend—the only person her mother tolerated near her.
"Now go," her mother urged.
"See ya, Mum!"
"I love you!" her mother called after her.
"Love you too!" Sera shouted back, refusing to turn around. If she saw that worried face again, she might lose her nerve. Her mother's eyes had a way of tightening the leash even when her words didn't.
Her mother's accident last week—a slip on the back steps that landed her leg on a rusty nail—had changed everything.
Freedom, as it turned out, had a sound. The squeal of bus brakes. The chatter of commuters. The distant hum of the town waking up.
*****
Across town, in a mansion with too many rooms and too little warmth, Eric Blackwood was having what could only be described as a deeply suspicious morning.
He stared at his half eaten breakfast.
"Mum?" he asked, swaying slightly on his feet. "Did you… did you drug me?"
His mother rose with a small, elegant harrumph. She reached for him, fingers cool and deliberate, resting on his forearms to steady him.
"Eric," she said softly. "You know I would never do anything to hurt you. But this—this has to end."
He tried to focus on her face, but the edges of his vision pulsed with light. The drug—or whatever she had slipped him—was working through his blood. Heat licked up under his skin, pooling low in his stomach. His throat went dry. His body reacted without permission, an ache swelling against the fabric of his trousers.
He cursed under his breath, mortified by the betrayal of his own flesh.
"You put it in the blood sausage, didn't you?" he blurted. He loved those damned sausages and she had ruined them for him forever.
"Sweetie," she said, "you need an heir." She guided him back into his chair as if he were a boy again. Her grip was firm but oddly tender, coaching him through the motion. "This family's legacy can't die with you."
He stared at her, jaw tightening. "And I told you, you're not getting one. At least not from me."
She sighed. "Hence," she said pointedly, "the drugging." Her fingers tightened briefly on his sleeve before she released him. "I have secured a young lady from the Duvall family. Strong bloodline. She is…suitable. She'll be here soon. And you will sleep with her."
A maid swept past them, head bowed, a tray balanced gracefully in her hands. Eric's gaze snagged on her as if drawn by gravity. The simple black-and-white uniform clung to her figure, emphasizing the elegant line of her hips.
He had seen her a hundred times, probably didn't even know her name—but now, she was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.
His mind filled with images he didn't ask for, didn't want—the soft curve of her body beneath him, the heat of her skin, the sound she might make if he touched her just right. His pulse hammered.
What the hell did my mother give me?
Beside him, Claudia groaned, pressing a hand to her temple. "Let's get you inside before you actually start humping the maids, Eric." She looped her arm through his.
He stumbled after her, trying to breathe past the fever. "I'm not doing it, Mum," he hissed.
Her grip tightened. "You will," she said. "I've hidden every condom in your room. You cannot be the last of our line, Eric. Do you hear me?"
"I'd rather jump off the bloody roof!" The drug burned through him. He could smell the warmth of the servants as they passed. The world was too sharp, too loud, too intimate.
"Eric Maxwell Blackwood!" she thundered. "Don't you dare scare your mother like that."
By the time they reached his bedroom, his legs were barely cooperating. He braced himself against the doorframe, his breath coming hard. "Mum, please," he said. "You killed Father because you couldn't stand what he had become. You know I'm the same. You want me to bring a child like that into this world?"