Chapter 26
The absolute peace of the Blackwell estate was an elegant, meticulously curated illusion maintained by constant, invisible vigilance. A year after the gala, the syndicate operated with a flawless, legitimate efficiency. The bright, cinematic sunlight poured through the towering windows of Lucy’s private office, illuminating the pristine white marble floors. She sat behind a heavy mahogany desk, her fair, rosy skin glowing with health and profound authority. She was no longer the timid housemaid; she was the formidable chief of staff for the empire, currently reviewing the security logistics for Claire’s upcoming philanthropic foundation charity dinner.
The heavy oak doors clicked open, and Ethan stepped into the room. He remained as movie-star handsome as ever, his broad, powerful shoulders filling out a tailored dark charcoal suit. His thick, slightly wavy hair was swept back, and his cold, perceptive eyes softened instantly as they locked onto his trusted advisor.
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"The perimeter is secure, Lucy," Ethan murmured, his deep, low voice vibrating in the quiet room. "However, Marcus has flagged an anomaly in the western logistics grid. A ghost from my past."
Ethan looked up, his expressive brows drawing together. He walked slowly toward her, his tattooed hands resting on the edge of her desk. "My estranged cousin, Victor," Ethan stated, his voice a freezing void. "He has returned from exile. Do you believe a man who was banished under pain of death returns simply to offer his regards?" Ethan inquired softly. Lucy’s jaw tightened, the fierce, protective instinct igniting in her chest. The shadows were creeping back into their light.
