The Power Play

The Blackwell family lunch was more of a battleground than a meal, with power shifting with each cold glare and carefully selected word. As usual, Evelyn Drake sat alone at the far end of the table. The enormous chandelier above appeared to squeeze the air into something hard and abrasive, and her back hurt from sitting so rigidly.

Camilla Sterling was swishing champagne in a crystal flute while leaning back in her chair across from her. She muttered something to Vivienne Hastings, her emerald eyes glimmering with vile laughter. The matriarch's eyes flicked towards Evelyn with the nonchalant contempt of a cat observing a mouse in a corner, and her lips twisted in response.

Even though the food tasted like ash, Evelyn made herself raise her fork.

Camilla got up and walked around the table, her heels clicking gently on the marble. "Oh, Evelyn," she paused behind her and cooed. "Will you please hand me my purse? I must have left it next to your seat.

Evelyn looked down and scowled. Beside her seat was a sleek black handbag. It had escaped her notice.

Camilla let out a sharp gasp as her fingers touched the leather strap.

"Wait!" Stepping forward, Camilla's voice was shrill and falsely alarming. "Where's my bracelet with diamonds? This is where it was. Her eyes grew wide as she pretended to be innocent for the viewers. "Security!"

As if they had been waiting, two uniformed soldiers strode into the dining room.

They said, "Mrs. Blackwell," one of them. "Please stand."

Evelyn sprang up, her heart racing, and the room appeared to tilt. The guard dug into her handbag. As he produced a diamond bracelet that Evelyn had never seen before, her blood turned to freeze with cold dread.

The room emitted a collective gasp. Under the façade of fake horror, Camilla's eyes glinted as she placed a palm over her mouth.

Evelyn looked quickly at Isaac. Stone-faced and holding his glass tighter, he sat at the head of the table. However, he remained silent.

The bracelet hung like a noose from the guard's gloved fingers.

The accusations whirled around Evelyn, drying up her throat. Under the glare of the chandelier, the bracelet glistened, creating broken rainbows on the marble floor.

She answered, "I didn’t take it," in a shaky voice. "I swear, I’ve never even seen it before."

Camilla tilted her head and crossed her arms. Naturally, you haven't. It's a bad thing. After all, you've already married the entire fortune, so why steal it?"

The room was filled with low, sarcastic, and very stinging laughter.

Evelyn looked across at Isaac. As she looked into his eyes, her breath seized in her chest. "Isac... you know I wouldn't do this."

He remained still. Cold steel replaced the storm-gray depths of his eyes that had once softened when they gazed upon her. With purposeful accuracy, he set his glass down and leaned back.

He remarked, "Let security handle it,"

She felt the words cut through her like shards of glass.

"Isac, please, "

"You signed the contract," he broke off in a cold voice. "You understood what it meant to be married into this family. Included were consequences.

Silence devoured her protests, and piece by piece her heart fell apart. Vivienne observed the conversation with a faint sense of satisfaction. Camilla grinned.

The guard moved forward. "Ma’am, come with us."

As they brought her out of the room, her legs shook under her. The burden of criticism followed her like a garment of oppression. She didn't turn around.

Because she was aware that if she did, all she would see would be Isaac, a stranger with her husband's name, sitting there, immobile and cold.

Evelyn walked across the room to the window and pressed the cool glass on her forehead.

Below, New York stretched indefinitely. Headlights flickered across the streets, blind to the woman confined above. Her mirror gazed back at her, her lips pulled into a tiny line, her eyes empty and colourless.

She could still hear the accusations. Camilla's crocodile tears, the gasps, the diamond jewellery, and most importantly, Isaac's silence.

She balled her fists.

"Don't cry," she told herself in a whisper. "Don't give them that satisfaction."

Her eyes fell once more on the metropolis. She recalled what her father had said just before he passed away: "Evelyn, survival isn't about strength. It has to do with perseverance.

She straightened and let out a trembling breath.

"I will not let them break me," she'd sworn.

The shadows behind her seemed to nod in agreement.

Beyond those walls, however, Vivienne Hastings was sitting in her study, already preparing her next move while swirling her wine. Isaac Blackwell stood by himself in his private office, his fingers whitened from holding on to the window sill.

Because every instinct told him to stand when Evelyn had pleaded for his assistance. to keep her safe.

However, he hadn't. And immediately, the shame was rotting away.

Evelyn Drake tensed at the sound of footfall on the soft carpet as the door creaked open. The jasmine aroma wafted through the air, a subtle yet effective alert to the predator's approach. She turned when Vivienne Hastings entered the room, her heart pounding. The matriarch of Blackwell was dressed in a charcoal-gray gown that fit her shape effortlessly and elegantly. At her throat, a single diamond pendant gleamed, resembling the collar of a fear-based queen.

Evelyn's dishevelled clothing and the unfinished plate of food by the window caught Vivienne's attention as she glanced around the room. A glimmer of contempt made her lips stiffen.

"This can end, you know," Vivienne stated in a steely, silky voice. She crossed one leg over the other and sat down in the velvet chair across from Evelyn. "All it takes is one signature."

Evelyn balled her fists at her sides. "Signature?"

From her purse, Vivienne pulled a clean envelope, which she then slipped over the glass coffee table. Bold letters were used to print the word annulment.

"Walk away," said Vivienne. "I'll make sure you depart with honour if you sign this and stop being involved in Isaac's life. I'll even include a cheque large enough to permanently remove those debt collectors from your life.

The envelope caught Evelyn's attention. Like a sharp razor, the recollection of her father's bent shoulders as creditors beat on their door tore through her. safety. Calm. liberation from this horror.

"You just need to acknowledge that you were never meant for this world," Vivienne whispered gently as she leaned forward. Return to your little existence and give the power to others who know how to use it.

Her ribs were pounded by Evelyn's heart. She blinked away the unshed tears that burned in her eyes. She slowly raised her eyes to Vivienne's.

"You want me gone so badly?" Her tone was unpolished. "Why? Worried that I might live?"

After a brief moment of hesitation, Vivienne's smile reappeared, colder than before.

"Don't flatter yourself," she said in a sharp tone. "You're an inconvenience, nothing more."

Evelyn ran her fingers along the edge of the envelope and grabbed for it. Vivienne's eyes were bright with victory. Evelyn's hand shuddered, but she tore the paper in half.

Vivienne stopped smiling.

When Evelyn said, "I'd rather die than give you the satisfaction," her voice was trembling.

The fragments fell to the ground like shattered wings.

Vivienne smoothed her clothing and rose with feline grace. She responded, "Suit yourself," and turned to face the door. She stopped when she got to it. But keep in mind, my love... I never lose.

Broad-shouldered and well-groomed, Isaac Blackwell occupied the doorway with his characteristic air of authoritative detachment. The once-interesting storm-gray eyes now appeared colder than winter itself.

He opened the door and went inside. Unspoken charges splintered the silence.

Slowly, Evelyn stood up, smoothing her rumpled blouse. She forced herself to speak even though her throat constricted. "Did you come to apologise?"

He remained silent.

"Isaac," she attempted once more, her voice breaking under the strain of fatigue and treachery. "That jewellery was not stolen by me. I promise you that I am not a thief, even if I have no idea how it got there.

His gaze grew gloomy. Something passed across his face for a second, either remorse or doubt, or perhaps both. With a quick, impatient exhale, he ran a hand over his hair.

"I know," he finally said.

Her breath left her lungs when she made the admission. A wave of relief swept across her chest, followed by a creeping, icy confusion.

She said, "You know?" again. "You knew I was innocent?"

He clenched his jaw.

"Then why didn’t you defend me?" The final syllable caused her voice to break.

He turned his head away. "It's complicated."

"Complicated?" Evelyn's palms were bitten by her nails. "They made me feel ashamed. Your sister, your mother. You simply sat there, too."

The smell of strength and cedarwood clung to him as he took a step closer. She was afraid he might touch her for a painful moment. Rather, he leaned close enough for she could see the darkness under his eyes.

Softly, "You signed up for this," he said. "You knew what this was."

The weight of those words caused her heart to break. She muttered, "I didn't sign a death sentence; I signed a contract."

He made a small line with his lips. He turned and left without saying another word. She was once again sealed within as the door moaned shut behind him.

Evelyn's knees buckled as she stumbled back. Like a thick cloud, the silence of the apartment enveloped her.

He was aware.

Despite knowing she was innocent, he remained silent.

Her vision was obscured by tears, but she held them in place. Beneath the despair was a simmering, molten, piercing rage.

She approached the mirror and gazed at the white-faced, shattered woman who was staring back at her.

"No more," she said in a whisper.

"You want a fight, Vivienne?" she said, her breath fogging the glass. You possess one.

And Evelyn Drake smiled for the first time since entering Blackwell Manor, a gloomy, menacing smile. because the game suddenly made sense to her.

She had finished being kind.