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A Second Chance With Mr. Blackwood Novel Cover

A Second Chance With Mr. Blackwood

In the roaring flames of the abandoned warehouse, my skin blistered and peeled. Through the crackling fire, my sister Elara's malicious voice echoed. She told me my husband, Damien, was dead, and it was all my fault. For years, I had treated Damien like a monster. I fought him, threw tantrums, and desperately tried to escape our marriage, all because I blindly followed Elara's advice. "Remember, the harder you fight, the more disgusted he'll get." She texted me things like that, telling me to smash vases over his head and run away, claiming she was protecting me. In reality, she was poisoning my mind, stealing my valedictorian spot at university, and plotting to crawl into my billionaire husband's bed. My foolish rebellion cost me everything, ultimately leading to Damien's tragic death and my own fiery end. As the massive explosion tore my consciousness to shreds, I finally understood who truly loved me and who the real monster was. I died suffocating on my own agonizing regret, wishing I could tear Elara apart. Then, a rush of freezing air punched into my lungs. I opened my eyes to the crisp scent of cedar and mint. I was back seven years ago, on the very night our marriage was supposed to go to hell. This time, looking at Damien's flawless, unscarred face, I didn't push him away. I wrapped my arms around his neck and made a silent vow: I would make every single person who ever hurt him bleed.
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Chapter 9

Giovanna and Fiona slipped out of the library and speed-walked across the campus. They reached the back entrance of the Centennial Auditorium just as the five-minute warning bell rang.

Inside the massive hall, thousands of freshmen and faculty members were taking their seats. The low hum of chatter filled the air.

Giovanna pushed open the heavy metal door to the backstage holding area.

The lighting was dim, smelling of hairspray and nervous sweat. In the center of the room, standing in front of a full-length mirror, was Elara.

Elara wore an obscenely expensive, custom white Chanel dress. Two makeup artists were frantically powdering her nose. She even had a small, ridiculous diamond tiara pinned into her hair.

Skylar stood next to her, holding a bottle of water and gushing about how perfect Elara looked.

Elara caught Giovanna's reflection in the mirror. Her perfectly painted lips twisted into a vicious sneer.

She turned around, placing a hand over her chest in mock surprise. "Gio? What are you doing back here? This area is for VIPs only."

Skylar snorted loudly. "She probably came to beg you to mention her in your speech. You know, to fix her trash reputation."

Giovanna didn't get angry. She leaned her shoulder against the doorframe, crossing her arms over her chest. She looked at Elara with the bored, detached expression of someone watching a bug crawl across the floor.

"I just came to watch the peacock strut before all its feathers get plucked," Giovanna drawled, her voice lazy and dripping with sarcasm.

Elara's smile stiffened. A vein throbbed in her forehead. "Jealousy is an ugly color on you, Gio. In five minutes, the whole school will know who the real pride of the Vang family is."

Before Giovanna could reply, the heavy curtains parted. Dean Cromwell, a balding man in a tight suit, sprinted into the backstage area. He was sweating profusely, clutching a freshly printed clipboard to his chest.

He didn't even glance at Elara in her million-dollar dress. His panicked eyes scanned the room.

"Fiona Daly!" Dean Cromwell shouted, his voice cracking. "Where is Fiona Daly?!"

Elara froze. Her brow furrowed in confusion. She stepped directly into the Dean's path, blocking him. "Dean Cromwell, you must be mistaken. I'm Elara Vang. I'm up next."

The Dean shoved his glasses up his nose. He looked down at the physical piece of paper clipped to his board. He scowled in annoyance.

"Miss Vang, the master system clearly lists Fiona Daly as the valedictory speaker. Now please step aside, the Chancellor is already at the podium!"

The words hit Elara like a physical blow to the stomach. All the blood rushed out of her face.

"No!" Elara shrieked, her voice pitching into a hysterical octave. "That's impossible! My father paid-I mean, my father arranged everything!"

The makeup artists and stagehands nearby stopped what they were doing. They stared at Elara, their eyes wide with shock and disgust at the accidental confession.

Elara slapped both hands over her mouth, realizing what she had just screamed. But the damage was done. The bribery was out in the open.

Giovanna nudged Fiona's shoulder. "Go. Take your stage."

Fiona swallowed her fear. She squared her shoulders and marched up to the Dean. "I'm Fiona Daly."

"Thank God," the Dean gasped, grabbing her arm and dragging her toward the stairs leading to the stage.

From the other side of the curtain, the Chancellor's booming voice echoed through the speakers. "Please welcome our freshman representative, entering with a near-perfect score... Fiona Daly!"

A deafening roar of applause shook the floorboards.

Elara stood paralyzed. She watched Fiona walk out into the blinding spotlight. Her hands shook so violently her diamond tiara rattled. Her fingernails dug into her palms until they bled.

She whipped her head around, fixing a look of pure, homicidal rage on Giovanna. "You did this! You hacked the system!"

Giovanna slowly pushed off the doorframe. She walked over to Elara, stopping inches from her face.

Giovanna leaned in, the cold, dead look returning to her eyes.

"This is just the appetizer, Elara," Giovanna whispered, her voice a deadly promise. "I am going to rip back everything you stole from me. Piece by piece."

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