Unwanted Wife: Dancing With The Blackwell Devil

The heavy oak doors of the parlor slammed shut, muffling the sound of the idling engines outside.

The silence lasted exactly one second.

Grand Dame Graves spun around, her hand raising.

Brooke didn't flinch. She simply tilted her head. The slap missed her cheek by an inch, the wind of it stirring her hair. The old woman stumbled, her momentum carrying her into the arm of the sofa.

"You ungrateful wretch!" Mistress Yun shrieked. "This is your fault! You drove Brittny away with your... your bad luck!"

"My bad luck?" Brooke walked to the window, peering through the curtains at Elliot Blackwell's back. "I wasn't the one who bet the family fortune on a political campaign for a man with a gambling debt."

Lord Graves paled. "How do you know about that?"

"I know everything," Brooke said calmly. "I know the company is leveraged to the hilt. I know you borrowed against the estate to pay for this wedding. And I know that if that man outside leaves without a bride, the creditors will be here by noon."

"Then you know what you have to do," the Grand Dame hissed, straightening her gown. "Put on the dress. Save your family."

Brooke turned. She leaned against the windowsill, crossing her arms.

"No."

The word hung in the air.

"Excuse me?" Mistress Yun blinked.

"I said no. I won't marry him." Brooke checked her nails. "Unless..."

"Unless what?" Lord Graves asked, desperate.

"Unless you sign over my mother's trust. The full amount. The trust you've been illegally siphoning for a decade. With interest."

"That's extortion!" Mistress Yun screamed. "That so-called 'abandonment clause' is a legal fiction you created to trap that money! It won't hold up in court!"

"It doesn't have to," Brooke said. "By the time your lawyers untangle the fraudulent documents you forged, the Blackwells will have already picked your bones clean. You have eight minutes."

Outside, an engine revved. A deep, guttural roar that vibrated the windowpane against Brooke's back.

The Grand Dame looked at the window, terror warring with greed in her eyes. She looked at Brooke, really looked at her, and saw something she hadn't seen before.

She wasn't looking at a victim. She was looking at a mirror.

"Give it to her," the Grand Dame croaked.

"Mother!" Lord Graves protested.

"Do it! Or we lose everything!"

Lord Graves scrambled to the wall safe. He pulled out a tablet and a thick folder.

"The lawyer is on speed dial," Brooke said helpfully. "I already had him draft the transfer protocol. You just need to authorize it."

She pulled a folded document from her pocket. She had been carrying it for three days.

Mistress Yun stared at the paper. "You... you planned this."

"I prepared for it," Brooke corrected. She tossed the paper onto the coffee table. "Sign."

Lord Graves's hands shook as he pressed his thumb to the biometric scanner on the tablet. The lawyer on the speakerphone droned through the legalese.

Transfer initiating...

Transfer complete.

Brooke's phone buzzed in her pocket. A single, short vibration.

Freedom.

"And one more thing," Brooke said, picking up the signed document.

"What now?" Mistress Yun wept. "We gave you the money!"

"Brittny's apartment in the city. The penthouse. I want the deed."

"That's my daughter's home!"

"She won't need it," Brooke said coldly. "She's going to be living on the run. Consider it a storage fee for my silence."

The Grand Dame waved a dismissive hand. "Give it to her. Just get her out of my sight."

Brooke smiled. It didn't reach her eyes.

"Pleasure doing business with you."

She walked toward the door.

"Where are you going?" Lord Graves asked.

"To get changed," Brooke said. "I can't marry a monster wearing black."