The room was suffocating. The walls, once towering symbols of Blackwood wealth and power, now felt like they were closing in on me. The heavy curtains, drawn tight against the midday sun, only added to the sense of unease. The soft ticking of a grandfather clock was the only sound breaking the tense silence. I stood there, staring at Dante, trying to hold onto the last shred of composure I had left.
Damien was beside me, his hand steady on my arm, though his eyes were hard—like he, too, was fighting a storm inside. The revelation we had just uncovered was enough to rattle anyone, and even with all the proof, the darkness of the Blackwood legacy still lingered in the room like a ghost.
Dante, sitting across from us with that ever-present, condescending smile, was the architect of it all. He had been pulling the strings, manipulating the game, using his family's power to destroy others—and now, he was about to be exposed.
