The night was still young, but Eleanor knew that in the Blackthorne world, danger never slept.
She stood by the grand balcony, overlooking the sprawling gardens where high-profile guests laughed and sipped on expensive wine. The estate was alive with murmured conversations, elegant deception woven into every smile, every lingering glance. Every person here had power, influence, or secrets—and in many cases, all three.
Eleanor had been in the Blackthorne mansion for only a short time, but she had already learned one important rule—trust no one.
"You shouldn't wander alone, darling."
The familiar deep voice sent a shiver down her spine. She turned to find Sebastian Blackthorne, leaning lazily against the marble railing, a glass of whiskey in one hand, his other tucked into the pocket of his tailored black suit. His dark eyes twinkled with mischief, but Eleanor had learned to see beyond the charm.
"I'm not wandering," Eleanor replied smoothly, meeting his gaze. "Just observing."
Sebastian smirked, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. "And what have you observed?"
"That this house is filled with snakes," she said, her voice even. "And I need to learn how to dance with them."
Sebastian's lips curled in amusement. "Smart girl. But tell me, are you ready for the real game?"
Before Eleanor could respond, the sound of footsteps echoed behind them. She turned to see a butler, impeccably dressed in a crisp black uniform, standing a few feet away. His posture was rigid, his expression unreadable.
"Madam," he said with a small bow, extending a silver tray toward her. "You have a private invitation."
Eleanor frowned and took the black envelope, its edges adorned with gold filigree. It was sealed with a golden crest—an unfamiliar emblem that sent a strange chill down her spine. Slowly, she peeled it open and unfolded the crisp, high-quality paper. The handwriting was elegant, precise.
"A special gathering awaits. Midnight. The Red Chamber."
Sebastian, who had casually glanced over her shoulder, let out a low whistle. His smirk faded, replaced by something far more serious.
"Well, well," he murmured. "Looks like someone wants to play with fire."
Eleanor glanced up at him, her heart pounding. "What is the Red Chamber?"
Sebastian's dark eyes met hers, his playful demeanor shifting into something unreadable. "A place where only the elite are invited," he said, his voice lower now. "Deals are made, secrets are bought, and loyalties are tested."
She narrowed her eyes. "And why would someone invite me there?"
Sebastian took a slow sip of his whiskey before answering. "That, darling, is the real question."
---
Midnight – The Red Chamber
Eleanor moved through the dimly lit corridors of the Blackthorne estate, her heels clicking softly against the marble floor. The mansion was eerily quiet, the grand halls emptied after the gala.
The directions on the invitation led her to a part of the estate she had never seen before. She passed intricate paintings, gold-trimmed walls, and ancient artifacts before stopping in front of a set of heavy crimson doors. Two guards in dark suits stood on either side, their expressions impassive.
Without a word, one of them stepped forward, extending a hand. Eleanor hesitated before handing over the invitation. The guard inspected it, then nodded and pushed open the doors.
A wave of smoky incense and whispered conversations hit her as she stepped inside.
The Red Chamber was unlike anything she had ever seen. It was an exclusive, secretive lounge filled with high-ranking figures, politicians, and underworld elites. The air was thick with power, the kind that could destroy lives with a single decision.
At the center of the room stood Alexander Blackthorne.
Dressed in a sharp black suit, his icy blue eyes scanned the room with practiced indifference. He exuded power, his very presence commanding the attention of everyone around him.
Eleanor's breath hitched. Had he invited her here?
If he was surprised to see her, he didn't show it. Instead, he lifted his whiskey glass slightly in acknowledgment before turning back to his conversation with a group of men she didn't recognize.
Eleanor squared her shoulders and stepped further into the room. If Alexander thought she would be intimidated, he was wrong.
A waiter appeared beside her, offering a glass of dark red wine. She accepted it, carefully studying the crowd. Wealth dripped from every person here, but so did danger.
"You look a little lost."
A smooth, unfamiliar voice made her turn. A man in his mid-thirties stood before her, his dark hair slicked back, his suit perfectly tailored. His sharp green eyes held an unsettling curiosity.
"I don't believe we've met," he continued, extending a hand. "Lucian Vale."
Eleanor hesitated for only a second before shaking his hand. "Eleanor Blackthorne."
Lucian's smile widened. "Ah, yes. The new bride. You've certainly caused quite the stir."
She raised an eyebrow. "Have I?"
"Oh, absolutely." He stepped closer, lowering his voice. "Marrying into the Blackthorne family? That alone puts a target on your back. But your real danger lies in what you don't know."
Eleanor kept her expression neutral, but inside, her mind raced. Was this a warning? A threat? Or something else entirely?
Before she could respond, a strong hand gripped her wrist.
Alexander.
He had appeared out of nowhere, his grip firm but not painful. His blue eyes locked onto Lucian's with quiet intensity.
"Lucian," Alexander said, his voice cold. "I don't recall inviting you to speak with my wife."
Lucian chuckled, raising his hands in mock surrender. "Relax, Alexander. I was simply welcoming her to the real Blackthorne world."
Alexander didn't reply, but the warning in his gaze was clear.
Lucian smirked and stepped back. "It was a pleasure, Eleanor. I'm sure we'll meet again."
As he disappeared into the crowd, Eleanor turned to Alexander. "What the hell was that about?"
Alexander's grip on her wrist tightened for a fraction of a second before he released her. "Stay away from him."
Eleanor crossed her arms. "Why? Because you said so?"
Alexander leaned in slightly, his voice dangerously low. "Because he doesn't play games, Eleanor. And neither should you."
She met his gaze, unflinching. "Then maybe it's time I start."
Alexander's jaw tensed, but before he could respond, a gunshot echoed through the room.
Chaos erupted.
Eleanor's heart pounded as guests screamed, guards rushed in, and Alexander pushed her behind him.
Sebastian appeared from the shadows, his usual smirk replaced by sharp focus. "Well," he muttered. "Looks like the night just got interesting."
Eleanor didn't know who had fired the shot or why.
But one thing was clear—she was in deeper than she had ever imagined.
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Next Chapter: The Web of Lies