"You will stop seeing him," Reginald said to Elena.
The words were quiet and completely level. Not a question. Not a request dressed as a statement. Simply a statement.
Elena's lips parted slightly.
"Your mother is lying in that bed," Reginald continued, his voice never rising, never hardening beyond its natural weight. "Arthur is dead. And the man your mother has identified is the same man I asked you — two nights ago, in our own home — to walk away from." He looked at her steadily. "I understand that you care for him. I am not asking you to stop feeling what you feel. But this is finished, Elena. You will not see Lucas Blackwood again."
He let that settle for exactly one moment.
"And as for what happens next." His eyes shifted. "That is no longer your concern. That is mine."
The implication of it settled over Elena like something heavy and cold.
Reginald Ashford's revenge.
