The rain poured relentlessly, drenching the black umbrellas scattered across the cemetery. Evelyn Blackwood stood frozen beside the coffin, her hands clutching the hem of her mourning dress until her knuckles turned white.
Her husband was dead.
At twenty-four, she was a widow.
The whispers never stopped.
"Poor Evelyn."
"She was married for only a year…"
"She's beautiful. Someone will claim her soon enough."
Their pity burned worse than the rain. Every word reminded her that her life—her identity—was tied to a man who no longer breathed.
When the coffin was lowered into the earth, Evelyn's chest tightened. She wanted to scream, to break apart, but her upbringing as the daughter-in-law of a powerful family held her spine straight. A widow must be composed, elegant, unyielding.
As the mourners began to leave, Evelyn felt the air shift. A presence loomed behind her, heavy and uninvited.
"You wear grief well," a low voice whispered, husky and sharp as a blade.
Evelyn spun around. A man stood there, tall and broad-shouldered, with dark eyes that glinted like obsidian beneath the storm. His face was achingly handsome, yet carved with a coldness that froze her breath.
"I beg your pardon?" she said, her voice trembling.
The stranger stepped closer, unbothered by the rain soaking his black suit. His lips curved in a humorless smile. "Don't look so startled, Evelyn. You know me. Or at least… you should."
Her brow furrowed. "I don't—"
"Leonard." His gaze pierced her, and his name was delivered like a sentence. "Leonard Blackwood."
The name struck her harder than the rain. Her late husband's stepbrother. The illegitimate son who was cast out of the family years ago. The man everyone whispered about but never mentioned in polite company.
"You—" Evelyn's breath hitched. "Why are you here?"
"Because," he said smoothly, leaning close enough that his breath brushed her damp cheek, "your life doesn't end today. It begins."
Before she could step back, his hand caught her wrist, firm and possessive. Her heart lurched violently.
"You're mine now."
Her pulse thundered. She tried to yank her hand free, but his grip only tightened, searing heat through her soaked glove.
"You're insane," she hissed.
"Maybe," Leonard replied, his voice low, intimate. "But tell me, widow… when your precious family is drowning in debt, when their empire crumbles around them… who do you think will save them?"
Her lips parted, but no sound emerged.
He smiled darkly, the kind of smile that promised both salvation and ruin. "I'll give you the answer. I will. But only if you become my wife."
Lightning cracked across the sky, illuminating his face—sharp, merciless, almost predatory.
Evelyn's knees nearly buckled. The audacity. The cruelty. Yet beneath his command was an undeniable truth. The Blackwood family's wealth was collapsing. Her father-in-law's empire teetered on the brink. She knew it. Leonard knew it.
And now… he wanted her.
"This is madness," she whispered, trembling.
His thumb traced the edge of her jaw, slow and deliberate, as if testing her resistance. "No, Evelyn. This is fate. I'll save your family. I'll restore their empire. All you have to do…" His lips brushed dangerously close to her ear. "…is surrender yourself to me."
Her chest rose and fell rapidly, trapped between outrage and an unfamiliar heat that coiled low in her belly.
Leonard released her suddenly, as if giving her a cruel illusion of freedom. His eyes burned into hers, unreadable yet suffocating.
"Think carefully, widow," he murmured. "Because the next time we meet… you'll be wearing a bridal gown again. Only this time, it'll be mine you remove at night."
He turned, vanishing into the rain before she could speak, leaving Evelyn trembling in the storm, her heart pounding with fear—
and something else she dared not name.
---
The Blackwood mansion smelled of lilies and wine, the lingering perfume of mourners who had come not to grieve, but to measure what was left of the empire.
Evelyn stepped into the grand hall, her gown clinging damply to her skin from the storm. The chandeliers above glowed, but the house felt cold—hollow, like a carcass stripped bare.
Her mother-in-law, Genevieve Blackwood, sat stiffly on a velvet chaise. Her face, painted to perfection despite her husband's funeral, was pinched with bitterness. Across from her, Evelyn's brother-in-law whispered furiously with a lawyer, papers strewn across the marble table.
Everyone fell silent when Evelyn entered, their gazes sharp, weighing her like she was currency.
"Ah, the widow finally returns," Genevieve said, her tone dripping with venom. "I hope you didn't embarrass the family at the cemetery."
Evelyn bit the inside of her cheek, keeping her composure. She bowed her head. "Of course not, Mother Blackwood."
The older woman's eyes narrowed. "Don't call me that. You're no longer a daughter of this house. You were nothing without my son. And now, with him gone…" She gestured toward the lawyer. "You are even less."
The lawyer cleared his throat, adjusting his glasses nervously. "Madam Blackwood… I must be frank. The debts your late son accumulated are… severe. The company has already defaulted on several accounts. If new capital doesn't come in—"
"Spare us the lecture!" Genevieve snapped. "Find the money. That's your job."
Evelyn's stomach twisted. She had known of her husband's reckless spending, but the scale of destruction was far worse than she imagined. She opened her mouth to speak, to suggest something—anything—
when the doors slammed open.
Every head turned.
Leonard Blackwood strode inside like he owned the place. His presence devoured the room, sucking the air from Evelyn's lungs. Dressed in a perfectly tailored black suit, droplets of rain still clinging to his dark hair, he looked every inch the predator who had whispered ruin at her husband's grave.
Genevieve's face paled, then flushed scarlet. "You dare show yourself here?"
Leonard's lips curved, not in kindness but in mockery. "Why not, Mother? Surely a son should pay respects to his family."
"You are not my son!" she hissed, her voice trembling. "You were a mistake. A shame we buried long ago."
Leonard chuckled, low and dangerous. His gaze slid past her, landing squarely on Evelyn. The way he looked at her—possessive, deliberate—made her heart stutter.
"Perhaps," he said softly, "but I'm the only one standing here with the power to save you."
The lawyer stood awkwardly, clearing his throat. "Mr. Leonard, if you are implying—"
"I'm not implying." Leonard's voice cut through the air like steel. "I'm stating. Your empire is ashes. Your accounts are drained. Without me, the Blackwood name will rot in the dirt with my dear brother."
Genevieve trembled with rage. "You think we'd accept your charity?"
"Not charity." Leonard's gaze locked on Evelyn, his eyes burning into her soul. "A transaction."
Evelyn's breath caught. She knew what he meant before he spoke the words.
"I will erase your debts. I will rebuild this empire. All I ask…" He stepped forward, his hand extending toward her, elegant yet commanding. "…is Evelyn."
The room froze. The lawyer's pen clattered to the table. Genevieve's jaw dropped in horror.
Evelyn's pulse thundered in her ears. "You can't mean—"
"Oh, I mean every word." Leonard's voice lowered, intimate despite the audience. "Marry me, Evelyn. Become mine, not as a widow clinging to pity, but as my wife. In return, your family will rise again. Refuse…" His eyes gleamed with cruel satisfaction. "…and watch everything burn."
Her knees weakened. The audacity. The cruelty. The inevitability.
Genevieve spat, "Over my dead body! Evelyn will never belong to you!"
But Leonard ignored her, his focus locked solely on Evelyn.
"Choose, Evelyn," he whispered, his tone both promise and threat. "Grief, ruin, and disgrace… or me."
The silence was deafening. Evelyn's heart pounded so hard it hurt. In her mind echoed the memory of his touch at the cemetery, the heat of his grip, the dangerous hunger in his eyes.
She should scream. Refuse. Slap him across the face.
Instead, her lips trembled, and for one terrifying moment, she realized she was not trembling only from fear.
---