Morning arrived at the Blackwood estate without warmth.
Sunlight spilled through the tall windows, glinting off marble floors and polished surfaces, illuminating a house that looked alive but felt anything but. The staff moved quietly, trained to blend into the walls, their footsteps muffled, their eyes lowered. Sound was tolerated. Attention was not.
Adrian woke before his alarm, the echoes of the previous night still clinging to him. His father's voice. Isabella's defiance. The slap.
He sat on the edge of his bed, staring at his hands. They were steady. Always steady. The hands of a man who signed billion-dollar deals without hesitation, who smiled for cameras and shook hands with men who feared him.
Yet last night, he had done nothing.
The thought burned.
He dressed mechanically, choosing a charcoal suit, fastening cufflinks engraved with the Blackwood crest. Legacy pressed into metal. He caught his reflection in the mirror and barely recognized the man staring back, sharp features, controlled expression, eyes dulled by restraint.
Downstairs, breakfast waited untouched in the long dining hall. Eleanor sat at the head of the table, composed as ever, reading the financial section of the paper. She glanced up briefly as Adrian entered.
"You're early," she said.
"I couldn't sleep."
She nodded, as though that explained everything. "Neither could your sister."
Adrian paused. "Is she"
"She's in her room," Eleanor replied smoothly. "And she will remain there until she remembers herself."
Adrian took his seat. "Father shouldn't have"
Eleanor folded the paper neatly. "Your father did what he believed was necessary."
"That doesn't make it right."
Eleanor's gaze sharpened. "Right and wrong are luxuries, Adrian. Power survives on necessity."
He clenched his jaw. "She was trying to protect us."
"From what?" Eleanor asked. "The world does not forgive weakness. It devours it."
Adrian pushed his plate away, appetite gone. "And what happens when the world finds out anyway?"
Eleanor stood. "Then we make sure it hears our version first."
She left him there, alone with the sound of his own thoughts.
Later that morning, Adrian drove into the city, the estate gates closing behind him with a finality that felt symbolic. The Blackwood Tower rose ahead of him, glass and steel piercing the skyline, a modern fortress built on old secrets.
Inside, the air buzzed with controlled urgency. Assistants moved briskly, executives murmured behind glass walls. Adrian walked through it all like a ghost wearing authority.
In the boardroom, Victor was already waiting.
"You look tired," Victor said, pouring himself coffee.
"Long night."
Victor smirked. "Family gatherings tend to do that."
Adrian took his seat. "What do you want?"
Victor leaned back. "Straight to business. I admire that." He paused. "Your father is accelerating the transition."
Adrian's eyes narrowed. "I know."
"Do you?" Victor asked. "Because he's not just handing you the reins. He's consolidating."
"Meaning?"
"Meaning anyone who doesn't fall in line gets cut loose," Victor said calmly. "Board members. Partners. Even family."
Adrian thought of Isabella. "Is this about her?"
Victor shrugged. "She's… unpredictable."
"She's honest."
Victor laughed softly. "Honesty is overrated in our world."
Adrian stood. "Stay away from her."
Victor's smile faded. "Careful. You're not in charge yet."
"Then consider this advice," Adrian replied coldly. "When I am, I won't forget who pushed too hard."
Victor studied him for a moment, then nodded. "You're learning."
Adrian left before he could say something he couldn't take back.
By afternoon, rumors had begun to circulate. A delayed audit. A postponed press release. Minor things, but enough to signal unrest beneath the polished surface. Adrian worked through meetings with ruthless efficiency, yet his thoughts kept drifting back to the estate.
To Isabella.
He returned just before dusk.
The house felt heavier than before, shadows stretching long across the halls. He went straight to Isabella's room, ignoring the sharp look from a passing housekeeper.
He knocked once.
No answer.
He opened the door.
Isabella sat by the window, knees drawn to her chest, staring out at the gardens. She didn't turn when he entered.
"I told them not to let you see me," she said quietly.
"I didn't ask permission."
She glanced at him then, her cheek faintly bruised. Guilt slammed into him.
"I should've stopped him," Adrian said.
"Yes," she replied simply. "You should have."
He swallowed. "I was afraid."
She smiled sadly. "So was I. I still am."
He sat across from her. "What did you find?"
Isabella hesitated, then stood and reached beneath the window seat, pulling out a thin folder. "Copies," she said. "I'm not stupid."
Adrian opened it, his heart pounding as he scanned the pages. Offshore accounts. Shell companies. Names tied to "accidents," forced takeovers, quiet disappearances. Everything carefully masked behind legality and influence.
"This goes back decades," he murmured.
"Longer," Isabella said. "Before we were born."
Adrian looked up. "If this gets out"
"It won't," she interrupted. "Not unless someone helps me."
He met her gaze. "You want me to betray him."
"I want you to save us," she said. "There's a difference."
Adrian closed the folder slowly. "You don't understand what this will cost."
Isabella stepped closer. "I understand exactly what it costs to stay silent."
Their eyes locked, years of shared history passing between them. Childhoods shaped by expectations. Love rationed like currency. Fear taught as discipline.
Footsteps echoed in the hall.
Leonard's voice cut through the door. "Isabella."
Adrian stood instinctively, placing himself between her and the door.
Leonard entered, his gaze flicking from Adrian to the folder in his hands. "You continue to disappoint."
"She's not a threat," Adrian said.
Leonard laughed softly. "Everyone is a threat when they forget their place."
Isabella lifted her chin. "You taught us to be strong."
"Yes," Leonard replied. "Not reckless."
Adrian spoke carefully. "Father, the world is changing. The old methods"
"Built everything you stand on," Leonard snapped. "Do not lecture me."
Silence fell.
Leonard straightened his jacket. "This conversation is over. Adrian, you have an early meeting tomorrow. Isabella, you will remain here."
He turned to leave, then paused. "Blood binds us. Silence protects us. Remember that."
When he was gone, the room felt smaller.
"He's afraid," Isabella whispered.
Adrian exhaled. "So am I."
She touched his arm. "Fear doesn't have to decide everything."
He looked at her, really looked at her, and saw not recklessness, but courage.
"I don't know how to fix this," he admitted.
Isabella smiled faintly. "Neither do I. But we can't pretend it isn't broken."
That night, Adrian lay awake again, the folder hidden beneath his mattress like a loaded weapon. Outside, the estate slept peacefully, unaware of the fracture running through its foundation.
Somewhere deep within the Blackwood empire, the silence was beginning to crack.
And once marble fractures, it never returns to perfection.