My father's study smelled of old money and expensive tobacco, a scent that used to make me feel safe as a child but now just made me feel nauseous. Silas Blackwood sat behind his mahogany desk like a king on a crumbling throne, his eyes fixed on a digital ticker-tape running across a monitor.
"You wanted to see me, Father?" I stood in the center of the Persian rug, my arms crossed tightly over my chest.
"The Henderson deal," he said, not looking up. "Elias tells me you handled yourself with some... grit. A bit messy, but effective."
"Elias says a lot of things," I snapped. The heat from the office meeting was still simmering under my skin. "And that's exactly what I want to talk about. He's overstepping, Dad. Again."
Silas finally looked up. His eyes were milky with age but sharp as flints. "Overstepping? He is the CFO of this company, Seraphina. He is the reason our margins haven't collapsed in the wake of the European crisis."
"I'm not talking about the margins!" I paced the length of the room, my heels digging into the expensive wool. "I'm talking about how he operates. He's... he's invasive. He treats Julian and me like chess pieces he can move whenever he feels bored. He doesn't just manage the company; he tries to manage us."
I stopped at the edge of his desk, leaning down. I wanted him to see the frustration, but I had to be careful. If I showed too much fear, Silas would smell it like a shark smells blood.
"He's intimidating the board, and he's intimidating me. It's unprofessional. It's thuggish."
Silas let out a low, gravelly chuckle that set my teeth on edge. "Thuggish? Elias is a surgeon. He knows exactly where to cut to get the result he wants."
"He's a predator," I whispered, the words slipping out before I could check them. "He enjoys it. He likes making people look over their shoulders. He likes making me look over mine."
My father stood up, his joints popping in the quiet room. He walked over to the window, leaning heavily on his silver-topped cane. "You think I didn't know that when I brought him into this family? You think I didn't see the wolf in the suit?"
"Then why let him stay?" I demanded. "He's hollowed out Aunt Vivian. She's a ghost in her own house because of him. And now he's turning that same focus on me."
Silas turned, his expression unreadable. "Vivian was always soft. She was a Blackwood by name, but she didn't have the iron. You, however..." He moved toward me, his cane clicking against the floor. "You have the iron, Sera. But iron is useless until it's tempered by fire."
"You're using him," I realized, a cold realization dawning on me. "You're using him to 'temper' me?"
"I'm using him to see if you break," Silas corrected. "If you're scared of him, that's your problem to solve, not mine. If his touch makes you flinch, then learn not to flinch. If his words make you tremble, learn to lie better. Elias is the greatest threat in this building, which makes him your greatest teacher."
"He's not a teacher, he's a monster," I hissed.
"In this world, they are the same thing," Silas said, turning back to his monitor. "Now, go get ready for the gala. And wear the pearls he gave you. I won't have the Blackwood image tarnished by your petty grievances."
"He told you about the pearls?" I asked, my voice barely audible.
"He tells me everything, Sera," my father said, his voice dropping to a final, dismissive tone. "That's why he's still here."
I walked out of the study, the heavy oak doors closing behind me with a sound like a coffin lid. The hallway was empty, but I felt the weight of the house pressing down on me. My father wasn't my protector; he was the one who had opened the cage door for the wolf.
And Julian was probably watching from some corner, clutching his lighter, waiting for me to fall so he could inherit the wreckage.
I wasn't just a Blackwood. I was a prize in a game where the rules were written in blood and glass, and the only man I feared was the one holding all the cards.