Emma stood at the edge of the Blackwood garden, staring at the roses swaying gently in the afternoon breeze. The scene was peaceful, but her mind was anything but. The message from the unknown number haunted her like a shadow, even under the sun.
"You married a Blackwood. That comes with enemies. Watch your back."
She hadn't shown Alexander the message. Something about the way he'd rushed off the night before made her hesitate. Could she trust him completely? She wanted to. Part of her already did. But the other part the part that had learned to protect herself was cautious.
"Mrs. Blackwood?"
Emma turned to find Marissa standing a few steps away. Her assistant held a tray with tea and tiny pastries that looked like they belonged in a museum.
"I thought you might want a break," Marissa said with a warm smile.
Emma nodded, forcing one in return. "Thanks."
They sat together on a white bench beneath a vine-covered arch. Birds chirped in the distance, and a soft breeze rustled the leaves above them.
"You look tired," Marissa said gently.
Emma sipped her tea. "It's been a lot."
Marissa nodded as if she knew more than she let on. "It usually is. The Blackwood world doesn't come without complications."
Emma studied her. "How long have you worked for Alexander?"
"Four years. I was hired shortly after his father passed."
Emma leaned in slightly. "And what was his father like?"
Marissa hesitated, eyes flicking toward the main house. "He was powerful. Old-fashioned. Protective of the family name. Alexander is different. He tries not to be like him."
That simple statement stirred something in Emma. She remembered the softness in Alexander's eyes when he spoke of his mother. The way his voice broke just slightly.
"He lost her young," Emma said quietly.
Marissa nodded. "It changed him."
Emma let the silence stretch. A part of her wanted to ask more about Alexander's past, about his secrets but she knew she wouldn't get real answers that way. Not yet.
Back in her room, Emma placed the tea tray on the table and pulled out her journal. Writing always helped her think. But instead of words, she found herself sketching the garden. The bench. Marissa's face. Then, without meaning to, she drew Alexander's eyes.
She was falling for him. Slowly. Reluctantly. And dangerously.
That evening, Alexander returned. Not in a suit this time, but in a dark blue sweater and jeans. He looked tired but softer. Less like the CEO of an empire and more like a man with burdens he didn't know how to share.
He found her in the library, curled on the couch with a book she hadn't really been reading.
"You like it here?" he asked, his voice low.
She shrugged. "It's beautiful. But beauty doesn't mean safe."
He sat beside her. "No. It doesn't."
There was a pause. Then she said, "Someone texted me again. An unknown number. They said marrying you means I have enemies now."
Alexander's jaw tightened. "Let me see it."
Emma handed him her phone. He read the message silently, then stood and paced to the fireplace.
"I was hoping we'd have more time," he muttered.
Emma stood, crossing her arms. "Time for what, Alexander? To pretend everything's normal? To play happy couple while I wait for the truth to fall on me like a brick?"
He turned to her, eyes stormy. "I didn't want you to be scared. I wanted to protect you before dragging you into the mess."
"You already did," she said, voice rising. "I'm here. I'm wearing the ring. I'm living in a house full of strangers who all seem to know something I don't. I deserve answers."
He stepped closer, his voice softer. "I know. And I'll give you some. Just not everything at once."
"Start somewhere."
He exhaled and looked her straight in the eyes. "Someone is trying to challenge my family's control over our business. Not with lawyers, but with manipulation. Leaks. Surveillance. They think I married you for a reason maybe to protect something. Or someone."
Emma blinked. "Is that true?"
He hesitated. "Not exactly. But marrying someone no one expected someone not from our world threw them off. That gave me time to prepare."
"So I'm a distraction," she said flatly.
He stepped even closer. "No. You're the only thing that's felt real in months."
His words caught her off guard. He reached out, brushing a lock of hair from her cheek.
"I know I've kept things from you," he continued, "but I see you, Emma. I see the girl who plays piano late at night when she thinks no one's watching. The girl who still cries when she sees pictures of her old life. You didn't sign up for this, but I'm glad you're here."
Her heart thundered. She hated how much those words meant to her.
Before she could respond, a knock at the door broke the moment.
Marissa peeked in. "Mr. Blackwood? There's been a security alert. You're needed downstairs."
Alexander nodded, then turned back to Emma. "Stay in this room. Lock the door. I'll be back."
She watched him go, then locked the door like he said. But instead of sitting, she crossed to the window. Down below, three unfamiliar black cars had pulled into the driveway.
Men in dark coats stepped out, speaking into earpieces.
Emma's chest tightened. Who were they?
She paced. Waited. Minutes passed. Then her phone buzzed again.
Unknown Number: They're here for him. You're just the pawn.
She dropped the phone like it burned her.
Was she in danger? Was Alexander?
The minutes dragged until the door finally opened. Alexander returned, looking tense but unharmed.
"It's handled," he said.
She didn't ask what "it" meant. She wasn't sure she wanted to know.
Instead, she walked up to him and touched his arm. "Promise me something."
He looked at her.
"Promise me you won't keep me in the dark anymore. If I'm going to be in danger, I deserve the truth."
His eyes searched hers. Then he nodded. "I promise."
They stood in silence, close but not quite touching.
Then, quietly, she said, "You said you needed someone you could trust. So do I."
His hand found hers. "I want to earn that."
That night, Emma lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. The walls of the Blackwood mansion no longer felt like strangers. They felt like witnesses.
To secrets.
To danger.
And maybe, just maybe to the beginning of something real.
She rolled over, phone still in hand opened a text from Lila
Lila: Are you okay? Please, just tell me you're safe.
Emma hesitated. Then replied:
Emma: I don't know. But I think I'm starting to understand.
She turned off her phone and closed her eyes.
Outside, thunder rumbled in the distance.
But for the first time, she didn't feel entirely alone.