The Fallen Engagement

The masked man lunged.

Seraphina reacted instantly, twisting to the side, her leg shooting out. Her foot connected with his ribs, sending him staggering back. But he recovered quickly, coming at her again. She dodged, striking out, her fists colliding with his arms as he blocked her blows.

The fight was fast, brutal. The man was skilled, but so was she.

And then—

A gunshot.

The sharp crack split the air.

Pain erupted in her side.

Seraphina's body jerked, her knees buckling as she staggered. Blood seeped through her clothes.

The woman lowered the smoking gun, her expression calm. "Sorry, child."

Seraphina's vision blurred, her body swaying dangerously close to the cliff's edge.

And then—

She fell off the cliff.

"She didn't need to die," the man muttered, voice tight with something unreadable.

The woman paused at the helicopter's entrance, sparing him a glance. "She was an obstacle."

With that, she stepped inside.

The man looked down one last time, then exhaled sharply before following. The helicopter's blades whirred, slicing through the night air as it lifted off, disappearing into the darkness.

In the Blackwood's Estate,

The grand hall of the Blackwood estate, adorned with crystal chandeliers and cascading floral arrangements, had been buzzing with laughter and merriment just moments ago.

Now, an eerie silence blanketed the space, punctuated only by the heavy breaths of the bewildered guests and the furious pacing of Edward Blackwood.

The engagement party had been meticulously planned for months, with the finest champagne flowing and an orchestra softly playing in the background.

The Blackwood's had spared no expense in welcoming their future daughter-in-law, Seraphina Lancaster, into their family. But the bride had not arrived.

Instead, a group of men, stern-faced and curt in their speech, had appeared without warning, claiming to be from the Lancaster family.

Without offering a word of explanation, they had begun stripping the hall of every trace of the engagement— lavish gifts, the resplendent engagement ring, even Seraphina 's gown, which had been sent in advance. As swiftly as they had come, they had vanished, leaving behind only a stunned silence.

Edward's voice trembled with suppressed rage as he turned to his son. "Alistair," he demanded, his piercing gaze locking onto the young man who stood frozen, his face ashen. "Explain. Now."

Alistair swallowed, his throat dry as he struggled to find the words. The scene had unraveled too quickly, too cruelly. Only this morning, he had received a letter from Seraphina — a note of love, of promise. How could this be happening? Had it all been a lie? His heart clenched at the thought.

The guests, once reveling in the joy of the occasion, now murmured among themselves, their voices tinged with curiosity and scandal. Whispers of disgrace, betrayal, and abandonment slithered through the air like venomous serpents. The Blackwoods had been publicly humiliated, their name dragged through the mire of society gossip before their very eyes.

Edward's hands curled into fists, his face dark with fury. "This is no prank. This is an insult. A humiliation. The Lancasters owe us an explanation." His voice, though low, carried the weight of a storm brewing within.

Alistair stood there, frozen in disbelief. Had he been a fool to believe in Seraphina's love? Or had something forced her hand? His heart ached with questions that had no answers. But one thing was certain— whatever had transpired, it had shattered more than just an engagement.

It had torn apart the very fabric of trust and honor. And now, all that remained was the wreckage of a love that had vanished like a cruel illusion.

The prestigious union of the Blackwood and Lancaster families— destroyed in a single night. The guests left one by one, murmuring amongst themselves. Some with pity, others with amusement.

At the center of it all, Alistair Blackwood stood motionless, his hands clenched into fists. His expression was unreadable, but the storm in his eyes was impossible to miss.

Mocking laughter broke through the murmurs.

"I knew you couldn't hold her down," a smooth, taunting voice said.

Alistair turned to see Theodore Ashford, leaning lazily against a pillar, smirking. "She's like a goddess, Alistair. And you? A coward trying to claim her with some ridiculous childhood engagement."

Alistair's jaw tightened.

He was about to retort when his assistant came rushing towards him, his face pale with urgency.

"Sir, you need to hear this."

Alistair barely had time to react before the assistant spoke words that sent a cold chill down his spine.

"The Lancaster Estate has been raided. Henry Lancaster has been declared a traitor."

Silence fell over the hall.

Theodore's smirk vanished. He grabbed the assistant's collar, his usual nonchalance replaced with sharp intensity.

"What the hell are you saying?" he demanded. "Why would Sera's father be called a traitor?"

The assistant swallowed hard, unable to answer.

But Alistair was already moving.

Without a word, he turned and left the estate, his pace quick and deliberate.

He didn't stop. Not when his mother called after him. Not when the guests whispered. He grabbed his keys, stepped into his car, and drove.

Fast.

The city blurred past him as he pushed the engine harder, his heart pounding with questions.

When Alistair arrived at the Lancaster Estate, he expected chaos. He expected soldiers. But he didn't expect this.

The entire estate was ablaze.

Flames licked at the sky, turning the grand Lancaster mansion into a raging inferno. Smoke billowed, suffocating the stars above.

Alistair stepped out of his car, eyes locked onto the destruction.

Nearby, a group of soldiers watched the fire, their expressions unreadable.

One of them laughed. "Henry Lancaster was truly cunning. And so is his daughter. Instead of letting us search for evidence, they burned the whole damn place down."

Alistair's blood ran cold.

Another soldier chuckled, shaking his head. "You know, today was supposed to be Henry Lancaster's eldest daughter's engagement. Poor bastard, her fiancé. She just stood him up and left like that. You think she even bothered to stop by and tell the man she was leaving?"

Alistair stilled.

Would she?