Chapter 33: Echoes of Legacy

Luna stood frozen, her eyes glued to the screen as Celeste Monroe held the confidential file like a dagger poised to strike.

Avery's voice was taut. "Those files—if they're authentic—they're from the restricted archives. That's old financial history. Pre-Blackwell Industries merger."

Killian stepped forward, jaw clenched so tightly his temples pulsed. "Those documents were locked. Physically. Digitally. They were never supposed to see daylight again."

Elijah muttered a curse. "Cameron's pulling out the nuclear option. He's not just attacking your present—he's rewriting your past."

Luna glanced at Killian. "What's in those files?"

Killian's silence stretched too long.

Avery turned slowly toward him. "Killian?"

He finally spoke. "They contain records from the era my grandfather tried to bury. The financial wars, the hostile takeovers… the lawsuits that never made it to court."

Luna's pulse quickened. "And if Cameron exposes that now—?"

"He doesn't just taint Blackwell Industries," Killian said coldly. "He unearths everything my family worked to keep buried."

"Your grandfather?" Luna asked cautiously.

Killian nodded once. "He was a genius in business. But he wasn't clean. Those files—some of them trace back to deals signed in blood."

The room went quiet.

Avery looked troubled. "This is why your father stepped down, isn't it?"

Killian's jaw ticked. "He couldn't carry the weight of the legacy. He passed it to me."

"And now Cameron's using it against you," Luna murmured.

"Not just me," Killian said. "Everyone tied to this name."

Luna crossed her arms. "What about your parents? Have you spoken to them?"

His lips thinned. "No."

"You should," she said gently. "If Cameron's unraveling family history, they deserve to know what's coming."

Killian's eyes were unreadable. "They already know. They just don't want to face it."

Later that night, Luna stood in the hallway outside Killian's private office, debating whether to knock.

He hadn't spoken much since the Celeste reveal—just retreated behind closed doors, the way he always did when things grew too personal.

But this war wasn't just corporate anymore.

It was bloodline-deep.

She raised her hand to knock—just as the door opened from inside.

Killian stood there, sleeves rolled up, shadows under his eyes, tie abandoned somewhere hours ago.

"I was about to come find you," he said.

Luna blinked in surprise. "You were?"

His gaze flickered to the file in his hand. "I need you to see something."

She followed him inside, settling in the leather chair opposite his desk. He slid the file across to her. The seal on the envelope was old—an emblem she hadn't seen before.

"The original charter of Blackwell Industries," he explained. "Signed by my grandfather, his partners, and—"

"Your father," she finished softly, reading the name.

"There's a clause in there—buried deep—transferring emergency control of assets to a secondary heir if the primary one is found guilty of misconduct or financial fraud."

Luna's breath caught. "So if Cameron manages to frame you…"

"He becomes the next in line," Killian said darkly.

"And if Celeste has those files, they might try to fabricate something big enough to activate that clause."

Killian nodded. "That's what they're aiming for."

Luna closed the file carefully, her heart pounding. "So what do we do?"

"We go to the source."

The next day, Killian stood in the marble hallway of the Blackwell Manor, hands in his pockets, face unreadable, a statue of quiet tension. The air smelled of polished wood and old money, a scent of tradition. The family estate loomed with quiet intimidation—too pristine, too preserved, a museum of legacy, a monument to the past.

Luna stood beside him, trying to read the tension in his shoulders. He hadn't said much on the drive, but she could feel the weight in his silence.

"He hasn't left his study in months," Killian said finally, nodding toward a tall oak door down the hall. "Not since the board transition."

"Will he talk to you?"

"He'll talk," Killian muttered. "But he won't like it."

They stepped inside the study.

There he was—William Blackwell, the legendary patriarch. Even in old age, he exuded an unsettling kind of power. His silver hair was slicked back, posture regal despite his years, eyes sharp behind rimless glasses.

"Killian," he said without rising. "I assume you're here because hell has finally frozen over."

Killian didn't smile. "Something like that."

William's gaze drifted to Luna. "The wife. I've read about you. Didn't expect you to last this long."

Luna stiffened, but Killian cut in coolly. "She's not the reason I'm here."

"No," William said slowly. "You're here because your brother is stirring the grave I dug decades ago."

Killian stepped forward. "He's using the old files. The ones from the pre-charter mergers."

"And you want me to clean up your mess," William said with a smirk.

"I want to know if you buried anything worse than what's in those files."

William chuckled, a sound without warmth. "I buried a kingdom's worth of sins, boy. But none of it was illegal."

"You're sure?"

"Sure enough to pass six federal audits and two international investigations," William said, folding his hands. "But that doesn't mean the public will care. Cameron's playing a PR war. He doesn't need the truth. He just needs a good story."

Luna stepped forward. "Then help us control the story."

William's gaze sharpened. "You have fire. I see why he married you."

Killian said nothing.

William leaned back in his chair. "There's only one way to win this. You need dirt on Cameron—real dirt. Not speculation. Not history. Something current."

"I'll find it," Killian said.

"And you better," William replied. "Because if Cameron gets that clause enforced, you lose everything."

Killian turned toward the door.

But William's voice stopped him.

"Son."

Killian paused.

William didn't rise. But his tone shifted—just slightly.

"Don't let this war take your edge."

Killian didn't look back. "It won't."

But as they stepped out into the hallway, Luna glanced at him.

And for the first time, she saw it—

Not fear.

Not anger.

But exhaustion.

Killian Blackwell was burning at both ends.

And he didn't even know it.