Rumors and promises

Crystal Caldwell sat in her sleek black SUV, parked discreetly across from the towering Blackwood estate gates. Her lips curled into a smug smile as she watched the mansion's iron gates swing open to admit Eric's sleek car.

She made a mental note of the time.

3:42 p.m.

Eric's mystery woman — still unknown to her, still unconfirmed — was seated beside him, her face half-obscured by large sunglasses and windswept hair. But it didn't matter. Crystal didn't need a name to know a home wrecker when she saw one.

As the car disappeared down the long drive toward the mansion, Crystal dialed her daughter.

⸻

Georgia's chest heaved as she stared at the phone screen. The video looped again — Eric's arms wrapped tightly around the pregnant woman, his expression soft, his touch tender. Georgia barely noticed her phone ringing until Candace pointed it out.

It was her mother.

"He just brought her home, sweetheart," she said, voice syrupy and smug. "Right into your house."

"He did what?" Georgia's voice was tight, brittle with barely contained rage.

"You heard me. She's there now."

Georgia's mind spun. She'd spent months perfecting her image as the future Mrs. Blackwood. Smiling for cameras, charming investors, pretending to care about Eric's tedious charity events. And now — now he was parading some pregnant mistress around on their engagement day?

No. She wouldn't let him humiliate her. Not like this.

"Who is she, Mother? Who the hell is she?"

"Listen to me," Crystal said smoothly, "You cannot let this ruin our plans. The Blackwood fortune is within reach. That company will be yours, and no whore is going to take it away."

There was a brief pause before Georgia spoke again, her voice lower, darker. "I want her gone."

Crystal smiled, predatory and cold. "Then go. She's at his mansion. Alone. Take those harpy friends of yours. Make it clear she's not welcome."

⸻

Inside the Blackwood mansion, Emma stepped hesitantly through the grand front doors. The place was as beautiful and overwhelming as she remembered — high vaulted ceilings, a sweeping staircase, chandeliers glittering overhead, and sunlight streaming through stained-glass windows.

Memories clung to every corner. Laughter, old Christmas mornings, her father's stern voice from his study, and the echo of her mother's heels against marble floors.

"I had them keep your room the way it was," Eric said softly from behind her. "Didn't have the heart to touch it."

Emma turned, her eyes misty. "You did?"

"Course I did."

He offered her a crooked smile and guided her through the familiar halls. Emma paused by a framed photo on the wall — the two of them as kids, chasing each other across the lawn, their mother laughing in the background.

It felt like a lifetime ago.

"You don't know what it means to be here, Eric," she murmured. "After losing Caleb… it's like the world went gray."

The pain in her voice tugged at his heart and brought back a memory he couldn't quite push away.

Flashback

It was a rainy afternoon, 8 years ago

The rain fell in relentless sheets, a cold, steady drumbeat against the dark earth.

A small crowd huddled beneath black umbrellas as the twin coffins were lowered into the ground. The names engraved on the plaques shimmered under the downpour:

Nathaniel Blackwood

Margaret Blackwood

Eric stood still as stone, his jaw clenched so tightly it ached. The boy inside him wanted to scream, to rage against the world for taking both his parents in a senseless car accident. But at twenty-two, newly thrust into the role of CEO, there was no room for weakness.

Beside him, a seventeen-year-old Emma clung to his hand, tears blurring her vision.

She was barely sixteen, her face pale, her eyes swollen and rimmed red from hours of silent tears. She hadn't let go of him since the service began. Not when distant relatives tried to offer her awkward condolences, not when the board members of The Blackwood Group murmured about succession, and not when the family lawyer read the will with clinical precision.

She was small and fragile then, the last person Eric had left in the world. His little sister. His responsibility now.

As the final shovelful of earth fell, Eric knelt beside her and wiped the rain and tears from her face.

Now, as the last of the mourners drifted away, Emma turned to him, her voice barely a whisper.

"Don't leave me, Eric."

Her words sliced through the numbness he'd been hiding behind. Eric knelt before her, gripping both her hands in his.

"I'm not going anywhere, Em."

A tear slipped down her cheek.

"Everyone's gone. It's just us now."

Eric's jaw tightened. The world was circling like vultures. Greedy businessmen, fake friends, relatives with their eyes on the Blackwood fortune. He saw them for what they were. But this — his sister — she was the only piece of his old life he had left.

"Listen to me," he said, his voice low and fierce. "No matter what happens, no matter what the world throws at us, we'll face it together. I swear on everything they left us, Em — I'll protect you. No one will ever hurt you while I'm still breathing."

She nodded, her lips trembling.

"Promise me, Eric."

He touched her cheek, brushing away the tear.

"I promise."

The storm raged on, but in that moment, Eric Blackwood made a vow.

A vow to protect his family.

A vow to safeguard the Blackwood name.

A vow to never let anyone come between them.

Emma reached for his hand, jolting him from his memory. He held her hands in his.

"You're not alone anymore, Em." He said, reaffirming the promise he made to her years ago.

And she believed him.