Emma barely remembered stumbling down the hall after finding the black rose. Her screams had summoned half the household. Ellis and two maids rushed in, faces pale.
"Who did this?" Emma demanded, clutching the rose so hard thorns bit into her palm. "Who was in my room?"
Ellis looked grave. "Mrs. Blackwood, I assure you—security has been on every door. No one unauthorized is on the property."
"Then how do you explain this?!" She thrust the rose at him. Drops of her blood fell to the marble floor.
Ellis only bowed slightly. "I will tighten the perimeter. Please try to rest."
Rest? Emma felt close to hysterics. She was trapped in this house with shadows that moved at night, locked doors hiding god-knows-what, and a husband who wore someone else's blood like it was an accessory.
Adrian didn't return for three days.
On the afternoon of the third day, Emma sat on the balcony, hugging a blanket around her. Storm clouds gathered over the hills again—always storms lately, as if the weather matched the mood of the house.
Then the front gates creaked open. A sleek black car wound up the drive. Her heart leaped. Adrian.
She ran downstairs just as the door opened—and nearly collided with him in the grand foyer.
"Where have you been?" Her voice came out small, desperate.
He didn't answer. Just pulled off his gloves with deliberate calm. "Out."
She grabbed his arm. "Adrian, I found a rose on my bed. A black rose. Someone is inside this house—someone is threatening me—"
He yanked his arm free. "Ellis is handling it."
"Stop saying that! Why won't you just tell me the truth? Why was there blood on your hands that night? What is behind that locked door?"
His eyes blazed. For a heartbeat she thought he might finally confess. But then he only turned away. "You're safer not knowing."
She was so tired of being kept in the dark. That night, she packed a small bag. She didn't care if she had to walk to the nearest town barefoot—she needed answers, even if it meant running.
As she crept through the hall, her plan was interrupted by a loud commotion at the front entrance.
Voices—one shrill with anger, another deep and rumbling with authority. Ellis trying to calm someone.
Emma peeked over the banister. The door stood wide open, wind whipping rain inside. And there on the marble, in designer heels and a fitted red dress that clung to every cruel curve, stood a woman with cascading auburn hair and eyes sharp as knives.
She looked up—and met Emma's gaze. Smirked.
"There you are," she purred. "I've heard so much about the new Mrs. Blackwood."
Emma's stomach dropped. "Who are you?"
The woman ascended the stairs like a queen. Up close, she smelled of expensive perfume, layered over something sour.
"I'm Cassandra Blackwood," she said brightly, offering a hand. When Emma didn't take it, Cassandra laughed. "Still shy, I see. Darling, I'm Adrian's wife."
Emma's mouth opened, closed. "That's impossible. I'm his wife—well, fiancée. We have a contract—"
"Oh, sweetheart." Cassandra's smile turned pitying. "You really didn't know, did you?"
Ellis hovered nearby, looking deeply uncomfortable. Cassandra ignored him, brushing past Emma into the hall. She trailed manicured nails along the wall as if inspecting property.
"We never divorced. I'm still Mrs. Adrian Blackwood. Your contract? Worthless. Though I must say, it's adorable he even bothered to draw one up for you."
Emma's heart was pounding so hard she could barely hear. "Why are you here?"
"To reclaim what's mine, of course. Adrian has always been impulsive. Likes to play hero for pretty strays." Her gaze swept Emma from head to toe with undisguised contempt. "But in the end, he comes back to me."
Just then, Adrian appeared at the far end of the hall. His face went rigid when he saw Cassandra.
"Leave," he growled.
Cassandra's smile widened. "Not until we finish discussing our settlement. You still owe me, Adrian. And I'm sure your little baker here would love to hear what that debt entails."
Emma turned to him, voice shaking. "Is it true? You're still married to her?"
Adrian's jaw flexed. "It's complicated."
"That's not an answer!"
"It's the only one you're getting tonight." He stepped between them, towering over Cassandra. "You've made your point. Ellis will see you out."
Cassandra leaned up, whispering something that made Adrian's face darken. Then she sauntered off, heels clicking like gunshots.
Emma stared at Adrian. "How could you keep something like this from me?"
His eyes were cold steel. "You didn't need to know."
"You keep saying that! About everything! About the blood, the threats—now this! I'm supposed to trust you while you hide entire marriages?"
Adrian grabbed her by the shoulders. "Trust is irrelevant. This arrangement isn't built on it. You're here to protect your family's shop and I'm here to protect my name. Feelings only complicate things."
"Then why do I feel like I'm falling apart while you stand there perfectly intact?" she whispered.
His expression flickered—just for a heartbeat, something pained passed through his eyes. Then it was gone, replaced by that icy indifference.
That night, Emma lay awake replaying everything Cassandra had said. Still married. A settlement. Old debts.
Lightning flashed, illuminating the ceiling in stark blue-white. Thunder followed, rumbling through the bones of the house.
She couldn't stay like this. If Adrian wouldn't give her the truth, she'd find it herself.
Clutching a flashlight, she slipped from her room and made her way back to the west wing. The locked study loomed ahead. She tried the handle again. Still locked.
Then remembered the old servants' passages Ellis had shown her the first week—back stairways for maids to move unseen. Maybe one connected to the study.
She found a narrow door hidden behind a tapestry. Heart racing, she squeezed through.
The passage was pitch dark, walls tight on either side. Her flashlight beam quivered over crumbling plaster and faint old stains.
Finally, a sliver of light appeared ahead—a gap in the wood paneling. Emma pressed her eye to it and nearly gasped.
She was looking directly into the study. Adrian sat at the desk, head bowed over a document. Cassandra lounged in a chair opposite him, swirling a glass of dark wine.
"It's a generous offer," Adrian said, voice strained. "Take it and go."
Cassandra laughed. "Generous? Oh darling. Money is easy. I want so much more than that."
She rose and walked around the desk, trailing a hand across Adrian's shoulders. He flinched as if burned.
"Sooner or later," Cassandra purred, "you'll remember why you can never truly let me go. And your little baker upstairs? She'll be nothing but collateral damage."
Adrian's hands clenched into fists on the desk. "Stay away from her."
"Make me," Cassandra whispered.
Then she leaned down—and kissed him.
Emma's heart stopped. She didn't wait to see more. She stumbled back into the passage, tears blurring everything.
---
As she fled through the dark hallways, her mind spun with betrayal, with fear—and with a dawning certainty that she was in a game she never understood, one where she was only ever meant to lose.