Chapter 2 - Three Hours Before the Flames
Three hours earlier, Blackwood Manor had been filled with music.
The annual Founders’ Dinner was one of the largest events on the Blackwood social calendar. Politicians, bankers, foreign investors, and old families arrived beneath crystal chandeliers while a string quartet played in the marble gallery.
The evening was supposed to celebrate Charles Blackwood’s appointment as chairman of Blackwood Industries.
Instead, it became the night his family began to collapse.
Evelyn had not planned to attend.
She had worked at Blackwood Manor for eight years, first as a private tutor and later as the director of the Blackwood Foundation’s scholarship program. After Charles’s first wife, Amelia, died, Evelyn had also become the person Noah trusted most.
Victoria disliked that trust.
She disliked Evelyn’s access to the family library, her friendship with the household staff, and the way Noah ran to her whenever Victoria entered a room.
Two days before the dinner, Victoria had ordered Evelyn to remain at the foundation office in the city.
Charles had reversed the decision.
“Noah asked for her,” he said.
Victoria had smiled without warmth.
“Of course he did.”
When Evelyn arrived that evening, Noah was standing alone at the top of the grand staircase.
He wore a dark blue jacket with a silver Blackwood crest sewn over the breast pocket. His brown hair had been combed back, but one stubborn strand had already fallen across his forehead.
“You came,” he said.
“You sound surprised.”
“Victoria said you were busy.”
“Your father invited me.”
Noah glanced toward the ballroom.
“She doesn’t like it when he chooses someone else over her.”
Evelyn adjusted his collar.
“Tonight isn’t about choosing.”
“In this house, everything is about choosing.”
The words were too old for him.
Evelyn studied his face.
“Has something happened?”
Noah looked past her toward the corridor.
“I heard Victoria talking to Uncle Marcus.”
“About what?”
Before he could answer, Victoria appeared below them.
Her silver gown reflected the chandelier light like polished steel.
“There you are,” she said. “Noah, your father wants you in the ballroom.”
Noah did not move.
Victoria climbed two steps.
“You heard me.”
“I’m talking to Evelyn.”
“You can talk after dinner.”
Her tone was calm, but Noah flinched.
Evelyn noticed.
Victoria noticed that Evelyn noticed.
For one silent moment, the two women looked at each other.
Then Charles entered the gallery.
He was tall, dark-haired, and exhausted beneath the polished appearance expected of a Blackwood heir. In public, he was controlled and formal. Around Noah, something softer appeared.
“There’s my son.”
Noah descended the stairs.
Charles put a hand on his shoulder.
“You all right?”
Noah nodded too quickly.
Victoria slipped her arm through Charles’s.
“He’s nervous about the speech.”
“I told him he didn’t have to give one.”
“And I told him tradition matters.”
Charles looked at her.
“He’s twelve.”
“He’ll be thirteen next month.”
That sentence changed the air.
Evelyn saw Charles’s expression tighten.
Victoria released his arm.
“What?” she asked.
“Nothing.”
But it was not nothing.
Earlier that week, Evelyn had found Charles in the library searching through old estate records. He had asked whether she knew of any special arrangements made for Noah’s thirteenth birthday.
She had not.
At the time, she assumed it was connected to a junior trust fund.
Now she wondered why Victoria had said the age so carefully.
Dinner began at eight.
Noah sat between Charles and Victoria at the head table. Evelyn was placed among the foundation trustees, far enough away that she could not hear their conversation.
Halfway through the first course, Noah dropped his fork.
Victoria bent toward him and whispered something.
The boy turned pale.
Charles looked over.
“What is it?”
“Nothing,” Victoria said.
Noah pushed back his chair.
“I need some air.”
“You need to stay seated,” Victoria replied.
“I feel sick.”
Charles touched his forehead.
“He’s warm.”
“He’s anxious.”
Evelyn rose from her table.
Victoria’s eyes followed her.
Before Evelyn reached the head table, Marcus Blackwood stepped into her path.
Marcus was Charles’s cousin and chief financial officer of Blackwood Industries. He had charming features, expensive manners, and the careful eyes of a man who never entered a room without calculating its value.
“Evelyn,” he said. “The foundation trustees need you.”
“Noah isn’t well.”
“Victoria has him.”
“That is exactly why I’m concerned.”
Marcus’s smile faded.
“You should be careful.”
“About what?”
“Confusing employment with family.”
Evelyn looked around him.
Noah had left the table.
Victoria was gone too.
“Move.”
Marcus did not.
Then the lights flickered.
The string quartet stopped.
For a moment, the entire ballroom fell silent.
The chandeliers came back on.
Victoria returned alone.
Charles stood.
“Where is Noah?”
“He went upstairs.”
“You let him go alone?”
“He said he wanted to lie down.”
Evelyn’s stomach tightened.
She glanced at the clock.
Eight forty-seven.
On the far side of the ballroom, one of the housemaids opened a service door.
Smoke curled through the gap.
At first, no one moved.
Then the fire alarm began to scream.
Guests rose in confusion. Staff shouted directions. Somewhere beyond the walls, glass shattered.
Charles pushed toward the staircase.
Victoria grabbed his arm.
“The fire is in the east wing.”
“Noah’s room is in the east wing.”
“I sent a guard after him.”
“Which guard?”
Victoria hesitated.
Only for a fraction of a second.
But Evelyn saw it.
Charles tore free and ran upstairs.
The first explosion shook the manor before he reached the landing.
Smoke rolled down the corridor.
Security dragged him back.
“Noah!” Charles shouted.
Evelyn looked at Victoria.
Victoria stood beneath the chandelier as guests rushed around her.
She was not shouting for Noah.
She was not trying to reach the stairs.
May you like
She was watching the east wing burn.
And in one hand, hidden in the folds of her gown, she held Noah’s phone.
