Chapter 15
Alison
"Mom! Look at the fountain! Can I throw a coin in it? Does that mean my wish will come true?"
I couldn't help but smile as Leo bounced from window to window in the back of the sleek black sedan that had arrived precisely at nine this morning. His excitement was contagious, even as my own stomach twisted with anxiety.
The Black estate sprawled before us, a Georgian-style mansion set amidst manicured grounds that seemed to stretch for acres.
Fountains dotted the circular driveway, and perfectly trimmed hedges lined the path to the imposing front entrance.
It was the kind of place I'd only ever seen in movies or glossy magazines—the kind of place where someone like me didn't belong.
Except, according to William Black, I did belong here. This was my birthright. My legacy.
The thought made me dizzy.
Last night, after I got home and as certain Leo was asleep, my phone rang.
It was William. His voice, calm and thoughtful, came through the line with surprising gentleness.
He told me he understood how overwhelming everything must still feel, how disorienting the weight of new truths can be.
He didn't think I should face it all alone.
Then, he asked if I'd consider staying at the estate.
He didn't pressure me. He reasoned it carefully, kindly.
Living at the estate, he said, would give us a real chance to get to know each other, to peel back the layers of time and distance that had separated our lives.
And there, I wouldn't have to do everything on my own anymore.
I'd have support, space, help—whatever I needed.
We talked for a long time. He listened, and I questioned. There was something unexpectedly comforting in the steadiness of his voice, in how he didn't rush me. And in the quiet of the night, after the storm of the past few days, I said yes.
And now… here we are. Standing on the edge of something unfamiliar. A new chapter—unwritten, uncertain—but perhaps, in some strange and fragile way, full of hope.
"Yes, sweetheart, you can make a wish in the fountain," I said, smoothing Leo's wild, dark hair. "And yes, that wing of the house is where we'll be staying."
"A whole wing? Like birds have wings?" Leo's amber eyes widened comically.
I laughed despite my nerves. "No, silly. It just means we have several rooms to ourselves. A bedroom for each of us, a sitting room."
Leo smiled at me, impressed with that. "We're guests here, Leo," I said carefully. "Mr. Black is a very kind man who wants to get to know us better."
Before Leo could ask more questions, the car pulled to a stop at the base of wide marble steps. A butler—an actual butler—opened the car door, bowing slightly.
"Ms. Alison, Master Leo. Welcome to Black Manor. Mr. Black is waiting for you in the main parlor."
Leo slipped his small hand into mine as we followed the butler through an entrance hall that could have housed our entire apartment.
Crystal chandeliers hung from coffered ceilings, and priceless art adorned walls covered in silk damask.
My simple sundress and Leo's little khakis and polo shirt—the nicest clothes we owned—suddenly felt woefully inadequate.
The butler led us to a set of double doors, knocking once before opening them with a flourish. "Ms. Alison and Master Leo, sir."
William Black rose from an antique settee, his smile genuine. He looked healthier than he had at the gala, his color better, his stance steadier. His dog, Winchester, ran from his side, past us, and out of the door as though it'd been waiting for the escape.
"Alison, Leo. Welcome to your home."
Next to him sat a woman in her forties with kind eyes and William's strong jawline, and a man about the same age with salt-and-pepper hair and stylish glasses. They stood as well, their curious gazes sweeping over us.
"These are your cousins," William explained. "Margaret and her husband Richard."
Margaret stepped forward, her smile tentative but warm. "It's incredible... You have Aunt Elizabeth's eyes. Exactly the same."
I swallowed hard. "It's nice to meet you."
Leo tugged at my hand, whispering loudly, "Mom, are they really my uncle and aunt? I never had an uncle or aunt before!"
Richard laughed, crouching down to Leo's level. "And we've never had such a handsome young nephew before. Do you like toy cars, Leo?"
Leo nodded enthusiastically. "And dinosaurs!"
"What a coincidence," Richard said with exaggerated surprise. "I happen to have a whole collection of both upstairs. Would you like to see them?"
Leo looked up at me, silently asking permission. I nodded, watching as he happily trotted off with Richard after the man promised to bring him down for lunch.
"He's adorable," Margaret said once they'd left. "Those eyes are quite striking."
I felt a flush creep up my neck. Lucas's eyes. There was no denying the resemblance, especially among people who likely knew Lucas well.
William gestured for me to sit. "Where's Victoria?" I asked, scanning the room nervously.
William's expression hardened slightly. "In the guest suite in the west wing. She... did not take last night's revelation well."
"I can imagine," I murmured, remembering her hysterical attack. Attacks. She came at me several times. The poor thing.
Margaret scoffed. "That's putting it mildly. She threw a Ming vase at the wall when Father refused to recant his statement."
I winced, feeling an unexpected pang of sympathy for Victoria. Whatever her flaws—and they were numerous—her entire identity had been shattered in a single night. Just as mine had.
William sighed. "We told ourselves it was normal teenage rebellion. But looking back, the signs were there. She never had Elizabeth's compassion or my sense of responsibility. Always entitled, always grasping. We assumed it was because we'd spoiled her."
A soft knock interrupted us, and the butler appeared to announce that lunch was ready.
We moved to a sunlit conservatory where a table had been set with fine china and crystal.
Leo and Richard joined us, my son chattering excitedly about the "awesome" toy collection he'd been promised he could play with later.
Throughout the meal, I felt like I was in a dream.
The casual luxury—sterling silver flatware, fresh flowers at every place setting, staff appearing and disappearing with silent efficiency—was so far removed from my life that it seemed surreal.
Yet Margaret and William treated it all as perfectly normal, including me in their conversation as if I belonged.
The next few days passed in a whirlwind.
DNA tests confirmed what William had already known—I was, without question, the biological daughter of William and Elizabeth Black.
Victoria's tests showed no relation to the Black family.
The staff, who had whispered behind their hands when I first arrived, began addressing me as "Ms. Black," a name that still felt foreign to my ears.
Leo adapted with the resilience of childhood, delighting in the grounds, the toys, and the attention from his new "family." He particularly loved William, who, despite his formidable reputation in business, showed infinite patience for a four-year-old's endless questions.
A couple of times, Leo had brought up Lucas, always asking when he might see him again.
It was subtle, but I couldn't ignore the way his eyes lit whenever he talked about Lucas, the way his voice softened with a curiosity that felt far too instinctive.
There was a connection there, undeniable, between a boy and the man he didn't even know was his father.
And each time he asked, a knot twisted tighter in my chest.
How much longer could I keep the truth from him?
Because it wasn't just about Leo. It was about Lucas, too.
About what I was feeling or what I had been trying not to feel.
The hug at the party... I had told myself he had just been comforting me.
But it wasn't just that. There had been something more.
A kind or rekindling. A quiet, aching reminder of a connection that had once sparked and then been cruelly snuffed out before it had a chance to bloom.
That spark… it was still there.
His presence unsettled me in ways I didn't want to name.
His touch, even the briefest, ignited something dangerous in me—desire, longing, memory.
But I couldn't let myself get lost in the tempest that was Lucas.
I had to let it go—for my sake, for Leo's.
It was time I got Lucas Hawkins out of my mind.
Victoria, on the other hand, remained in her suite, emerging only for meals, where she would make thinly veiled comments about my background, my parenting, my supposed schemes to infiltrate the family.
"I hear the staff discussing you," she said one evening, swirling her wine. "They think it's so strange how you don't know which fork to use or how to properly address the household manager. They laugh about it in the kitchens."
William set down his glass sharply. "That's enough, Victoria."
But the damage was done. I'd spent the rest of the meal second-guessing every movement, every word.
The whispers weren't limited to staff. At a family gathering to "introduce" me to the extended Black clan, Victoria worked the room like the socialite she was, dropping hints that I was a gold-digger who had somehow manipulated the blood tests, that my son was illegitimate, that I was after William's fortune.
I countered with calm dignity, answering questions honestly, showing genuine interest in my newfound relatives. By the end of the evening, Victoria's machinations had backfired—the family, by and large, seemed charmed by Leo's antics and my unpretentious manner.
The final straw came during a brunch in the garden. Leo, excited to show off a new trick he'd learned on the playground set, accidentally knocked over Victoria's mimosa.
"You clumsy little brat!" she snapped, jumping up as orange liquid spread across her white designer dress. "This is Valentino!"
Leo's lower lip trembled, his eyes filling with tears.
"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I didn't mean to."
"Well, sorry doesn't fix my dress, does it?" Victoria snarled. "This is what happens when children are raised without proper discipline. They become—"
"I'm very sorry, Aunt Victoria," Leo interrupted, his small chin lifted in a gesture so reminiscent of Lucas that it made my heart ache.
"My mommy says that's what good people do when they mess up.
They say sorry and try to fix it." He looked up at Victoria with innocent curiosity.
"Don't you want to be a good person, Aunt Victoria? "
A ripple of surprised laughter went around the table. Victoria's face flushed crimson. Without another word, she stormed back toward the house.
William watched her go, his expression grave. When he turned back to the table, his decision was evident in his eyes.
"Margaret, would you take Leo to see the new koi in the pond? I need to speak with Alison."
Once they were out of earshot, William leaned forward. "I've made a decision. I'm rewriting my will. Victoria will receive a trust fund—I won't leave her destitute—but the bulk of the Black fortune and all controlling interest in Black Industries will pass to you, Alison."
My mouth went dry. "William, that's... that's too much. I don't know the first thing about running a corporation."
"You'll learn," he said simply. "You have a brilliant mind for business—Victor Chen wouldn't have made you VP otherwise. And you have something Victoria never had—integrity."
I struggled to find words. "What about Victoria? This will devastate her."
"I've decided it is time for Victoria to try to find peace in life, and having her around here sours the spirit. And it isn't good for her, either. We'll continue to assist her, of course, and she is welcome here at the estate. But she can't live here anymore."
I prepared to make a case for Victoria, but William raised his hands, telling me there was no point arguing. He'd made his decision, and what he'd seen this afternoon had grounded it.
Later that evening, I heard the argument from my suite—Victoria's shrill accusations, William's firm responses, the sound of something shattering. When silence finally fell, I ventured into the hallway, only to find Victoria standing there, her eyes red but dry, her posture rigid with fury.
"Happy now?" she hissed. "You've taken everything."
"Victoria—"
"This isn't over," she said, her voice dropping to a venomous whisper. "Do you hear me? This will never be over. I will destroy everything you love, just as you've destroyed me."
She brushed past me, disappearing down the corridor. I stood there, a chill running down my spine despite the warm evening.