Chapter 52 Blood Red Velvet
Henry stepped into the meeting room, his expression an unreadable mask as he extended his hand to Chase Blackwood. The handshake was firm, controlled, yet beneath the surface, tension crackled like a live wire. Neither man dared to acknowledge the unspoken war waging between them.
Chase felt the weight of his own mistakes pressing down on him like an anchor. Seeing Henry now, the man Emilia had chosen—the man she trusted—only sharpened the edges of his regret. He had played the fool, driven by ego and impulse, and in the end, he'd lost her. The realization burned like whiskey down his throat, bitter and punishing.
Henry, on the other hand, was fueled by a quiet, simmering rage. He knew Emilia would never return to Chase, not after everything, but he also knew men like Chase never stopped trying. That was what he couldn't trust—the lingering hope in Chase's eyes, the way his posture stiffened at Emilia's unspoken name. Henry's grip tightened before he let go, his voice cool and commanding.
"We talk business. That's it." His jaw clenched, his stare unwavering. "You don't get to ask about Emilia. You lost the best damn woman in the world, Blackwood. And that makes you a fucking moron."
Chase let out a humorless laugh, nodding as if he agreed. "Yeah," he murmured, rubbing his jaw. "No argument there." He wanted to ask. He wanted to know how Henry had won Emilia over, how they had met, how it had all happened. But he had made a promise, and he wasn't about to break it now.
They shifted into business talk, discussing the properties, upcoming deals, and market projections. The words exchanged were sharp and calculated, yet the undercurrent of unresolved tension remained. Henry spoke with precision, his mind half-occupied as he subtly gauged Chase's reactions. Chase, to his credit, kept up, though his focus waned at times, his thoughts drifting to Emilia.
Then, Henry's phone buzzed.
He barely glanced at the screen before his eyes narrowed. A message from Emilia. His thumb hovered before he opened it, and when he did, confusion flickered across his face.
A photo.
And then—
Red velvet cake.
His blood ran cold. His grip on the phone tightened. The words seemed innocuous, but something about them twisted in his gut like a knife. Then, his screen lit up again—a new voicemail. As if on instinct, his fingers moved, bringing the phone to his ear.
An eerie, unfamiliar voice slithered through the speaker.
"Let's see how much you love her..." The voice was honeyed, slow, dripping with amusement.
"When every bite tastes like blood."
Henry shot up from his chair so fast it nearly toppled over. His heart pounded, a deafening drum in his ears. His breath came in sharp, uneven bursts. Panic gripped him, clawing up his throat.
Chase frowned. "What the hell is wrong with you?"
Henry's gaze snapped to him, dark and seething. He didn't think. He didn't hesitate. The next moment, his fist collided with Chase's jaw, sending him staggering back.
"You think this is a fucking game?!" Henry roared; his entire body taut with rage. "Why the fuck are you trying to hurt her?!"
Chase barely had time to recover before he shoved Henry back. "What the hell are you talking about?" His voice was sharp with confusion, his own anger beginning to rise. "I'd never hurt her!"
Henry's chest heaved. His hands were clenched so tight his knuckles burned. Without a word, he hit play on the voicemail and let the haunting voice fill the silence.
Chase's expression shifted in an instant. His breath hitched; his pupils blown wide.
"Where is Em?" His voice was low, but the worry and rage laced in it were unmistakable.
Henry didn't waste another second. His mind snapped to the photo. The cake.
Red velvet.
"Shit," he muttered under his breath, whipping out his phone. His fingers moved fast, dialing Emilia.
One ring.
Two.
No answer.
His stomach dropped. "Shit, shit," he gritted out, pacing as he immediately called Jason and Beau. "Go check on Emilia. Now. It's an emergency."
Chase stood frozen, processing, his own panic creeping in.
Henry hung up, barely breathing.
Something was very, very wrong.
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Emilia's Suite – Moments Later
Emilia didn't hear her phone vibrating frantically on the kitchen table. She had been deep in her cleaning spree, lost in the hum of the vacuum as she worked through the bedroom. She hadn't noticed the missed calls, nor the urgent messages piling up.
It wasn't until a loud, relentless pounding at the suite's front door cut through the drone of the vacuum that she finally turned it off.
"Emilia!" Beau's deep voice boomed through the door. "Open up! It's an emergency!"
"Em! Are you in there?!" Jason's voice followed, thick with concern.
Emilia's brows furrowed as she wiped her hands on her leggings and hurried toward the door. As soon as she swung it open, she barely had time to react before Jason and Beau practically barreled inside.
"Oh, thank God," Jason exhaled, pulling her into a firm embrace. Beau followed suit, gripping her shoulders as if to make sure she was really there.
"Okay, what the hell is going on?" she asked, confused but mostly concerned by their sheer panic.
Before either of them could answer, the door slammed open once more, and Henry stormed in like a man possessed. He froze the moment his frantic gaze landed on her. Relief flooded his expression, and in two long strides, he was in front of her, pulling her into his arms.
"Henry, what—"
He crashed his lips against hers, his hands cupping her face as if he needed to feel every inch of her to believe she was real. The kiss was deep, desperate, layered with a turmoil she didn't understand.
"Emmy... please tell me you didn't eat it," he whispered against her lips, peppering kisses over her cheeks, her forehead, her nose. "Please."
She let out a breathless laugh, completely caught off guard. "Henry! We have guests, please stop," she giggled, trying to push him back, though he refused to let her go just yet.
Then his gaze darted over to the kitchen table. His body tensed.
Without another word, he released her and strode toward it.
Emilia followed his line of sight just in time to see him snatch up the red velvet cake she had left untouched.
"Henry—"
Before she could finish, he lifted the cake and, with one furious motion, slammed it onto the floor.
The impact sent frosting and crumbs flying, but what followed made Emilia's stomach churn.
Scattered amidst the ruined cake were at least thirty small razor blades, gleaming under the soft lighting of the suite.
A heavy silence fell over the room.
And just like that—everything changed.
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The room fell into a suffocating silence, the air thick with disbelief and horror. Emilia's breath hitched, her trembling hands clenching the hem of her sweater as her gaze locked onto the razor blades glistening among the ruins of the red velvet cake. Her stomach twisted in realization. If she had taken even a single bite...
Henry was the first to move. His jaw clenched so tightly it looked as if it might shatter, his hands balled into fists at his sides, shaking with unfiltered rage. He turned on his heel, raking a hand through his dark hair as he let out a slow, shuddering breath. His heart pounded violently against his ribs, the weight of his worst fears pressing down on him like a vice.
Beau crouched beside the wreckage, picking up one of the razor blades carefully between his fingers. He turned it, his brow furrowing before his expression twisted into something dark. "Who the fuck would do this?" His voice was dangerously low, thick with anger and disbelief.
Jason, still crouched, studied the blade in his brother's hand. The inscription gleamed under the dim lighting, fresh and deliberate. "Z his expression unreadable.
"If someone's coming for you—for Emilia—then they're coming for all of us." He tossed the razor blade onto the table with a dull clink.
He had spent years carrying the weight of responsibility, shielding the people he loved, believing he could bear it alone.
But in this moment, staring at his brothers, at Emilia, he realized something else. He didn't have to. A slow exhale left his lips.
He turned to Emilia, brushing his knuckles against her cheek, grounding himself in her warmth.
Emilia's eyes shimmered with something fragile yet fierce.
She nodded, fingers tightening around his wrist.
Jason pulled out his phone, his jaw set.
"We need to call Cayden. If someone's watching, if they're coming back... we need to find them before they try again."
Henry's grip on Emilia's waist tightened, his body coiled with tension.
His voice dropped to something lethal, unyielding.
"And when we do,"
his gaze darkened, a promise of retribution burning in his eyes,