Chapter 20
Blood his jaw tightened. “If this is about Cate—”
“Of course it’s about Cate.” Her voice didn’t rise; it didn’t need to. “And the fact that she’s failed at the only expectation that matters in this family.”
His grip on the glass tightened. “That isn’t something we can control.”
Evelyn tapped her fingers against the armrest.
“Then perhaps you should take control of the situation.” A pause. Calculated. “Cate may be incapable. But science has its… advantages.”
A humorless huff escaped him. He leaned back in an attempt to stretch the tension from his neck. “You’re pitching IVF like it’s part of a quarterly strategy meeting.”
“It is.” Her words snapped like bone. “So is legacy.”
“An investment in the future of this family. And currently, it’s yielding no return.”
He dragged a hand down his face. Irritation flared beneath the polished exterior.
“She’s doing everything she can. We both are. But I suppose that’s not good enough for you.”
Her expression didn’t shift.
“No. It isn’t.”
Silence settled. Thick. Choking.
Her tone cooled further. The air shifted with it.
“And while we’re on the topic of your other… deficiencies—”
His jaw worked. “Here we go.”
“I trust you haven’t been foolish enough to try and remedy the situation elsewhere.”
His posture stayed still, composed. But something in him tightened.
“You’re reaching.”
A quiet, dismissive laugh. “Please. Don’t insult me.” She leaned forward, voice dipping lower. Sharper.
“Let me make myself clear: I will not tolerate some bastard crawling out of the woodwork ten years from now, waving a blood claim.”
Alex’s smirk returned, but it had teeth now. “Worried about the family name being tarnished by some stray?”
“I’m worried about cleaning up another one of your messes.”
He shook his head. “Relax. I know how to be discreet.”
She arched a brow. “Do you?”
The question dangled, pointed and barbed.
“If you insist on your indulgences, fine. But if a Blackwell heir is to be born, it will be with our approval. On our terms.”
Alex’s mouth curved, all edge. “You always did make motherhood sound like a hostile takeover.”
Her silence was answer enough.
“This family wasn’t built on love, Alex. It was built on legacy. One you’ve yet to secure.”
The words scraped something raw in him, but he buried it. He always did.
“Cate is trying,” he said, voice tight. “We both are.”
She gave him a long, unreadable look. Then leaned back, as if bored with the entire exchange.
“Try harder.”
The silence that followed wasn’t empty.
It pulsed with tension.
He finished his bourbon and set the glass down with finality. It rang like punctuation.
“You know,” he murmured, not quite looking at her, “Gideon might not be the heir you wanted, but at least you don’t have to remind him of his responsibilities every time he walks through the damn door.”
Evelyn’s lips curved. A phantom smile.
“That’s because he understands the stakes.”
Alex gave a short, humorless laugh, then he stood.
“Well, this has been enlightening.”
She watched him rise. Composed. Unmoved. “It always is.”
“Gideon may not want this family. But he understands it. And that’s what makes him dangerous.”
Alex stilled mid-step. “Dangerous?”
Evelyn swirled her tea with slow elegance, watching the spiral form.
“He thinks he can separate himself from us. That blood is something you can outrun with enough distance or disdain.”
She finally looked up. Cold. Calculating. Like a knife behind fine china.
“But blood always leaves a trail.”
He said nothing.
“And while you wrestle with your… domestic failure,” she continued, “Gideon’s been making decisions. Quiet ones. Strategic ones. And they concern me.”
Alex lifted his brow, amused. “What decisions?”
She set her teacup down. The porcelain kissed the table with a soft, deliberate sound.
“Miss Rivers.”
His expression flickered with amusement, mostly.
“The bartender?”
He took another sip of bourbon. No concern. No worry. Just mild interest.
“That’s cute.”
Evelyn said nothing. She didn’t have to. She simply watched him, letting silence do the work.
He shook his head—dismissive, certain she was overreacting. “So what’s the play?”
Her smile was serene. Her gaze? Surgical.
“One problem at a time, darling. For now, worry about yours.”
He gave a shallow nod: not agreement, but acknowledgment. He didn’t see the threat.
Not yet.
Arden Rivers was a passing novelty. A flicker of interest.
That was how Alex saw it.
But Evelyn? She saw more.
As Alex moved toward the door, she reached for her phone without hesitation. Dialed.
The door swung shut with a muted finality, but the warning stayed.
One ring.
“Colton,” she said.
Calm. Controlled. Dangerous.
“We need to talk.”
?
The late afternoon sun filtered through heavy curtains, catching on the cup and saucer in her hand. Evelyn sat perfectly still as though sitting for a portrait; every movement was calculated down to the tilt of her teacup.
Colton lounged across from her with the ease of a man born into power and shaped by shadow. He didn’t posture. He radiated presence.
“So,” she murmured, placing her cup down with a gentle clink that carried more weight than porcelain should, “how is my wayward son?”
Colton’s smirk was slow, indulgent. “Predictable. Still brimming with that signature moral superiority. And clinging to that bartender like she’s the last hill he’ll die on.”
Evelyn’s fingers drummed once, light and rhythmic, against the chair’s armrest. “Is that so?”
“He told me to keep my distance,” Colton drawled, leaning forward enough to show he was paying attention. “But I’m guessing you knew that.”
Her smile was a flicker. Polished. Practiced. Devoid of warmth.
“Gideon has always confused loyalty with weakness,” she said smoothly. “It makes him easy to wound.”
She studied Colton with a gaze sharpened for weakness.
“And what do you make of her?”
He gave a low whistle. “Arden Rivers.”
A pause as he considered the name.
“Not your typical distraction. She’s got grit. Doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t fold. I’ll give her that.”
He tilted his head. Almost admiring.
“She’s not easy to shake.”
Evelyn’s expression sharpened. “Perhaps it’s time someone did.”
Colton’s brows lifted, amused. “Is that an order?”
Her eyes didn’t flicker. “A suggestion. A pressure test. You’ve been watching her. Let’s not pretend otherwise.”
He didn’t bother denying it.
“But observation is passive,” she continued. “What I want is impact. Nudge where it matters. Apply weight where it fractures.”
She took a slow sip of tea.
“And if she proves… fragile—”
Her cup landed gently in its saucer.
Colton’s grin stretched, edged with something feral. “She breaks. I’ll make sure of it.”
Evelyn reclined, the embodiment of satisfied calculation. “That’s what I expected to hear.”
Colton rose, straightening the cuffs of his shirt with a bored elegance. “Gideon thinks she’s untouchable. Gideon thinks she’s untouchable. As if distance could protect her from bloodlines.”
A pause. A smirk.
“But we both know there’s no such thing.”
Evelyn’s voice barely rose, but the words wrapped around the room like a noose. “Everyone becomes a Blackwell problem eventually.”
Colton chuckled, his expression dark, clearly amused. He moved toward the door, then turned. “I’ll be watching.”
The door shut with a decisive click.
And for a single, rare moment, Evelyn was alone with the thought she had refused to speak aloud:
Gideon wasn’t just rebelling anymore.
He was choosing.
And if Arden Rivers truly had his heart, then it was time to remind him:
Legacy would outlast love.
And in this family, legacy never lost.