Morning settled over the great Blackwell estate, its enormous size casting long shadows over everything around it. Sunlight struck the tall windows, reflecting in sharp glints that made the old building look almost unreal.
A short distance from Aiden's penthouse stood the main mansion, where his uncle and family lived. It was far more luxurious compared to the penthouse, from the polished marble floors to the heavy chandeliers hanging from the ceiling.
Richard Blackwell had been a powerful tycoon, known for his endless wealth. There was hardly anyone, especially in Blackridge, who hadn't heard his name. Even in death, he remained a topic of conversation.
And there was his son, his only heir.
Anyone who knew Richard knew of him too. The heir to his father's great wealth. But that wasn't what piqued people's interest most. Rather than the story of a young boy, who would inherit the great Richard's fortune, people were more interested in the fact that the successor was a mad man.
Years has passed, and the mad heir remained uncured. All hope had been lost, and even strangers eyed the untouched fortune, wealth that wasn't theirs to claim.
Richard's younger brother, Charles, had moved in with his wife and son to care for his nephew, who had lost his father at a young age. To the public, he was the selfless and devoted uncle, who took in his brother's son after his death, regardless of his incurable madness. But behind closed doors, his intentions were far from noble.
Though Richard had left him twenty percent of his wealth, it had never been enough. Not when the remaining eighty percent sat in the hands of a boy deemed unfit to control it. After years of lavish spending and living luxuriously, their banks were dry and now more than ever, they were desperate to steal the remaining eighty percent given to an heir who wasn't even mentally fit to claim it.
Margaret had been the one to suggest marriage. According to Richard's will, the fortune would go to charity if anything happened to his heir. Though they appeared to be a dutiful family caring for their mad nephew, they had only kept him alive because the will protected him. Unless they wanted to lose the money—which wasn't even theirs—they had to keep him safe and untouched.
Marriage was the only solution. They would get him a wife and once she gained legal control over his wealth, they would manipulate her into handing it over and then dispose her. But the problem was finding someone willing to marry their cursed nephew. Word spread fast. Everyone knew about the mad heir, how aggressive he could be, how inhuman he seemed, how he was like a beast. Though some parts of the rumors were exaggerated, it was true that their nephew was mad.
A madness that couldn't be cured and somehow made him smart. Too smart to see through their scheme of making him sign away the only thing keeping him alive.
Margaret still got goosebumps remembering the day she tried to make him sign away his inheritance. She still had nightmares about it. He had only been thirteen, and she had thought she could outsmart him, but she was wrong. Just when she thought everything was going her way, her young nephew had smiled devilishly, before completely losing his mind and running wild like a beast set loosed.
Since then, Margaret had never stepped foot in the penthouse. That moment made her realize her nephew was far smarter than they had thought, even with his madness. Petty tricks wouldn't work on him, they had to plan carefully if they didn't want to end up on the edge of the knife, instead of him.
They had sent a number of useless desperate girls, who had no where to go. But it all backfired as some returned either traumatized or too cold to speak. It was like Aiden was playing with them, and they had to clean up the mess he created. But this time, Margaret had taken her time selecting a wife for her nephew. It had to work this time, because their banks were completely empty, they wouldn't last long if they didn't take the fortune sitting idle in their nephew's bank account. And it had to be quick, before people notice they were broke and were just munching off their mad nephew.
They had sent a number of desperate, useless girls with nowhere to go. But it always backfired. Some returned traumatized or too cold to speak. It was as if Aiden was playing with them, and they were left to clean up the mess he made. But this time, Margaret had taken her time choosing a wife for her nephew. It had to work. Their accounts were nearly empty, and they wouldn't last long if they didn't get their hands on the fortune sitting idle in his name. And it had to be quick, before people realized they were broke and living off their mad nephew.
It wasn't easy finding the perfect girl, especially since no one was willing to let their daughter marry the Blackwells' mad heir. But then Margaret heard about Mrs. Dyer. She had two daughters, though she never spoke kindly of one of them. Looking into it further, Margaret discovered that one of the girls wasn't her birth child, but more of a charity case something Mrs. Dyer didn't even try to hide. She often complained about how incompetent the girl was, and there was hardly ever a word of praise for her.
Margaret studied the Dyers for three months before finally approaching Marianne. The middle-class woman felt honored that someone from the Blackwell household would befriend her, and she never thought to question it.
When Margaret mentioned she was searching for a wife for her nephew, someone who could take legal control of his wealth, since he was too unstable to manage it, Marianne had thoughtlessly recommended her daughter. But being the good friend she was, Margaret had told her how wrong it'd be to have her daughter marry her sick nephew.
Marianne couldn't let the opportunity slip. She was now associated with a Blackwell, and the thought of marrying into their family was too tempting. The idea of her daughter gaining control of the mad heir's fortune was even more appealing.
But that would mean sending her own daughter to a madman. She couldn't risk that, not with Lydia, her only child.
Then she remembered Celeste.
Celeste was of age, and unlike Lydia, she was expendable. They had fed and sheltered her for years, it was only fair she repay their kindness, wasn't it? It was a lot to ask, yes, but Celeste could manage. They were her only family, after all. Marrying into the Blackwells would change their lives. Celeste couldn't be selfish enough to refuse.
Either way, Marianne had no intention of passing the opportunity to another desperate mother. If she couldn't send her own daughter, she could send the other one. So she accepted the proposal before even asking Celeste, and had discussed it with her husband and daughter when she got home.
Lydia took after her, something she loved the most, and agreed without hesitation. Her husband, on the other hand, said nothing, but he didn't object either. And so, preparations began for Celeste's marriage, unaware that it had all been part of Margaret's plan. She had known Marianne wouldn't let such an opportunity slip.
Now, seated in the garden, Margaret sipped her tea, breathing in its rich aroma. It was her morning routine, something to distract herself from the reality of their near-empty accounts. Her gaze drifted often to the path leading to the penthouse, waiting for news, any news. She had done her part. Now she just needed the girl to survive.
Hopefully, her nephew hadn't done anything to ruin things.
She took another sip, glancing toward the path again with a quiet sigh. Noticing the tension in his wife's expression, Charles spoke.
"Relax, Margaret. If this one doesn't work out, we'll handle it—like we always do."
Margaret set her cup down with more force than necessary. "This isn't like the others, Charles. We're almost broke. She's our only hope." She sighed again, her eyes returning to the path, waiting.
A servant approached, and her gaze lifted at once, a flicker of hope crossing her face.
"I've prepared the whips, madam," he said instead."
She groaned in frustration, shooting the servant a glare before dismissing him with a wave of her hand.
"Whips?" her husband asked, looking up from his phone. "What for?"
Margaret took another sip of her tea, trying to steady her nerves. "What do you think? Aiden must've done something again. It was hard enough finding this girl."
Aiden always did this. He might be mad, but he was far too smart for his own good. He must have killed his new wife, if he hadn't, Clarke would've rushed in with news by now. But she hadn't seen any servants from that penthouse all morning, which only confirmed her suspicions.
If Aiden had truly killed his new wife, their only hope, then she would kill him today. They had gained nothing from keeping him alive all these years, it wouldn't hurt to be rid of him.
"Just don't beat him too badly. He's still our only hope," Charles said.
Margaret scoffed. "Only hope? It's been years, Charles. We've taken care of that mad dog for so long, and this is how he repays us. He's always ruining our plans."
Charles sighed. She wasn't wrong, but they had waited this long, it wouldn't hurt to wait a little longer. "Calm down, Margaret. We haven't heard anything yet. She could still be alive."
"Dad's right."
The voice came from the entrance of the garden. Margaret turned, her gaze landing on her tall, handsome son.
"Stop worrying so much, Mum."
"How can I not worry? Aiden is always causing trouble for us. I swear, if anything happens to that girl, I'll kill him." Her grip tightened around her cup.
Michael let out a small laugh at her expression. "Before you do that, I have good news." He paused, watching her closely. "She survived. In fact, when I spoke to Harlow, he said he... likes her."
Margaret rose to her feet almost immediately. "Quick, bring her to me!" she said, urgency in her voice.