Flash Marriage: In His Eyes Chapter 21: The Blackwell Family

–Damien–

I bask in the scorn they shoot my way. Their disgust only makes prouder—because they all see it now. She is mine.

Livana is flawless. Beautiful, powerful, untouchable. That silver hair, those rare violet eyes—she’s sculpted like a weapon. And I own every inch of her.

But our families? We’re oil and fire. Not oil and water—because water calms things. No, we ignite. The Atlantic and Pacific have better chances of rging than we do.

"What the hell are you talking about?" my mother snapped, her voice sharp with disbelief.

I smiled. Slow. Wicked.

"Livana here is my wife. We tied the knot two weeks ago, right, babe?"

She stayed quiet at first, then spoke in that icy way that made burn.

"Marrying your son wasn’t ant to bring peace. It was ant to ignite war, I think. I apologize for arriving empty-handed. He loves his surprises."

That fake smile? Still stunning. Even when she lies, she does it like a queen.

"You don’t like my son," my mother said, her smirk curling beneath her words.

"Of course I don’t," Livana replied, flashing those perfect teeth. "I detest him. I can barely stand him. He’s using , and I’m using him. That’s all this is."

God, I love her when she’s cruel.

"You married an engaged man," my mother-in-law snarled. Aunt Bernadette tried to quiet Tyrona’s sobs.

"Right back at you," Livana purred. "He married an engaged woman."

And there it was—that steel in her voice. Sharp enough to draw blood.

"I never agreed to that engagent, Auntie," I said coolly. "If I recall correctly, David stood in for ."

My younger brother, the joker, grinned and leaned in. "Welco to the circus, Sis!" He pulled into a hug, then whispered between us, "I had to stand in during sex too, brother. You owe ."

I snorted. The bastard.

He moved to hug Livana but she shoved his face away, disgusted. He only laughed.

"I like her already. But seriously, Sis, watch your back. This house eats people alive."

My mother dragged him away like the rabid mutt he was.

"This is unforgivable, Damon," my father growled, his hand dragging down his face.

I glanced at my grandparents, both watching in eerie silence.

"So, I guess everyone’s against this little union," I grinned, staring straight into my grandfather’s glare. "Fine. Cut out of the will. I’ll just cling to Livana and work for her, right babe?"

"You’d be useless to if you did that," she replied, cold as a blade.

And I loved it. Hearing her cut down in front of them? It thrilled .

"Will your family be joining us?" my father asked, still trying to salvage so control.

"Of course not," she answered flatly. "I haven’t introduced him yet."

"You’re talking to my dad, love."

"Mhm. Well, everyone hates . I’m not in the mood to kiss ass."

I couldn’t stop laughing. She kills .

I pulled her closer. Possessively. "We’ll be staying here. Also, Laura—my sister-in-law—will be joining us."

"Oh yeah, I love Laura," David chid in. "Tell her to bring cheesecake!"

Of course David likes everyone. He’s chaos in human form.

I t Aunt Bernadette’s eyes—she was already gathering her daughter.

"No, no. Please, stay for dinner," I said, my sarcasm soaked in poison. "You’re family. David can marry Tyrona. You’ll get the family na you need."

David scowled. "Bro. No. I’m not getting married. Don’t drag into this."

"Fine," I shrugged. "Everyone, digest the news. We’re going to our room."

"Is she still blind?" my sister Alyssa asked, her voice soaked in judgnt. "Can I see her eyes? I heard she has a condition."

I shot her a glare. She t it without flinching.

"What? I’m just curious."

"That’s my sister, Alyssa," I told Livana.

"Hello, Alyssa. Yes, I’m blind. And yes, I have a rare condition."

"Hmm. Good luck," Alyssa said, not bothering to hide the venom.

Livana smiled. That smile—the kind you wear when you already suspect you’re going to die in the house you just entered.

"Jane," I called her nurse. "Bring my wife to our room."

"Yes, sir."

As I bent to kiss her, she pinched . I grinned and kissed her hard, ignoring the disgusted groans around us. When Jane led her away, I turned back to the room.

"No one touches my wife," I said, low and deadly. "Not even a strand of her hair."

My father exploded. He hurled a vase at . I dodged easily.

"You bastard!" he roared, lunging at with a punch. It connected—but I didn’t flinch. I stared him down, unshaken.

"Yeah, I married that woman."

He seethed, furious. But I was taller now. Stronger. I looked down at him.

"If anything happens to Livana under this roof—if she bleeds, if she so much as breaks a nail—I’ll burn this house to the ground. With every one of you inside."

Then I looked at Tyrona, who shrank beneath my stare.

"You tried to kill her once, Tyrona. I’ll make sure you never get a second chance."

Everyone turned to her. Silence.

I would never be able to kill her, not with the alliances our families had. But I would burn everything else to protect Livana. Even if she hated . Especially if she hated .

I headed straight to our room. I’d had it renovated, personalized—everything she’d ever want or need.

Paper bags lined the walls—new clothes, new luxury. All for her.

"Leave us," I told Jane.

She obeyed. I approached Livana, seated on the sofa like a dethroned queen. I dropped to my knees in front of her.

"One night," I said. "We’ll stay for one night. Then I’ll take you ho. But first..." My voice dropped. "Let’s get undressed and make love."

"No," she said, sharp and cold.

"You can’t stop , baby."

I removed her shoes and scooped her into my arms.

She grabbed my collar as I tossed her onto the bed, peeling off my clothes like I was shedding restraint.

"Why are you like this?" she hissed. "Do you get off on fighting your family?"

I stared down at her, dark hunger in my eyes.

"You make like this," I murmured. "You ruin ."

I knelt between her legs, aching to be ruined in return.

–Damien–

I arrived at the main estate with the burnt cheesecake Laura insisted I bring. She said it was part of a new recipe she was testing—so "charred vanilla caral fusion." Whatever that ant. I set the box down on the table just as David strolled in, grinning like he’d won sothing.

"So, this is from Laura?" he asked, already eyeing the packaging like a starving child.

"Yup. One of her latest ventures. She’s obsessed with cheesecake lately."

"I love cheesecake." Without hesitation, David snatched a small box. "This one’s mine. Oh, and FYI—the newlyweds are upstairs, probably wrecking the bed." He snorted at his own joke.

I shook my head. Classic David. Always blunt. But what caught my attention wasn’t the joke—it was the sinking feeling in my gut. It wasn’t Livana who was the problem. It was Damon. Damon was obsessed with her.

Lowering my voice, I leaned closer. "And where’s Tyrona?"

David’s grin faltered, shifting to sothing more guarded. He leaned in too.

"I saw her heading upstairs not long ago. Maybe to confront them? Who knows. You know how she is. That girl’s so in love with Damon, she once called his na while riding ." He chuckled, but it was laced with sothing bitter.

I stared at him. That... didn’t surprise . Tyrona hid her obsession well, but David? His mouth was a curse. He was too damn honest.

I nudged him hard. "Seriously?"

He shrugged. "At least she slept with a Blackwell. Just... not the one she wanted."

I didn’t laugh. Instead, a cold unease settled into my spine. I turned and headed upstairs, instincts prickling.

At the top, I found Tyrona frozen outside Damon’s bedroom. The door was ajar. Her shoulders trembled, and her eyes—bloodshot and glistening—were locked on sothing inside. In her right hand, a knife glead under the hallway light.

My heart dropped.

I moved fast. One glance through the crack in the door told all I needed. Damon was kneeling between Livana’s legs, his face far too close to hers, and she was sprawled on the bed, rigid.

I closed the door silently and shoved Tyrona against the wall before she could react.

"What the hell are you doing?" I hissed.

She gasped, startled, and the knife clattered to the floor.

"Why?" she choked out. "I did everything for him. Everything! Look at —am I ugly? Is that it?"

I stared at her. She wasn’t ugly. But obsession made people look monstrous.

"You made the wrong choices," I said bluntly.

She broke down completely, sobbing, hitting my chest with her fists like a child denied candy. I caught her wrists, holding them tightly.

"I’m warning you, Tyrona," I said, my voice ice-cold. "Don’t touch her. Don’t go near her. Not in this house. Not ever."

I saw it flash in her eyes—the mory. She rembered, just as I did, the ti she tried to drown Livana in the pool. Damon had been out of his mind with rage after returning from the hospital. And Tyrona? She acted like she didn’t understand why.

She’d always been like this. Territorial. Deranged. Possessive in a way that turned fatal.

Hell, even the won Damon slept with casually had ended up bruised or traumatized—sohow, always "accidents" whenever Tyrona was around.

And then it hit . A sliver of mory, sharp and sickening.

That night—after Livana left Damon’s hotel room—sothing did happen. The pepper spray incident.

My blood turned to ice.

Could Tyrona have... orchestrated that, too?

I looked down at her, still struggling against my grip, and I didn’t see a heartbroken girl anymore.

I saw a threat.