Chapter 72: Henry’ Visit At Marion’s House
The road stretched endlessly before Henry as he gripped the steering wheel with one hand, the other resting on the armrest.
"She doesn’t know when to stop," he muttered to himself, the engine’s sound drowning out the faint sound of his breathing.
For weeks, he had been giving Eira chances, allowing her to find a graceful way out.
A way that didn’t involve dragging his family through the dirt.
But every step of the way, she’d been defiant, mocking, and, worst of all, confident.
"I should’ve handled this weeks ago," he thought bitterly, the lines on his forehead deepening. "But no. I wanted to be civil, to give her an out. And what does she do? Laugh in my face."
The mory of her smirk from earlier that evening burned in his mind. Her arrogance, her unshakable attitude—it all infuriated him.
"Well, Eira, you’re out of ti. Since you can’t fix this, I’ll do it myself."
As the car sped down the highway, Henry’s thoughts changed.
He thought of his daughter Vanesa. Useless now, in his eyes, but her uselessness could still be an asset.
"Vanesa," he murmured, picking up his phone from the console. He pressed a button, and his assistant answered after the first ring.
"Yes, Mr. Blackwood?"
"Release it."
The assistant hesitated. "The press statent about Vanesa’s injuries?"
"Yes," Henry snapped. "Now. Make sure they highlight Callian’s involvent. Fra it right. Vanesa’s pain is a tragedy—tragic enough to justify my intervention. Understood?"
"Understood, sir."
He hung up, his knuckles white against the leather wheel.
The corners of his lips twitched upward in a grim smile. "Let’s see how they like that."
Henry’s car veered off the main highway, heading into Eira’s old town.
He’d spent weeks digging through her past, and every lead had pointed him here.
To Marion...
Marion knew things, things Eira probably thought were buried forever.
If Eira wouldn’t listen to reason, perhaps Marion would.
// Marion’s House //
The streetlights were dim, giving long shadows across the small, weathered houses.
Henry’s car ca to a slow stop in front of Marion’s ho, a modest structure with peeling paint and a sagging roof.
Three black SUVs pulled up behind him, their occupants stayed inside but seed to be on alert.
Henry stepped out of his car, straightened his jacket, and glanced at the house.
"Charming," he muttered sarcastically before walking up the creaking wooden steps.
He knocked firmly.
The sound echoed in the still night.
The door opened almost imdiately, and Marion stood there.
She was smaller than he expected, her sharp features frad by streaks of grey in her hair.
Her eyes, however, were piercing and ready.
"Mr. Blackwood," she said in a calm and deliberate way.
Henry tilted his head, studying her.
He’d expected fear, maybe even trembling. Instead, Marion seed entirely unimpressed.
"You know who I am," he said.
"Of course I do. It’s hard to miss a man who thinks he owns everything he touches."
Henry smiled faintly, though his jaw twitched. "Good. Then this won’t take long. May I co in?"
Marion’s eyes flicked to the SUVs parked outside, then back to Henry. "Just you."
Henry’s smile grew. "Fair enough."
He stepped inside, and Marion closed the door behind him.
The living room was small and tidy, though clearly well-worn.
Marion gestured to a chair, but Henry waved it off, remaining standing.
"Straight to business," he began. "You and I both know why I’m here."
Marion leaned against the arm of the couch, crossing her arms. "Enlighten ."
"Eira," he said simply. "She’s beco a problem. A problem that needs fixing."
Marion’s lips twitched, but she said nothing.
Henry continued, his tone softened a little bit. "I’m here to offer you a deal. Convince her to let go of this foolishness—this vendetta she thinks she’s winning. I’ll pay you generously. Enough for you to leave this town, go overseas, start fresh. You’ll never have to worry about her or again."
Marion stared at him for a long mont, then tilted her head. "You think you can buy off?"
"I think I’m offering you a solution," Henry said smoothly.
Marion let out a short laugh. "Like you offered your children solutions? How did that work out, Henry? Oh, wait. It didn’t."
Henry’s eyes hardened. "This isn’t about my family. It’s about Eira."
Marion pushed off the couch, stepping closer.
"You think you can control everything, don’t you? But look at you. Your children hate you. Your wife can’t stand you. And the only thing holding your empire together is your na. What happens when that crumbles, Henry? What will you have then?"
His hand clenched at his side. "Careful."
"Or what?" Marion challenged. "You’ll send to jail? Threaten like you threatened Eira? Go ahead. I’ve been through worse than the likes of you."
Henry’s patience snapped.
In two strides, he was in front of her, his hand wrapped around her neck and pushed her back against the wall.
Marion didn’t flinch. She didn’t even blink.
"You think I’m scared of you?" she said confidently despite the pressure against her throat.
Henry’s eyes burned with rage. "You should be."
Marion’s lips curled into a smirk. "You’re pathetic. A grown man so terrified of losing control that he picks fights with won and children. What a legacy, Henry. Truly inspiring."
His grip tightened, but she still didn’t show fear.
Instead, she laughed—a soft sound that made his blood boil.
"You don’t scare ," she said again, going through his anger like a blade. "And you never will."
Henry’s jaw worked, his mind scread at him to stop, to regain control.
Slowly, he released her, stepping back and adjusting his jacket.
"You’ll regret this," he said quietly, his voice was ice-cold.
Marion straightened, rubbing her neck but still smiling faintly. "Maybe. But not tonight."
"I simply have to find another way..."
"And what is that way?" She raised an eyebrow.
Henry opened the door, and seven n got inside her house.
"What are you doing?"
"Finding my other way," he said.
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