His Forbidden Obsessions

The grand chandelier shimmered above, casting its golden glow over the opulent ballroom.

The air buzzed with murmurs, heels clicking against marble floors, the clinking of champagne glasses-every sound melting into an extravagant symphony of wealth and power.

I stepped into the light, the weight of a thousand gazes settling on me. The moment my heels clicked against the polished floor, the whispers began.

"Is that... her?"

"Impossible. She wouldn't dare show her face here."

"Oh, but look at her now."

I smirked. Oh, how they loved a scandal.

It had been five years since I last set foot in this house of wolves. Five years since I had been cast out, deemed unworthy of the Blackwood legacy.

They thought I was gone for good. That I had vanished into the shadows, licking my wounds in some forgotten corner of the world. How wrong they were.

I had spent those years rebuilding myself, piece by piece. I had learned to thrive in the very darkness they had thrown me into. I had sharpened my mind, honed my instincts, and cultivated an armor of indifference.

They thought I would never return, but here I was, standing in the very den of the predators who had once feasted on my ruin.

"Well, well," a smooth voice drawled. "The prodigal daughter returns."

My breath hitched for just a fraction of a second.

I turned, meeting the sharp, knowing gaze of the man who once held my fate in his hands-Marcus Blackwood. My step-uncle. The man who rejected me, cast me aside as though I were nothing more than a foolish girl with naive dreams.

He hadn't changed. Broad shoulders, perfectly tailored suit, the ever-present air of quiet dominance. But there was something else-a flicker of something unreadable in those dark eyes.

I tilted my chin up, letting amusement dance in my expression.

"Surprised to see me, Uncle? I thought a man of your stature wouldn't be so easily rattled."

His jaw tensed. Just a little. But I caught it.

"Not rattled," he murmured, stepping closer, his voice a quiet threat. "Just curious. What game are you playing now?"

I smiled, slow and deliberate. Oh, he had no idea.

The night had only just begun.

My fingers curled around the stem of my champagne glass as a waiter passed by, offering me a drink with an expression carefully neutral. Even the staff knew better than to let their thoughts show.

This was not just any party. It was a battlefield, with alliances forged and broken over a single sip of expensive wine.

My eyes flickered across the room. Familiar faces from my childhood, people who had once cooked over my innocence, now watching me like vultures circling a wounded prey. They expected me to falter, to crumble under the weight of my past disgrace.

I would disappoint them all.

A younger me would have searched for an ally in the crowd, someone to offer a reassuring glance or an encouraging smile. But I had long since given up on such naïve hopes. In this world, there were no true allies-only those who had yet to betray you.

"You never answered my question, Marcus," I said, swirling the champagne in my glass. "Are you surprised? Or are you afraid?"

A ghost of a smirk played on his lips. "Should I be?"

"Perhaps," I murmured. "After all, you did everything in your power to keep me away. To erase me. But here I stand."

His eyes darkened, his grip tightening around his own glass. "You were never erased, Evelyn. Just... forgotten."

A sharp pang stabbed at my chest, but I masked it with a chuckle. "How convenient for you. But tell me, Uncle, what happens when a forgotten ghost decides to haunt the living?"

His expression remained unreadable, but I caught the way his shoulders stiffened ever so slightly.

"Then, I suppose," he said, voice low and dangerous, "we will have to see who survives the night."

I took a slow sip of my drink, eyes never leaving his. The game had begun. And I had no intention of losing.

Across the ballroom, I spotted Victoria Lennox, my childhood rival and Marcus's most trusted confidante.

She was draped in an emerald-green gown, her icy blue eyes assessing me with barely veiled contempt. She had always been a step ahead of me in their world, the perfect daughter figure in my absence. And now, she saw me as a threat.

"Evelyn," Victoria called out, gliding toward me with the grace of someone who had been trained in deception her entire life. "What a pleasant surprise."

I met her gaze head-on, a lazy smile curving my lips. "Victoria. It's been too long. How is life treating you as Marcus's favorite?"

Her lips twitched, but she recovered quickly. "It's been wonderful, actually. You know, some of us didn't need to disappear to find ourselves."

"Some of us weren't given a choice," I countered smoothly. "But I do appreciate your concern. Truly."

The tension between us was palpable, thick enough to cut with the very knife she would no doubt love to sink into my back.

The music changed, the orchestra shifting into a slower, more haunting melody. Couples began to move toward the dance floor, the swirling skirts and polished shoes creating a mesmerizing display of old-world elegance.

"Shall we?" Marcus extended a hand, a knowing glint in his eyes.

I hesitated for only a second before placing my hand in his. The dance had begun-both on the ballroom floor and in the silent war we were waging. I would let him lead. For now.

But he had no idea what I had planned next.