Chapter 3 - The Sanctuary of Blackwood
The eviction came sooner than expected.
On Friday afternoon, while Grace was preparing a simple meal of pasta and butter for Emma, her front door was kicked open. Silas Thorne, flanked by two burly men holding empty cardboard boxes, stepped into the tiny apartment.
"Out," Silas barked, pointing his finger toward the street. "You’re done, Mitchell. I’ve sold the building to a new development group, and they want all non-paying tenants cleared out by sunset."
"You can't do this!" Grace cried, shielding Emma behind her body. "The law says you have to give me thirty days notice! You can't just throw a child onto the street in the middle of a rainstorm!"
"The law doesn't apply to people who can't afford a lawyer, sweetheart," Silas sneered, grabbing her small television and throwing it into a cardboard box. "Pack your bags, or my boys will pack them for you."
Before Grace could scream for help, a shadow fell over the doorway.
The two burly men suddenly froze, their expressions turning from arrogant to terrified in a split second. Silas turned around, his smug grin vanishing as he came face-to-face with Marcus Blackwood.
Marcus didn't say a word. He simply walked into the apartment, his presence filling the cramped space with an overwhelming, dangerous authority. Behind him stood four of his private security operators, their hands resting firmly on their tactical vests.
"Silas," Marcus said, his voice a low, terrifying growl. "I believe you're violating the city’s emergency housing codes."
"M-Mr. Blackwood!" Silas stammered, backing away until his knees hit Grace’s old sofa. "I... I didn't know you had an interest in this property! We were just... we were just cleaning out the unit—"
"This building now belongs to Blackwood Industries," Marcus said calmly, pulling a legal transfer deed from his coat pocket and tossing it onto the table. "I bought the mortgage forty-five minutes ago. Which means you are currently trespassing on my property."
Silas’s face turned an ugly shade of gray. He looked at the deed, then at Marcus’s security team, and realized he was entirely outmatched. "We're leaving! We're leaving right now!" he squeaked, scrambling out of the apartment with his men close behind him.
Once the door was clear, Marcus turned to Grace.
She stood in the middle of her ruined living room, her chest heaving, tears finally spilling over her lashes. "Why are you doing this?" she whispered, her voice cracking. "Why can't you just let us go? I don't want to be a piece in your war with Richard Vance."
"This isn't about Vance, Grace," Marcus said softly, walking over to kneel beside Emma, who was staring up at him with wide, trusting eyes. "This is about a promise I made to a boy thirty years ago. I will not let another mother cry in the dark."
He stood up, holding out his hand to Grace. "My estate in Beacon Hill has a carriage house. It’s warm, it’s secure, and it’s fully furnished. It’s yours, rent-free, for as long as you need to get back on your feet."
May you like
Grace looked at his hand, then at Emma’s tired face. She realized she had run out of options. Her pride could not feed her daughter.
"Okay," Grace whispered, placing her hand in his. "Thank you, Marcus."
