Chapter 17
Three months later, the Blackwood name carried an entirely different weight across the city. The era of ruthless, untouchable high-society tyranny was dead; in its place stood a formidable partnership that commanded absolute respect.
Inside the grand study, Ivy sat behind the massive mahogany desk, reviewing the quarterly philanthropic initiative she had personally designed—funding scholarships and medical care for working-class families across the district.
The heavy oak doors opened, and Viktor walked in, carrying a fresh stack of encrypted reports. He stopped, offering a respectful nod.
"All logistics clear for tonight's charity gala, Miss Lancaster," Viktor reported smoothly. "The city council members have already confirmed attendance."
May you like
"Good," Ivy replied without looking up, her pen moving swiftly across the paper. "Make sure the security detail is doubled near the west wing. I want everything flawless."
Viktor smiled faintly—a rare expression for the chief of security—and turned to leave, closing the door softly behind him.
