In that instant, Eddy seized Loraine’s hands in his. His dark eyes flickered with a cold, unfathomable light as he spoke, voice sharp as a winter wind. “Someone, escort Mrs. Lancaster back to the manor. She isn’t well and needs complete rest. No visitors. No exceptions.”
“And fire all the security staff at the estate.”
“Yes, sir!”
Eddy’s personal bodyguard immediately stepped forward. “Mrs. Lancaster, this way please.”
Loraine looked at Eddy–his gaze was lucid, the chill in his palm unmistakable. Clearly, whatever drugs had been in his system had worn off on the way here. She let out a small sigh of relief but, as the reality of her own son turning his ruthless methods against her sank in, disappointment twisted her features.
“You’re really locking me away for her?” she demanded, voice trembling as she jabbed a finger at Blanche. “She’s bewitched you, hasn’t she? What’s so special about her? What could possibly-”
Loraine’s words faltered as she glanced at Blanche, who sat calmly on the sofa, gazing back at them with the same clear–eyed innocence she’d had the first time they met.
A flood of memories swept through Loraine. After Sheila died, she’d loved Blanche like her own daughter–maybe even more than her own flesh and blood. She knew Eddy had already chosen Blanche as his future wife, and with Loraine’s protection, the girl never needed to fight for her place in the family. Loraine had always gone easy on her.
If only Laney had stayed healthy, none of this would have happened.
She’d only ever meant to threaten Eddy, not to actually push Laney to the brink. These were children she’d watched grow up.
Yet her own son would rather imprison her for Blanche’s sake.
“Eddy, your mother would never hurt me.” Blanche finally spoke up, trying to diffuse the standoff. She had no desire to stay and watch the two of them tear into each
other.
Eddy’s eyes narrowed. “This is between me and my mother. Stay out of it.” He’d
seen just how far Loraine would go and wasn’t about to take any chances. He took
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Blanche’s hand and led her upstairs. “Come on, let me take you to your room.”
Before going, Eddy shot a pointed look at the bodyguards, who immediately closed in on Loraine.
Loraine’s eyes reddened as she heard Blanche speak up for her, feeling in that instant that Blanche had more compassion than her own son ever did. But the word “mother–in–law” echoed in her mind, leaving her both bitter and stunned.
When had Laney stopped calling her “Mom“?
Sharp as ever, Loraine recalled that it was about a month ago–after they’d returned from Sheila’s memorial. Laney’s attitude had shifted. Something else must have happened that day.
A sudden realization struck her, and she stared after Eddy and Blanche’s retreating figures, caught off guard.
Prodded by the bodyguard, Loraine had no choice but to leave the house, anxiety gnawing at her. Something big was coming–she could feel it.
Upstairs, Lauren led Healy away to get settled.
As the master bedroom door closed behind them, Eddy suddenly collapsed against Blanche, his weight nearly knocking her over. She struggled to support him, but they both tumbled to the floor.
Usually, in moments like this, Eddy would shield her from the fall. But this time, Blanche felt only pain as she hit the ground. She looked up, startled to see Eddy curled in on himself, trembling violently.
She frowned. Eddy was always in perfect health–he’d even come back unscathed after searching for her at the bottom of that treacherous ravine last month. Keeping her voice calm, she asked, “What’s wrong with you?”
“Don’t… don’t come near me…” Eddy’s voice was ragged, barely coherent. He seemed to remember only one thing: he mustn’t hurt her. “Stay away… please… darling, stay
away…”
Blanche had half a mind to leave him be, but he was pinning down her skirt. Annoyed, she tried to push him off, but as her hand brushed his side, she was startled by how hot his body felt. Before she could react, Eddy caught her wrist in a vice–like grip.
He was frighteningly strong, pulling her into his arms and holding her tight, as if he wanted to fuse himself to her. His skin burned against hers; his hands were everywhere, desperate, unrestrained. The sound of fabric ripping at her collar sent
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panic racing through her.
“Wake up! Let go of me!” Blanche struggled frantically.
He’d never forced her before. If she said no, he’d always stop.
But now, his hold only tightened, his body feverish and unyielding. Eyes squeezed shut, consciousness slipping, his cracked, burning lips pressed against her cool collarbone, trailing downward as he whispered in agony, “Stay away from me… darling, please…”
