Chapter 67

The delicate sound of silverware against fine china filled the grand dining hall of the Blackwood estate. Carol Blackwood sat at the head of an elegant breakfast table, surrounded by the women of high society and her so-called

dear friends.

The morning had been pleasant so far, the conversation was light and indulgent.

The Blackwood name still carried weight, after all. Despite the whispers, despite Adrian’s mysterious disappearance, Carol remained composed and

untouchable.

Or so she thought.

The illusion shattered the moment one of the women at the table gasped, her manicured fingers clutching her phone so tightly her knuckles turned white.

The reaction sent a ripple of unease through the group. Conversations died, forks hovered mid-air, and all eyes turned to her.

Carol arched a brow, setting down her teacup with precision. “What is it?” she asked coolly.

The woman hesitated, her lips parting as if struggling to form words. She