The Billionaire’s Notorious Villainess Stepmother Chapter 09
The Diamond King Returns
Three months after the wedding, the front gates opened without warning.
No call. No message. No heads-up from his office in Cape Town.
Four black SUVs rolled up the driveway at seven p.m. on a Tuesday.
I was in the dining room with the children. Sebastian was helping Clara with her homework.
I had a glass of wine in one hand and the household budget in the other.
The housekeeper appeared in the doorway, white-faced.
“Mrs. Blackwood. Mr. Blackwood is home.”
Sebastian’s head snapped up. Clara dropped her pencil.
I took a sip of wine. Set the glass down.
“Well,” I said. “About time.”
I heard him before I saw him. Heavy footsteps. Staff moving aside. A short command to someone on his phone.
Then the dining room doors swung open.
Alistair Blackwood walked in still wearing his travel suit.
He was taller than his photograph and broader.
His dark hair was longer than in the wedding picture, pushed back from a face that looked like it hadn’t slept in weeks.
His suit was charcoal, no tie, sleeves slightly creased from the flight. There was exhaustion carved into every line of his jaw. But his eyes were sharp. Scanning.
He looked around the room.
He saw the children first. Sebastian, sitting straight and strong. Clara, healthy and bright-eyed, her cheeks full in a way they hadn’t been three months ago.
Then he looked at Cassandra.
She stood near the fireplace in a plain black dress, no diamonds, no makeup, her face tight with rage. Two former senior staff stood behind her, heads down.
Alistair’s jaw tightened.
Then he looked at me.
I was sitting in his chair. The big leather one at the head of the table. The one nobody had dared touch in years.
I crossed one leg over the other. Picked up my wine glass.
“Welcome home, darling.” I raised the glass. “You’re three months late.”
No one spoke.
Alistair stared at me for a long time. His face gave nothing away. He looked at the children, then at Cassandra, then at me.
Then Clara broke the silence.
She slid off her chair and ran across the room. “DADDY!”
She slammed into his legs with full force.
Alistair caught her automatically, lifting her with one arm.
Clara wrapped herself around his neck, talking a mile a minute.
“Daddy, Mommy taught me to read big words and Sebastian can do push-ups now and we eat breakfast first every day and—”
“Mommy?” Alistair repeated.
His eyes found mine again.
I didn’t look away.
Sebastian stood up from his chair. He didn’t run.
He walked steady, shoulders back, chin up to his father.
“Dad.”
Alistair looked down at his son. His face changed for a second. He had not expected this.
“Sebastian.” His voice was low. Rough. “You’ve grown.”
“Three inches,” Sebastian said. “Mom measured last week.”
Mom.
No one missed it.
Cassandra stood stiff near the fireplace, trying not to show her rage.
Alistair set Clara down gently. He walked to the table and pulled out the chair beside mine.
He looked at Cassandra. Then at me in his seat.
“Someone,” he said, “is going to explain what happened in this house while I was gone.”
Cassandra rushed forward.
“Alistair, thank God you’re back. That woman is insane. She terrorized us. She stole from me. She turned the children against me—”
I did not answer.
I looked at Sebastian.
And for the first time, my son stepped forward to speak for himself.
—