I Faked My Death, He Bled for Me / Chapter 7: Rivals, Vows, and Cold Steel
I Faked My Death, He Bled for Me

I Faked My Death, He Bled for Me

Author: Bonnie Evans

Chapter 7: Rivals, Vows, and Cold Steel

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“You should worry about yourself—at my age, how many have the guts to defy their parents’ orders?”

His gaze was icy. Aaron shrank back.

When Aaron Moore fled, the staff were all laughing.

Their laughter was nervous, tinged with relief. I let out a shaky breath, grateful for the reprieve. Disaster averted.

I wanted to see him off.

I hesitated in the doorway. Should I follow? Curiosity won.

Ethan Blackwell’s personal guard suddenly coughed lightly. I came back to my senses, ran up with a smile, and apologized:

“I grew up with that boy. He’s just childish—his mouth has offended many folks. His father has had to clean up after him many times. General, please—”

I tried to sound conciliatory, hoping to smooth things over. The staff nodded in agreement, murmuring their support. Anything to keep the peace.

“Ma’am, no need to explain.”

He interrupted me, pointing at the mess in the yard and the injured staff, his expression calm. “Pay for what needs to be paid for, treat who needs to be treated.”

His tone brooked no argument. I nodded.

I nodded and bowed, laying it on thick:

“Alright, alright! I’ll pay for the most expensive vase, and get the best doctor!”

I flashed him a quick grin, hoping to lighten the mood. He didn’t smile, but I caught a flicker of amusement in his eyes. Small victories.

Seeing him today without his uniform, just wearing a nice blue shirt, I made small talk.

He looked almost approachable. The sharp edges were softened by civilian clothes. I found myself relaxing, just a little.

“I see you just came back from outside. Is there urgent business? Aren’t you on a few days’ wedding leave from the base?”

I tried to sound casual, but the question was loaded. I wanted to know if he’d seen my father, if he’d kept his promise. I needed to know.

Actually, I wanted him to accompany me to see Old General Blackwell and ask about my dad.

But his personal guard couldn’t wait, and with a hint of arrogance in his tone said,

“The general went to see Victoria Langley!”

The words landed like a slap. My cheeks flushed.

Ethan Blackwell barked sharply:

“Liam, enough!”

His voice was sharp, commanding. The guard fell silent, eyes downcast. I let out a breath I didn’t know I’d been holding, the tension in the room finally breaking. Crisis averted. For now.

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