Forced To Marry My Cousin's Fiancé

Chapter 28: Chapter 28

Ethan Blackwood was already in a thoroughly terrible mood.

The exact millisecond he had stepped through the glass entry doors of the corporate headquarters that morning, the ambient tension around his silhouette became almost unbearable. It radiated from him like a physical heat, sharp and unforgiving.

Even the senior executives and administrative employees milling outside the executive suite could feel the atmospheric shift, scattering out of his direct path to avoid triggering the baseline irritation of their CEO.

He walked into his private corner office, slammed his leather briefcase onto the desk, and pulled at his collar, loosening his matte black silk tie slightly. He sat heavily behind his massive mahogany desk, a dark frustration still lingering heavily inside him for reasons he actively refused to examine too closely.

Because if he examined them, he would have to acknowledge that his thoughts kept drifting back to Lane lately.

Which annoyed him infinitely more than the corporate logistical delays.

The family dinner from the previous night. The incredible, complex aroma of her cooking. The way she had quietly, almost reverently served food onto his plate without uttering a single complaint about his coldness.

The specific way her wide, expressive eyes grew hopelessly nervous whenever their gazes accidentally collided across the crowded table.

Ethan pushed the recollections away immediately, a low growl forming in his throat. He did not have time for domestic distractions. Especially not now, with a high-stakes market merger hanging in the balance.

He reached out, his long finger pressing the intercom button with a sharp, aggressive force.

"Do not let anyone into this office. Clear my schedule for the next two hours."

His personal assistant answered instantly, his voice slightly shaky through the speaker.

"Yes, Mr. Blackwood. Right away, sir."

Ethan leaned back against the leather of his executive chair, letting out a heavy, controlled breath before opening several high-priority financial files spread across the polished wood before him. But the concentration that usually came to him so effortlessly never fully materialized.

Something restless, volatile, and deeply rooted lingered heavily inside his chest, fracturing his focus.

Then—the sharp, piercing ring of his private cell phone broke the silence of the room.

Ethan glanced toward the illuminated screen, his eyes narrowing slightly as the caller ID flashed. *Olivia’s father.*

He swiped the screen, answering the call immediately as he straightened his posture. "Uncle."

The older man let out a long, weary sigh on the other side of the line, the sound crackling with a heavy, paternal exhaustion. "Ethan."

Ethan sat up slightly straighter, his corporate instincts instantly clicking into place.

"Is everything okay? Has something happened with the overseas accounts?"

"No, the business is stable," the older man answered, his tone dropping into a cautious, deeply hesitant register.

"Actually... I wanted to talk to you about something personal, Ethan. Something regarding your domestic situation."

Ethan’s brow furrowed faintly, his jaw tightening by a fraction.

"What is it?"

A brief, heavy silence stretched across the digital connection, long enough to make the hairs on the back of Ethan’s neck stand up. Then, Olivia’s father spoke with an immense, calculated care. "Lane came to see me at the corporate building earlier today."

Ethan’s expression immediately hardened into a mask of pure ice, his dark eyes darkening dangerously. "She did?"

"Yes."

Ethan’s jaw clenched tightly, a sudden spike of protective irritation flaring in his gut. "What on earth did she want with you?"

Another agonizing pause followed, the older man seemingly gathering his thoughts before delivering the blow. "You know, Ethan... I’ve been trying my absolute best to stay patient throughout this entire forced marriage arrangement because of the circumstances, but I think you need to be incredibly careful moving forward."

Ethan’s brows knitted together, his voice dropping into a low, gravelly warning. "What exactly do you mean by that, Uncle?"

Olivia’s father sighed heavily again, the sound dripping with a profound, performative sadness. "She said some things to me during our conversation that honestly, deeply disturbed me as Olivia’s father."

Ethan slowly leaned back against the leather of his chair, his entire body going rigid as his corporate intuition flared. "What things?"

The older man’s tone lowered into a conspiratorial whisper. "She explicitly told me that she hopes Olivia never returns to this city. She said it to my face, Ethan."

Ethan froze slightly, his fingers locking around the casing of his phone.

"She wants her gone," the uncle continued cruelly, driving the wedge deeper. "So she can finally secure her position and have you all to herself. Permanently."

An absolute, suffocating silence filled Ethan’s executive office instantly. His grip around the metal frame of the phone tightened slowly, his knuckles turning a stark, bloodless white. "She said that? Those exact words?"

"Yes. She was remarkably bold about it."

A dark, blinding anger quietly began building deep inside Ethan’s chest, a toxic heat spreading through his veins.

Then, Olivia’s father pressed the advantage, his voice taking on a grim, warning note. "And honestly, Ethan... I think your little arrangement with her may not be nearly as innocent or desperate as you’ve been led to believe."

Ethan’s expression darkened further, his voice dropping an octave into a lethal register. "What are you talking about?"

"Lane’s father has been actively using your name in high-end financial circles lately," the older man revealed coldly.

"We’ve received reports from our partners. They’ve been quietly gaining massive business advantages and securing prime real estate bids simply because Lane is now officially Mrs. Blackwood."

Ethan frowned, a cold sweat breaking out down his spine as the data points began to realign in a horrifying new pattern. "What?"

"They’ve been leveraging your family’s global influence, Ethan. People are practically throwing partnerships at them because they believe it curries favor with the Blackwood empire. It’s a calculated play."

The older man let out a heavy, judgmental sigh. "So lately, if you notice, Lane has been trying harder and harder to gain your personal attention. To make herself indispensable to you."

The memory of the family dinner from last night replayed quietly, painfully inside Ethan’s head. Her sudden, desperate kindness.

The hours she spent sweating over a hot stove to cook for his parents. The quiet, submissive way she had served him. The meticulous picking out of his clothes.

Everything suddenly took on a sinister, transactional shade.

"They are benefiting immensely from this marriage, Ethan," the older man finished softly, his tone dripping with an imitation of genuine care. "I’m only telling you this because I view you as a son, and I cannot watch you be manipulated by a girl who stole my daughter’s future."

A dense, heavy silence settled between them, thick with unsaid accusations. Ethan’s expression was completely unreadable now—cold, detached, and dangerously calculated.

After a long, breathless moment, he finally spoke, his voice an emotionless monotone. "How is Olivia?"

The older man’s tone softened slightly at the mention of his daughter. "She’s fine. She’s resting."

Ethan closed his eyes briefly, a phantom ache blooming behind his lids. "Can I speak to her? Just for a moment?"

"Not yet, Ethan," the answer came gently, but with an unyielding finality. "She still needs more time to heal from the humiliation. You know how fragile she is."

Ethan exhaled quietly through his nose, his jaw locking. "I understand."

The call ended, the line clicking into a dull, digital dead tone.

The absolute moment the silence returned to the massive office, Ethan tossed the phone onto the polished wood of his desk with a sharp, violent clatter. His jaw clenched so tightly the muscle flexed repeatedly beneath his tanned skin.

So that was it. Everything suddenly made a sickening, logical kind of sense.

The unexpected family dinner. Lane trying to cook for him constantly, showcasing her skills like a product on display. Picking out his specific wardrobe in the morning. The meticulously packed lunches she had been sending to his office.

Even her parents suddenly acting so incredibly welcoming and affectionate toward him last night.

His dark eyes darkened into something utterly predatory and dangerous. They were using him. They were systematically exploiting the Blackwood name to gain financial advantages in the market, to elevate their own standing. And Lane—timid, innocent, quiet Lane—was playing along with the theater beautifully.

Ethan let out a bitter, mocking laugh under his breath, staring blankly at the wall. Of course. Why else would she suddenly act so desperately attentive, so fragile, so entirely devoted lately? It wasn’t innocence. It was strategy.

His chest tightened with a burning, suffocating rage. And the absolute worst part of it all—the part that made him want to rip something apart—was that some stupid, weak part of him had actually started lowering his guard around her over the last few days.

He had actually felt a pang of protectiveness when he remembered the way she nervously served him dinner. The way she looked genuinely embarrassed whenever his mother teased them about intimacy. The way she quietly cared for his home without asking for a single dime.

All of it was fake. A beautifully choreographed performance to secure her father’s corporate greed.

Ethan’s expression hardened into a permanent, frozen grimace of corporate malice.

A sharp, hesitant knock suddenly interrupted his spiraling thoughts. His irritation immediately snapped back to the surface, raw and dangerous.

"I explicitly said no one enters this room!" he barked toward the doorway.

Despite the warning, his personal secretary cautiously pushed the heavy oak door open, his face entirely pale as he stood on the threshold. "Sir, I am incredibly sorry, I know you gave strict orders, but I thought—"

"What?" Ethan hissed, his eyes pinning the man to the spot.

The poor man visibly hesitated, swallowing hard before lifting a hand. "Mrs. Blackwood came by the office earlier, sir. While you were locked in the conference call."

Ethan’s face darkened instantly, a dangerous chill settling over his features. "She what?"

"She... she brought lunch for you, sir. Personally." The secretary carefully held up a sleek, premium insulated lunch bag, his movements incredibly tentative.

"She left it at the front desk before she departed."

For a brief, suspended second, Ethan simply stared at the fabric bag in absolute silence. Lane had brought him lunch. Again.

But instead of the faint warmth that gesture usually brought to his chest, his anger only deepened now, twisting into something ugly and venomous.

Because after hearing the stark reality from Olivia’s father, the domestic gesture suddenly felt disgusting. It felt manipulative. Calculated to turn him into a fool.

Ethan’s voice turned entirely icy, cutting through the room like a razor blade.

"Throw it away."

The secretary blinked in profound confusion, his hands freezing on the straps of the bag. "Sir?"

"I said throw it away," Ethan repeated, his tone dropping into a dangerous, quiet rumble that brooked zero negotiation. "In the trash. Right now."

The atmosphere inside the executive office became painfully, agonizingly tense. The secretary clearly sensed the volatile nature of the situation, recognizing that one wrong word would cost him his career, and knew better than to question his employer further.

"Yes, sir. Immediately." He turned on his heel quickly, practically fleeing the office while gripping the untouched lunch bag.

The moment the heavy door clicked shut again, the oppressive silence returned to fill the void. Ethan leaned back against the leather of his executive chair, lifting a hand to rub his forehead slowly, his fingers digging into his temples to stop the throbbing ache building there.

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