Forced To Marry My Cousin's Fiancé

Chapter 29: Chapter 29

Lane was in the kitchen, quietly helping one of the afternoon maids slice fresh fruit into a glass bowl, when the front door was suddenly slammed open with such immense, violent force that the thunderous sound echoed through every single corridor of the mansion.

Everyone froze in their tracks.

Lane looked up immediately, her shoulders tensing as a sharp spike of adrenaline jolted her awake.

The heavy, aggressive rhythm of footsteps approached the kitchen pavilion with terrifying speed. A second later, Ethan appeared at the entrance.

His expression alone was enough to instantly turn the atmosphere suffocatingly tense. He looked cold, unyielding, and entirely furious. Lane’s fingers tightened instinctively around the warm glass of milk she had been holding in her other hand, using the heat of the ceramic to anchor herself.

The maids immediately lowered their heads nervously, terrified of catching his eye.

Ethan’s sharp, predatory gaze swept across the room like a scythe before landing directly, heavily on Lane.

"You all can leave," he commanded, his voice a low, dangerous rumble.

The staff didn’t hesitate for even a fraction of a second. Within moments, the kitchen emptied completely, the back doors clicking shut and leaving only the two of them behind in the sudden, heavy silence.

Lane’s heartbeat slowly began speeding up, hammering frantically against her ribs. Something about the raw, unfiltered rage in Ethan’s dark eyes felt incredibly dangerous today. Vastly more dangerous than usual.

Setting her jaw, she carefully placed the small paring knife down on the marble counter, doing everything in her power to maintain a calm, dignified facade.

"What happened?"

Ethan stepped farther into the room, his long strides cutting the distance between them. His jaw was clenched so tightly the muscle flexed repeatedly beneath his skin.

"Why on earth did you go see Uncle Charles today?"

Lane blinked in surprise, the puzzle pieces instantly locking into place. So *that* was why he had stormed into the house like a hurricane. Charles had already called him to deliver his twisted version of the encounter.

She swallowed softly, trying to clear the dry lump in her throat before answering honestly. "I just wanted to find a way to talk to Olivia. To explain things to her."

Ethan let out a cold, sharp laugh that held absolutely zero amusement—a harsh, mocking sound that cut through the quiet room.

"Talk to Olivia? You honestly expect me to believe that?"

Lane frowned faintly, her defensive instincts flaring. "Yes. That is the truth."

Ethan stepped even closer, entering her personal space until his towering silhouette completely blocked out the afternoon light.

"And what exactly did you want to extract from him, Lane?"

Lane opened her mouth to explain her true intentions, to tell him she was looking for a way out, but Ethan cut her off immediately, his voice slicing through her words like a blade.

"No, let me tell you exactly what you wanted," he sneered, his tone growing colder and more venomous with every syllable.

"You thought you could continue weaving whatever desperate, pathetic game you and your family have been playing behind my back."

Lane stared up at him, her mind spinning in absolute confusion. "What? What game?"

"You think I don’t see right through it now?" His dark eyes hardened into chips of absolute flint. "Using my family name. Exploiting this forced marriage. Quietly gaining massive business advantages and real estate influence in the city simply because you have the title of Mrs. Blackwood."

Lane’s chest tightened instantly, the accusations suffocating her. "What are you even talking about, Ethan? My family hasn’t done any of that."

Ethan scoffed harshly, a look of profound disgust crossing his features. "Don’t play the innocent victim with me anymore. Don’t pretend."

Lane shook her head immediately, her voice rising to match his intensity. "My parents have done absolutely nothing wrong. They are good people."

Ethan’s expression only darkened further, his lip curling. "Of course you would defend them. You’re all part of the same transaction."

Lane’s voice trembled violently now, the raw injustice of his words cutting deep into her soul.

"If you want to blame someone for this entire mess, then blame me! Punish me, Ethan! But leave my parents out of it. They don’t deserve your contempt."

A bitter, humorless laugh escaped Ethan suddenly, his eyes scanning her pale face.

"You really expect me to sit here and believe this entire nightmare wasn’t meticulously planned by your father from the very beginning?"

Lane froze completely, the air leaving her lungs in a sharp gasp.

"What?"

"You and your father orchestrating the pregnancy reveal that night," he alleged coldly, stepping directly into her space until she was pressed against the counter.

"Conveniently ensuring everyone found out so this marriage arrangement would be forced upon me to save your family’s reputation."

The words hit her with the physical force of a slap to the face. Lane stared up at him in utter, paralyzed disbelief, her heart shattering into a thousand jagged pieces.

"Don’t you dare say something that vile about my father," her voice shook badly now, tears of pure rage and heartbreak blinding her vision.

"My father would never—he has too much dignity—"

"Would never what?" Ethan interrupted sharply, his voice dropping into a lethal whisper.

"Would never use his own daughter to secure corporate connections with the Blackwood empire? Open your eyes, Lane. Look at the data."

Lane immediately shook her head, the tears finally spilling over her lashes. "No. You’re wrong. It wasn’t like that."

Ethan stepped even closer, his large frame completely enveloping her.

"Then explain to me why your family’s business is suddenly benefiting so immensely from this marriage, Lane. Explain the timing."

Lane’s breathing became ragged and uneven. She looked into his dark, unforgiving eyes and realized with a sickening finality that no matter what words she chose, no matter how much she bared her bleeding heart—he had already chosen to believe the absolute worst about her. He wanted her to be the villain.

"I’m not explaining anything to you anymore," she whispered, her voice suddenly devoid of all fight.

Ethan’s eyes narrowed dangerously, a muscle twitching in his cheek. "What did you just say?"

Lane slowly lowered her glass of milk slightly, her shoulders slumping in total defeat.

"You will believe whatever twisted story you want to believe anyway, Ethan. You’ve already written the script."

A flash of raw, agonizing pain pierced through her eyes briefly.

"So why should I keep destroying myself trying to convince you otherwise?"

For one microscopic fraction of a second, Ethan’s iron expression shifted slightly. The unyielding fury in his eyes flickered, replaced by a strange, sudden shadow of doubt. Just slightly.

But Lane was already far too broken, far too deeply wounded to notice the subtle shift.

She turned away from him immediately, desperately wanting to flee the room and sprint up the stairs before the heavy, suffocating tears threatening to choke her finally spilled over in front of him.

But the exact millisecond she tried to walk past his silhouette—Ethan’s large hand shot out, his fingers locking around her slender wrist with a tight, unyielding grip.

"Don’t you dare walk away from me when I am speaking to you, Lane."

Lane gasped softly from the sudden, jarring force of his hold. The sudden jerk caused the ceramic glass to slip from her trembling fingers instantly.

It shattered loudly against the hard tile floor.

Milk splashed violently across the white marble, and sharp, jagged shards of porcelain exploded everywhere. The deafening crash echoed harshly through the cavernous kitchen, the sound vibrating against the walls.

Lane flinched instinctively at the noise, her body shaking as she pulled against his hand.

Ethan’s grip tightened slightly, his dark eyes boring into hers.

"Answer my question first."

Lane yanked hard against his iron hold, her face pale and streaked with tears.

"I already answered you, Ethan!"

Her voice cracked painfully now, a raw, ragged sound of pure despair. "But you don’t want the truth. You’ve never wanted it."

Ethan stared down at her in absolute silence, his chest rising and falling heavily as her words hung in the space between them.

Lane’s eyes glistened with an ocean of unshed tears, her voice dropping into a broken whisper.

"You never do."

For one brief, suspended moment, something profound and unrecognizable flickered across Ethan’s face. It looked remarkably like hesitation. Like a sudden, terrifying realization that he had crossed a boundary he couldn’t return from.

But the emotion disappeared far too quickly, swallowed up by his stubborn pride.

With one final, desperate surge of strength, Lane yanked her wrist completely free from his looseness, turning away from him immediately.

This time, Ethan didn’t reach out to stop her. He remained rooted to the spot.

She walked toward the arched doorway quickly, her head bowed as she tried to put as much distance between them as possible.

But after she had taken only a few hurried steps across the kitchen—Ethan’s sharp eyes suddenly noticed something strange.

Her movements were off.

Lane was limping slightly, her posture uneven as she moved toward the exit.

His gaze instinctively lowered to the floorboards.

Then, his heart stopped dead in his chest.

Blood.

Tiny, dark red droplets were staining the pristine white tile floor directly behind her trailing steps. Ethan’s expression changed completely in an instant, the anger evaporating into a cold, sudden dread. One of the large, jagged shards of the shattered glass must have sliced deep into the sole of her foot when the mug exploded.

Lane either hadn’t noticed the physical pain due to the overwhelming emotional shock—or she simply didn’t care enough to stop.

She kept walking anyway. Completely barefoot. Completely bleeding.

Ethan stood entirely frozen, staring silently at the vivid trail of blood marking her retreat.

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