Chapter 3: A New Engagement, and the Heir of Ashford

Ethan didn't think twice about any of it. Once the doctor finished writing the prescription, he gave the housekeeper a few clipped instructions, showered, and went to bed. Because Lily's health had always been fragile, Naomi spent nearly two months out of every year on Catalina Island with her, letting the sea air do what medicine couldn't. Between the island and Crestview, Naomi barely lived in that house at all a handful of dresses in a closet was the only proof she'd ever called it home. Tonight had just been an accident, as far as Ethan was concerned. If Naomi had simply explained herself properly instead of storming off, Julian never would have gotten sick in the first place. To him to both of them, really she was replaceable. If it weren't for his grandfather's insistence on keeping the marriage intact, Ethan wouldn't have cared one way or another whether they divorced at all. Naomi had no idea any of this was going through his head. She'd checked herself and Lily into a hotel for the night. It wasn't until she was pulling back the covers that she noticed the missed call. Lily still hadn't fully recovered Naomi wasn't about to let her out into the night air again so she tucked her daughter in, hummed her to sleep, and let the phone sit dark on the nightstand. A little while later, it rang again. Naomi picked up on the second ring. A man's voice came through, warm and unhurried. "Naomi. This is Marcus Marcus Sinclair. Your brother, apparently, if the DNA report is to be believed. Grandfather's been asking about you every day since the results came back. I can have a car sent for you within forty-eight hours, if you're willing to come home." Naomi went quiet for a moment. She'd grown up with almost no family to speak of a state ward, then eventually the beneficiary of the Blackwood Foundation's scholarship fund. Whatever warmth she felt for the Blackwoods over the years had always been more gratitude than blood. The Sinclairs, though. That was blood. That was real. And after the divorce, there'd be nothing left in Crestview worth staying for anyway. She lifted her chin, even though he couldn't see her. "Yes. I'd like to come home." She had every intention of going back to the Sinclairs just not immediately. There was a divorce to finalize first, and getting free of Ethan Blackwood wasn't going to be simple. Old Mr. Blackwood, if nothing else, would never agree to it quietly. But Naomi was done being tangled up in that family. Done, completely. She told Marcus the truth without flinching that she was in the middle of a divorce, that it might take time. He took the news in stride. "That's fine. I've got business in Crestview anyway I'll be staying in the area for a while. Call me if you need anything at all." Something in Naomi's chest loosened, just slightly. She hadn't expected family to feel this easy. "Thank you, Marcus," she said, warmer now. "I'll see you in a couple of days." Two hundred miles north, in Ashford, California. Marcus hung up the phone. Old Mr. Sinclair was already leaning forward in his chair, gripping the armrest. "Well? Is she coming?" Derek and Nathan hovered nearby, equally tense. If either of them hadn't been buried under quarterly filings that week, they'd have driven down to Crestview themselves days ago. Marcus allowed himself a small smile. "She agreed. She wants to finalize her divorce first, though." The old man went still, something like guilt flickering across his weathered face. If his granddaughter had never gone missing twenty-six years ago, none of this the wrong marriage, the wrong family, twenty-six wasted years would have happened to her at all. "She's getting divorced?" Derek, who hadn't been briefed on the finer details, looked startled. "Does that mean the Cole engagement's still on the table?" The Cole family had been circling that arrangement for years, hoping to finally seal the match between their son and the Sinclair heiress. Sebastian Cole was infamous for his indifference to women in over a decade, barely a handful had ever been photographed within ten feet of him. If their long-lost sister came home unattached, the Coles would waste no time pressing the old betrothal. She's already married, Derek thought. *But that's never stopped families like the Coles before. And so what if she is? Our sister is worth ten of whoever they think they're entitled to. Marcus had clearly already turned the same thought over in his mind. His eyes cooled. "Doesn't matter. Whatever happens with the Coles happens because she chooses it. Not before." He said it flatly, almost daring anyone to argue. An Ashford prince, a Cole heir none of it means a thing if she isn't interested. "There's also Vivian," Nathan said suddenly, rubbing his temple like the thought alone gave him a headache. "She'll be back from Europe any day now, and she doesn't know yet. Vivian and Naomi are both our sisters, but Vivian's always been... particular. I don't know how she's going to take sharing that title." Marcus only sighed. "However it goes, nobody in this family makes Naomi feel unwelcome again. Not after everything she's already been through." Naomi had no idea a second engagement had just been quietly shelved on her behalf, three counties away. The next morning she woke early, had breakfast with Lily, and took her daughter to get her hair cut short. Lily's eyes went wide surprised, then cautiously thrilled. She didn't say anything. She just watched her mother's face in the mirror, like she was waiting for the catch. For years, Ethan, Julian, and even Ethan's mother had insisted little girls should keep their hair long. Grandma Blackwood, especially, had never once allowed it. Naomi had gone along with it, back when keeping the peace still felt like it mattered. Not anymore. Naomi realized, somewhere between the hotel and the salon chair, that her daughter's happiness didn't need anyone else's approval. "That was Mom's mistake," she said quietly, running a hand over Lily's growing pile of soft curls on the floor. "You should've had this years ago. From now on you get to be our little short-haired princess." Lily beamed, then corrected her with total seriousness. "Knight." Even the stylist laughed out loud. Naomi ruffled the girl's new curls, something in her chest finally unclenching. "Right. Our fiercest little knight." Once Lily's hair was cropped into a soft, wind-tossed halo, Naomi walked her to school herself. It would still be some time before she made the drive up to Ashford she hadn't even met the Sinclairs in person yet, and Lily's school year wasn't finished. There was time to handle things properly. After drop-off, there was one more stop to make: Blackwood Enterprises, to formally submit her resignation. Years ago, so Grandma Blackwood wouldn't have to explain a daughter-in-law with no résumé, Ethan had quietly pulled strings to get her a secretary position there a placeholder job for a placeholder wife. There's more waiting for you at Blackwood Enterprises than anyone in that building is expecting. Keep reading it only gets better from here. Most days, though, all anyone actually asked of Mrs. Blackwood was to run errands nobody else wanted. In Ethan's eyes, Naomi had never accomplished a single thing worth noting in seven years of marriage. If they were headed for divorce anyway, better to close the books on all of it cleanly. With that thought settled, Naomi sat down and drafted the divorce agreement herself, planning to print it and hand it to Ethan directly no lawyers standing between them, no ambiguity left to argue about later. While she and Lily were out enjoying their morning, the Blackwood house had descended into quiet chaos. Julian's allergic reaction the night before meant the doctor had him on a strict porridge-only diet for the day. But Julian had always been a picky eater the only porridge he'd touch was the fresh fish porridge Naomi made from scratch, the recipe she'd perfected over years of trial and error just for him. The housekeeper, Mrs. Doyle, had tried three different versions that morning. Julian rejected all of them. "It's porridge," he muttered, pushing the bowl away. "How hard can it possibly be?" He was in a sour mood, and somewhere underneath the sourness was a flicker of blame aimed squarely at his mother. Even if she's angry at Dad, she shouldn't have just left. Cooking and looking after us is the one thing she's actually good at, and she can't even manage that anymore. Julian dropped his spoon with a clatter just as Ethan walked in, searching the closet for a tie that wasn't where he expected it. Ethan caught the sulking, the untouched bowl, the tension in the room, and frowned at Mrs. Doyle. "What's going on here?" She wrung her hands. "Julian's asking for the fish porridge Mrs. Blackwood makes, sir. It's more complicated than it looks I've tried it three times this morning and it never comes out quite right." Something tightened in Ethan's jaw. "Call her." Mrs. Doyle had already reached for her phone when Ethan added, almost as an afterthought, "And ask her where she put my navy tie. She's the one who organizes my closet." Naomi had never been particularly ambitious. But she was, without question, excellent at taking care of the people around her quietly, thoroughly, without ever being asked twice. Mrs. Doyle dialed. "Mrs. Blackwood I'm so sorry to bother you. Julian's asking for the fish porridge, the one you make. Would you be able to come back and make a batch? And Mr. Blackwood also wanted to know where he put his navy tie.”