He just turns.
Spins on his heel, strolls back down the hallway with all the calm confidence of a man who just made up his damn mind.
I blink. “Wait—Langston!”
He doesn’t stop.
Oh my god.He’s going to do it.
I follow, catching up just as he steps back into the parlor like he owns the place. Which, let’s be honest, he kind of does.
Everyone looks up.
My father’s expression sours the moment he sees me.
Langston doesn’t blink.
He looks my father dead in the eye.
“The marriage will be to Sabrina,” he says. “Or it won’t happen at all.”
My breath leaves my chest like a punch.
The room erupts.
My stepmother sputters. My father’s face goes red. Ariana clutches my arm like she can’t believe what she just heard.
But Langston?
Langston is silent.
Still smiling.
The Blackwell Way
Langston
What the fuck am I doing?
The thought hits me the second the words leave my mouth.
“The marriage will be to Sabrina. Or it won’t happen at all.”
Not Ariana.
Not the girl who was chosen for me.
The one who stood silent. Nervous. Obedient.
No—I just laid a multi-million-dollar deal on the altar and lit the match.
For the older sister.
For the one who speaks like she’s daring you to prove her wrong. The one who tried to talk me out of wanting her with a checklist of red flags and a middle finger wrapped in sass and sarcasm.
And I still can’t stop thinking about the way she tucked Ariana’s hair behind her ear.
Or the way she looked at me—like she wasn’t afraid of the empire I carry on my shoulders.
