Engagement To My Billionaire Ceo

The sound of rain against the window was relentless, like tiny fists pounding on the glass, demanding to be let in. I stared at the streaks of water sliding down, merging into rivers that disappeared into the sill, my mind as scattered and chaotic as the storm outside. This wasn't how I imagined my life would look at thirty-two-sitting in a stranger's house, holding a letter I wasn't sure I wanted to read, with my six-year-old son asleep on a couch that wasn't ours.

The letter had arrived three weeks ago, tucked into an envelope so ordinary it could have been mistaken for junk mail. Except it wasn't. It was from a lawyer. And anything from a lawyer rarely led to good things.

At first, I ignored it, tossing it onto the growing pile of unopened mail on the kitchen counter. But curiosity has a funny way of eating at you, doesn't it? It's patient, waiting for the right moment to pounce. For me, that moment came after I'd put Theo to bed and poured myself a glass of wine. I told myself I'd open one piece of mail. Just one. Unfortunately, it was the wrong one.

"Amara Leighton, you have been named the sole caretaker of Blackthorn Manor."

The words didn't make sense. I'd read them at least five times before I finally processed them. Blackthorn Manor. The name conjured images of Gothic architecture and dark secrets, but that wasn't what threw me. It was called Blackthorn. The same name my grandmother had whispered on her deathbed, her voice cracked and brittle, her eyes filled with something I hadn't understood at the time-fear.

I hadn't thought about that moment in years. My grandmother had been a storyteller, the kind who could spin tales so vivid you'd feel the wind of her imagination brushing against your cheek. But in those final days, her stories turned darker. She spoke of a family curse, of betrayal and love lost, and always ended with the same warning: "Never trust a Blackthorn."

The memory felt like a weight pressing against my chest as I reread the letter. It explained that Blackthorn Manor, an estate in Salem, Massachusetts, had been willed to me by someone I'd never met-Gideon Blackthorn. There was no explanation as to why I'd been chosen or what connection I had to this man. Just an address and a timeline. I was expected to arrive within a month or risk forfeiting the inheritance.

I laughed bitterly as I stared at the letter that night. Inheritance? I couldn't even afford to pay for Theo's school field trip to the zoo, let alone travel across the country to claim a house I didn't want. But then I'd looked at Theo's drawings pinned to the refrigerator-crayon sketches of castles and knights, of grand adventures far beyond the walls of our two-bedroom apartment. I thought about his excitement when I told him I was getting a new job, how he'd asked if this meant we could buy a house with a backyard where he could play.

So here I was, three weeks later, sitting in the study of a mansion that smelled of dust and decay, holding a letter that made even less sense than the first one. It was from Gideon Blackthorn himself, written years ago but addressed directly to me.

"Amara, if you're reading this, it means I'm gone. I wish I could have explained things to you in person, but some truths are better left buried. I hope you understand that everything I've done was to protect you. Blackthorn Manor is your legacy now, but it comes with responsibilities-and risks. Be careful who you trust. Not everyone will have your best interests at heart. And remember, some things are better left in the past."

The weight of his words pressed against me like a physical force. Protect me? From what? And why would a man I'd never met care about my best interests? I wanted to crumple the letter and throw it into the fire crackling in the corner, but I couldn't. Something about it kept me frozen in place. Maybe it was the way he'd written my name, as though he'd known me. As though he'd been watching from a distance, waiting for the right moment to bring me into this tangled web of his making.

A soft rustle behind me made me jump. I turned to see Theo standing in the doorway, his hair a tousled mess, his teddy bear dangling from his hand.

"Mom?" His voice was groggy, his eyes half-closed. "Why are you awake?"

I forced a smile and folded the letter, slipping it into my pocket. "Just reading, sweetheart. Go back to bed."

He shuffled over to me instead, climbing onto my lap and resting his head against my shoulder. His warmth was a reminder of why I was here, why I couldn't afford to let fear or doubt hold me back. Theo deserved more than I'd been able to give him, and if this house-this estate-could offer us a better life, then I owed it to him to try.

As I held him, staring into the flickering flames, I couldn't shake the feeling that my life was about to change in ways I couldn't possibly imagine. The rain outside grew louder, a cacophony that seemed to echo the storm brewing inside me. I didn't know what the future held, but I knew one thing for certain: Gideon Blackthorn had dragged me into his world, and there was no turning back now.