She Used Me for a Dare… Now I Own Her Mother

Chapter 198: The Threat

”You don’t want a partner, Adrian. You want to own me. To brag that it was you... Adrian Blackwell... who claimed Catherine Blackwood.”

”You are an incompetent, overindulged heir who has spent his entire life mistaking privilege for talent.”

The words didn’t land like blows.

They landed like truth.

Adrian’s breath stopped. Not from shock, but from the sudden, violent need to reject what he’d just heard... to rewrite it, to make it something other than what it was.

Incompetent.

Overindulged.

Mistaking privilege for talent.

His chest constricted. The room felt smaller, the air thinner, as if the walls themselves were closing in to bear witness to his humiliation.

’No. She doesn’t mean it. She can’t mean it.’

His gaze snapped toward Victoria.

As if she could confirm or deny what was happening. As if her reaction would tell him whether this was actually occurring or some nightmare his mind had conjured.

Victoria sat perfectly still in her chair near the wall.

She wasn’t smiling.

Wasn’t shocked.

Wasn’t doing anything except... watching.

Her expression held something that looked almost like pity wrapped in professional detachment. The kind of look someone gives a wounded animal they know can’t be saved.

And that quiet, witnessing presence somehow made everything worse.

Because it confirmed that this was real.

Catherine had said those things.

Had reduced twelve months of devotion to delusion.

And Victoria had heard every word.

The humiliation should have broken him.

Instead, it ignited something else.

”No!” The word tore out of him, raw and desperate. ”I love you! I really love you!”

He looked back at Catherine, then at Victoria again, searching desperately for some anchor in reality.

”She’s—” His hand gestured helplessly toward Catherine. ”She’s misunderstanding. Victoria, you’ve seen how I... you know I’m not...”

His voice climbed higher, panic bleeding into every syllable.

He turned back to Catherine, words spilling out in a flood.

”I’m not incompetent. I’m Peak Enhanced. I’ve trained my entire life. My achievements are real. My family’s standing—”

”Catherine, please.” His voice cracked.

”You’re twisting everything. Making it sound like I’m some entitled child when all I’ve done is see you. The real you. Not some fantasy.”

His hands clenched at his sides, knuckles white.

”How can you not see that?”

”And worst of all,” Catherine said, stepping cleanly over his desperation as if it were background noise, ”you’re not even acting for yourself.”

Adrian blinked. The room blurred at the edges.

”You’re a puppet, Adrian. A pretty, obedient extension of your family’s ambition.”

”What... what are you saying?”

He reached for her hand... trying to grab it, trying to prove something... desperate to make her feel that what he’d said had nothing to do with his family or politics.

”Catherine, wait... this is me. This is all me...”

He didn’t get to finish.

Her next words didn’t just interrupt him.

They obliterated every last shred of hope he had of making her understand.

”Don’t you dare touch me again.”

Her voice dropped to absolute zero.

Adrian’s hand froze mid-reach, trembling in empty air.

Something inside him didn’t break cleanly.

It shattered.

Jagged fragments of certainty, of identity, of twelve months spent building a future he’d been sure was inevitable... all of it collapsed inward, leaving nothing but sharp edges and the bitter taste of rejection.

’She’s wrong. She has to be wrong.’

But beneath the denial, something darker coiled tight in his chest.

Resentment.

Cold. Possessive. Twisting his feelings into something uglier with every passing second.

”Look at you,” Catherine said, clinical and detached.

”Even now, after explicit rejection, you’re not thinking about my feelings. You’re thinking about how to change my mind. How to make me see what you’ve decided I should see.”

She moved back toward her desk, the gesture dismissive.

Final.

”That’s not love, Adrian. That’s obsession. And I won’t tolerate it.”

”You can’t just...” Adrian’s voice came out hoarse, strained.

”Can’t just what?” Catherine turned, and for the first time, something dangerous flickered in her eyes. ”Reject you?”

Adrian’s jaw locked.

His cultivation base stirred beneath his skin... not violently, but insistently, like a low hum vibrating through his bones.

Victoria’s posture shifted. Barely perceptible. Her fingers flexed once against her knee.

She felt it.

’And so what if I wanted her, too?’ The thought surfaced unbidden, bitter and sharp. ’So what if it benefited me? That doesn’t make my feelings fake.’

His breathing quickened.

’She should be grateful. Men like me don’t pursue just anyone. I chose her. I offered her everything... my power, my future, my family’s influence.’

The justifications came faster now, building momentum.

’Who would refuse that? Who could?’

His father’s voice echoed in his memory: ”Alliances are forged, not gifted. The Blackwoods need us whether they admit it or not. Make her see that.”

’So what if Father ordered it? That doesn’t change what I feel. She’s acting like she’s too good for the same politics she profits from every day.’

His fingers curled tighter.

’This is how it’s always been. Nobles marry for power. Alliances are cultivated. This is normal.’

Then the darkest thought crystallized, cold and certain:

’I’m the heir of Blackwell. I deserve this. I deserve her.’

The air in the room thickened.

Catherine felt it the moment his cultivation stirred... that subtle rise of pressure in the air, the barely-contained anger bleeding through his control.

But she didn’t raise her voice.

She didn’t even look angry.

She simply straightened, adjusted a single cuff of her sleeve, and said with surgical calm:

”Enough.”

Adrian froze.

Catherine’s gaze settled on him... flat, unimpressed, and utterly done with him.

”Adrian Blackwell,” she said, each syllable crisp enough to cut through flesh, ”you will leave my office. Now.”

He opened his mouth...

She didn’t let him speak.

”And you will do so silently.”

Her eyes narrowed just slightly, an expression colder than rage... the look of someone bored by an insect that refuses to die.

”No more pleas. No more delusions. No more embarrassing attempts to justify yourself.”

She took a single step forward... not out of aggression, but domination.

”You are a guard in this house,” she continued, tone icy. ”A security asset. Nothing more.”

Adrian flinched.

Catherine didn’t soften.

”You will return to your post,” she said. ”You will perform your assigned duties without complaint. Without commentary. Without a single whisper of this conversation ever passing your lips again.”

Then... the killing blow:

”Because at this moment, Adrian, the only thing separating you from being thrown out of House Blackwood entirely...”

She paused.

Let the silence slice him open.

”...is your ability to behave like the obedient little watchdog you were hired to be.”

Victoria inhaled sharply.

Even the air seemed to recoil.

Catherine’s voice didn’t rise.

It didn’t lengthen.

It simply ended him.

”So leave,” she said softly.

”Before you embarrass yourself any further.”

Adrian didn’t move. Couldn’t move.

For a few seconds, Adrian didn’t speak.

He just stared at Catherine... something burning behind his eyes, something terrifyingly clear.

The Adrian who had confessed love was gone.

This was the real one.

The shift was so abrupt, so absolute, it felt like watching a mask drop.

Adrian’s posture straightened.

His trembling stopped.

His expression smoothed into something eerily calm.

Only his eyes betrayed him... gleaming with possessive, serrated intent.

”You need me, Catherine.”

The words didn’t come out desperate anymore.

They came out cold. Certain. Edged with something that made Victoria’s entire body shift from neutral observation to coiled readiness.

Adrian’s expression had changed.

The pleading lover, the wounded suitor... gone. Stripped away like a mask that had finally outlived its usefulness.

What remained was something rawer. Uglier.

Real.

”Whether you want to admit it or not, you need my family’s support.” His voice carried the weight of facts, not feelings. ”Without it, you’re nothing.”

Catherine’s eyes narrowed, but she didn’t speak.

Adrian took a step forward.

”You’ll be nothing,” he continued, and each word landed with deliberate precision. ”A woman trying to hold power in a world built by men. No allies. No protection. No legitimacy.”

Another step.

”Nobody will support you,” he said, voice rising. ”Not the Council. Not the other vassal families. Not even your own people once they realize what you’ve thrown away by rejecting this alliance.”

He stopped three feet from Catherine’s desk, close enough now that the energy radiating from him filled the space between them.

His cultivation base wasn’t just stirring anymore.

It was active. Controlled. A demonstration of power rather than loss of control.

”And so what if I want you?” His voice dipped, thick with twisted entitlement.

”So what if I want to own you? Claim you? Make you mine?”

Madness gleamed in his eyes.

”You should feel honored.”

Another step.

”Anyone else in your position would be.”

He exhaled, gaze raking over her face.

”Don’t forget who I am.” Adrian’s chin lifted, and the desperation that had colored his earlier words vanished entirely.

”I’m Adrian Blackwell. Peak Enhanced. Sole heir to the highest-ranked vassal family under House Blackwood.”

His voice strengthened, confidence bleeding back in... not from love, but from entitlement.

From the unshakeable certainty that power gave him the right to take what he wanted.