She Used Me for a Dare… Now I Own Her Mother Chapter 3: Mission Victoria

The Blackwood Residence

Alex’s breath turned into faint wisps of vapor within the biting winter air as he approached the Blackwood estate. The mansion stood before him like a fortress constructed from prestige and history—a three-story Gothic building that had twice graced the pages of Architectural Digest.

‘This is complete madness.’

Nevertheless, his boots continued to carry him toward the imposing wrought-iron gates.

Security cameras tracked his progress, their crimson lenses blinking like the eyes of a predator. Alex recalled from previous visits with Sophia that the Blackwoods preferred the illusion of accessibility—sans razor wire or guard towers, relying instead on just enough surveillance to remind intruders they remained under scrutiny.

Walkways paved with imported Italian marble led to the main entrance, bordered by gardens that likely cost more in annual upkeep than most families earned in a year. Every facet of the landscape radiated a level of prosperity so refined and long-standing that it had transcended mere wealth, becoming true taste.

‘She used to welcome me at this very door,’ Alex mused, the memory of Victoria’s genuine smiles when he arrived for meals surfacing. Unlike her daughter, Victoria had always seemed sincerely curious about his background in foster care, his ambitions to launch a startup, and his struggle to find a foothold in a society built on inherited status.

The recollection caused his chest to ache. It wasn't due to his recently healed ribs—which had mended with unnatural speed—but something deeper. Perhaps it was guilt.

‘She was kind toward me. She does not deserve this treatment.’

"Every person eventually reaps what they have sown," Lilith’s voice murmured inside his mind. "Victoria raised a daughter who dismantled your life for entertainment. She is wed to a man who shuts her out. She constructed an empire but sacrificed her humanity in the process. You are going to offer her something she has never possessed: genuine appreciation."

Alex scanned the mansion’s windows. While most remained dark, a warm glow emanated from a corner room on the third floor—Victoria’s private office. Sophia had whined incessantly about her mother’s habit of working until the early hours, constantly prioritizing business over family interaction.

‘She is isolated up there. Just like I was trapped on that hospital bed.’

The parallel was painfully clear to him. Both had been abandoned by those duty-bound to care for them.

The primary distinction was that Victoria had embraced her solitude through ambition and professional rigor, while Alex’s isolation had been forced upon him by betrayal and malice.

His phone vibrated with a message from an unregistered number: "James is campaigning in Nevada until Friday. Sophia is at Marcus’s penthouse. Your window of opportunity: Optimal. - L"

Alex straightened his borrowed jacket and stepped toward the massive oak entrance. Each stride felt like crossing a boundary from which there was no turning back.

Ring that doorbell, and his path is set in stone.

He pressed the button regardless.

The melodic chime resonated throughout the mansion, a familiar sound from his brighter days. Back when he believed Sophia cherished him, when family meals seemed like fleeting glimpses of the normalcy he had missed growing up in the foster system.

‘What am I doing?’ The thought hammered against his skull as he heard approaching footsteps. ‘Victoria was always good to me. She doesn’t deserve to be a scapegoat for her daughter’s sins.’

But then, Marcus Steele’s voice rang in his memory: "Know your station, charity case." The metallic tang of blood flooded his mouth again, a ghostly resurgence of pain from ribs that had been shattered for the amusement of others.

‘They manipulated my compassion against me. Now, I shall use theirs against them.’

The interface of the system flickered at the edge of his vision:

TARGET APPROACHINGEMOTIONAL STATE: Curious, pleasedDEFENSES: Minimal (she trusts you)STRATEGY: Maintain innocence, foster connection

"Second thoughts are only natural," Lilith purred within his psyche. "But bear this in mind—you aren't destroying Victoria. You are rescuing her from a loveless union and an ungrateful child. You are going to show her the sensation of being truly valued."

Alex heard the click of the deadbolt. His reflection in the brass nameplate revealed a young man with fading bruises, looking nervous but resolute. He still looked like the scholarship student who had been humiliated days ago, yet something new burned behind his eyes.

‘I am not the same individual who was beaten on that ballroom floor.’

The door swung wide, and Alex’s breath faltered. Victoria Blackwood stood in the doorway, radiating a beauty that had nothing to do with her wealth or her position.

She was glowing simply because she appeared genuinely glad to see him.

"Alex!" Victoria’s expression softened into surprised delight. "What a charming surprise. I wasn't expecting guests at such an hour."

She wore silk pajamas topped with a matching robe—outfit choices that favored comfort over status. Her dark hair cascaded over her shoulders instead of being pinned in the severe, professional style she favored for magazine spreads.

At forty-two, she possessed the aura of one who dominated billion-dollar boardrooms, yet her features held a softness as she gazed at him.

"Mrs. Blackwood, I hope my presence isn't an intrusion," Alex stated, becoming self-conscious about his borrowed clothing and the lingering contusions on his face.

"An intrusion? Alex, you are saving me from yet another night of analyzing quarterly reports and shareholder projections." She stepped aside, signaling for him to enter. "Please, escape the cold. I was just preparing some tea."

The foyer remained just as he remembered—lavish with marble, crystal, and paintings worth more than a small nation. Yet, Victoria’s warmth made the space feel more inhabitable.

"I assume you are searching for Sophia?" Victoria asked as she led him toward the living area. "I fear she is staying elsewhere tonight. But truly, I am overjoyed to see you. We haven't had a proper conversation in far too long."

Alex’s stomach twisted. She truly had no idea. She knew nothing of the wager, the cruelty of their breakup, or the beating that had left him hospitalized just days prior. To her, he remained the sweet scholarship student currently dating her daughter.

"Actually, Mrs. Blackwood, I was hoping to consult with you." The fabrication arrived with unexpected ease. "You have always provided such sagacious advice regarding both business and life."

Victoria’s smile deepened. "That is very flattering, Alex. You know, most youth your age seem to think anyone over thirty is completely disconnected from the current world." She gestured toward an elegant seating area. "Pray, take a seat. I shall fetch the tea."

Alex sat in a leather chair that likely cost more than his tuition, observing Victoria move through the kitchen with elegant grace. She appeared fatigued—dark circles marred the area under her eyes, and her shoulders held a tension that spoke of endless nights and a lack of proper rest.

‘She is isolated,’ he realized. The mansion was cavernous, yet Victoria navigated it alone, toiling until midnight while her husband campaigned and her offspring reveled with the socialite crowd.

"I hope the lack of formality doesn't bother you," Victoria mentioned as she returned with an antique silver tea service. "Most days I am so buried in board meetings and corporate maneuvering that I forfeit the simple pleasure of sharing tea with someone whose company I actually treasure."

She poured Earl Grey into fine china, and Alex detected the subtle perfume she wore, mingled with something else—the scent of exhaustion from someone carrying a heavy burden entirely alone.

"Mrs. Blackwood," Alex began with caution, "I have always valued how you treat me as though my opinions carry real weight."

Victoria halted, her teacup halfway to her lips, and a shift occurred in her expression.

"You know, Alex," Victoria remarked as she reclined in her chair, "that is precisely what I required to hear tonight." She held her cup as if it were a source of heat. "In my world, every interaction is driven by an agenda. Board members negotiate budgets, politicians solicit contributions, and family dinners are mere formalities for public consumption."

Alex leaned forward, detecting an opening. "That must be exhausting. Always maintaining that facade, always performing for those who require something from you."

"Exhausting is the correct term." Victoria’s laughter lacked humor. "Sometimes I feel as if I am merely playing parts all day—the decisive CEO, the supportive political spouse, the providing mother. But I cannot recall the last moment when anyone truly asked what I think, what I aspire to, or what brings me joy."

‘Ideal,’ Lilith whispered in his mind. ‘She is opening herself to you. Focus on her isolation.’

"What do you truly dream about?" Alex asked softly.

Victoria blinked, clearly unprepared for the inquiry. "I... that isn't a question I am often asked." She fell silent for a moment, twirling her wedding band rhythmically. "This may sound naive from someone managing a multibillion-dollar enterprise, but I occasionally dream of traveling without security details or board agendas. Just... vanishing for a spell. Being Victoria the person, rather than Victoria the brand."

"That doesn't sound naive at all," Alex replied. "It sounds distinctly human."

A fissure appeared in Victoria’s composure—a tiny crack, but Alex noticed it instantly. "James believes my ‘wanderlust phases’ are unprofessional. He contends that CEOs cannot afford sentimental notions about work-life balance." She took another sip of tea, and when she raised her eyes, they gleamed. "But you understand the feeling, don't you? You have mentioned wanting to see the world, to start fresh elsewhere."

Alex nodded, recalling conversations months old when he had still believed Sophia cared for his ambitions. "I once thought I wanted to travel to prove my worth—to demonstrate to everyone from the foster home that I could succeed. But lately, I feel I only wish to find where I belong."

"Belonging," Victoria echoed, testing the word. "Yes, that is the essence of it. I possess everything I thought I desired—wealth, power, and influence. Yet, I feel as though I belong nowhere. Not in my marriage, not in my inner circle, and sometimes, not even within my own company."

The grandfather clock chimed eleven, yet neither moved to acknowledge the hour.

"Do you know what is peculiar?" Victoria continued. "Conversations with you feel more authentic than anything I have shared with James in months. He is constantly calculating how my words will be perceived by focus groups. Even our private moments feel like political strategy."