Chapter 84: Family Heirloom

Chapter 84: Family Heirloom –Laura– It was honestly fascinating—everyone had gathered here, and finally, the Blackwell family, together with the Carringtons and Braxtons? They were actually getting along, reminiscing about the past like old friends. This time, Livana sat among them, calmly clarifying everything that had happened. The Blackwells? They had no clue about the damage or the setup that nearly pushed our company into bankruptcy. For years, our grandparents and parents believed the Blackwells were behind it. Hearing these old-timers finally apologize to one another? It was... surprisingly comforting. I glanced at David, who was busily chatting with Grandma Olivia while stuffing his face with his favorite cheesecake. That guy—the goofy middle child of the Blackwells—he was like the cool breeze that cut through all the family tension. The perfect icebreaker during heated arguments. "Maybe we should continue with our original plan?" Grandma Olivia suggested with a smile. "What plan?" I asked, blinking as everyone turned to look at me. I glanced at Livana, who only smirked with a glass of wine in her hand, perched casually beside Damon, her elbow resting over his knee. "Well," Grandpa Wilbert chimed in, "since Livana and Damon are already married, it’s David’s turn." Wait. What? I gaped, turning to David, who looked completely clueless. "Why not marry him?" Grandpa Wilbert said out of nowhere. "No!" I blurted. My eyes darted to Damien, who wore his usual unreadable expression. "Damien, say something!" He shrugged. "Oh, come on!" I laughed nervously, scanning their serious faces. "Wait—you’re joking, right?" I took a step back. "Oh, yeah! Let’s get married!" David teased with a wink. I glared. "I’ll cut off your dick." Then I pointed at Damien. "Hey! Say something!" I hissed. And just like that, he let out a sigh and—wait, what? He dropped down on both knees and opened a small black velvet box. A soft light glowed from inside... and nestled there was a red diamond. A rare red diamond. I froze, wide-eyed, my heart thudding. "Laura~~" "I don’t like cheesy words!" I cut him off, panicking. Wait—so David wasn’t proposing, but Damien was?! "Come on, let me speak at least," Damien said gently. "Okay..." I muttered, my hands instinctively resting on my stomach. Butterflies. Everywhere. "Make it quick!" Romance wasn’t exactly my comfort zone—especially with Damien. "I loved you first," he began, "even before you called us best friends." "Okay..." I whispered, unsure what to do with my hands. "Shhh~" He gently stopped me. "Babe, I’m trying to propose here." I nodded, biting my lower lip. "I love it when you feed me and share your lunch. And what I loved most... was when you’d ramble about everything—your gossip, your stories, your day. It might annoy others, but for me? It was like listening to my favorite song." "That’s so cheesy!" I exclaimed, but... my chest tightened. I remembered all those moments—how they slowly became our moments. "Okay. Marry me. In the name of Blackwell." "Damn you," I muttered, eyes wet. "I’d marry you even if you weren’t one." He grinned, took my left hand, and kissed it. "Let’s see if this fits." I pouted but let him slip the ring onto my finger. It fits. Perfectly. "That’s the Blackwell Heirloom," he said quietly. "Grandma Isabella entrusted it to me." My mouth fell open as I looked at Grandma Isabella—she was smiling, eyes shining as she watched us. "Why? Why not Damon?" I asked, still in disbelief. "Damon?" Grandma Bella scoffed. "That rascal eloped with your sister. They’ve got their own heirloom now." Livana chuckled. "Grandma, Damon just loves digging up historic treasure," Livana said, patting him while he whispered something to her during the proposal. "Besides, the Blackwell Heirloom suits her more, don’t you think, darling?" "Yes. Red diamonds are rare," Damon murmured, before kissing her lips. "Get up," I muttered, nudging Damien. "Yeah, we’ll get married," I nodded firmly. "Let’s get married and multiply." I bobbed my head like I was agreeing to a family business deal. Damien just grinned, his eyes darting to my tummy. We hadn’t announced it yet—not for safety reasons—but it was true. He stood, kissed me, and I wrapped my arms around his neck as the room erupted in applause. That’s when I realized... someone was filming the whole thing. Oh no—I was definitely crying ugly now. Just hours ago, I was wondering what it would feel like if he were my husband. And now? He actually proposed. "Get married in three months?" Livana asked. "Or two?" Damien sighed. "Come on, Livana," he groaned, and I nodded in agreement. No way could we prepare everything in just two months."Make it in a month," Damien said coolly. I pushed Damien’s arm playfully and gave him a look. He grinned. "Fine. In a month." Livana grinned. "What’s the rush?" Alyssa chimed in. "We still need to plan the bachelorette party, bridal shower, everything!" "We can pull that off in a few weeks. I already have a plan," Livana said, like it was no big deal. I stared at her, stunned. "I have your scrapbook," she added casually. "Your gowns are already pre-made." "Wait—really?" My jaw dropped. "Laura, you’ve been planning your wedding since you were twelve," Livana said with a teasing smile. "You even had cut-out pictures—" "Stop!" I shrieked, covering my face as Damien gently pulled my hands away. "I’ll be the best man?" David chimed in. I didn’t even care anymore. I was crying, overwhelmed, happy, excited, and deeply in love with the man I once called my best friend. But the most beautiful part? Grandma Isabella gave him the ring. She knew. She knew it would be me and Damien. Always. –Livana– I had it all planned—alongside Laura’s dreams, of course. This wasn’t pure manipulation. I simply gave them a gentle push, a nudge in the right direction. Damien is the right man for Laura. The perfect man. Those men who once fancied her? They were either fuckboys or mama’s boys, drawn to her beauty, her body... or worse, the power and wealth that came with our family name. I didn’t want people like that circling my sister like vultures. She’d learned her lessons—painfully so—and Damien was the only one who stood by her through it all. Protective. Steady. Hers. The Blackwell Heirloom was meant for her. For them. I never asked Grandma Isabella to give the ring. She gave it on her own—because Laura deserved it, and because it was a message. A reminder to the Blackwell family that Damien, whether born legitimate or not, is a Blackwell. In our family, blood matters less than proof—of character, of loyalty, of strength. "The party’s still alive," Damon murmured behind me. "Are you really tired? I was thinking of karaoke... or serenading you." "No," I scoffed softly. "I am tired. But if you’re feeling energetic, you’re free to go back." I undressed slowly in front of the mirror, catching a glimpse of my husband staring unabashedly at my reflection, his gaze glued to the curve of my hips. "I can think of at least a dozen ways to make love to you right now," he said, voice husky. "A week," I said coldly. "You’re not allowed to touch me for a week, Damon." He groaned. "I can endure injuries. But this ? This, I cannot." I smirked as I peeled off my lace undergarments, folding them deliberately. He moved toward me—fast. "Stop," I ordered, and he froze mid-step. I turned to face him, lifted my hand... and just as he reached to touch it, I slapped it away and glided past him. He reached for my bottom—I swatted it. "Don’t touch me." He clenched his fists, visibly straining with restraint. I glanced downward. He was hard, straining against his open shirt and slacks—God, those abs were trouble. I placed my palm on his abdomen, letting my fingers roam, teasing his skin. "You’ve been working out," I murmured. "Yeah, ever since you told me I couldn’t make love to you." I hummed in approval and slid my hand higher, from his chest to his pectorals. "You can touch me now," I whispered. "Make those fantasies come true. Every filthy thought. Every way you’ve imagined fucking me." He growled. "Making love to you." In one fluid motion, he grabbed my thighs and hoisted me up. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders, legs instinctively tightening around his waist. I stared at his lips, tempting, close... but as he leaned in to kiss me, I turned my head away, teasing. "Livana," he growled, his erection pressing against my most sensitive spot, heat surging through me. "Stop teasing me," he murmured against my neck, peppering kisses along my skin. "By the way... Grandma Isabella gave me something." His lips were warm, but his voice had a different weight now. "She said it was from her mother. And she wanted you to have it." I tilted my head. "Hmm?" He gently set me down and crossed the room. He picked up a large square box and returned, placing my hand over the lid. "Tear-shaped alexandrite," he said as he opened it. "Surrounded with tiny red diamonds. The lace setting was designed for daily wear." I traced my fingers over the gem. It was beautiful. Rare. The stone shimmered—mysteriously shifting between violet and green. I could feel its quiet power. "This is her family heirloom," he added. My breath caught. "She said that whenever it turned purple... it reminded her of your eyes." My heart ached sweetly. He lifted the necklace and fastened it around my neck, fingers brushing the nape of my neck with reverence. I caressed it gently. It was heavier than it looked—but elegant. A legacy. "Now," he whispered, lifting my chin, his mouth just slightly open, ready to devour me, "let’s go back to where we left off." I slid my fingers into the back of his hair and tugged hard. "Wall," he mumbled. "Huh?" "I want to fuck you pinned to that wall. Legs over my shoulders, screaming my name." My lips parted. That was... detailed. I couldn’t help the way my core pulsed. The very idea of it. His voice. The way he looked at me like I was already ruined beneath him. Damn it. My childhood bedroom was about to be defiled. And honestly? I didn’t care.