The Weight of the Blackwood Name
The air within the ancient Funeral Hall of Blackwood Manor was thick with the scent of lilies and unspoken avarice. Dust motes danced in the slivers of sunlight piercing the stained-glass windows, illuminating the solemn scene below. Lord Arthur Blackwood, the last male heir, lay upon a velvet-draped bier, his usually vibrant features now waxy and still. His death, sudden and inexplicable just three days prior, had sent ripples of shock – and something darker – through the family.
E.g. ：I caught my best friend's wife secretly draining our entire business savings account.
- 1、The Weight of the Blackwood Name
- 2、A Sister's Performance
- 3、Whispers of Betrayal
- 4、Arthur's Dangerous Discovery
- 5、A Plan for Power
- 6、The Doctor's Complicity
- 7、The Final Farewell
- 8、A Chill, Then a Pulse
- 9、The Impossible Awakening
- 10、Chaos Unleashed
A Sister's Performance
Lady Evelyn Blackwood, Arthur's elder sister, stood beside the casket, a vision of carefully curated grief. Her black lace veil obscured eyes that were dry, despite the faint redness beneath them, a testament to sleepless nights spent not mourning, but strategizing. With Arthur gone, the sprawling Blackwood estate, its vast industrial holdings, and its ancient seat would finally pass to her. It was a destiny she had yearned for, a burden she felt uniquely qualified to bear. Yet, a phantom chill pricked at her conscience.
Whispers of Betrayal
Around her, the other mourners whispered, their hushed tones barely masking their true sentiments. There was Uncle Silas, Arthur’s great-uncle and the current executor of the estate, a man whose stern countenance betrayed nothing but duty, though Evelyn knew his ambition was a coiled viper beneath his tailored suit. He had always resented Arthur’s youthful exuberance and his progressive ideas for the family's crumbling textile mills. Then there was Dr. Alistair Finch, the family physician, who had signed Arthur's death certificate with a haste that had raised a few eyebrows, including Evelyn's own.
Arthur's Dangerous Discovery
Only Evelyn truly knew the truth of Arthur's last days. He hadn’t been reckless or despondent, as Uncle Silas had subtly suggested to the family. Arthur had been driven. He had stumbled upon a labyrinthine scheme of embezzlement and corporate fraud, a conspiracy that had been slowly siphoning the Blackwood fortune for years. His evidence, meticulously gathered, pointed directly at Uncle Silas. Arthur had confided in Evelyn, desperate for her help, intending to expose Silas and restore the family's honor. He’d even spoken of going to the authorities the very morning he was found "deceased."
A Plan for Power
Evelyn, caught between loyalty to her brother and the intoxicating pull of power, had chosen the latter. She had listened to Arthur’s findings, pretending outrage and support, all the while calculating her own move. She had known the scandal would devastate the family name, and with it, her own chances of inheriting an unsullied legacy. So, she had subtly tipped off Uncle Silas, believing that he would simply incapacitate Arthur, perhaps send him away to a sanatorium, buying her time to consolidate her own position. She never intended for Arthur to die. Or so she told herself.
The Doctor's Complicity
Dr. Finch, a man riddled with gambling debts and a conveniently weak moral compass, was easily swayed by Silas’s promises of financial security. He had administered a powerful sedative, a drug designed to induce a deep, comatose state, not death. The plan was to declare Arthur dead, hold a hasty funeral before anyone could demand an autopsy, and then, later, revive him in a remote, private clinic, where he could be declared mentally unstable and incapable of managing his affairs. Evelyn had been horrified by the extreme measure, but the swiftness of events, the momentum of Silas's plan, had swept her along.
The Final Farewell
Now, as the mournful strains of the organ filled the hall, it was time for Evelyn's public goodbye. She moved with practiced grace, her expression a perfect blend of sorrow and dignified resilience. She reached the bier, her heart thrumming a dissonant beat of triumph and trepidation. She would honor Arthur's memory by cleaning up the mess he had uncovered, she rationalized, securing the family's future in her own image. This was her chance.
A Chill, Then a Pulse
She bent down, her lips brushing Arthur's forehead in a theatrical gesture. "Farewell, my dear brother," she whispered, a touch of genuine regret piercing through her carefully constructed facade. Her hand, resting on his cold wrist, tightened. A jolt, so faint it could have been her imagination, shot through her. A flicker. A pulse. Impossible. Dr. Finch had declared him gone. She pressed harder, her carefully composed features beginning to fracture. There it was again, a faint, rhythmic thrum against her fingertips.
