CHAPTER 217: BLOODY PARTY

–Laura–

I’ve been running around nonstop since yesterday. Preparing for my twins’ first birthday? Oh, I’m going all out. Glitter, balloons, too much food, questionable decisions — the whole chaotic parade. We have a few important family guests staying in the mansion, too. The Blackwells and the Carringtons are all here under one roof like some kind of luxury peace summit. My grandparents even managed to set aside the ancient bad blood between the families. Honestly? I’m proud of them. Awkward as hell... but proud.

My sister? Still acting blind in front of everyone except us and the grandparents. It’s her thing now. She’s currently carrying her son, who refuses to detach himself from her like a koala baby. Meanwhile, her husband is being childish again — always taking the baby from her just to hand him off to Jane so she can drag Livana away from whatever corner she’s hiding in. It’s... weirdly cute. And mildly concerning.

But the ones completely occupying my mind today? My twins.

They’ve been calling me mama nonstop. And they call Damien Dada. Probably the easiest words in their little vocabulary, but every time they say it, all my stress melts like butter on hot rice. I approach their crib and kiss both their fluffy little heads.

Zayvier instantly becomes clingy and bursts into tears the moment I don’t pick him up fast enough. I reach for him and lift his warm, squishy little body. Then, of course, my princess realizes she wasn’t chosen and decides to perform her Oscar-worthy crying routine.

She lifts her hands, opening and closing her tiny palm like she’s summoning me telepathically.

"Okay," I sigh dramatically. "Both of you are heavy, you know that?"

"Dada!" she screams in an ear-shattering, high-pitched chirp as Zayvier stares at his sister like why are you like this?

Damien, who spoils our daughter beyond logic, materializes out of nowhere and picks her up. She stops crying instantly. Like magic. Then she smiles — no, giggles — like she just won a trophy.

"Wow. That was dramatic," I mutter as Zayvier laughs and looks up at me with big confused eyes. I chuckle and kiss his cheeks. "Well, baby, you were first. But you gotta consider your dramatic little sister sometimes."

"Wow, I’m impressed your babies are already professional drama kings and queens," Logan says as he strolls over to Damien. Zendy practically vibrates in excitement. He hands her a tiny box.

"What is that?" I ask suspiciously.

"It’s a necklace. Diamonds." He says it like it’s nothing, and my jaw drops. My baby’s first gift is a diamond necklace? Seriously? Then he pulls out another one — many designs — and hands them to Zayvier.

"Diamonds?" Damien laughs. "Bro, they’re one-year-olds. You could’ve just gotten them toys."

"This is an investment," Logan announces proudly. He kisses Zendy’s hand like he’s greeting royalty, then gently pinches Zayvier’s fat cheeks. "Jane!" he calls, then disappears into thin air with all his expensive gifts flapping around him.

I glance at Damien. He just shrugs in defeat.

"Alright, it’s time to party!" Sophia’s voice blasts from the speakers, and with that, the kids’ party officially begins. We invited a bunch of children from the neighboring estates. Chaos is guaranteed.

But then someone walks in wearing a fancy outfit, her chin high, strutting like she owns the oxygen in the room.

The woman I detest most.

My step-mother.

Casey. The one who escaped prison.

"My grandbaaabies!" she sings as she glides in with an armful of gifts. Security let her through — obviously Livana expected this dramatic entrance. If security had dragged her out, she would’ve caused a scene bigger than the solar system. And we can’t traumatize children today. Not on my twins’ birthday.

She approaches me, Damien frowning while holding our daughter protectively.

"Oh, so adorable—" she reaches for Zendaya, but Jane swoops in like a guardian angel and slaps a towel over Casey’s face mid-kiss attempt.

"I apologize, Madam," Jane says politely but firmly. "But since you’ve been... away on a trip, we can’t let just anyone interact with the babies. Please —" she gestures — "have a seat."

I glance at Livana, who’s smirking like this is her entertainment for the day. Dad storms over and drags Casey away by the arm, his grip tight, teeth clenched as he mutters things I’m not repeating.

"It’s only two meters away," Jane confirms as Damien takes another protective step back.

"Okay! Welcome home, Madam Casey!" Jane announces loudly. "All gifts should be given to security for inspection." She points at the maids Casey brought — carrying an obnoxious number of presents that we will 100% check and later donate.

The party continues: games, chaos, screams, prizes, sugar-highs. I barely see my sister since we’re both busy doing mom stuff. She’s either sitting with her son, standing with him, or stepping away to feed him. Meanwhile, my twins are currently with Logan, who’s feeding them mashed fruits in those cute little teether feeders. Seeing them smile like that makes my whole chest warm.

Finally — cake time.

Damien picks up Zayvier. Logan carries my daughter. Two adorable little cakes are set in front of them — one each. Because sharing is a lie.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see my step-mother trying to approach Livana. Dad holds her back like she’s radioactive. My grandmother Olivia is staring at Casey like she’s deciding whether murder is worth the jail time. Honestly? Everyone is looking at her like that.

My grandparents sit with Livana, listening to her gentle voice like she’s the only calming presence in the world. It makes me happy. But ever since Casey walked in, the knot in my stomach has been getting tighter.

After the guests leave and the mansion finally quiets down, Grandma Belinda walks up to Casey—

—and slaps her. Hard.

"Grandma," I whisper, trying to steady myself.

Logan takes Zendaya from my arms, then gently takes Zayvier from Damien. He vanishes down the hall like a responsible babysitter on a mission. Jane grabs Sky from Livana and follows him.

Casey gets slapped again — and this time, she throws her head back and laughs.

I look around, desperately searching for Carrie. Surely she’s here to take her deranged mother away. But... no.

Wait.

She’s supposed to be in prison.

So why is she here?

And why does it suddenly feel like my peaceful birthday celebration just turned into a crime thriller?

–Livana–

A maid in disguise? I actually chuckled. My mother seriously overdid it. She padded her body to look heavier, added silicone to her jaw to fake a double chin, and reshaped her face just enough that no one recognized her—no one except me, Logan, Sophia, and Deanne, who all knew she was alive.

"Well, since you are here," Grandma Olivia finally spoke, her voice cold and sharp, "it’s time you sleep in a dirty, hot cell. If it were me... you wouldn’t be walking around confidently at my grandchildren’s party. But Livana has been merciful."

"Old crone, you haven’t changed at all," Casey scoffed. "Just your words. You can’t actually do it."

I smirked. That was it. Something snapped inside my grandmother. She stormed toward Casey with surprising speed for a woman her age. She pulled her cane—except it wasn’t a cane. It was a sword.

Everything happened so fast that even I froze.

She unsheathed it and slashed it across Casey’s thigh.

Casey’s agonized scream echoed through the venue. Dad jolted forward, grabbing Grandma Olivia and pulling her back. Everyone was stunned. Shocked. Even I felt my stomach drop. I glanced at Grandpa Reagan—he just stared at his illegitimate daughter with an expression colder than ice. He didn’t even try to stop his wife.

"Fuck you, old woman!" Casey shrieked, blood gushing down her leg.

"Please—" Laura’s voice wavered as she held her abdomen, Damien supporting her. "S-stop... please." She cried, and my heart instantly ached.

"L-Laura..." Grandma Olivia whispered, suddenly trembling. "I—I’m sorry, my dear."

Laura sobbed into Damien’s chest.

"Damien," I called firmly. "Calm her down. Please."

He nodded, immediately taking Laura away from the scene. This party should’ve been memorable. It was supposed to be peaceful—something beautiful for the twins. Something Laura deserved. But things escalated far too fast, and guilt pricked the back of my throat. I should’ve stopped Grandma. I should’ve stopped Casey from entering the venue in the first place.

I sighed and rubbed my temples.

My mother—the "maid"—quietly slipped out, no doubt to handle the surveillance and erase every trace of what happened.

Casey was still screaming, her blood pooling on the floor. They hadn’t removed the blade yet. That would be far too painful.

I stood slowly.

"Well," I said calmly, "hearing your torturous scream satisfied me for a moment."

Damon guided me forward as I kept my act of being blind.

"But don’t worry, Casey. Just like Grandma said—you won’t be walking around confidently anymore."

"Wh–what?" Casey panicked.

"We should make it even," I murmured.

"Livana!" Dad snapped sharply. I turned to him. His voice was suddenly controlled, calm—not pleading, not angry, just warning.

"Hm," I nodded. "Fine."

I clapped my hands once.

"Guards, escort them to their rooms. I want a chat with my stepmother."

Grandpa Reagan and Grandma Olivia didn’t need guards; they left on their own. Damon’s grandparents weren’t even surprised. Aunt Amiliee was practically amused, but I felt bad for Alyssa—this wasn’t a sight she should’ve seen.

Once the others cleared, I called out quietly, "Mom."

She emerged with bandages and first-aid. She walked straight to Casey. No mercy. She gripped Grandma Olivia’s sword, still buried in Casey’s thigh, and pulled it out. Casey screamed so loudly her voice cracked.

Instead of tending the wound immediately, my mother stabbed the other thigh—clean through.

I watched her bleed.

"Is it even now?" I asked my "maid"—my mother.

"Yes," she replied in a low voice.

They wrapped both wounds as Casey cursed at her without realizing who she truly was. Mom pulled the blade back out, cleaned it, and bandaged the other leg. Casey finally collapsed from pain and shock.

"Clean the area," I ordered.

Damon held my hand, his warmth grounding me.

"That’s too much, Livana," my dad said quietly.

I stopped walking and turned toward him.

"No," I said with a slow smirk. "It’s not. We’re just getting started."

Then I walked off, my husband at my side like a true escort—my king.