Chapter 10 - The Queen of Blackwood Manor
One year later.
The morning sun filtered brightly through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the West Wing master suite.
Ivy sat on the plush leather sofa near the roaring fireplace, wearing a comfortable silk robe, holding a small, silver-framed photograph in her hand. The photo showed her, Ronan, Lily, and Mrs. Higgins standing together at the grand opening of the Lancaster Foundation—a multi-million-dollar charity established by Ivy to protect, educate, and employ underprivileged women and servants across the state.
The heavy mahogany doors opened, and Ronan walked in.
He was dressed in a dark flannel shirt and trousers, having just returned from inspecting the estate’s newly expanded northern docks—now completely transformed into a legitimate, thriving commercial port that employed hundreds of local families.
Ronan walked over to the sofa, setting a tray of fresh strawberries, warm croissants, and tea on the table. He sat beside Ivy, wrapping his large arm around her shoulders, pulling her cozy frame against his chest.
"How is the foundation looking today, my Queen?" Ronan asked, pressing a tender kiss against her temple.
"We just accepted fifty new applicants for the nursing scholarship," Ivy smiled, resting her head against his broad shoulder, taking a sip of her tea. "And Lily passed her final exams for business management yesterday. She’s going to take over as the foundation's chief operating officer next month."
"She learned from the best," Ronan smiled warmly, his hand moving down to rest gently on Ivy’s stomach.
Ivy smiled softly, laying her hand over his. Beneath her silk robe, her belly had grown pleasantly round and soft—carrying the new, healthy life of their unborn child.
"He was kicking this morning," Ivy whispered softly.
Ronan’s dark eyes filled with a profound, tender awe. He slid down onto his knees in front of her—just as he had done in the library a year ago—and pressed his ear against her round belly, listening to the tiny, strong heartbeat within.
"He’s going to be strong," Ronan murmured, his voice thick with emotion as he kissed her soft skin through the silk. "Just like his mother."
Ivy reached down, running her fingers through Ronan’s dark, thick hair. She looked around the grand, warm master suite, then out the window at the sunny, peaceful estate where she had once worked in silence as a maid.
The pain, the whips, the cruel whispers, and the cold loneliness of her past were gone forever—replaced by a love so fierce it had reshaped an entire empire.
She was no longer hiding in the shadows.
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She was Ivy Blackwood—loved, cherished, worshipped, and reigning supreme as the Queen of Blackwood Manor.
Ronan stood up, wrapping his arms around her waist, and pulled her into a long, warm, intoxicating kiss as the golden sun washed over them, promising a lifetime of endless love, peace, and happiness.
