The flickering candlelight cast long shadows across the parchment spread out before Lila. Her fingers were ink-stained and stiff from the hours spent analyzing ledgers, orders, and supply records, but she refused to stop. Sleep could wait but her estate couldn't.
For the past three days, she had worked tirelessly, uncovering inconsistencies in the accounts and strange gaps in the inventory of the textile workshop. Bolts of cloth had gone missing, deliveries had been delayed, and even the counting logs had been tampered with. It was no accident.
Someone was deliberately undermining their production, and although the saboteur hadn't revealed themselves, Lila wasn't blind. She had seen Marianne at the estate more than once since Adrian's departure. Always smiling, always polite, but always watching.
That, combined with her ties to Lady Evelyne, made the answer more than obvious.
Lila rubbed her temple, exhaustion gnawing at the edges of her mind. She couldn't let herself fall apart. Not now. Not when everything was on the verge of crumbling.
A knock at the door broke her from her thoughts. She looked up to see Claire, one of the young maids, entering with a soft curtsy.
"My lady, Master Brenin is here to see you."
Lila blinked. "Brenin? At this hour?"
Claire nodded. "He said it was urgent."
Lila stood, brushing the wrinkles from her skirt. "Send him in."
Moments later, the estate's steward entered, looking harried but determined. His salt-and-pepper hair was even more disheveled than usual, and his expression was pinched with worry.
"My lady," he said with a respectful bow. "I have news. I believe I've identified the person tampering with the workshop."
Lila's heart skipped. "Who?"
"Marianne," he said without hesitation. "One of the tailors caught her alone in the inventory room. When questioned, she claimed she was checking the dye storage on your orders but there was no such request. And several logs confirm discrepancies occurred only on days she was present."
Lila's stomach twisted with fury.
"Lady Evelyne sent her," she said through clenched teeth. "She's been sabotaging us from the inside."
Brenin nodded grimly. "And the merchants who had begun to doubt our quality? Several were discreetly approached by Lady Evelyne's representatives offering better deals in exchange for pulling out of their contracts with us."
It was worse than she thought.
Lila's hands curled into fists at her sides.
"She's trying to cut off our funding. If the market collapses and the production stops, we'll be ruined."
Brenin bowed his head. "What are your orders, my lady?"
For a moment, Lila stood silent, letting the gravity of the situation settle around her like a thick fog. Adrian had always told her that nobility was not about title or birthright—it was about what you did when no one else stood beside you.
He wasn't here now. But she would stand anyway.
"I want the merchants summoned to the estate immediately," she said, her voice sharp and sure. "All of them. I'll speak to them myself. We'll renegotiate the deals if we have to, but they need to know the truth."
"And the workshop?"
"Double security at the inventory rooms. Marianne is not to be left alone in any area of operation. If she sets one foot out of line again, I want her escorted off the property."
Brenin bowed. "Consider it done."
Later that day, Lila stood at the head of the estate's drawing room, facing a semicircle of skeptical merchants. She wore a deep burgundy gown with clean lines and no frills—elegant, but commanding. Her eyes scanned the room like a general preparing for war.
"I know you've heard rumors," she began.
"That our production is unstable, our quality failing. But those rumors were planted."
A murmur passed through the gathered men and women.
"Our estate was deliberately targeted. Someone has been tampering with our goods to make it seem as though we cannot meet our commitments. I have evidence of this sabotage, and I'm prepared to share it."
She paused, letting the words settle. "I ask only for a chance to prove the integrity of our work. You will receive an entirely new batch of goods within the week. We will cover the cost of delivery. And if the quality is not equal to or better than our previous shipments, you are free to walk away."
Some exchanged glances. A few narrowed their eyes.
But one older man—a merchant from the port town of Darsfield—stepped forward.
"You're Lord Hart's daughter, aren't you?" he asked, his tone curious but not unkind.
"I am," she said, lifting her chin.
"I knew your father before he lost the support of the Crown," the man said. "He was a good man. Straightforward. Too honest for court."
He studied her a moment longer, then nodded. "You've got that same fire in your eyes. I'll give you the week."
Slowly, others began to agree.
By the time the meeting ended, six of the eight merchants had agreed to stay. The remaining two hadn't outright refused either, which Lila counted as a temporary win.
That evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, Lila stepped onto the balcony outside her room. Her hands rested on the cold stone railing, her eyes fixed on the fading gold of the sky.
She had held her ground. For now.
But Evelyne wouldn't stop. If anything, this would make her bolder. More vicious.
Still, Lila felt something new simmering beneath her skin. Not just anger but power. Not the political kind, not yet. But the kind born from standing firm when the world expects you to fall.
She would protect this estate. She would pay her father's debts. She would outwit Lady Evelyne. And she would do it with or without Adrian by her side.
Though… she did miss him.
At the Merrow estate, Lady Evelyne hurled the silver goblet across the room. Wine splattered across the wall in a crimson spray.
"She held the merchants," she spat. "And the production line is back on track. That little wretch recovered faster than expected."
Marianne, standing awkwardly near the hearth, bit her lip. "She's smarter than we gave her credit for."
"She's clever," Evelyne snarled, "but she's still vulnerable. She can't keep this up forever."
"What now?"
Evelyne's eyes glinted with cruel delight. "Now we stop playing games with threads and rumors. We go after her name. Her reputation. And when I'm finished… not even Adrian Blackwood will look at her the same way again."