Victor pov
I listened to my consultant, Mr. Alistair, deliver the news, and every word felt like a hammer striking my chest. My jaw tightened until it ached.
"No, Sir Victor," Alistair said carefully, his voice measured, but carrying the weight of bad tidings. "I looked into the matter, and Sir Eiser and Lady Serena's divorce has already progressed a fair bit. If the two divorce, we will no longer have a pretext or justification for the plan we came up with."
The words hit me like a physical blow. I slammed my fist onto the desk with a reverberating BANG that echoed off the gilded walls. "So there isn't anything we can do about this either?" I demanded, my voice sharper than intended.
Alistair hesitated, a shadow of defeat crossing his features. "Then according to Meuracevia law, this will merely become a personal disagreement between us and Eiser... and realistically speaking, we won't be able to touch the Serenity family. Even if we tried, Serenity's lawyers wouldn't abide it. This plan has effectively become impossible to execute."
Blast it! That shrewd bastard Eiser—he had anticipated every move I would make, calculated my every desperation! My knuckles whitened against the polished surface of my desk. "He even predicted that I'd try to get my hands on Serenity's assets through him? Then my grand scheme, gathering the eight families and conspiring against them… it's all but pointless! Isn't there a way to destroy that family without Eiser?!" I roared, my voice slicing through the room like a whip.
Alistair shifted uncomfortably under my gaze. "I… I examined every possible angle. But everything surrounding that family is astonishingly airtight. It's as if a contingency exists for every scenario imaginable. I think… this was all planned… Sir Eiser was thorough, even before he left the Grayan family."
I scoffed, the sound hollow and bitter. "Ha… as if foresight could be such a cruel weapon."
From the shadows of the room, one of my co-conspirators spoke, his tone resigned, tinged with quiet frustration. "In the first place, trying to bring the wealthiest and most powerful family to ruin in a short period by searching for some fatal flaw… it was always a fool's errand. Nothing you do can change that, even if you were to somehow harm Lady Serena, the head of the Serenity family."
He gestured, almost reverently, toward the glimmering Serenity banner that hung on the wall. Its presence seemed almost alive, a silent guardian over the family's legacy. "It's now entwined with several other influential families and major companies through agreements… Lady Serena has ensured that her family is untouchable."
I felt a chill, the cold realization creeping into my veins. Her elegant, impenetrable face appeared in my mind, composed and flawless, as though she had predicted my every thought. Checkmate. Every single move anticipated.
"I don't see a possibility, Sir Victor," Alistair continued, his eyes filled with a mixture of frustration and pity, a rare glimpse of human emotion in the sterile efficiency of our discussions. "They've made exhaustive preparations for emergencies and now have a much stronger plan in effect, even in the absence of their owner… likely as a safeguard against repeating past mistakes."
I leaned forward, my knuckles white as I gripped the edge of the desk, the polished surface cutting into my skin. "I think… from now on, the best we can do is minimize the damage. At least save what's left of the family from bankruptcy…" My voice faltered, betraying the faintest hint of desperation.
BANG! I slammed my hand down again, louder this time, the echo reverberating through the high-ceilinged room. "You must be joking! Are you suggesting I just give up and watch this family crumble around me?!"
Alistair swallowed, his throat dry, and murmured an almost inaudible apology. "I… I apologize."
"Stop entertaining such ridiculous notions," I snapped, spinning in my throne-like chair, fury coiling around me like a living thing. "Continue to monitor the Serenity family closely. Keep tabs on the eight families. Prod them. Push them. Do whatever is necessary!"
"Yes, Sir Victor," he replied, the words hesitant but obedient.
Failure was an insult I could not allow. To surrender, to admit defeat, would be a disgrace beyond comprehension. But what could I do now? I could not prevent the divorce. Not that it mattered—the Grayan coffers were bleeding, the banks on the brink of collapse, and every potential asset had been mortgaged, drained, or leveraged to its limits.
If this new business failed—and it was already teetering on the edge—the penalties would crush me. Debt would balloon exponentially. The Grayans' assets would be seized, and I would be forced to flee, haunted by relentless investors and mocked by Eiser, who would surely watch my downfall with cruel delight.
No, I would not fail. Not yet. Not like this.
If the divorce rendered Eiser irrelevant, then I would no longer try to manipulate the Serenity family through him.
No… From now on, I would find Serenity's weaknesses myself. Every chink in her armor, every misstep—if they existed, I would uncover them.
Meanwhile, across the city, in an office bathed in soft, reassuring light, Lady Serena worked with serene composure. "All right, let's wrap up for today," she said, setting a neat stack of papers down, her movements smooth and deliberate. Even in her absence, her family's contingency plans continued to shield them from the Grayans' desperation. She remained untouchable, untarnished, and unshakable.
---
I addressed the three subordinates standing before my desk, each of them stiff with attention, their clipboards tight in hand. The mountain of work that had accumulated during my absence now lay sprawled across the polished mahogany, demanding judgment. Sunlight streamed through the ornate windows—a cascade of amber and gold—illuminating the sheer scale of Serenity operations. The light seemed almost theatrical, as though spotlighting the weight of every decision awaiting me.
"There are five key issues," I began, tapping the papers sharply, each tap echoing off the marble floors. "Inform Curson Motors that we'd like a contract for them to supply thirty additional commercial vehicles."
Pens scribbled furiously.
"And," I continued, scanning the next section, "out of the two long-term leases expiring this year, we're only renewing the one with Hersana Company. The other will not be renewed—too unstable, too inconsistent."
I turned another page, brows knitting slightly. "This billing issue with Leford City has been ongoing for about seven years…" My voice trailed into disbelief. "Seems like they're finally willing to resolve it."
One of my subordinates stepped forward, clearing his throat. "Ah, yes, Lady Serena. They discovered an ore deposit three years ago, and the city initiated a minerals business. It's been profitable—very profitable. A fortunate turn of events."
"Fortunate indeed," I murmured. "As for Leford City's request to pay in gold and the cathedral they possess, allow it… with conditions." I paused, ensuring all three were attentive. "All the gold is to be reappraised, and they will pay the appraisal costs. And it must be with an appraiser of our choosing."
"Of course," they replied in unison.
"Good." I switched to the next document. "As the acquisition of Shapetra Department Store is nearly complete—and given its enormous size—I want a separate, ongoing report for it. No assumptions, no oversights."
I finished reviewing the final contract and set the signed sheet on the table with a soft PLOP.
"And lastly…" I straightened, my tone lightening only slightly. "We're going to start doing weddings. Not just for exclusive members this time—we open it to the public."
The subordinates exchanged glances, a ripple of excitement passing among them, but I was already moving on.
Later, I stood at the tall window, its intricate stained glass framing the sunset. Shades of pink, violet, and gold bled into one another, a breathtaking gradient that felt at odds with the dark knot forming in my chest. I sighed, but the air that escaped me felt heavier than what I inhaled.
Last question, Frederick… who put you up to this?
I could still hear the tremor in his voice as he'd begun to answer—That's—
And then everything had been interrupted, severed, swallowed by the chaos of the investigation.
Now Frederick sat in Meuracevia, unreachable. Because of the ongoing inquiry, I wouldn't be able to question him, not for a long while. And Eiser—stubborn, infuriatingly principled—refused to withdraw the report he filed. I couldn't override him. I couldn't silence him.
Which meant… this matter fell squarely onto my shoulders.
I had to find who was behind Frederick.
And I had to do it alone.
I lifted the small gold-colored coin from the desk. It was foreign—its markings unfamiliar, its weight wrong for any currency commonly used in Meuracevia. I pressed it between my teeth. NOM. A strange habit, but sometimes the texture told more than eyes could.
The Republic of Buiterberg.
Their Security Commander… hired by Frederick's handlers? For what purpose?
"What Serenity family secret," I whispered to myself, "would require employing someone like that?"
I had gone through every one of our family's records, archives spanning generations. Land deeds, contracts, inheritance logs, sealed correspondences… nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing scandalous. Nothing worth sending a spy of that caliber after us.
And Grandma—our walking archive, our living security vault—was still unconscious. I could not ask her what they might be searching for.
I stood again at the window, watching the last rays vanish behind the horizon. The darkened city seemed to stretch endlessly, its lights flickering like a constellation of unanswered questions.
If they needed dirt on our family…
Then either they intended to strike at the very kingdom itself—weaponize us as collateral damage—
or there was something they wanted from us specifically.
If it was the first, the consequences were catastrophic. As Eiser warned, the fallout could be enormous. We could be framed, publicly disgraced, bound to fabricated charges we could never refute. The Serenity name could be tarnished beyond recognition.
But according to Eiser's findings so far, there was little indication that the Republic as a whole was involved.
Which meant it was the second.
Someone, somewhere, wanted something from the Serenity family.
Something hidden.
Something valuable.
Something dangerous.
Who stood to gain the most from discovering our weakness?
My thoughts drifted, unbidden, to the tense conversation from earlier.
I was certain it wasn't the Grayans.
If Victor had been stealing information this whole time, he would have recognized me immediately during our last encounter. And besides, there were barely any links between his ventures and ours. Too little overlap. Too little motive.
No—the man I had spoken to earlier… Frederick's superior, perhaps… he had stared at me with a smirk that made my skin crawl.
"You're even younger than I expected," he'd said with that condescending lilt, leaning in as though inspecting a curious little insect. "I must say… you seem rather familiar."
He had dismissed me with the ease of brushing away dust.
"Are you a collector? Or an art broker? I don't know who you really are… but why don't you go play elsewhere? Collect pretty toys and trinkets instead? Don't concern yourself with what us grown-ups get up to. It's too dangerous for a little girl like you."
Little girl.
The words burned hotter than any insult.
Could it be the eight families then?
No—the timing was wrong. Their agendas did not align with this situation. They were opportunists, not conspirators.
Which left only one conclusion.
Someone else.
Someone hidden.
Someone desperate.
Whoever was behind Frederick wasn't merely trying to inconvenience us—they needed the Serenity family weakened. And weakened badly.
And no matter how deep they hid…
I would find them.
to Buiterberg – Expanded
Then it must be somebody else.
I sat back in my chair, the leather cool against my palms, and repeated the name softly to myself, letting the syllables roll over my tongue as if tasting them for the first time.
"Buiterberg… Buiterberg…"
Someone connected to that distant, paradoxical Republic, and someone with reason enough to target my family. The puzzle pieces were slowly clicking into place, though the picture they formed was still far from complete.
My mind flickered to a memory I had deliberately tucked away—a brief conversation at a formal garden party, where polite smiles masked careful probing. I had asked casually, the words flowing like water yet carrying subtle weight:
"So, where did you study abroad?" I inquired, the corners of my lips curling into a gentle smile.
The woman had tilted her head ever so slightly, and the light caught her expression perfectly, as if she were aware she was revealing secrets without knowing it.
"A country that is near yet far," she said, her voice soft but deliberate. "A lonely yet unbearably beautiful place… Poverty runs rampant on its streets, yet it's rich with art and culture. Its lands are cold and barren, yet full of life, strong and stalwart. A lonesome but charming country."
I pressed my lips together, connecting the ethereal, poetic description to the hard facts I already had. "Ah… the Republic of Buiterberg," I murmured under my breath, letting the name anchor itself in my thoughts.
The man who had sneered at me, dismissing me as a "little girl," drifted back into my mind. His arrogance had been palpable. "Are you a collector? Or an art broker? I don't know who you really are… but why don't you go play elsewhere, start collecting pretty toys and trinkets instead? And don't concern yourself with what us grown-ups get up to. It's too dangerous for a little girl like you."
That voice—the disdain, the condescension—was a thread I could follow. The man, Frederick's backer, was tied to Buiterberg. That connection explained everything: his arrogance, his boldness, his confidence in acting against the Serenity family without fear of immediate reprisal.
I gripped the gavel on my desk tightly, the polished wood cool against my palm, and let my eyes narrow as understanding struck like lightning. The sharp realization was almost painful in its clarity.
The name.
DIAH.
CLICK.
The gavel struck the desk, the sound sharp and final. The man was not merely a shadowy collector hiding in plain sight; he had a real connection to Buiterberg. That connection was the root of his audacity, the source of his motivation.
I had a first clue, a foothold in the tangled web of intrigue. Now I knew where to look. Now the search for Frederick's mysterious backer could truly begin.
I lifted the antique receiver from its cradle, its cool weight grounding me, and held it against my cheek. The room around me was deliberately silent, the stillness amplifying my focus.
"My question is simple," I said, voice low, deliberate, slicing through the quiet. "I'm asking this on the phone because I don't wish to meet face-to-face. Go ahead."
A moment of static, then a calm, measured voice answered: Eiser.
"I've been thinking about who might have employed Frederick," I continued, pressing forward before he could interject, "and a thought came to me. Have you considered the possibility that she was behind it?"
"She?" Eiser's tone carried skepticism, cautious curiosity. "Are you referring to Diah?"
"Yes," I said sharply, a bitter taste in my mouth at having to speak her name. "I want to avoid bringing her into any conversation directly with him, but I have no choice—I must confirm my suspicions."
There was a pause on the line, a faint, almost imperceptible exhale. "Diah wasn't in Meuracevia the past few years. She was sent abroad under the pretense of studying because she disappointed Igor, her father and former gallery director."
I cut him off, the urgency rising. "Do you know where she went?"
Silence. Then a single word: "Buiterberg."
"Buiterberg," I echoed, the syllables echoing in my mind like the final piece of a puzzle. "Frederick said he was there at the same time… the timing fits."
Eiser's voice took on a dismissive edge. "It's true they were both in Buiterberg then, but Diah had no status, no authority. She was merely a foreigner. How could she have contacted the Security Commander of the Republic, turned him into a fugitive of Meuracevia, and issued orders?"
A logical point, undeniable, and yet… Diah had never played by reason's rules.
"She was kicked out of her home, unlikely even to be named De Laurent successor," I pressed, "yet she invested herself in this—enough to hire someone to monitor and act against your family. Why?"
A soft, dry laugh escaped me, my hand lifting to cover my eyes in weariness and sudden clarity. "Ha… it's obvious now."
I lifted my head, eyes burning with realization. "That's why, despite knowing someone targeted the Serenity family, Eiser never suspected Diah."
I let the weight of anticipation settle between us.
Then I spoke, cutting the silence with certainty.
"Jealousy."
On the other end, Eiser's composure fractured. "What…?" His voice trembled, disbelief and panic threading through the single word.
And I knew—I had finally uncovered the simplest, yet deadliest motive behind the shadowed maneuvers: envy.
"What…?" Eiser's voice crackled over the line, stunned, barely above a whisper.
I straightened in my chair, the faint lamplight casting long shadows across the office. My fingers drummed lightly on the polished wood, a subtle rhythm to the storm of thoughts spinning in my mind. "The jealousy of a former fiancée," I said, letting the words hang with precision, "who is clearly not over him."
It was a possibility that someone like Eiser—a man ruled by logic and propriety—would never have considered. But I, a woman who had observed Diah closely and understood her undercurrents, could see it clearly.
I leaned back, closing my eyes briefly, and Diah's profile, sharp and unsettlingly beautiful, floated into my mind. There was a truth in her eyes, one Eiser could never fully perceive.
"Her relationship with you—and any hope of becoming the family's successor—was shattered. She was exiled to a foreign country," I continued, my tone even, deliberate. "Hearing about your marriage on top of that must have pushed her to the brink."
I let the words settle. Bitter, yet undeniable. "She admitted it—that was why she began observing me in the first place."
I could see her clearly in memory: the perverse possessiveness, the icy determination. "The unbearably beautiful jealousy, as she saw it, that blossomed in that lonely place… It's clear what twisted lengths she would go to in order to have you back in her grasp."
Her ruthlessness had been striking. Every movement, every decision, executed without hesitation. She didn't pause. She didn't falter. She would do whatever it took to reclaim him.
But Eiser resisted the truth. He clung stubbornly to his own image of Diah, one filtered through admiration and trust.
"Diah only wanted me because she thought it would save her family," he insisted, voice weighted with past belief. "Why would she waste all that time and effort on a trivial emotion like jealousy? She pretends her feelings for me were sincere—but they weren't real."
I almost laughed, the sound bitter, incredulous. Does this man truly not understand the depths of her obsession?
"The Diah I saw," I corrected firmly, "loved you far more than you can imagine. Her jealousy wasn't trivial—it was the driving force."
A low, worried noise escaped Eiser, his voice strained. "And Frederick… whenever I observed him, he was always searching for something. Too suspicious to be merely a tool of jealousy."
He was grasping for logic, a political or practical motive grander than human emotion. But the answer had always been simpler—more human. Love, desire, and envy were the engines behind the machinery.
"Perhaps," I said, letting a faint chill creep into my words, "he was looking for a way to sever the connection between you and me completely. Whether it was for love or family, it doesn't change what she did."
Her motives had layers, but at the core of all her schemes was raw, unrelenting jealousy.
Eiser's voice, still resisting the personal element, finally turned to the concrete facts Frederick had provided.
"Yes, that's right," he admitted after a pause, reluctant but forced to concede. "Frederick said… 'somebody' apparently saw a confidential document containing the Serenity family secret."
"Confidential document?" I pressed, leaning forward, the lamp casting a harsh reflection across the papers in front of me.
"He was sent here to locate it. When he failed, he was ordered to bring back information about our businesses."
I let the implications settle before speaking. "Consider the timing, Eiser. Whoever orchestrated this saw a document issued by the Kingdom. Frederick referred to them only as 'somebody.' If this person is a woman… then all the pieces begin to fit."
A long, tense silence followed. I could almost visualize Eiser running through the facts, the hard lines of his handsome face tightening under the weight of understanding.
"A confidential Kingdom-issued document?" His voice fell to a whisper. "…There is only one family that could feasibly access something like that."
The De Laurent family. Diah's family. The enormity of her betrayal hung between us like a tangible, suffocating weight.
I laid out the scheme clearly, deliberately. "Exiled in Buiterberg, she hires someone capable of infiltrating the Serenity family—sending Frederick—to locate our weaknesses."
I paused, letting the plan crystallize in the quiet. The goals were twofold: emotional revenge and financial advantage.
"She intended to use that weakness as leverage," I continued, my voice flat but cutting, "which meant she could remove me from the picture… splitting up our contractual marriage, allowing her to start anew with you."
I added the final, damning detail. "Combine that with the wealth her family could gain from the stolen information about our businesses… The motive, the means, the opportunity—it all aligns perfectly."
The line fell silent again. Eiser had nothing left to argue, nothing to counter.
I concluded, my voice precise, unwavering. "Then the question becomes: how did she contact Frederick? Not impossible… but it required determination, cunning, and resources."
Eiser offered only a quiet ellipsis, the sound of a man confronting a harsh, unvarnished truth about a woman he had once loved—and perhaps underestimated.
Jealousy had been the spark. Strategy had been the fire. And Diah had been the masterful hand guiding it all.
A sudden, sharp downpour began outside, drumming against the ornate windowpanes with relentless intensity—SWAAAA!—matching the frantic rhythm of realization that was slowly dawning in Eiser's mind. The storm outside mirrored the storm of understanding within him, each beat of rain a hammering echo of the truth I was about to deliver.
"As you know, Eiser," I said, pressing the receiver tightly to my ear, ignoring the wild percussion of the rain, "the Royal Archives—their confidential documents, the antiquities room, the museum—are all interconnected. Only a select few families are entrusted with access and authority over these areas. Only they may enter freely, without scrutiny."
I allowed the words to linger, heavy and deliberate. I didn't need to speak faster; the weight of my reasoning would carry itself. I could almost hear the gears turning in his mind, connecting these facts to his earlier statement about the document being "Kingdom-issued."
"And which family," I asked slowly, my tone measured and precise, "do you think has the highest level of access?"
I didn't wait for him to respond. The silence that followed was enough. It stretched between us like a taut wire, vibrating with unspoken dread. His hesitation, the small pause, betrayed the comprehension he was unwilling to voice.
Ah…
Finally, Eiser exhaled, a heavy, almost mournful sound, the sort that comes only after one has been forced to confront a truth long resisted. The betrayal—if Diah had truly orchestrated this—was no longer simply personal. It was political. Her reach, her audacity, stemmed not just from spite but from the immense power of her lineage.
I shifted my gaze to the window, watching the storm outside intensify, sheets of rain blurring the city beyond. "It's raining so heavily all of a sudden…" I murmured, almost to myself, though the words carried a subtle weight, a reflection of the tumult in my own mind.
Then, with calm precision, I delivered the final, undeniable truth—the name that carried with it the full force of Diah's motivation, means, and opportunity:
"The De Laurent Family."
The words fell like a gavel strike, final and inexorable.
The conversation ended there. The puzzle pieces—long scattered, enigmatic, and threatening—had snapped into place. Diah, exiled yet far from powerless, had leveraged the prestige and influence of her family, married it to a personal vendetta, and orchestrated a chain of events that threatened to unravel the Serenity family from within. She had employed Frederick, sought the Kingdom's secrets, and attempted to destabilize my marriage and the Serenity empire itself.
The Serenity secret, the core of our legacy, had been compromised. And the threat came not from some petty rival, but from the highest echelons of society, from a family whose very name carried weight in the Kingdom.
I lowered the receiver slowly, letting the tension leave my shoulders in a fraction of a second, though my mind continued to churn. Beside the phone, the small, elaborate hotel business card lay innocuously on the desk—a bright, dangerous beacon amid the deepening gloom. Its presence a reminder that the world outside these walls was both beautiful and lethal, and that the game had only just begun.
The scene closed with the storm outside, the silence of the aftermath, and the clear, cold realization of the enemy standing before us, unseen yet fully revealed.