Back To Make Them Pay

Chapter 5

Clara

"What's going on Clara?" Julian spat again, taking a frantic step into the humid greenery of the conservatory. The silk curtains behind him swayed from his rough entry, and the smell of cheap gin mixed sickly with his jasmine cologne.

​I looked at his disheveled hair, his flushed cheeks, and the dark red wine sloshing dangerously close to the rim of his crystal glass.

In my past life, his outbursts used to terrify me. I would lower my eyes, stammer an apology, and hand over whatever key or document he demanded just to smooth the water.

​Now, standing beside Duke Silas Vance, I felt nothing but a profound, icy disgust.

​"You heard me right Julian," I said, smoothly.

"I have not forgotten my place."

​Julian’s face twisted into a snarl. He raised his glass, pointing a shaking finger directly at my face.

"You little b***h! You think because you threw a tantrum in your study yesterday that you can play politics with the Iron Duke? You are nothing without my guidance! The Mercer name is a laughingstock, your father’s debts are piling up, and if I walk away from you tonight, you will be bankrupt by the morning!"

​"Is that so?" Silas’s low baritone cut through the quiet like a drawn blade.

​He didn't move fast. He simply stepped forward, putting his broad, imposing frame between me and Julian’s pointed finger.

The temperature in the conservatory seemed to plunge ten degrees in an instant. Silas looked down at his younger cousin with a quiet, lethal contempt that made Julian’s ranting collapse in his throat.

​"C-Cousin," Julian stammered, his bravado instantly draining as he took an involuntary step back toward the silk curtains. He lowered his hand, his eyes darting frantically between Silas and me.

"Silas... you don't understand the situation. Clara has had a brain fever since yesterday. She's delusional, she's-"

​"Lady Clara has just granted the Imperial Navy exclusive navigation rights through the Frost-Passes," Silas said smoothly, adjusting the silver cuff of his dress uniform.

"An arrangement that places the Mercer Shipping Line under the direct military protection of the Crown."

​Julian froze. The color drained out of his face so fast he looked like a ghost under the moonlight filtering through the glass dome above us.

​"The... the Frost-Passes?" Julian breathed, his voice barely a squeak. "That's impossible. Those charts were lost with her mother-"

​"They were never lost," I said, leaning my shoulder casually against the edge of the marble fountain, watching him squirm. "My mother simply hid them where only someone with Mercer blood could retrieve them."

​"You... you gave them to him?" Julian’s eyes bulged with sudden, ravenous fury. "Those charts are worth millions! They belong to our combined estate! You gave away my fleet’s passage!"

​"Your fleet?" Silas scoffed, a dark, dangerous sound. He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out the forged bill of exchange I had given him just moments before. He held it up between two fingers, letting the faint moonlight hit the stolen Vance seal stamped at the bottom. "I believe this belongs to you, Julian."

​Julian’s breath hitched. He reached out with a panicked hand, but Silas folded the paper and slipped it back into his jacket before Julian could even touch the air near it.

​"I have already sent word to the High Court of Accounts," Silas continued, his gray eyes locking onto Julian with absolute finality.

"By seven o'clock tomorrow morning, every financial asset carrying the Vance seal under your name will be frozen pending an imperial audit for high fraud and forgery."

​"No..." Julian whispered, the crystal wine glass slipping from his fingers.

​It struck the marble floor with a sharp shatter, dark red wine splashing across his polished leather boots.

​"You can't do that, Silas!" Julian shrieked, his voice cracking into panic. "I have payments due at noon! You're ruining our family name!"

​"You ruined the Vance name the moment you put my seal on a gamble," Silas replied, his tone as unyielding as iron.

"Consider yourself fortunate that I am letting the court handle you, rather than throwing you off myself."

​Julian stumbled back against the silk curtain, his hands trembling violently. He looked at me, his eyes wide with a desperate, pathetic pleading that made my stomach turn.

​"Clara... please," he choked out, taking a step toward me, reaching out a hand stained with spilled wine. "Think of our future! Think of what we built together! Tell him it's a mistake! I love you, Clara... I've always loved you!"

​I looked at his outstretched hand. I looked at the man who had ordered my broth laced with poison, who had watched me rot on a bed of damp straw while he wore velvet bought with my dead mother’s money.

​I took a single step forward, pulling my velvet dress out of reach of his wet boots.

​"You don't love me, Julian," I said, my voice dropping to a quiet, deadly whisper that made him shiver. "You loved my money. You loved my innocence. And most of all, you loved the quiet, fragile girl who didn't know how to fight back."

​I leaned in, letting him see the pitch-black void of hatred burning in my eyes.

​"That girl died in the cold," I murmured. "And she isn't coming back."

​I turned my back on him, wrapping my arm around Duke Silas's offered elbow.

​"Shall we return to the ballroom, Your Grace?" I asked smoothly, not bothering to check if Julian was following. "The air in here has grown terribly foul."

​"With pleasure, Lady Clara," Silas said.

​As we pushed through the silk curtains and stepped back into the glowing warmth of the Grand Winter Salon, I heard the faint, pathetic sound of Julian dropping to his knees on the marble floor amidst the shattered glass and spilled red wine.

​Across the hall, Evelyn was watching us, her delicate face pale with horror as she realized her savior had just been stripped of his skin. I met her eyes, raised my chin, and let a slow, brilliant smile touch my lips.

​The first movement of my revenge just started, it was time to watch them burn.