Back To Make Them Pay

Chapter 6

Clara

The next day, the morning air in the central square of Valenria was cold enough to turn a man’s breath to ice, but outside the High Court of Accounts, the atmosphere was white-hot.

​I sat inside my private black Maybach limousine, watching through the tinted glass as the storm broke.

The polished chrome of the sleek vehicle caught the pale winter sun, a gleaming symbol of Mercer wealth that no one could touch.

​By precisely eight o'clock, news of Duke Silas Vance’s imperial blockade had swept through the district like a breeze.

The city's largest moneylenders, Guild masters, and secondary trade brokers had descended on the court gates in a state of outright hysteria.

​Among them stood Julian.

​Even from fifty yards away, he looked utterly undone. The crisp tailored suit he had worn last night was crumpled, his necktie was disarranged, and his usual immaculate dark hair was blown wild by the icy wind.

He was waving a sheaf of financial drafts at a stony-faced court bailiff who refused to clear his path. Beside him, Evelyn hovered like a pale ghost, her expensive fur coat drawn tight around her shoulders, her face twisted in panicked tears as several of my mother's former creditors openly yelled at them in the street.

​"They won't receive an audience today," Master Kenneth said softly from the leather seat opposite me, adjusting his spectacles as he checked his pocket watch.

"Duke Silas’s men sealed the central vault at six this morning. Lord Julian’s personal accounts are officially frozen, and every credit note carrying the Vance seal has been flagged for criminal audit."

​"Good," I replied, pulling my leather gloves tighter over my fingers. "And the Mercer fleet?"

​"Fully protected under the Imperial Navy's auxiliary charter," Kenneth said, a rare, sharp glint of satisfaction appearing in his eyes.

"The Guild master tried to file a lien against the North Sea docks an hour ago, but the Imperial Guard turned his car away at the gate. The docks are entirely yours, Lady Clara."

​"Not mine, Kenneth," I corrected quietly, turning my eyes back to the window. "Ours."

​The quiet hum of a heavy engine echoed through the square as an armored obsidian phantom-class saloon car pulled up directly in front of mine.

The door clicked open, letting in a gust of freezing wind and the imposing shadow of Duke Silas Vance stepped out.

​He wore his dark double-breasted military overcoat, the silver dragon seal on his collar gleaming in the crisp morning sun. His gray eyes met mine, assessing, calm, and utterly lethal.

​"Lady Clara," Silas said, stepping up to my door and offering a gloved hand to assist me out. "The High Registrar is ready for us."

​"Your Grace," I murmured, placing my hand in his. His grip was as steady as granite, a solid anchor against the chaotic scene unfolding just across the square.

​As I stepped down onto the frosted pavement, the rustle of my heavy midnight-blue dress caught the attention of the frantic crowd. Julian turned his head sharply.

​When his eyes locked onto me, walking side-by-side with the Iron Duke, his face drained of what little color remained. He broke away from the bailiffs, stumbling over in his own dress shoes as he rushed toward us across the square.

​"Clara! Clara, stop!" Julian shrieked, his voice raw and cracking. "You did this! You convinced Silas to freeze the accounts! Tell him to lift the blockade! My lenders are threatening to seize my estate by noon!"

​Silas didn't even turn his head. He simply shifted his weight, putting his broad frame between Julian and me like a stone wall. Two tall imperial guards stepped out from the court entrance, instantly barring Julian’s path.

​"Lady Clara Mercer is under imperial escort, Lord Julian," Silas said, his voice carrying across the square like a rumble of thunder.

"Approach her again without an official summons, and I will have you arrested for treason against a crown contractor."

​Julian froze inches from the guards, his chest heaving, his mouth working silently in absolute shock.

​I paused, turning slightly to look at him over my shoulder. Evelyn had caught up to him, clutching his arm in terror, her eyes wide as she looked at the guards, then at me.

​"You promised to protect my legacy, Julian," I said, my voice smooth and clear enough for every creditor in the square to hear. "I am simply ensuring that my legacy is kept safe from thieves."

​"Clara, please!" Evelyn wailed, taking a step forward before a guard snapped his arm out to halt her. "We're sisters! You can't let them ruin us! What will become of our family name?!"

​"My mother's name is Mercer," I said coldly, my eyes settling on the teardrop pearls still visible beneath her fur collar. "The family connection was buried the moment you touched her jewels and went after the man I once loved."

​I turned back to Silas, giving him a single nod. "Let us finish this, Your Grace."

​Together, we walked up the wide marble stairs into the High Court of Accounts, leaving the screaming creditors and my crumbling past behind in the cold.

​Inside the heavy grand doors, the air was silent and warm, smelling of polished mahogany, sealing wax, and raw power. The High Registrar bowed deeply as we approached the long desk where the grand ledger of Valenria lay open.

​"Lady Clara Mercer," the Registrar said, dipping a long fountain pen into gold-flecked ink.

"To finalize the Imperial Navy's protection treaty over the Frost-Passes and the Mercer shipping fleet, we require your seal."

​I stepped forward, taking the heavy brass seal of the Mercer Merchant House from my pocket. I pressed it firmly into the pool of hot red wax on the parchment, leaving the crisp imprint of a dragon-forged ship.

​As the wax hardened, Silas stepped up beside me, dipping his own signet ring into the red pool beside mine, binding our houses in an ironclad alliance before the empire.

​"It is done," Silas murmured, his low voice brushing against my ear as the Registrar dried the document.

He looked down at me, a dark, unmistakable heat flickering deep in his gray eyes. "Julian is broken, Clara. But he will definitely strike back. What is your next move?"

​I looked down at our side-by-side seals on the imperial parchment, feeling the final lingering chill of my past life melt away into pure, burning power.

​"He will try to sell his phantom rubber holdings to the northern syndicate tonight to get emergency cash," I whispered, meeting his gaze with a lethal smile. "And I am going to buy them all.”