Back To Make Them Pay

Chapter 8

Clara

Later that evening, the heavy oak doors of the Mercer Estate’s creaked open, admitting a waft of cloying lavender perfume that instantly set my teeth on edge.

​Lady Victoria Vance stepped inside, her chin held high, wearing a dress of dark purple silk designed to project solemn dignity. Behind her was her youngest daughter, Beatrix, whose darting, greedy eyes were already taking in the silver candelabras and antique marble busts lining my hallway.

​In my past life, the sight of Julian’s mother entering a room would have made my knees buckle. Lady Victoria had been the undisputed matriarch of my misery; a woman who treated me like a dull, fragile charity case while systematically signing away my mother's inheritance to fund her family's extravagant lifestyle.

She had mastered the art of cruelty wrapped in soft, motherly affection.

​I remained seated at the mahogany tea table, swirling a cup of dark Earl Grey, my face a mask of smooth, unbothered calm.

​"Oh, my poor, dear Clara," Lady Victoria gasped, putting a gloved hand over her heart as she rushed toward me, her eyes brimming with practiced, tearful sympathy. "Look at you! You look so pale, so overwrought! When Julian told me about the awful misunderstandings at the salon and the court, I couldn't sleep a wink. I told Beatrix, 'We must go to our sweet Clara at once.'"

​She reached out, attempting to take my hands into her own.

​Instead of pulling away, I let her. I softened my shoulders, lowered my eyelids, and let a faint, hesitant tremble touch my lips; the exact image of the gullible, desperate girl she thought she still owned.

​"Lady Victoria..." I breathed softly, my voice weak and faltering. "You came."

​"Of course I came, my sweet child!" Victoria cooed, sitting on the velvet settee across from me, squeezing my fingers with suffocating warmth.

Beatrix sat beside her, trying and failing to hide a smug, triumphant smirk. "We are family, Clara. Or at least, we are meant to be. Julian is absolutely heart-broken. The poor boy hasn't eaten a bite! He is wandering his rooms in tears, crying out for your forgiveness!"

​"Is he?" I asked softly, tilting my head with wide, innocent eyes. "He seemed... so angry at the court this morning."

​"He was distraught!" Victoria insisted, leaning in close, lowering her voice to a intimate, conspiratorial whisper. "You know how passionate men can be when their honor is threatened. Silas; that cold, ruthless monster of a Duke has manipulated the situation. He saw a vulnerable young heiress and a slight rift between betrothed lovers, and he moved in like a vulture to steal the Mercer shipping assets for the Navy!"

​"Silas... took the fleet?" I murmured, staring down into my teacup as if processing a grand betrayal.

​"Yes, darling! He is using you!" Victoria pressed, her eyes flashing with eager hunger as she saw me 'swallowing' the bait. "He doesn't care about you, Clara. Only the Vance family truly loves you. Only we can protect you from the vultures of Valenria. But to fix this; to save Julian and restore your rightful place as his bride, you must act quickly."

​"What must I do, Aunt Victoria?" I asked, using the affectionate title I had naively called her for years.

​Victoria took a deep, triumphant breath, her grip on my hands tightening. "You must go back to the High Court of Accounts today. Tell the Registrar that you were confused, that Silas pressured you into signing those protection treaties while you were suffering from brain fever. Rescind the Navy contract, return Julian’s accounts to him, and sign the joint Mercer-Vance estate power of attorney over to me. I will handle the creditors. I will make sure you are taken care of forever."

​Beatrix nodded eagerly from the settee. "Yes, Clara! And once Julian's name is cleared, we can hold the wedding next month! You can finally be my real sister!"

​I looked at Victoria’s face. I took in the eager, predatory gleam in her eyes, the subtle quiver of her lips as she waited for her foolish little puppet to nod and hand over her life on a silver platter.

​Slowly, deliberately, I pulled my hands out of her grip.

​I took my silk napkin, casually wiped the lingering touch of her gloves from my fingers, and set it down on the table. Then, I leaned back in my chair, crossed my legs, and let a cold, razor-sharp smile slowly spread across my face.

​The innocence vanished from my eyes, replaced by a pitch-black, suffocating hatred.

​"You really haven't changed at all, Victoria," I said, my voice dropping an octave, ringing through the quiet room like a heavy steel blade striking granite.

​Victoria blinked, her fake tearful expression freezing in mid-air. "W-What did you say?"

​"I said," I repeated smoothly, picking up my teacup and taking a delicate sip, "that your performance is remarkably consistent. You used that exact same gentle, motherly tone when you convinced me to sign over my mother's ruby necklace two years ago. The one I later found around Beatrix's neck at the Midsummer Gala."

​Beatrix gasped, her hand instinctively flying to her throat.

​Victoria snapped backward as if she had been slapped. The soft, pitying maternal warmth drained out of her face instantly, replaced by a dark, rigid fury. "Clara Mercer! How dare you speak to me with such insolence! After everything this family has done for you…"

​"Everything your family has done for me?" I interrupted, slamming my teacup onto the saucer with a sharp, echoing CRACK.

​I stood up slowly, drawing myself to my full height, towering over them both.

​"You starved my estate to build Julian’s reputation," I hissed, my voice deadly and precise. "You filled my house with spies, you let your useless son parade my half-sister through the city on my money, and you sat back waiting for me to die so you could inherit every last acre of Mercer land! Did you really think I didn't see you, Victoria? Did you really think I was that blind?"

​Victoria’s mask didn't just crack; it shattered into ugly, venomous rage. She stood up, her purple silk rustling violently, her face twisting into a hideous snarl.

​"You ungrateful little brat!" Victoria shrieked, dropping all pretense, her finger pointing viciously at my face. "You think because you are hiding behind Silas Vance's coat-tails that you are untouchable?! You are nothing! A motherless, pathetic girl playing at politics! Julian only endured your dull, pathetic presence because of your father's money! He turned to Evelyn because she is a real woman, not a icy, lifeless shell like you!"

​"Ah," I smiled, my eyes gleaming with pure satisfaction. "There she is. The real Lady Victoria. I was wondering when the snake would shed its skin."

​"You listen to me, Clara!" Victoria spat, taking a threatening step forward, her voice shaking with rage. "You will retract those charges by sunset! If you destroy my son, I will ruin what is left of your name! I will post your mother's private diaries to every scandal sheet in Valenria! I will tell the empire that the Mercer line is corrupt, diseased, and insane!"

​Before I could even answer, the grand heavy doors of the drawing room swung open with a deafening bang.

​Two imperial navy officers stepped inside, standing at rigid attention on either side of the threshold. Behind them, stepping through the doorway with absolute, terrifying grace, was Duke Silas Vance.

​He wore his dark military cape over his broad shoulders, his gloved hand resting firmly on the hilt of his sword. His gray eyes swept over Victoria and Beatrix like a winter blizzard, bringing a sudden, suffocating silence to the room.

​"You will post nothing, Lady Vance," Silas said, his low baritone reverberating off the high ceilings like a death knell.

​Victoria turned pale, her hand dropping instantly to her side as she took an involuntary step back. "S-Silas..."

​"The High Court has just executed a search warrant on the Vance Manor," Silas continued calmly, stepping into the room and coming to a stop directly beside my chair, his presence towering over the two women. "Including your personal vaults, Victoria. They found three sets of forged Mercer land titles, four ledgers of unregistered debt, and Lady Clara’s mother's stolen jewel collection hidden in your private vanity."

​Beatrix let out a high-pitched squeak of terror, clutching her mother's arm.

​"No..." Victoria whispered, her knees visibly trembling beneath her silk gown. "That's... those were gifts…"

​"Stealing from an imperial crown contractor during a state audit is an act of felony treason against the throne," Silas interrupted, looking down at her with pure, unadulterated disgust. "The guards are waiting outside for your car. I suggest you go home and enjoy your manor, Victoria. Because by tomorrow morning, it will belong to the state."

​Victoria stared at Silas, then turned her wide, terrified eyes to me. The grand matriarch of the Vance family was now reduced to a trembling, old woman, begging with her eyes for mercy.

​I looked at her, tilting my head with a slow, ruthless smile.

​"You told me Julian was wandering his rooms in tears, Aunt Victoria," I whispered softly, leaning in close so only she could hear. "Don't worry. You can share a cell with him soon."

​"Get them out of my sight," Silas ordered coldly.

​The two imperial officers stepped forward, seizing Victoria and Beatrix by their arms and hauling them out of the drawing room. Victoria’s shrill, panicked screams echoed down the long hallway until the front doors slammed shut, cutting off the sound forever.

​The room fell completely silent.

​Silas turned his gaze to me, assessing my face, his gray eyes searching for any sign of weakness or distress. "Are you alright?"

​I looked at the doorway where my abusers had just been dragged away, feeling the cold, dark tide of my revenge rising higher and higher. I looked up at Silas, my smile turning brilliant and dangerous.

​"I have never been better, Your Grace," I said smoothly, reaching out to pour him a cup of tea.