Every Villainess Deserves Happy Ending

Chapter 9: The Liquidation of Loyalty

The steel against my neck was a thin, icy line that promised a very permanent end to my career. The foyer was a chaotic swirl of retreating townspeople and shouting sailors, the noise buffering the quiet, deadly click of Malton’s tongue against his teeth. The air in the manor had grown even colder, smelling of the damp earth Malton must have crawled through to get inside. I could hear the rustle of his expensive wool coat—a coat bought with the kickbacks he’d stolen from my family—as he pressed closer. His breath was sour with cheap wine and desperation, a sharp contrast to the clean, bracing salt-air of the harbor.

A loose end, I thought, my mind remaining terrifyingly still even as my body tensed. I focused on the macro-logistics of the town and ignored the micro-threat of a disgruntled ex-employee. In business, a fired manager is often more dangerous than a competing firm because they know where the bodies are buried. Or in this case, where the ledgers are hidden.

I had underestimated Malton. I thought the silver "severance pay" I gave him on the Vesper would be enough to buy his disappearance. But greed is an unquenchable overhead. He didn't want to survive; he wanted his "rightful" place as the parasite of the Vance estate back.

Think, Eden. You’ve dealt with corporate sabotage before. I wasn't just Rayen, the girl he used to bully with "lost" invoices. I was a woman who knew that every threat has a price point.

"You really should have stayed on the boat, Malton," I said, my voice barely a whisper, yet steady. I didn't move an inch. "The silver I gave you was enough to start over in the South. Now, you’re just trespassing in a war zone."

"The silver was an insult, My Lady," Malton hissed, the blade trembling slightly—not from fear, but from a twitching, oily rage. "I spent twenty years balancing the Duke's crimes so you could buy your silks. I know about the 'Midnight Tide.' I know Silas's men are here. If I hand you and that ledger over to the Inquisition, they’ll give me back my position. I’ll be the hero who caught the 'Treasonous Duchess'."

"You're a poor mathematician, Malton," I countered. "If you hand me over, Silas will kill you the moment you stop being useful. You’re a witness to his laundering. You aren't a hero to him; you're a liability he forgot to write off."

Behind him, I heard a soft, metallic shink. Caspian was moving. He was a shadow among shadows, circling around the broken mezzanine. I needed to keep Malton talking. I needed to keep his eyes on me.

"Look at the ledger on the floor," I said, nodding toward the book Miller had left behind. "The entry for tonight. It’s not just a payout. It’s a list of names for 'Disposal.' Why don't you check if your name is on page forty-two?"

Malton’s eyes flickered toward the book for a fraction of a second. That was the opening.

I didn't wait for Caspian. I threw my weight backward, slamming my elbow into Malton’s ribs with every bit of the "Mom-strength" I carried from my old life—the strength developed from lifting toddlers and heavy grocery bags. He wheezed, the blade skittering off my collarbone, drawing a thin line of heat but missing the artery.

I spun around, grabbing the heavy silver candelabra from the side table and swinging it with a primal, focused fury. It connected with his jaw with a satisfying c***k.

"I didn't just fire you, Malton," I panted, standing over him as he slumped to the floor, clutching his face. "I liquidated your position. You don't exist in my books anymore."

Caspian dropped from the mezzanine, his boots hitting the floor with a heavy thud. He looked at the groaning steward, then at me, his eyes wide. He saw the blood on my neck, then the heavy silver weapon in my hand.

"I was going to intervene," Caspian said, a slow, dark amusement playing on his lips. "But it seems the 'Lady Auditor' has her own methods of debt collection."

I dropped the candelabra. My hands were shaking, the adrenaline finally starting to ebb. "Secure him with the Inquisitors, Caspian. He’s a walking database of Silas’s crimes. We’ll need his testimony if we’re going to survive the sunrise."

I walked back to the ledger and picked it up. My eyes fell on the margin note again: “The key is in the silt.”

I looked at Aris, the old clerk, who was watching me from the shadows with something nearing worship. "Aris, the silt in the harbor. Why did my mother record its pH levels and mineral content? This isn't a maritime chart; this is a geological survey."

Aris stepped forward, his voice hushed. "The North isn't just a port, My Lady. The silt... it’s not mud. It’s Phosphatic Marl. It’s the rarest fertilizer in the Empire. The South is starving because their soil is dead. You aren't sitting on a graveyard, Lady Eden. You’re sitting on the only thing more valuable than gold in a famine."

A sudden, deep horn blast echoed from the bay. It wasn't a merchant ship.

"Caspian!" I yelled, running to the shattered window.

Three Royal Frigates were emerging from the fog, their cannons run out, their black flags snapping in the gale. Silas wasn't waiting for the Inquisition to fail. He had brought the "Midnight Tide" to wash us away.

"We have two hours until they reach firing range," Caspian said, his face hardening.

"We don't need two hours," I said, my mind racing through a new set of variables. "We have the fertilizer. And I know exactly how to turn a 'Ghost Town' into a 'Sovereign Bank' before they fire a single shot."