Numbers did not care who held power.
That was why I trusted them.
People lied with smiles, titles, tears, apologies, perfume, and vows made beneath full moons. Numbers had their own language. They could be manipulated, hidden, dressed up, delayed, mislabeled, buried beneath polished explanations and council seals, but eventually, if you knew where to look, numbers told the truth.
Silver Crest’s numbers were whispering.
By the second week of my marriage, Sabine Vale had given me access to the household accounts, estate operating budgets, staff records, vendor contracts, patrol stipends, supply logs, and three years of council-approved expenditure reports.
Darius had approved it.
Reluctantly.
He tried to make it seem as though he trusted me.
He did not.
Not fully.
He trusted my int
