Chapter 9 - An Unholy Alliance
Richard trembled violently, collapsing into the armchair by the cold fireplace. His polished aristocratic arrogance had completely shattered, leaving behind a weak, sniveling opportunist.
""She has the deeds,"" Richard confessed, his voice shaking. ""She hired men from the river docks. If Julian didn't die by dusk, they were ordered to burn the staff quarters to the ground—starting with the girl's room. To silence the evidence.""
Clara stepped out from behind the drapes, anger surging through her veins like boiling oil. ""You were going to burn down the servants' wing? Dozens of innocent maids and footmen live there!""
Richard glanced at her, sneering despite his terrified state. ""Innocents? They're servants, girl. Replaceable commodities.""
Julian didn't hesitate. He crossed the room and slammed the butt of his revolver across Richard's cheek, sending the man sprawling onto the Persian rug, clutching his bleeding mouth.
""Speak to my niece with respect,"" Julian growled, his voice a low, terrifying rumble that echoed off the high ceiling.
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Richard spit blood, looking between Julian and Clara in bewildered terror. ""Niece? So... the rumors were true. Marcus's bastard lives.""
""She is Marcus's legitimate heir,"" Julian said, each syllable ringing like an iron bell. ""And as of this moment, Clara Vance is the majority owner of this estate, and every shipping route along the coast. Now, Richard, you are going to write a letter to Genevieve requesting her presence in the cellar. Right now.""
