"I was lucky to get into their house and find the documents and letters before the police showed up. It was a total dump. Parts of the mansion were collapsing, and among the heaps of trash, rats were everywhere... ugh, it was disgusting."
Terry, who had come to deliver the results of his investigation, gagged as he recalled the scene.
The Formands had been living in filth ever since their son married and moved abroad. Always stingy, their greed had grown to the point of firing the maids just to save money, leaving them to wallow in their own squalor—eating out of the garbage to avoid spending a single coin of their fortune.
They were vile, even in death. And I was honestly surprised they even paid for entry to Monami.
"Hm... nothing relevant, but I'm curious why those hags kept sending them letters for years."
As I skimmed through the correspondence—most of it unopened—I searched for the instigator.
The old Schultz witches had exchanged news with the Formands during the years I was married. Updates about what I did, how I lived... even the beatings I suffered were described in detail until they lost track of me.
I was being watched—to make sure I didn't escape Fitzgerald. And while that might seem normal given my record, two letters told a different story.
"...this girl has lasted longer than expected. It would be a waste to return her. The payment has already been deposited—we hope it's clear that she belongs to us now..."
It made no sense.
"The Schultzes were paying the Formands not to reclaim you. Didn't you say they were poor? Where did the money come from? And why would those people insist on getting you back?"
"That's exactly what I'm wondering. I doubt it's about D'Agostini's reward. Besides, I never received a single widow's cent, let alone any news of accounts or property in the Schultzes' name."
"Maybe the Blakes were behind it. Just to make you suffer." My lawyer, Nelson Lazzarus, was reviewing the documents.
"Could be."
That's what I thought—until I found the final letter from those witches.
"...that wretch took the box with Fitzgerald's fortune. We demand its return, or the world will learn about your 'little deal' with Blake and Masantoni..."
Jackpot.
The mention of a box—without revealing its contents—alongside a threat, was clearly what got the Formands moving. The letter must've only recently been found under all the garbage; had they read it earlier, those hags would still be alive, and the Formands would've come after me years ago.
"Schultz, Formand, Blake, and Masantoni... what the hell were they planning?" I rubbed my temples from the headache this was causing.
"Ahem..." Nelson swallowed hard.
"Impossible. Deirdre—!" A flood of thoughts crashed into my mind.
"Hmph! I wasn't chosen at random. They planned my entire existence the moment I set foot in that house. Scumbags!"
I was even more grateful now that I'd had them killed.
These bastards weren't looking to sell off some poor girl. No—they knew who my father was and had him executed just to get their hands on me.
They paid some fake uncle to make the adoption legal—his real name was Freddo Masantoni—and made sure no one would ever discover who I was.
But why keep me alive if they didn't intend to claim the reward?
It made no sense.
The older stack of letters, neatly placed in a tray, came from Horacio Blake—confirming Adolf Formand's question about the forced marriage between their children. Alongside those letters was a generous transfer of money and shares in the agricultural company now run by the Republic's President, Giuseppe Masantoni.
But it didn't end there.
Beyond the Republican campaign to destabilize the Tsarist Empire and annex its territory, each letter revealed a secondary purpose for the war.
More than a suspicion, this was shaping into a devastating truth—and if nothing had moved me before, the work contract Terry now held in trembling hands would seal it all.
"...Col. Fitzgerald Schultz: the agreed payment will be made in full once the task is complete..."
CRASH!
I shattered the glass table and cut my hand.
"Deirdre!"
"Ha! As if it wasn't enough to ruin my life—they dared to marry me off to the man who killed my parents?! I should've killed them the moment I had the chance!"
Blood poured down, staining the rug.
"If this comes out, it won't be a scandal—it'll be a massacre. Deirdre, I suggest you calm down and clear your head. If the Formands kept this, who's to say the others didn't? They all got rich off your back—now it's time to return the favor before they realize the Formands spilled their guts."
"If I could kill the Formands, no one's taking away the pleasure of doing the same to those rats."
I was about to follow his advice and cool my fury when Terry said something that chilled me to the bone.
"Ahem... about that, Deirdre... the hitman didn't kill them. It was Adolf's hand that ended it."
While cleaning my wound, Terry bit his lower lip.
Adolf had lost his mind and shot his wife before turning the gun on himself. If it hadn't been for the number of witnesses—prisoners, officers, and civilians alike—no one would've believed it.
The Formands died stupidly, which delighted me—but what Terry said next froze me in place.
An hour later, a kindly-looking, silver-haired man arrived at the station, claiming to be the Formands' lawyer. Upon hearing about their deaths, his only question was whether they'd spoken to anyone before dying. When told no—since everyone had been waiting to interrogate them—he grew thoughtful.
Without another word, he hurried off.
Terry took a while to remember, but he'd seen that same man in the home of one of his many lovers—specifically, Mrs. Valeria Lobato, wife of Republican Senator Merrill, a close friend of Giuseppe Masantoni. What struck him most was how the "lawyer" acted like he owned the place, while the senator was conveniently out of town.
Something massive was brewing, and though I couldn't yet see what it was—I knew it involved me.
Knock knock.
In the midst of the storm, my housekeeper entered with a bothersome message.
"Louis Schultz is outside. He needs to speak with you about Vaneesha."
"Bring him to the sitting room. And don't let Nisha leave the library."This was no coincidence.
Even after receiving half a million, the bastard had dared to disobey my orders—hadn't even tried to look for the girl or spare me the annoyance.
Pacing nervously, Louis bit his nails and mumbled under his breath.
"What do you want?" I asked.
"Mother, it's so good to—"
"Talk." The last thing I wanted was a greeting.
"Well... it's about Vaneesha. We'd like you to return her. Her mother's fallen ill from missing her, and her sister is lonely—"
Utter bullshit.
"What exactly am I supposed to return? You legally gave her to me. She's mine now. Or is there something I don't know? Because I paid you to avoid this little visit."
"We'll return the money, just give her back! She had a life before you took her!"
"Excuse me?"
"She belongs with her parents! Besides, she already had a marriage arrangement you broke without my consent!"
The engagement—with the son of the Blakes.
How could I be so stupid? Then the girl...
Seeing his desperation, I wanted to confirm whether my gut was right—just to be sure my fury was justified.
"You won't even be able to cover the check from three months ago. According to my accountant, it was cashed on the first day. And if you read the contract, you'd know that for each day since the money was withdrawn, any attempt at refunding it incurs compounded interest. 57% per day."
The apple doesn't fall far from the tree. Just like his father, he thought I'd be too dumb to anticipate his next move.
"I'll get the money—but give her back!"
I could already see who he owed.
"But you still have Jenna. What's the difference? The Blakes would be thrilled to have her in their family—after all, she's your biological daughter."
"Mother, it has to be Vaneesha!"
I knew it.
"I'm not your mother. And I will not give you that girl—no matter how much you beg. If you ever set foot in my house again, or come anywhere near us, I'll have you thrown in prison."
I'd had enough.
I stood, and pointed to the door.
This leech held no value to me—and he wouldn't make it past today.
Watching from the window, the glow on my chest pulsed brighter.
"I know it was you, my stern. Do it again—and wipe that parasite out."
The light went out.
With that business done, I turned to the one hiding behind the sofa.
Tears in her eyes, Vaneesha clung to me.
"Please... don't let them take me."
"Never," I said, smiling—already pleased by what was about to happen.