The warehouse smelled of sea and oil, the morning sun glinting off the polished grain of stacked crates. Yet the light did little to ease Marcus's unease. The ledgers lay open across the long table, Daniel Parker perched beside him, his gaze sharp and measured.
"Sir," Daniel said, tapping a line of figures, "look here. The shipment from the East Dock — due last week. The ledger claims it arrived yesterday, but the tracking slips disagree."
Marcus frowned, rubbing a hand across his face. "Impossible. I signed off on that delivery myself. There should be no discrepancy."
Daniel's voice dropped. "The ink differs slightly — the same trick as before. Someone's manipulating the records, shifting arrival dates to make it appear we're behind schedule."
Marcus's jaw tightened. "Then this is no mistake. Someone means to make us look careless."
Daniel nodded once. "If it continues, it could cast doubt even among Adrian's allies. Crowne's reach may be longer than we thought."
Marcus exhaled slowly, the weight of the sabotage pressing on his shoulders. "We confirm the discrepancy immediately. A full inventory, line by line. Trace every step of that shipment, Daniel. If we act quickly, we may contain the damage."
Across town, Sebastian Crowne reclined in his study, a glass of brandy catching the light from the window. He tapped a finger on the desk in idle rhythm, listening to the faint crackle of the fire. His network of whispers, half-truths, and carefully planted errors had begun to bloom.
"The first move," he murmured. "A small misstep — subtle, but enough to make the Vales scramble."
He smiled faintly. "They cannot help themselves. They'll chase details while I watch from above."
Back at the warehouse, Marcus and Daniel worked relentlessly — verifying shipment weights, counting crates, cross-referencing manifests with invoices. By midday, a pattern emerged. One cargo — silks and spices from the Far East — had been deliberately marked as late and incomplete.
Marcus raked a hand through his hair. "This is clever. They know which shipments matter most — which errors will draw attention first. They want panic."
Daniel's calm never wavered. "We can stop it reaching the clients. If we act quietly, we can correct the ledgers before any letters or bills are sent. But it must be exact — every clerk, every delivery, every record watched."
Marcus nodded. "Then we proceed. Crowne expects us to panic. We won't give him that satisfaction."
That evening, Marcus sat with Adrian in the quiet of the sitting room, the day's strain visible in his posture.
"The shipments were falsified," Marcus said, laying the corrected ledgers before him. "Arrival dates changed — deliberately. If word spreads, our reputation suffers. Crowne's hand is in this, I'm sure of it."
Adrian leaned forward, eyes steady. "Then we move carefully. Let him think he's sown doubt, while we fortify what's ours."
Marcus exhaled. "It's unsettling. I've never lost a shipment, never had a ledger compromised. And now…" He shook his head. "This is personal. Calculated."
Adrian placed a reassuring hand on his arm. "Then we meet calculation with patience. Crowne's secrecy is his weakness — and his undoing."
That same afternoon, Emily and Charlotte walked through the park, sunlight filtering through amber leaves. Their talk began lightly — the changing season, the markets, Adrian's latest work — but Charlotte's thoughts drifted elsewhere.
"I still think something happened to Clara," she said softly. "She wouldn't vanish without reason. Something is wrong."
Emily sighed, though her tone was kind. "We can't dwell on what we cannot see. Better to focus on what's ahead — Adrian's work, Marcus's efforts, what good we can still do."
Charlotte nodded, though her eyes lingered on the distance. "Forward, then. But shadows have a way of following."
That night, as the lamps burned low in the warehouse office, Marcus and Daniel made their final review. Every shipment accounted for, every ledger corrected. Yet the unease remained — a quiet certainty that someone, somewhere, had already planned the next strike.
Marcus thought of Adrian's steady confidence, Charlotte's clear mind, Emily's faith. They were anchors against the gathering tide.
Daniel closed the ledgers neatly. "We've contained this for now. But they'll escalate. They know we're watching."
Marcus nodded, his gaze on the rows of silent crates. "Then we'll be ready. Every record, every word, every move — guarded. Crowne may reach far, but he'll find no weakness here."
And somewhere across the city, Sebastian Crowne smiled into his glass, certain his first trap had taken hold — never suspecting that the Vales were already preparing their countermove.