The next morning arrived with unusual tension in Ashford. Dante woke before dawn as always, but something felt different. The air carried a heaviness that set his instincts on edge.
He dressed quickly and made his way through the quiet streets toward the warehouse. A few early risers were already about, and Dante noticed how their conversations stopped when he passed. Whispers followed in his wake, more intense than usual.
At the bakery below his room, old Martha was talking with two other women. Their voices drifted up through his window.
"I heard Marcus Thorne visited the mayor's house last night," one woman said. "Stayed for nearly two hours."
"The mayor is too sick to receive visitors," Martha replied, concern in her voice. "Which means he was there to see Isabella."
"That poor girl," the third woman sighed. "First her father falls ill, then the business starts failing, and now a nobleman from the capital is circling like a vulture."
Dante's jaw tightened. So Marcus had gone to Isabella's home after all. The question was what had happened during that visit.
He arrived at the warehouse to find it still locked. Isabella was never late. In five years, Dante had never beaten her to work. He waited by the door, watching the street as the sun slowly rose.
Tom arrived shortly after, his face grim. "Morning, Dante. Heard about last night?"
"What happened?" Dante asked quietly.
"Marcus Thorne went to the Grey house after dark. Brought four men with him. Big fellows, looked like hired muscle." Tom shook his head. "Nobody knows what was said, but Isabella looked shaken when they left."
Dante's hands clenched at his sides. Four men. Marcus had brought intimidation to Isabella's home, to her sick father's doorstep.
"Here she comes," Tom said softly.
Isabella approached from down the street, her usual confident stride replaced with something more hesitant. Even from a distance, Dante could see the exhaustion on her face. She'd clearly gotten no sleep.
"Morning," she said quietly, unlocking the warehouse door. Her hands trembled slightly with the keys.
"Isabella," Dante said gently. "What happened last night?"
She looked at him, surprise flickering across her tired features. Dante rarely used her first name. It was always "Miss Grey" in front of others, maintaining proper distance between employer and employee.
"How did you know?" she asked.
"Small town. Word travels."
Isabella let out a bitter laugh. "Of course it does." She pushed open the warehouse door and walked inside. Dante and Tom followed.
For a long moment, Isabella stood in the center of the warehouse, staring at the crates and cargo that represented her father's legacy. When she spoke, her voice was hollow.
"Marcus came to my home last night. He brought men with him, said it was for protection in a rough town." She laughed again, the sound empty. "As if Ashford has ever been dangerous."
"What did he want?" Dante asked, though he already knew the answer.
"The same thing. To buy the company. But this time his offer was different." Isabella turned to face them, and Dante saw something he'd never seen in her eyes before. Fear. "He said if I didn't sell, accidents might start happening. Shipments could go missing. Warehouses could catch fire. My father's medical bills could become impossible to pay."
Tom swore under his breath. Dante said nothing, but something cold settled in his chest.
"He wasn't even subtle about it," Isabella continued. "He smiled the whole time, like he was doing me a favor by threatening my family. And when I still refused, he said he'd give me one week to reconsider. One week before the accidents start."
"You need to report this to the town guard," Tom said immediately.
Isabella shook her head. "Marcus Thorne is nobility from the capital. The town guard won't touch him. And even if they tried, he has connections. He made sure I understood that. He knows people in the royal court, people who could make my father's illness much worse if they wanted to."
Dante listened to every word, his mind cataloging information with military precision. Marcus Thorne was operating exactly as Tom had warned—using threats and intimidation to take what he wanted. But there was something more here, something that didn't quite fit.
"Why does he want your business so badly?" Dante asked. "Grey Merchant Company is struggling. He could buy ten other businesses in better condition for the same price."
Isabella looked at him with those sharp eyes that sometimes saw too much. "You're right. I've been asking myself the same question. Our business isn't worth the effort he's putting in."
"Unless it's not really about the business," Dante said quietly.
The warehouse fell silent. Isabella stared at Dante, understanding dawning slowly on her face.
"He wants me," she whispered. "The business is just an excuse."
Tom looked between them, confused. But Dante understood immediately. He'd seen men like Marcus before during his time in the capital. Noblemen who viewed everything as property to be acquired, including women.
"Last night, after all the threats about the business, he said something else," Isabella continued, her voice shaking slightly. "He said a woman like me shouldn't be wasting my youth on a dying company. That I deserved better. That he could give me a life in the capital, introduce me to proper society."
"He proposed?" Tom asked, shocked.
"Not exactly. But the implication was clear. Sell him the business and accept his courtship, or lose everything." Isabella's hands clenched into fists. "He actually thought I'd be flattered. Like he was offering me some grand opportunity instead of threatening my family."
Dante felt the familiar cold calculation settling over him, the same state of mind that had made him legendary on the battlefield. Marcus Thorne had revealed himself completely. This wasn't about business. It was about possession. He wanted Isabella and her company, and he was willing to destroy her father to get both.
"What will you do?" Tom asked quietly.
Isabella straightened her shoulders, and Dante saw the steel that had kept her fighting for five years against impossible odds. "I'll do what I always do. Keep working. Keep fighting. One week is a long time. Maybe I can find a way out of this."
But Dante heard the doubt in her voice. She didn't believe it. She was cornered, and everyone in the warehouse knew it.
"Get to work," Isabella said, her voice firmer now. "We have deliveries to make, regardless of what Marcus Thorne thinks he can do."
Tom nodded and headed to the loading dock. Dante stayed behind for just a moment.
"Dante?" Isabella said softly. "Thank you for listening. I know you have your own troubles without taking on mine."
Dante met her eyes steadily. "You gave me a job when I had nothing. You treated me like a person when everyone else saw a criminal. Your troubles are my troubles."
Something shifted in Isabella's expression. For five years, she'd employed Dante out of kindness and perhaps pity. But in that moment, she saw him differently. Saw the way he stood, the way he watched her, the quiet intensity in his words.
"Who were you really?" she asked suddenly. "Before you came here. Before the treason conviction. Who was Dante Blackwell?"
Dante was quiet for a long moment. Then he said simply, "Someone who failed to protect the people he cared about. I won't make that mistake again."
He turned and walked toward the loading dock, leaving Isabella staring after him with questions she couldn't quite form.
Outside, the town of Ashford was waking fully. Merchants opened shops. Children ran through the streets. Life continued as normal.
But in the Grey Merchant Company warehouse, three people knew that normal had ended. Marcus Thorne had given them one week.
The countdown had begun.
As Dante loaded the morning deliveries, a boy ran into the warehouse, breathless and terrified. "Miss Grey! Miss Grey! Marcus Thorne is at your father's house right now. He brought a doctor with him. Says your father needs special treatment only he can provide!