Reborn To Change My Fate-Chapter 239 - Two Hundred And Thirty Eight

The heavy iron gates of the Thompson estate groaned under the pressure of the crowd. It wasn’t a festive gathering like the ones for the holidays. This was an angry, surging mob of merchants, laborers, and desperate citizens, their faces twisted with rage. The sound of their shouting penetrated the thick stone walls of the manor, echoing in the grand foyer like the rumble of distant thunder.

"The Grand Duchess lends usury loans!" a man screamed, his voice raw. He shook his fist at the barred windows. "She bleeds us dry! She had thugs beat us when we couldn’t pay her blood money! We demand justice today!"

The chant picked up, rhythmic and terrifying, growing louder with each repetition.

"Justice! Justice! Justice! Give us justice!"

Inside the drawing room, the atmosphere was suffocating. Beatrice sat in her high-backed velvet chair, her face pale and drawn. She gripped her cane so tightly her knuckles were white. This was the second time in weeks that a mob had gathered at her gates, and her patience, already frayed by Carlos’s disgrace, was snapping.

"Order the guards to escort them in," Beatrice commanded, her voice sharp and devoid of mercy. "Bring the ringleaders here. I will not have them screaming like animals on my doorstep. I want to hear these accusations to my face."

The guards bowed and hurried to obey, their boots clattering on the marble floor.

Beatrice looked at the two women sitting with her. Marissa was calm, sipping her tea as if the mob outside were merely a passing storm. Her posture was relaxed, her face serene. Ashlyn sat opposite her, looking worried, wringing her hands in her lap, her eyes wide with feigned concern.

But inside, Ashlyn was smiling. Her heart was beating a triumphant rhythm.

"Last lifetime," Ashlyn thought, her eyes flicking to Marissa’s composed face, "I stole your seal. I lent usury in your name to pay my debts. It was a perfect plan. But you... you somehow stole the deposit slip back before I could expose you. You escaped the trap."

She watched Marissa take another sip of tea.

"Now," Ashlyn mused, "you have been reborn too. You know the moves. Surely you would expect me to use last lifetime’s trick to escape again. You will try to find the slip. But this time, I have hidden it well. This time, the lender himself will testify."

The heavy double doors swung open. The guards marched in, escorting three disheveled men. They looked like merchants—shopkeepers and traders who had fallen on hard times. Their clothes were torn, dusty, and one had a bandage wrapped around his head, blood seeping through the white cloth. They looked desperate and furious.

They stopped in the center of the room. The leader, a burly man with a bruised face and a torn coat, stepped forward. He bowed stiffly to Beatrice, but his eyes were burning with anger as he looked at the women.

"Speak," Beatrice ordered.

"The Grand Duchess bullies the market," the man declared, pointing an accusing, dirty finger directly at Marissa. "Predatory usury is unheard of in this city! We borrowed money to survive the winter, but the interest rates... they doubled in a week! It is robbery! It is theft!"

He touched his bruised cheek, wincing.

"Not only that," he continued, his voice shaking with indignation. "When we couldn’t pay the new rates, her debt collectors came. They beat us. They broke my shop window. They inflicted serious injuries on my neighbor, a man with three children! We beg the Dowager for justice! Save us from this tyrant!"

Beatrice turned to Marissa. Her expression was stern, searching.

"Marissa?" Beatrice asked.

Marissa set her tea cup down on the saucer with a soft clink. She looked at the man with genuine confusion, her brow furrowing slightly.

"What usury loan?" Marissa asked calmly. "I have no knowledge of this. The estate accounts are balanced."

Ashlyn let out a long, dramatic sigh. She shook her head sadly, looking at Marissa with deep disappointment.

"Sister," Ashlyn said, her voice dripping with fake concern. "The estate is wealthy. The Thompson family has gold in the vault. We are not short on silver. Why would you do this?"

She leaned forward, her voice dropping to a whisper.

"As the Grand Duchess," Ashlyn scolded gently, "why did you lend usury privately? Why did you risk our reputation for a few coins? Was the allowance not enough for you? Did you need more?"

Marissa looked at Ashlyn. She saw the gleam in her sister’s eyes. It was the same look Ashlyn had worn when she accused her of murder.

"She is repeating that tactic," Marissa thought, her mind working fast, analyzing the play. "The usury loan. The stolen seal. She is desperate." 𝙛𝒓𝓮𝒆𝔀𝒆𝙗𝓷𝒐𝙫𝒆𝙡.𝒄𝓸𝓶

She remembered the debt Ashlyn owed her. The thousand silvers for Carlos’s failed bribes.

"She would be desperate to pay that thousand silver," Marissa realized. "Despite me giving her more time. She panicked. She took a shortcut. She is risking everything on this gamble."

Marissa stayed silent. She let Ashlyn dig the hole deeper. She let the accusations pile up.

Beatrice looked back at the merchant. She needed proof before she condemned her granddaughter-in-law. She had sworn to never accuse Marissa falsely again and besides accusations were easy; evidence was hard.

"Where is your evidence?" Beatrice demanded. "Accusations are easy to make. Show me proof that the Grand Duchess is behind this."

Another man came forward. He was thinner, nervous, clutching his hat in his hands. He looked terrified to be in the presence of nobility.

"We borrowed from the financial district," the second man said, his voice trembling. "From Mr. Silas’s lending house. Mr. Silas said it himself! He told us the money came from the Thompson estate. He said the Grand Duchess was the one who told him to take extreme measures in collecting the money. He said she wanted it back ’by any means necessary’."

Beatrice was shocked. Mr. Silas was a known shark, a man who would sell his own mother for a profit, but he wouldn’t dare lie about the Grand Duke’s family unless he had backing. Unless he had a guarantee.

"He said that?" Beatrice whispered.

"Yes, Your Grace," the man insisted. "He showed us the seal on the document. The Lion Seal. The personal seal of the household mistress."

The Lion Seal. The seal Marissa held. The seal Ashlyn had stolen from the box in the study.

Beatrice’s face hardened. This was serious. If the seal was used, the family was liable. The family name was on the contract.

She turned to the head of the guard, who was standing by the door.

"Get Mr. Silas here," Beatrice ordered, her voice cold as ice. "Now. Drag him here if you must. I want to see this document myself. I want to see the seal."

"Yes, Your Grace," the guard said, running out of the room.

Ashlyn sat back, hiding her smile behind her hand. It was working. Silas would come. He would bring the document with the stolen seal. He would testify that a woman from the estate gave him the order and all eyes will be on Marissa.