Reborn To Change My Fate-Chapter 240 - Two Hundred And Thirty Nine
The heavy double doors of the drawing room swung open with a groan. The guards escorted a man inside.
Mr. Silas walked in. He wore a velvet coat that was too expensive for a commoner but too gaudy for a noble. He clutched a leather portfolio to his chest as if it contained his own heart.
He looked around the room. He saw the angry merchants with their bruised faces. He saw the guards. And he saw the three women sitting in judgment.
He stopped in front of the Dowager Duchess and bowed deeply, sweeping his hat off his head. Then he turned and bowed to Marissa.
"Your Grace," Silas said smoothly. His voice was like oil sliding over stone.
He brought out his own copy and showed it to Beatrice, confirming what the merchants said.
Ashlyn sat in her chair, her hands folded in her lap. She watched the scene with hawk-like intensity. Her heart was pounding, not with fear, but with a twisted sense of anticipation.
She knew this script. She had lived it before, in another lifetime, but the roles had been reversed.
"Does all this feel familiar, Marissa?" Ashlyn thought, a smug, secret smile playing on her lips behind her fan. "I bet you will admit to this. You have no choice. The seal is on the paper. You will take the blame to avoid a scandal, just like I did last time. You will try to be the hero."
Marissa stood up. Her movements were slow. She didn’t look afraid. She didn’t look like a woman caught in a crime. She looked like a merchant leader arriving for a meeting.
She walked calmly toward Mr. Silas. She stopped a few feet away from him, her dress rustling softly in the silence.
"Mr. Silas," Marissa said. Her voice was clear, ringing through the room.
She looked him in the eye.
"I told you I wanted to lend usury," Marissa admitted openly. "I told you I wanted to invest private funds. But I never told you to hurt people to collect debts."
The merchants gasped. Beatrice looked shocked. Her hand flew to her mouth. Marissa was admitting it. She was admitting to the usury.
Mr. Silas straightened up. He looked relieved that she wasn’t denying the loan. He didn’t want to go to the dungeon for fraud.
"They wouldn’t repay, Your Grace," Silas complained, his voice taking on a whining edge. He gestured to the bruised merchants standing behind him. "They kept complaining the interest was too high. They were stalling. They were making excuses about the winter."
He took a step closer to Marissa. He leaned down, bringing his mouth close to her ear, though his voice carried in the quiet room.
"The usury has made about ninety thousand silvers so far," Silas hissed greedily. His eyes gleamed with the reflection of gold. "It is a fortune, Your Grace. A fortune. I was too impatient to collect the rest. I wanted to close the books before the winter storms hit."
Ninety thousand.
It was a staggering sum. Enough to buy a small fleet of ships. Enough to rebuild the Golden Swan ten times over.
Ashlyn’s eyes narrowed. She did the math in her head. She had mortgaged her mother’s estate for thirty-seven thousand. If the return was ninety thousand... the profit was immense.
"Next," Ashlyn thought, replaying the memory of their last life like a play she had memorized line by line. "She will try to win hearts to settle matters. She will play the benevolent saint to make the Dowager forgive her."
Marissa nodded at Silas, acknowledging the sum. Then, she turned.
She faced the group of angry, battered merchants. Her face softened. The cold businesswoman vanished, replaced by the compassionate Duchess.
"All borrowers are poor commoners," Marissa announced. Her voice was filled with empathy. "You are trying to feed your families. You are trying to keep your shops open. I understand that."
She looked at the man with the bandage on his head.
"Repay the principal within three months," Marissa declared.
The room went silent.
"Take your time," she continued. "Survive the winter. Sell your goods. I will waive all interest. You owe only what you borrowed originally. Not a copper coin more."
The merchants looked at each other, stunned. The interest had been crushing them. It had been doubling every week. Now, it was gone. The debt was manageable.
The anger drained out of their faces, replaced by a wash of relief and gratitude. They looked at Marissa not as a tyrant, but as a savior.
"Thank you, Your Grace!" the leader cried, falling to his knees. "Bless you! Bless the Thompson family!"
Marissa turned back to Mr. Silas. Her face hardened again. She was back to business.
"Remove your profit from the usury," she ordered. "Take your cut from what has already been collected. You did your job, however poorly."
She pointed to the injured men.
"Then, send money to the injured for their medical bills," Marissa commanded. "Pay for the broken windows. Pay for the bandages."
She looked Silas in the eye.
"And keep the rest safe," Marissa said. "In your strongest vault."
She took a step closer to him.
"After the principal is paid in three months," Marissa said, her voice low and firm, "I will come to withdraw my silver. Do not lose a single coin, Mr. Silas. Or you will answer to the Grand Duke."
Mr. Silas bowed low, sweeping his hat against the floor. "As you command, Your Grace. It will be safe."
The merchants bowed to Marissa again.
"Thank you, Your Grace. Long live the Thompson family!"
They left the room, praising her name. The crisis was averted. The mob outside, hearing the news, began to cheer.
Beatrice sat back in her chair. Her stern expression softened into pride. She tapped her cane on the floor.
"You handled that well," Beatrice said. "You turned a riot into loyalty. That is the Thompson way."
Marissa turned to Beatrice. She walked over to the old woman and curtsied, looking contrite and humble.
"Grandmother," Marissa said softly. "It is my fault for not monitoring the lender closely. I should have chosen a better man than Silas."
She looked up, her eyes clear. 𝚏𝕣𝐞𝗲𝐰𝕖𝐛𝐧𝕠𝕧𝚎𝚕.𝐜𝚘𝗺
"But I did this usury with my private funds," Marissa lied smoothly. "Not from the estate accounts. I wanted to grow my own savings to establish myself. The family money is safe. It won’t happen again."
Beatrice nodded, satisfied. "It is alright, child. You learned a lesson. And you made a profit. That is good business."
Ashlyn watched it all from her seat. She felt a cold thrill of excitement running through her veins.
It was happening exactly as she remembered. Marissa had taken the bait. She had claimed the loan. She had claimed the money. She had walked right into the trap.
Ashlyn looked at the pocket of her dress. Hidden deep inside the folds of the crimson velvet was a piece of paper.
The deposit slip.
The slip that proved who owned the money. The slip that was needed to withdraw the ninety thousand silver coins from Silas’s vault. Without that slip, Marissa could not get the money.
"Now," Ashlyn thought, her eyes gleaming with malice. "Only the final step remains. The deposit slip gets the silver. Whoever holds that slip holds the fortune."
She knew Marissa’s next move. She knew it because in her past life, she had been the one who tried to steal it back.
"She will try to steal it," Ashlyn thought. "She will realize she doesn’t have the slip. She will realize I have it. She will try to get it back from me to claim the money, making me lose my investment."
Ashlyn smiled. It was a dark, dangerous smile. She clutched her dress where the slip was hidden.
"This time, Marissa," she vowed silently. "I will wait for you to steal it. I will leave it out. I will let you take it."
She imagined the scene. Marissa creeping into her room. Marissa taking the paper. And then, Ashlyn bursting in with the guards, accusing the Grand Duchess of theft. Accusing her of stealing from her own sister.
"I will frame you for theft," Ashlyn thought. "I will catch you red-handed with the proof of your greed. And then, the Dowager will see who you really are and you will get punished while I take the deposit slip to withdraw the money and buy back my mother’s estate."
She sat back, relaxing into the velvet chair, waiting for the night to come.
