Reborn To Change My Fate-Chapter 243 - Two Hundred And Forty Two

Ashlyn stood in the center of her disaster. Her chest heaved with a mixture of panic and fury.

Her plan—her perfect plan to frame her sister—was crumbling into dust right before her eyes and it seemed Marissa was in control.

Ashlyn pointed a shaking, accusing finger at Marissa. Her voice was shrill, desperate to salvage the narrative she had built.

"You!" Ashlyn shouted, her voice echoing in the cluttered room. "You dare steal from my room! You broke in! You attacked me! I caught you red-handed!"

Marissa chuckled. It was a light, airy sound that seemed completely out of place in the wrecked room. It was the laugh of someone watching a child tell a bad lie. She shook her head slowly.

"Don’t jest, sister," Marissa said calmly.

She gestured gracefully to the woman standing beside her, holding the lantern high.

"Look closely," Marissa instructed, her voice steady. "Mrs. Alma is here. The head housekeeper. The most trusted servant of the Dowager Duchess."

Marissa raised an eyebrow, a look of mock confusion on her face.

"How could we be stealing?" Marissa asked. "Or are you also accusing Mrs. Alma of being a thief? Are you accusing the woman who has served this family for forty years of robbing you?"

Ashlyn froze. Her eyes darted to Mrs. Alma. The older woman’s face was stern, her lips pressed into a thin line of disapproval. Mrs. Alma is the oldest servant in the Thompson estate. Accusing her was suicide. It would turn the entire household against Ashlyn instantly. Beatrice would never believe it.

Ashlyn shook her head violently, her hands fluttering in the air like trapped birds.

"No... No," she stammered, backtracking frantically. "I’m not accusing Mrs. Alma. Of course not. She is loyal. I’m..."

"I know you wouldn’t," Marissa interrupted her smoothly, cutting off her excuses before she could form them. "That would be foolish."

Marissa took a step forward, her blue robe rustling softly against the floor. She looked at Ashlyn with a gaze that was almost pitying.

"Besides," Marissa said, her voice turning gentle, almost helpful, "we didn’t come to take anything from you, Ashlyn. We came to return your belongings."

Ashlyn blinked, confused. "Return?"

Mrs. Alma stepped forward. She reached into the deep pocket of her starched white apron. She pulled out a small, glittering object.

She held it up to the light of the lamp.

It was an emerald pendant. A large, tear-drop green stone set in gold, hanging from a delicate, twisted chain. It caught the light, glowing with a deep, rich color. It was distinctive. It was valuable. And it was undeniably Ashlyn’s.

"Do you recognize it, My Lady?" Mrs. Alma asked, her voice professional and cold.

Ashlyn stared at the pendant. Her hand went to her throat instinctively, touching the bare skin there. She remembered that pendant. She had given it to Mr. Holt, the procurement officer, weeks ago. It was the bribe. It was the payment for his silence and his cooperation.

"That’s my missing pendant," Ashlyn whispered, her voice barely audible. Her mind raced. How did they get it? Did Mr. Holt betray me?

"Why do you have it?" Ashlyn demanded.

She lunged forward. Her hand snatched at the air. She was desperate. She had to get it back. She was about to snatch it from Mrs. Alma’s hand.

But Marissa was faster.

Marissa moved quickly. She stepped in between them. She intercepted Ashlyn’s hand, gently pushing it down with a strength that surprised Ashlyn. Marissa took the pendant from Mrs. Alma herself. She held it in her open palm, the green stone glowing like a cat’s eye in the dark.

She looked at Ashlyn apologetically. Her eyes were sad, but there was a glint of steel behind them that terrified Ashlyn.

"Let me explain," Marissa said.

She started pacing the room. She walked around the overturned furniture, careful not to step on the scattered silver coins that Ashlyn had used as bait. She moved like a teacher lecturing a student.

"Lately," Marissa began, her voice taking on a storytelling cadence, "the purchased silk of the estate was of poor quality. It was thin. It was rough. It was an insult to the Thompson name. The curtains were fading. The bedsheets were scratchy."

She stopped by the window, looking at the drawn curtains.

"I was worried," Marissa said, turning back to Ashlyn. "I thought, perhaps, our suppliers were cheating us. So I had Mrs. Alma secretly follow the purchaser, Mr. Holt, to the silk shop. I wanted to see if he was being cheated, or if he was incompetent."

Marissa walked to the only upright chair in the room. She sat down gracefully, smoothing her robe over her knees. She looked at Ashlyn with wide, innocent eyes.

"Guess what?" she said, acting surprised.

She raised the pendant, letting it swing from her fingers like a pendulum.

"When Mr. Holt arrived at the shop," Marissa explained, "he didn’t pay with gold. He didn’t check the fabric. He showed this pendant to the clerk."

Ashlyn felt the blood drain from her face. Her knees felt weak. The room seemed to spin.

"When Mr. Holt showed this pendant," Marissa continued, her voice hardening, "the clerk immediately produced low-grade silk. The cheap stuff. The scraps. And then... he secretly gave Mr. Holt a small pouch of silver coins. A kickback. A refund for buying the trash after splitting the money."

Ashlyn was shaking. Her hands trembled at her sides. She backed away until her back hit the wall. She felt trapped.

"I... I don’t understand what you are talking about," Ashlyn stammered, trying to play dumb. "Mr. Holt? Silk? What does that have to do with me? I don’t know anything about household purchases."

Marissa raised a brow. She looked at Ashlyn with mock confusion.

"You don’t understand?" she asked.

She chuckled. It was a dark, low sound.

Mrs. Alma spoke up then. Her voice was firm, the voice of a witness giving testimony in the king’s court.

"When I went to purchase silk myself, later that day," Mrs. Alma said, staring at Ashlyn, "without the pendant... the clerk provided high-quality silk. The real silk. With exquisite texture. The price was the same. The only difference was the token."

Marissa looked at Ashlyn. Her expression hardened. The mask of the gentle sister dropped completely.

"Could it be," Marissa asked, her voice sharp, "that someone ordered Mr. Holt to collude with the silk shop? Someone who gave him a token of authority? Someone who told him to pass off fakes for personal gain and split the profit?"

She stood up and walked to Ashlyn. She outstretched her hand, the pendant lying flat on her palm, accusing her.

"This pendant," Marissa whispered, "is their transaction token. It is the proof of authority. Mr. Holt confessed that the Second Lady gave it to him. He said you told him to do it."

Ashlyn stared at the emerald. It looked like a green eye judging her. It was the proof of her greed.

She let out a nervous, high-pitched smile. She tried to laugh, but it came out as a choke.

"It’s just a lost pendant," Ashlyn lied desperately. "I lost it weeks ago! I dropped it in the garden! Someone must have found it! Someone must have framed me! Mr. Holt is lying to save himself! He stole it!"

Marissa sighed. She looked disappointed. She shook her head.

"I thought you might say that," Marissa said.

She turned to Mrs. Alma.

"Then what is this?" Marissa asked.

Mrs. Alma reached into her other deep pocket. She brought out a ledger.

It wasn’t the big estate ledger. It was a small book, stained with ink and grease. It looked like something a shopkeeper would hide under a counter.

"This is from the silk shop," Mrs. Alma said.

Ashlyn stared at the book. Her heart stopped.

"You made a deal with Mr Holt and the clerk. But the clerk," Marissa said, "fearing punishment when we confronted him, released the private ledger. He kept records, Ashlyn. Shopkeepers always keep records. They don’t trust noblemen so that they won’t be punished alone."

Marissa took the ledger from Mrs. Alma. She opened it. The pages crinkled.

"He recorded every embezzled coin," Marissa said, reading from the page. "Every transaction where cheap silk was swapped for gold. Every payment made to ’The Lady of the Pendant’."

She walked closer to Ashlyn. She held the book out, right in front of Ashlyn’s face.

"Read it," Marissa commanded.

Ashlyn took the ledger. Her hands shook so hard the pages rattled. She couldn’t focus her eyes at first, but then the words became clear.

She saw the dates. She saw the amounts. And in the column for "Recipient," she saw it.

Lady A. Thompson

Lady A.Thompson

Lady A. Thompson

Her name was everywhere. It was a diary of her crimes.

Ashlyn felt the floor dropping out from under her. The evidence was overwhelming. The pendant. The testimony of the steward. The testimony of the clerk. The ledger. 𝓯𝙧𝙚𝒆𝙬𝙚𝒃𝙣𝙤𝒗𝓮𝓵.𝙘𝙤𝙢

She couldn’t deny it. She had done it. She had thought it was a clever, small scheme. A victimless crime. She thought no one would notice if the curtains were a little thinner.

She threw the ledger onto the floor. It skidded across the rug, landing next to the scattered silver coins she had used to stage the robbery.

She glared at Marissa. The fear in her eyes was replaced by a pure, burning hatred. She was cornered.

"You," Ashlyn hissed. "You did this. You dug this up. You spied on me."

Marissa smiled. It was a cold, victorious smile.

"I just followed the thread, sister," Marissa said softly. "And it led straight to you."