Chapter 172: We Did It

Nobody moved.

For one long heartbeat, the negotiation chamber remained frozen beneath the weight of Lucretius' words. Then, everything happened at once.

Marcelo moved first. The chair behind him crashed violently against the wooden floor as he shoved himself backward. Instead of turning toward Lucretius, his eyes darted toward the tall windows overlooking the rear courtyard.

My breath caught.

He wasn't going to fight. He was going to run.

"Marcelo—!" Seraphine gasped.

He never looked back. He lunged toward the open window with surprising speed, his polished shoes skidding slightly across the wooden floor as one hand caught the windowsill.

For the briefest moment, I genuinely thought he might make it. Then, a blur crossed my vision.

It was Enoch who moved so quickly that I barely saw him leave his position. One second, he stood beside the negotiation table. The next... His hand seized the back of Marcelo's coat with enough force to jerk him violently backward.

Marcelo stumbled. His balance was shattered. Before he could recover, Enoch drove his knee mercilessly into Marcelo's stomach.

The impact echoed throughout the chamber. Air exploded from Marcelo's lungs in a broken gasp as his entire body folded around the blow. He hadn't even finished collapsing before Enoch twisted his arm sharply behind his back and forced him face-first onto the polished wooden floor.

The loud crack against the floorboards made several employees outside the chamber flinch.

Marcelo groaned, struggling instinctively beneath the hold.

It was useless as Enoch planted one knee firmly between Marcelo's shoulder blades, pinning him with effortless strength. A dangerous smile slowly spread across my brother's face. "Oh." He clicked his tongue softly. "My apologies..." He leaned down just enough for Marcelo alone to hear him. "...former brother-in-law." The title dripped with mockery. "I forgot."

Another painful twist of Marcelo's arm earned a strangled grunt.

"I'm not sorry at all." An amused laugh escaped from Enoch. "I've actually been wanting to do that for quite some time."

Across the room, Lucretius cast them a brief glance, his expression unchanged. He seemed unfazed by Marcelo’s attempt to escape or my brother holding him down. Instead, he casually pulled a silver pocket watch from inside his uniform. With practiced ease, he flipped it open as his eyes lowered to the time. "Three seconds..." he uttered calmly. The pocket watch snapped shut. "I expected five, brother-in-law."

Enoch snorted. "You underestimate how badly I wanted to hit him."

"I noticed."

Their exchange was so absurdly casual that it sent an even deeper chill through the room as though Marcelo's attempted escape had never once concerned them and they had expected it all along.

Because... Perhaps they had.

My gaze shifted to Seraphine, who had gone pale. She took one hesitant step backward before realizing far too late that the royal soldiers had already surrounded her. Steel glinted on every side.

There was nowhere left to go.

"No..." Her voice trembled for the first time since entering the trade house. "There must be some misunderstanding." She looked desperately toward Lucretius. "I haven't committed treason."

"You've made a mistake."

"I'm merely Marcelo's fiancée. I had nothing to do with any of this."

Lucretius regarded her with the same detached expression one might reserve for reading tomorrow's weather report. "You are correct," he said afterward.

Seraphine's eyes brightened. For one fragile heartbeat, hope returned to her face.

Then, Lucretius continued. "You did not commit treason alone." The color drained from her face. He reached toward the leather folder resting upon the negotiation table before opening it with unhurried precision.

Inside, stacks of documents were neatly arranged—letters, financial records, trade manifests, witness testimonies, and military reports. Each was separated with meticulous care. Every piece of evidence was collected over weeks of investigation.

Lucretius lifted only one page. "You corresponded with foreign merchants using House Valmere's private seal." Another page. "You authorized shipments deliberately concealed from the Crown." Another. "You knowingly provided false testimony during the royal investigation concerning my beloved wife's attempted assassination." He lowered the papers. "There are..." His eyes met hers. "...forty-three separate pieces of evidence bearing your name."

Seraphine stared at him. Then, in the folder. Then slowly... at me in disbelief and fear. And finally, understanding. She realized that this negotiation had never been intended to save House of Valmere.

It had only ever been meant to keep them both in one room long enough for the royal military to arrive.

Marcelo's laughter had long since disappeared. What remained in its place was silence. It was the suffocating kind.

The royal soldiers closed the distance with practiced precision, their movements synchronized from years of drilling together. Metal restraints smeared with wolfsbane clicked into place around Marcelo's wrists before he could struggle again.

Marcelo stared at the iron cuffs in disbelief, as if he still couldn't comprehend that they were meant for him, and the pain registered on his face as he slowly lifted his head. "This is absurd." His voice lacked the confidence it had carried only minutes ago. "You cannot possibly think this will stand in court."

"It will," Lucretius answered simply.

Marcelo's jaw tightened. "You have fabricated everything."

"I don't need to." Lucretius' tone remained maddeningly calm. "You've already done yourself enough."

Across the chamber, Seraphine shook her head repeatedly. "No..." Her breathing had become uneven. "There has to be some mistake."

"There isn't."

She looked desperately from Lucretius to me, then toward Father, as though hoping someone or anyone would object. But nobody did.

The silence alone became its own answer.

"I demand an audience with His Majesty," she insisted.

"You'll receive one," Lucretius replied. "...during your trial."

The finality of those words seemed to steal the remaining strength from her knees. She stumbled backward as two royal soldiers immediately stepped forward. One on either side. Neither touched her.

Not yet.

They didn't need to. She already knew there was nowhere left to run.

Enoch finally released Marcelo's arm only long enough for another guard to secure the restraints properly before hauling him upright.

Marcelo winced.

"Careful," Enoch said pleasantly and smiled dangerously. "I'd hate for our former family gathering to end with you hurting yourself."

Marcelo glared at him. "You'll regret this."

Enoch's grin only widened. "Oh?" He leaned closer. "I've been waiting to hear those words for quite some time." Then, he stepped back and looked toward the soldiers. "Take them."

Immediately, they surrounded both Marcelo and Seraphine. Neither resisted again. Perhaps because they finally understood resistance no longer mattered and realized this had never been an arrest made in haste.

It had been planned.

Weeks before either of them had walked back into the Caelthorn Trade House.

As Marcelo was escorted toward the doorway, he stopped. Only once. His eyes found mine across the negotiation chamber. There was anger, confusion, and disbelief there.

But above everything else, there was the look of a man desperately trying to understand exactly when he'd lost.

I met his gaze calmly. I didn't smile. I didn't gloat. I simply just watched.

Because there was nothing left to say. The answer to his question had begun the day he underestimated me.

Enoch caught the look Marcelo gave me and lightly patted his shoulder. "Eyes forward."

Marcelo ignored him.

Enoch sighed dramatically. "I tried asking nicely." Before Marcelo could react, Enoch nudged him forward just hard enough to force him into motion. "Walk, slowpoke."

The royal soldiers escorted them from the chamber one step at a time until the heavy doors finally closed behind them.

Then, the room fell quiet. For the first time since the negotiation had begun, it was finally over.

Father looked at the closed doors for a long moment before lowering his gaze to the teacup resting forgotten upon the table. He picked it up and took a thoughtful sip. Immediately, his brows knitted together. "Cold..." He sounded almost disappointed. Then, he looked toward me with the faintest smile. "I suppose I'll have to brew another pot."

A soft laugh escaped me.

Trust Father to concern himself with tea after witnessing the downfall of one of the kingdom's most influential noble houses.

He rose unhurriedly from his chair, smoothing the front of his coat as though we had merely concluded an ordinary business meeting. "You two have earned a moment." His eyes flickered briefly toward Lucretius before returning to me as if he already knew that we needed it. "I'll see to the tea."

Without waiting for an answer, he quietly left the study room, gently closing the doors behind him. Silence settled once more, and it was different this time.

The moment the doors clicked shut, I looked at my husband. He was already looking at me. Neither of us moved immediately. We simply stood there across the negotiation table, letting everything that had happened settle between us.

The weeks of planning. The endless waiting. The careful restraint. The trap.

It had finally closed just as we predicted.

Since my assassination, Lucretius had already conducted a private investigation that was different from the royal military's objective. Since it was a concern to me, he knew to himself that he would never spare Marcelo and Seraphine anymore.

Because of the evidence he gathered, it was easy for us to coordinate with my sister and brother-in-law.

Thanks to my adorable Lucretius, we were able to reach this point.

I rounded the table without thinking. So did he. The distance disappeared almost naturally.

When I reached him, his arms opened before I even stopped walking. I went into them willingly.

His embrace closed around me with quiet certainty, drawing me against his chest until I could hear the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath the layers of his uniform.

Home.

I breathed him in—the scent of cedar, steel, and the familiar warmth that had become my greatest comfort.

His chin rested lightly against the top of my head. "We did it," he whispered.

A smile found my lips. "We did." When I lifted my face, he was already looking at me.

There was no battlefield in his eyes now. No General. Only my husband.

I rose onto my toes and closed the remaining distance between us. His lips met mine with the tenderness of someone who had waited all day for this moment. The kiss deepened naturally, unhurried and full of quiet relief rather than urgency.

When we finally parted, I was still smiling. My fingertips smoothed the front of his impeccably kept military coat before I looked up at him through my lashes. "I've been thinking about something all afternoon," I started.

His brows lifted slightly. "Oh?"

I leaned closer until only he could hear me. "I have to admit..." My smile turned playful. "You always look exceptionally handsome in your uniform, General."

The compliment earned a low chuckle from him. "I was rather hoping you'd notice."

"I noticed." I let my fingers lightly brush the silver insignia over his chest before meeting his gaze again. "And once we're home..." I paused just long enough to watch anticipation flicker across his face. "...I'd like to steal a little more of my husband's time." Then, I caressed the lapel of his uniform as I continued. "With him wearing this. What do you think?"

The warmth in his eyes deepened. His arms slipped more securely around my waist. "My lady..." He smiled, the corner of his mouth lifting with unmistakable affection and desire. "Your wish is my command, and I shall make you the happiest wife," he promised.

And somehow, after everything we'd endured, those simple words felt like the sweetest victory of all.