Mason scoffed. “Haven’t you tried everything already? No matter what you intend to say, it won’t make any difference.”
Vernon’s lips twitched in irritation, but he did not advance. Instead, he remained frozen, studying the man who had become his greatest obstacle, and Cordelia felt a measure of relief, knowing Mason was there to guard her.
She glanced up at him, grateful yet terrified all at once, aware of the storm in his eyes that both protected and warned.
Then, Vernon’s words cut through the parlor. “We could have done this the easy way, mind you. This is your choice, all of this.”
“Get to the point!” Mason snarled.
Vernon glared at him. “Gladly. You see, we always assume that we belong to the family we are born in, right? We never question our parents. Our mothers are safe in a sense that we always know who they are.” He chuckled as if it were the funniest thing ever said. Then, he lifted his index finger into the air and threatened no one in particular. “But our fathers… now, they are a different matter completely.”
Cordelia still had no idea what he was referring to. Knowing him, it was yet another vile lie, and all she wanted was him gone from her home. Still, having Mason by her side and remembering that he was willing to punch a man senseless for her sake brought her a sense of safety.
“Which brings me to my point,” Vernon finally declared. “And that is the simple fact that you, my dear Cordelia, are not your father’s daughter. Yes, you are an illegitimate child… a bastard if you will.”
Mason lunged to pounce on the man again, but her hand kept him in place although she had no idea how. But Mason listened. And he stayed by her side, his entire body taut like a violin string.
“And my offer is this: you will either give me… let’s say, three quarters of your father’s wealth—which will still leave you with enough, I must say. See how generous I am?” he chuckled again, revealing a row of uneven teeth. A long time ago, she liked that smile, and it made her feel safe. Now, all she wanted to do was run away from it.
Then, he continued, taking their silence as compliance. “If you do not comply, I will make sure that the illegitimacy claims are published in all the papers. That will let the ton see exactly who you are and that you have been fighting for an inheritance that doesn’t even belong to you.”
For a moment, Cordelia didn’t know if she believed him or not. Her mother hated her, that much was obvious. But did she hate her father as well?
No, no, it can’t be,Cordelia kept reminding herself.
Mason’s hand tightened on the small of her back, anchoring her though she barely felt it. He didn’t flinch. Instead, his eyes narrowed, dark and stormy.
“You will not touch her fortune,” he said sharply. “And the ton is quite capable of seeing the kind of man you truly are without any newspapers to inform them. You are mad if you think that the ton will take seriously anything you say after everything you’ve done.”
Vernon laughed, a short, bitter sound. “Ah, the great Duke of Galleon, protector of his wife’s modest fortune! You think yourthreats impress me? You would rather play the hero than see reason as always.”
Cordelia felt a surge of indignation. “You will not speak of my father or my mother that way,” she said, voice steady though her pulse raced. “You have no claim here, and you will not frighten me.”
Vernon’s eyes glinted cruelly. “And yet, my dear, it seems your husband is far too polite to destroy me outright. But threats can be subtle, can they not?”
Mason’s hand clenched into a fist. “You will leave now, or I will make certain you regret it. This house is no place for your schemes.”
Vernon tilted his head, still smiling. “Schemes? Only a business transaction, my good man. One must ensure one’s future.”
Cordelia’s stomach tightened. She could feel the electric tension in the room, the dangerous edge of Mason’s anger, the audacity of Vernon’s greed. Their words bounced off each other, sharper and sharper, until the room seemed to shrink with the weight of it all.
“And what you fail to comprehend is the simple fact that my claim has irrefutable backing,” he continued, smugly.
“What do you mean?” Mason asked, losing his patience.
Vernon glanced at Cordelia then continued, “Cordelia’s mother has agreed to support my claim in court if need be.”
The news felt like a lightning bolt struck her. Cordelia sank back onto the sofa, the cushions swallowing her as if they could shield her from the sharpness of Vernon’s words. Her hand flew to her chest, pressing against the tight knot of fear and disbelief that had formed there.
“My mother… my own mother would do this?” she whispered, the sound barely audible over the thrum of her heart. The betrayal cut deeper than any scheme, any threat. It was intimate, cold, and absolute.
Vernon’s smile was smug, triumphant. “She sees reason, my dear. She recognizes the… practicality of my claim. You may wish to think yourself safe, but your family’s support, your very blood, leans toward my cause.”
Cordelia’s eyes filled with tears, hot and bitter. She had expected cruelty, ambition, even greed but not this. Not the thought that the one person who was supposed to defend her no matter what could align with the man who had tormented her, schemed against her, and tried to strip away everything that was hers.
She tried to speak, but her throat felt constricted, words lodged there like splinters. Vernon’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction, the air around him a suffocating fog of malice. Every instinct screamed at her to flee, to leave, but her legs refused to obey.
“Why…” she finally breathed, voice trembling, “…why would she do this?”
