Threads Of Fate (Being Revamped)

Waves of Helplessness

Entry:

Events have taken an inconvenient turn. The girl's condition is now impossible to disguise; her mother has finally recognised the inevitable and pressed her with questions she is too weak to answer truthfully. Of course, she never once named me as the father nor dared reveal the nature of our arrangement. I admire her silence—whether it is bred from fear or shame hardly matters, so long as it continues.

Tonight, I summoned her again, ensuring she slipped from her house unnoticed well past midnight. She arrived at my door wrapped in a thin nightgown, arms cradling the weight of her belly—an image both comical and pitiable.

I wasted no time. I pulled her directly to my private chambers and dispensed with any pretense of kindness. I explained, perhaps more curtly than intended, that my business interests had shifted. The old routes have faltered, new alliances must be forged, and my path now leads to Viscount Attenborough. Securing him under my influence requires a marriage alliance, but it will not be with her. It will be with his younger sister, Anya Attenborough, her beauty exceeds any I have ever seen. She, not this troublesome child before me, will serve my ambitions.

The girl's composure broke. She became nearly hysterical, sobbing as if loss alone defined her. Her tears grated on my nerves—an unseemly display, as though sentiment could alter anything.

Anthony exhaled deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose as the layers of the Duke's manipulations unfurled before him like a map of rot. The weight of the old man's games was nearly suffocating. That bastard—he'd orchestrated everything, using Edward as a pawn, cornering him until the only "rational" move left was to marry Anya off to secure their future.

"Are you done?"
Anya's question cut through the silence. Her voice was gentle, but her eyes—wide, blue, trusting—held a quiet courage that made Anthony's chest ache. Even now, after all this darkness, she still managed to look at the world with hope. Was it hope, or something more fragile? He didn't know, and he didn't let himself dwell on it. Not now. Not when they all needed to stay sharp these next weeks.

"Not yet," Zenith interjected, flipping a few more pages in the diary as they settled down at the other side of the table. "But I think this will be the last entry worth reading. And you need to hear this, both of you. Edward—" she fixed him with a knowing look, "you were targeted. Every stupidly bad business move, every sudden miscalculation? Orchestrated by the Duke. He wanted you vulnerable, so he could control your trade routes. He made sure you were desperate enough to consider his marriage proposal for Anya as your only hope."

"What?" Edward's voice hitched with disbelief. He looked from Zenith to Anya, then back again, horror dawning across his features. It was as if he suddenly saw his every failure anew—each shameful compromise, every desperate ledger entry, strung together by invisible strings pulled by Duke Cavendish.
Unable to meet their eyes, he slumped forward, burying his face in his hands.

Anthony watched him, a frown creasing his brow. Edward's shoulders shook in silent struggle; finally, he raised his head, eyes raw.
"I didn't see it," Edward whispered, his voice hollow. "Damn it. The math never added up—I figured it was just my incompetence, especially after..." He trailed off, glancing almost pleadingly at Zenith. She turned her head, unable to bear his gaze.

Anthony spoke gently but with conviction. "He wanted you compromised, but manipulation is always fleeting. An alliance by marriage? That would give him permanent access—your trade, your lands, everything. Even as Viscount, you'd be trapped. Controlling Anya and binding your families was his ultimate play. If he had not been killed, the blackmail would never have stopped."

Edward let out a frustrated, helpless sigh. "There was no way out, was there? Still... why do I feel like such a fool?"

Anthony shook his head, his tone quietly fierce. "You weren't a fool. You were a victim of circumstance, of greed, of a man who never played fair. We were all taught to play by the book, Edward. But no one told us that 'the book' only works if everyone else follows it. If the other player is willing to set the rules on fire, or tear up the page? It doesn't mean a thing."