Serena rested her gloved fingers lightly against her cheek, her expression calm but her eyes sharp behind them. "Aiden, a moment."
Aiden followed her a few steps away, out of Robert's earshot.
She lowered her hand slightly. "Tell me honestly—can he really manage this?"
Aiden didn't hesitate, though his voice was low. "Please observe him, Your Grace. If he proves unfit, you can dismiss him without hesitation."
Serena studied him for a second, then gave a slight wave of her hand. "Very well. I'll trust your judgment."
With that, she turned and walked toward the door. "I'll be leaving you to it."
The study was softly illuminated by the flickering glow of the chandelier above. Serena sat at her desk, the scratch of her pen the only sound breaking the silence. She was focused, her thoughts clear as she carefully penned a letter to the Guildmaster of the Crimson Bolt Merchant Guild. The letter was concise but deliberate, proposing a deal to secure a reliable merchant who would provide the finest materials for her clothing line—and, just as importantly, never betray her trust.
Her eyes darted over the words one last time before she set the pen down. Among all the merchant guilds, the Crimson Bolt and the Sapphire Guild stood out most in Serena's mind. Both were powerful, influential, and—above all—rivals. A partnership with one would tip the scales, but it had to be the right one. The Crimson Bolt's reputation for integrity was the deciding factor for her.
Serena sighed, placing the letter in an envelope with the seal before calling for the head maid Ashley.
Moments later, Ashley entered the room, her movements graceful and composed as always. Serena handed her the letter.
"Ashley, deliver this to the Crimson Bolt Merchant Guild as soon as possible," she instructed.
Ashley bowed low. "At once, Your Grace."
With that, she left in a hurry, her footsteps echoing faintly as Serena returned to her work, her mind already turning toward the next step in her plan.
The wax seal cracked with a soft snap as Guildmaster Claude sliced it open. He unfolded the letter, his eyes scanning the contents swiftly. A smirk tugged at the corners of his lips as he read.
Anna, his ever-dutiful assistant, stood nearby with arms crossed and a suspicious glint in her eyes. "What are you scheming now?" she asked sharply. "Don't forget—she's the Dowager Duchess. This isn't someone you can toy with."
Claude chuckled, brushing his fingers along the edge of the letter, almost absentmindedly. "She has such neat and elegant handwriting," he mused, ignoring Anna's warning. "Refined. Precise. Just like the reputation that precedes her."
Anna exhaled a sigh, clearly exasperated. "Please tell me you're not planning something foolish."
But Claude only leaned back in his chair, eyes gleaming. "No schemes—at least, not yet. I simply want to meet her."
Anna raised an eyebrow, still unconvinced. "I hope your curiosity won't turn into recklessness."
Claude only smirked deeper. "We'll see."
A letter bearing the crimson wax seal of the Crimson Bolt Guild arrived, carried by a man from the guild next morning.
Serena unfolded it with practiced hands.
Dear Duchess,
I will send a merchant tomorrow. Hope you will like him.
–Guildmaster
She read it twice, her expression unreadable. Then, with a flick of her wrist, she tossed it into the fireplace. The flames hungrily devoured the parchment as she turned back to her desk.
The real work was only beginning. After selecting the right merchant, she would need to meet with the designer, approve the first line of clothing, organize fittings, and prepare for the grand opening of the boutique. Her schedule was quickly filling with layers of detail—each demanding her attention.
Meanwhile, in the manor, Lucas sat at his desk, drumming his fingers against polished wood. "Say, Erick," he muttered, "do you think my mother's clothing store will do well?"
Erick, buried in a stack of documents, didn't bother looking up. "Shouldn't you be worrying about your work?" he said flatly. "You've got half a mountain of paperwork, and instead you're pondering about the store? Why the hell are you concerned about the Duchess's business?"
Lucas scowled. "You're of no help. Get out."
With an exaggerated sigh, Erick stood and exited, shutting the door with a weary thud. In the hallway, he muttered, "The whole family's turning strange…"