"Let's go to the High Court of Justice," I said softly, glancing at the young man beside me.

In recent days, news of the Duke of Avon reclaiming his rightful heir had spread throughout London, and no one dared to look down on Simon and me anymore.

"Right!" Simon replied eagerly, dressed in a blue robe that wrapped around him like a cloak. He was tall and slender, following closely behind me, just as he used to do back home.

When we arrived at the High Court of Justice, the Chief Justice, who previously wouldn't have spared us a glance, came rushing out to greet us with a beaming smile. "Your Grace, what a surprise! You should have given me a heads-up. I would have sent someone to welcome you!"

I looked at the man beaming with false friendliness and couldn't help but scoff inwardly.

When you have no power, they ignore you, but once you hold influence, they scramble to ingratiate themselves.

Simon, however, maintained a serious facade, and his refusal to back down was evident. With a sly grin that narrowed his charming eyes, he quipped, "Lord Warrick, you're too kind. I'm not sure I can come back again after being sent away the last time!"

I followed closely behind, stifling a laugh at his boldness.

In front of me, Simon transformed from the obedient boy I knew at home into a little tyrant, wielding his sharp tongue like a weapon.

The moment he spoke, Lord Warrick's face twisted as if he had bitten into something sour. Yet, he could do nothing but force a smile. "Your Grace, you jest! It was merely a misunderstanding, and those under my command have been dealt with accordingly."

Hearing that, Simon scoffed, striding past him without a backward glance.

I followed, amused by his confidence.

With the title of heir, it seemed Simon's word was law, and Lord Warrick bent over backward to accommodate him.

After all, the current king was the Duke of Avon's brother, and he held a great deal of respect for the Duke. When word of Simon's tragic fate reached the throne, he was met with nothing but favor.

We entered the High Court of Justice without a hitch, but I soon realized things weren't as easy as I had hoped.

My father's case had been buried long ago, and finding any details now would be nearly impossible. Even if we asked Lord Warrick, he might not provide any truth.

Our best course of action was to search the prison where my father had been held for clues.

I exchanged a glance with Simon, who stepped closer and raised his voice intentionally. "Oh dear, I almost forgot why we came! It's about Eliza's father! Lord Warrick, would it be possible for us to visit the cell where my father was kept? Lady Eliza lost her father here, and visiting the place would ease her troubled heart."

We had a silent agreement, able to read each other's thoughts with just a look.

Lord Warrick's expression changed, uncertainty creeping in as his gaze flicked between us. He quickly donned a polite smile. "Your Grace, you shouldn't concern yourself with such a place. It's cold and unwelcoming. You're far too precious to enter a place like that."

His words carried a clear refusal.

I nodded along, noticing Simon's brow furrowed in confusion, though he was wise enough not to voice it.

Lord Warrick appeared relieved, but before he could fully exhale, I spoke up. "Then, Your Grace, I'll go on my own. You wait here for me."

Turning to Lord Warrick, I added, "Can we go now, my lord?"

His square face twitched, and he stole a glance at Simon's icy stare, trembling slightly. He seemed to reconsider his position. "Of course, I'll have someone escort you immediately, my lady."

The servant leading us was a humble lackey from the High Court, now respectful and deferential, far removed from his previous arrogance.

Once we reached the prison, he dutifully opened an empty cell, explaining that it was where my father had been held.

I followed his gesture, my gaze settling on the cold, empty space. The straw on the ground still bore remnants of blood.

I couldn't tell if it was my father's or someone else's.

My expression dimmed. "I see. You can go now; I'll find my way out."

The servant hesitated, but perhaps fearing Simon's influence, he didn't dare disobey me and retreated quietly.

The cell was dim, with only the occasional crackle from the brazier breaking the silence.

I didn't push the door open but spoke quietly, "Aren't you coming out?"

As soon as I spoke, a figure slowly emerged from the shadows. I looked up and froze for a moment when I recognized his face.

Dressed in black and wearing a mask, he was indeed a strange character.

"You have keen eyes, my lady," he complimented me, yet there was not a hint of warmth in his gaze.

As he stepped closer, I felt an odd familiarity in those eyes, but I couldn't place them right away, so I dismissed the thought.

I pushed the cell door open, stepping inside without a backward glance. "Do as you wish, sir."

I assumed he was another investigator, but my instincts told me something was off.

"…"

From the darkness, I heard a soft chuckle. "You wouldn't want to see me, would you?"

His words puzzled me. I believed we had never met, and I bore him no ill will. Why was there this sense of hostility?

I ignored him and continued my search for clues. My father had always taught me that in desperate situations, there are usually signs left behind.

The key to rising from despair was to have the means to do so.

Lost in thought, I assumed he had left, but to my surprise, he simply leaned against the door frame, lazily casting his gaze over me. "This is where your father was held, I take it? You must be the daughter of Sir Leigh."

I didn't respond.

"From your age, I can see that you're indeed his daughter. But you're wasting your time here. The one who caused his downfall is a powerful official in the current court. You simply don't have the strength to stand against him. However, with a duke at your side, your chances might improve."

At the mention of a duke, I felt a jolt of anxiety. I spun around to meet his nonchalant gaze, my voice turning cold. "What do you mean by that?"

How could he possibly know I had the support of a duke?!

My nerves were frayed, yet he remained utterly unconcerned.

His charming eyes glided over me, and he added meaningfully, "Things that are taken will eventually be returned, don't you think?"

Taken?

My pupils dilated, and my heartbeat quickened. I fought to suppress the rising panic and managed a smile. "That's quite true, sir."

But had we really taken anything?

We had not intended for it to happen; it was merely a chance given to us by fate to defend ourselves.

Perhaps taken aback by my calmness, his expression soured, and without another word, he turned to leave.

Once his footsteps faded, I felt cold sweat pooling on my back.

To confuse royal bloodlines was a crime punishable by death.

I clenched my fists.

I couldn't let myself panic.

I meticulously searched the cell, and fortune smiled upon me. Near the wall, under some weeds, I found a wooden hairpin.

It was plain, crafted from mediocre wood, and the patterns etched into it looked like something a child might scribble.

But only I knew that this was a hairpin my father had carved for my mother years ago.

When I emerged, I saw Simon waiting at the door.

Noticing my unease, he immediately sensed that something was wrong and wasted no time with Lord Warrick's pleasantries, ushering me toward the carriage.

On the way back, his gaze swept over me, checking for any signs of injury, before he let out a relieved sigh.

It wasn't until we reached the manor and shut the door behind us that he spoke. "Eliza, what happened? You look pale. Should we call for a doctor?"

I grabbed his hand. "No need for that. It's just that we're in a rather precarious position."

I didn't know who that man in black was, but he clearly had insight. He had mentioned my father's enemies casually, suggesting that he held knowledge and status beyond mere speculation.

His words were perhaps a test, but they also cast doubt on whether Simon was genuinely a duke's heir.

What if others began to suspect the same?

Back in our small town, many neighbors had known Simon since the day he was born. His true identity couldn't be concealed for much longer.

I glanced at Simon, an idea forming in my mind. "You've always been good with your studies. Now's the time to aim for a title."

In the past, he had been trapped in a small town with no opportunity to shine. But now, in London, and with the backing of the Duke of Avon, securing a title would be much easier.

Simon was quick to understand. After a brief pause, he asked, "You mean, to gain power for myself?"

I met his gaze. "Exactly."

The power of the Duke wasn't ours to command, but if Simon earned his own title through merit, that would be his.

"Then we could truly make a home here in London!" His eyes lit up with excitement.

I smiled, encouraging him. "Then you must work hard, Simon."

After he left, I sat at my desk and pulled out a hairpin from my sleeve, my fingers running absently over its surface as an image of my father's kind yet stern face filled my mind.

Father, you always taught us to be honest and upright. But for all your honesty, you died alone in a cold prison.

In this world, it seemed that power was the only thing that truly mattered...

…

Simon had already shown promise in his studies, and with the royal court's attention fixed on the upcoming appointments, he casually mentioned his ambitions to the Duke of Avon. The Duke, momentarily surprised, soon broke into hearty laughter, praising Simon's drive and determination.

During this time, Simon spent his days sparring with the Duke, sharing tea with the Duchess, and fulfilling his duties as their son. Meanwhile, I began laying plans to secure our future.

If we were to make a life in London, we would need both wealth and power.

I wasn't one to act on impulse. Once I had a plan, I moved swiftly. Using the influence of the Duke of Avon, I took on the role of a distinguished guest and secured a building in London to start a business.

The initial funds came as a loan from the Duke, who, in gratitude for the years I had spent caring for Simon, agreed easily. We set a two-year repayment term. Though a few thousand pounds was nothing to the Duke, I insisted on putting it in writing. He seemed to respect me more for it.

Courting officials required a lot of money, so I needed to create a business that catered to the elite. I decided to open a luxurious establishment that would attract the wealthiest of London.

I spared no expense in renovating Goldenrose Hall, hiring the finest musicians and the most beautiful performers.

It was around this time that an unexpected visitor arrived at the Duke's estate.

More precisely, a servant from the House of Leigh.

When Simon entered the courtyard, holding a letter, I was deep in thought, planning the next steps for Goldenrose Hall.

"Eliza, Lady Ann Leigh has written to me," he said as I looked up.

Over the past few days, Simon had changed a little.

"What does she say?" I asked calmly, though I already had a good idea.

Sure enough, his expression became tense. "She's invited me to a poetry gathering. She says our families have always been close, and she wants to clear up any misunderstandings."

Close? I almost laughed.

There had been some friendship between our families, but when we went to the Leighs for help, only to have a letter of rejection thrown in our faces, that so-called bond ended.

Still, I had a reason to attend. Poetry gatherings were filled with noble ladies—the perfect place to promote my new business.

"Go, then," I said.

Simon hesitated, clearly surprised that I had agreed, but he nodded in the end.

The day of the poetry gathering came quickly. As Simon and I entered the Skyview Pavilion, I saw many finely dressed ladies mingling beneath its elegant arches.

The Leighs had done well in recent years, becoming one of London's prominent families.

Many eyes turned toward us as we entered—some curious, some indifferent, others welcoming. The title of the Duke's heir was enough to attract attention.

"Simon!" A bright, playful voice called from within the pavilion, and a figure in pink descended the steps quickly toward us. It was Lady Ann Leigh, the daughter of the house.

She paid no attention to me, going straight to Simon, her voice soft and sweet. "Simon, would you join me for a walk by the gardens?"

Simon glanced briefly at me before replying, "No."

The rejection, in front of so many onlookers, made Lady Ann's smile freeze, though she quickly forced it back. "Are you still upset that I couldn't stop my father? I never meant—"

But Simon had already lost interest. Only his good manners kept him from walking away. "Lady Ann, when our engagement was broken, whatever connection we had ended. I suggest we avoid speaking so familiarly."

With that, he turned and walked toward a group of young men standing nearby, leaving Lady Ann staring after him, her face stiff with shock and anger.

I watched her out of the corner of my eye, a smirk tugging at my lips.

Her family had broken their word first, and now, after losing face in public, she couldn't bear it. How amusing.

Just then, a pleasant voice interrupted my thoughts.

"Miss Sheppard, your gown is simply lovely. Where did you buy it?" A lady approached me as I stepped into the pavilion, apparently unaffected by the earlier drama.

I smiled, glad to oblige. "I've just come from Goldenrose Hall. They have the most skilled seamstresses and musicians. You can order custom gowns and enjoy a performance while you wait."

Storytelling had become all the rage in London, and many noble ladies were intrigued.

Before long, more ladies gathered around, asking questions about Goldenrose Hall. I knew it wasn't me they were eager to impress, but the sister of the Duke's heir.

By the next day, Goldenrose Hall welcomed its first noble clients. Their patronage spread my business's name throughout London. With their endorsement, I doubled the price for custom gowns, and soon, I was earning a fortune.

With money in hand, everything became easier.

While I managed Goldenrose Hall, Simon buried himself in his studies, just as I had hoped.

Everything seemed to be going smoothly. But I never expected that trouble would come so soon.