Page 8 of A Cursed Bride for the Duke
Beaumont furrowed his brow. “I confess, I am at a loss. I do not understand.”
“You will.” Wilhelm arched an eyebrow. “In a moment.”
Slowly, he reached into his waistcoat, drew out a document, and lifted it in his right hand.
A hush blanketed the ballroom, the air thick and still as every gaze shifted to the parchment.
The crisp paper felt cool and smooth beneath his fingertips. He rubbed the paper between his thumb and forefinger, savoring the texture. Never before had a piece of paper felt so heavy in his hand.
The onlookers held their breaths in anticipation of what was to come. The sound of a glass shattering echoed through the room, but no one stirred. They waited in suspended animation, their eyes fixed on Wilhelm’s hand.
Feigning disinterest, Beaumont pushed his spectacles up his nose with a slightly trembling hand. He peered down at the parchment in Wilhelm’s hand and inched closer to him.
Wilhelm deftly pulled it back with a slight, mocking smile.
“What is that?” Beaumont demanded as he raised his eyes to look at Wilhelm once again.
“A contract,” Wilhelm replied coolly, his eyes gleaming.
Beaumont frowned, the confusion plain on his face. “A contract?” he repeated. “For what? What game are you playing, Ravenshire?”
“This is no game, My Lord.” Wilhelm’s lips flattened into a hard line as he held Beaumont’s gaze. “It is business. Just business.” With a flourish, he unfolded the parchment, letting the crackle of the paper punctuate his words. “It appears I have acquired some rather choice properties—yours, to be precise.”
Triumph bloomed in Wilhelm’s chest. His pulse quickened, a fierce gleam lighting up his eyes as the corners of his mouth curved ever so slightly in immense satisfaction.
This had been a long-awaited victory, and it was finally within his reach. He wanted to draw out the moment and relish Beaumont’s reaction.
It was the result of years of planning, earned through sleepless nights, calculated risks, and sacrifice. His drive, fueled by a burning desire to destroy the men who had exiled him, pushed him not only to end them but to savor the moment they realized their defeat. He lived only to witness their fear as they recognized the power he now wielded over each of them.
Beaumont’s face contorted and paled as he struggled to form words. A ripple of murmurs swept through the ballroom and grew louder with each passing second.
Wilhelm’s sharp and calculating gaze swept over the crowd as a faint smile formed on his lips.
He was no longer the boy they had dismissed, and he wanted them all to know it.
This is just a glimpse of what is to come.
Beaumont now was publicly challenged, his authority dismantled by a mere piece of paper.
Power can be fickle like that.
“What… what is the meaning of this?” His voice was barely above a whisper.
“It is quite simple,” Wilhelm answered, his green eyes glinting in the candlelight. “You, my dear Lord, had debts—largedebts. Your creditors grew impatient. And I… well, I saw fit to relieve them of their burdens.” He paused. “Now, I own your debts and your estates.”
He extended the contract towards Beaumont, a subtle challenge in his gesture.
The older lord’s hands trembled as he snatched the parchment from Wilhelm’s outstretched fingers, his eyes frantically scanning the lines and widening with each word.
“You… you bought my debts?” Beaumont questioned incredulously as he bit his upper lip.
His gaze remained fixed on the missive, refusing to even shift in Wilhelm’s direction.
“Not only your debts,” Wilhelm continued, his voice low. “Your lands, your holdings—everything you mortgaged. What was once yours is now mine.” The hint of a smirk played on his lips as he leaned in. “How does it feel, Beaumont? I am curious—do tell me.”
The older man’s face twisted, shades of crimson blooming across his skin. His hand clenched the document with such force that it crumpled.
“You… dare do this to me?” he choked out, rage thickening his voice.
