Chapter 18
Liliette de Winter
The harsh sunlight pierced Shylock’s vision like golden shards as he strode across the hallway, his cane striking the floor in a regular rhythm. He came to an abrupt halt at the base of the central staircase, his hand trembling violently as he gripped his cane.
Crocus had barely escaped with his life, and the Isles Guild—though its assets had been preserved—was no longer his. The Duke had taken it, along with everything Shylock had spent a lifetime fiercely protecting from the minnows that circled him.
It was all gone.
A wave of humiliation surged through him, sharp and corrosive as acid. He gritted his teeth. He was not a man accustomed to defeat, nor one to yield without a fight. He needed to find the Duke’s weakness, to strike where it would hurt most…
