A seductive figure—every bit as alluring as Catrina—appeared at the doorway, her aura no weaker than Valoria's.
Dressed in a crimson gown, her long golden hair cascaded like a waterfall of light. Her sharp eyes gleamed with pride, and the faint curve of her lips carried a mockery that seemed to belittle the entire world.
In one hand, she held a delicate paper parasol, and with slow, deliberate steps, she walked into the grand hall.
When she reached Lathel's side, she stopped. Her voice—husky, enchanting, yet dripping with disdain—rang out:
"I heard someone's been bothering my man."
Lathel: "..."
Valoria turned her head sharply toward him.
Catrina bit her lip, expression one of wounded disbelief.
Lathel, meanwhile, desperately wanted to dig a hole and disappear into it. 'Oy! Do any of you even realize where we are right now? Do you understand the situation we're in?!'
He could feel the combined glares of Valoria and Catrina, both silently demanding to know why Lucia had just declared something like that.
But he had no time—or opportunity—to explain.
The Grand Elder, however, immediately recognized Lucia the moment she stepped into view.
Though he rarely left his family estate, his awareness of the kingdom's power structure was sharp. And Lucia's presence was unforgettable.
She was the manager of Spring Garden's branch in the Carol Kingdom—one of the most powerful and dangerous individuals in the entire realm.
The Grand Elder frowned deeply, a question burning in his mind—one that no logic could answer.
Lathel.
A supposed weakling.
A man known only as the Duchess's useless son—no magical talent, no intellect, no ambition.
So why were three women—Catrina, Valoria, and now Lucia—standing at his side?
Valoria's protection made sense. She was his mother.
Catrina's involvement could be explained too. Perhaps the family had forced her into desperation, leaving her with no choice but to rely on him.
But Lucia?
Lucia was different.
She was a force feared even by the nobility—a woman whose power rivaled his own, and whose status made her nearly untouchable. If she wanted to fight, she might not only hold her ground but even win.
Three women of beauty, power, and influence—all circling around one so-called useless man.
It made no sense.
"Lucia..." the Grand Elder finally spoke, tone lower now—less confident, almost wary. "Are you truly planning to interfere in my family's affairs?"
"Family affairs?" Lucia chuckled softly, covering her lips with one hand. Her eyes narrowed dangerously, smile never leaving her face. "My man wants another woman for his amusement. As his woman, of course I have the right to help him indulge that little desire."
Catrina froze, a sting in her chest. The words were clearly meant to insult her—but since Lucia was helping Lathel, helping her, she had no choice but to stay silent.
Grand Elder Rowan's brows furrowed deeper. His piercing eyes searched Lucia's face, as though he could uncover the truth beneath her playful tone.
But Lucia showed no fear. Her confident smile and the predatory gleam in her gaze told him everything—if he refused, this hall would become a battlefield.
"Enough!"
Lathel suddenly spoke, breaking the tension that had coiled in the air.
He smiled lightly and said, "Earlier, you all said that as long as Catrina paid back one million gold coins and revived the business, you wouldn't bother her again. Isn't that right?"
The Grand Elder's expression darkened, eyes shifting toward Elder Rotte.
Rotte stiffened, startled. "G-Grand Elder... about that matter—yes, I did deliver the family's message to her, but she refused to accept our decision. In fact, she even said that..."
"If you dare lie..." Lathel cut him off, voice ice-cold. "I can make you disappear from this world. I may be weak, but my mother and my women are powerful. If you don't believe me, you can try."
To prove the point, Valoria slid a hand onto the hilt of the sword at her waist. Lucia merely smiled and gave Elder Rotte a sidelong glance.
Rotte shuddered, voice trembling as he stammered.
The Grand Elder's face had gone pale. "I want the truth. If you lie, before they even move, I'll be the first to punish you," he barked.
Rotte was so terrified he nearly fell to his knees. He stammered out every detail, shaking as he spoke.
"Foolish!"
BAM!
Rowan slammed his fist down on the armrest. The sound thundered through the hall.
Rotte, already panicked, dropped to his knees and pleaded, "I'm sorry—truly sorry, Grand Elder. I only wanted to force her to face reality so she'd accept our arrangement."
"I never expected her to actually bring one million gold coins... and to bring that useless bastard with her. I—"
SMASH!
Before he could finish, a whistling wind cut through the room—and Rotte's arm was severed, flung into the air.
THUD.
It landed on the floor close to him. The fingers twitched once, then went still. Blood gushed like a fountain. Rotte stared at the sight, eyes bulging in disbelief.
"AGH!!!" Rotte screamed, a wail full of agony.
"My arm! Agh! My arm... my arm! You bastard! You—"
"If you say another word, the next thing to fall will be your head." Valoria's brow tightened, gaze sharp enough to chill blood, and Rotte fell silent at once.
Everyone in the hall was terrified—no one had seen Valoria strike, only the severed arm.
So fast.
Too fast.
So fast that every person present froze in fear. Not a soul dared demand justice for Rotte, even though this was the Montaline grand hall.
The Grand Elder drew a breath, shaken. He was unlike the others—he'd actually seen the moment Valoria acted. But seeing was one thing; stopping her was another.
Her speed was beyond stopping. Even Rowan, if he'd wanted to, couldn't have blocked her.
Rowan shook his head and sighed, voice low: "Take him away."
Only then did the others snap out of their shock. They dragged Rotte from the hall to seek medical aid—and, of course, they took the arm Valoria had cut off with them.
Valoria scanned the room, frowning. "Whoever dares call my son useless—speak now. After today, you won't have the chance to say it again."
Silence.
The great hall held over twenty people, and yet not a sound escaped.
Rowan finally exhaled, voice weary. "Valoria... what is it you truly want?"
Valoria tipped her chin toward Lathel, expression unmoved. "Ask my son. Today he is the one who matters."
Rowan's face twisted with humiliation. Lathel—nothing more than a useless son clinging to his mother—had the Grand Elder of a major family being dictated to by that same useless son.
If word of this spread, he thought, everyone would mock him until his death. The family would become a laughingstock across the kingdom.
Rowan clenched his fists so hard his gnarled hands trembled, then looked to Lucia and Valoria standing there. The weight of it all pressed on him, and slowly his fingers loosened.
"All right then! Lathel, what do you want?" Rowan asked, frowning deeply as his gaze fell upon him.
Lathel shot him an irritated look. "I don't like your tone. If the great Grand Elder thinks that negotiating terms with me is beneath him, then we have nothing more to discuss."
"I just hope you can handle the consequences. Of course, you're free not to believe me. I may be useless—but my mother and my women are not. If you doubt it, feel free to test your luck."
Rowan inhaled sharply, a chill running down his spine. He knew full well that Valoria wouldn't let this go unpunished.
Lucia's stance was still a mystery—but if she truly was Lathel's woman, then the Montaline family wouldn't stand a chance against both the Duchess and Spring Garden's wrath.
Slowly, Rowan's tone softened, words cautious. "Duke Lathel, do you truly intend to marry Catrina?"
Lathel smiled, clearly pleased by the change in attitude. "Of course. I've brought the one million gold coins as promised. Consider it the completion of our wager."
"After marrying Catrina, I'll help the family's business thrive again. Naturally, the profit distribution will need to be renegotiated. I don't want any freeloaders who enjoy the rewards without doing the work."
Rowan appeared to ponder the proposal for a while, expression serious, but inwardly he'd already made up his mind.
Lathel caught that hesitation and sneered. "Rowan, you don't have to pretend. Between a Duchess of the Empire and a noble house of a minor kingdom, which one do you think weighs more?"
Rowan exhaled slowly. "Duke Lathel, you do realize how old Catrina is, don't you? She already has a daughter. You don't wish to reconsider?"
"So what?" Lathel replied arrogantly. "Catrina is still beautiful—and I want her. As for her daughter, if you can dissolve Arina's engagement, I might take her as a concubine too."
"You—!" Rowan's face flushed red with fury. His knuckles turned white as he gripped the armrest, glaring at Lathel with eyes full of suppressed rage.
Lathel felt a flicker of fear, but outwardly he remained calm and disdainful, carrying himself with arrogant composure.
Catrina, hearing his words, didn't feel anger. Instead, her heart fluttered with warmth and embarrassment. 'Ah... Lathel truly wants me. But he also wants Arina... Still, if that's what he desires, then I'll help him—whatever it takes.'
Valoria and Lucia both glanced at Catrina, who was lost in her own bliss, and despite themselves, a trace of envy flickered in their eyes.
After a long silence, Rowan let out a weary sigh. His face seemed to age another decade as he muttered tiredly, "Fine. I'll give Catrina to you... but I have a few conditions."
Lathel immediately interrupted him, tone sharp as a blade.
"You... have no right to set conditions with me."